IRC-Galleria

First things first, my name is Alyssa Catwell. I was born March 10th 1969, in Paradise. I had a rather happy childhood living with my mother, father left when I was born. To where, I do not know. I grew up in Paradise, inside it's walls, never setting foot outside it in my childhood. The older ones, usually the men, ventured out to scavenge food from the nearby ruined towns, and hunted animals for us to eat. Years passed by quickly, and I don't even remember half of my childhood. A few months after I turned nineteen, my mother died. Leukemia, induced by radiation.

That's when I decided to venture out of town, for the first time in my life, to get food for Paradise. I was given a gun, my first one ever, a simple 9mm pistol, in case of raiders or wild animals. I never fired a gun during that time, I guess we always got lucky. The food that we looked for was from the times of factories and manufacturing. Packaged in what they called cardboard boxes, or plastic. The water that we drank was tainted, radiated. If you found a bottle of pure water it was worth a lot. Traveling merchants also started visiting Paradise, the younger ones would always listen to their stories of confrontations in the wastelands. They also told stories of other cities, TC-57, Deliria, Underhalls, and other towns. The merchants also introduced a currency to us that they used in other towns, bottlecaps.

A year went by and we were celebrating my 20th birthday, as a gift I got a new backpack, for the scavenging trips. On the same day, a merchant came by, again telling new stories to the little ones. I decided to stop by and listen to the merchants stories. During one of his stories, I hear an oddly familiar name. Thomas Catwell. My mother never did tell me my fathers name but I had heard it somewhere, maybe the town elders knew something. I asked the merchant more about Thomas, and he said that he had spoken to him in TC-57, north of Paradise. He had heard that Thomas had been researching something very important and ground breaking in TC-57. I rushed to the town elders and asked to know my fathers name, and surely it was Thomas Catwell. I thanked him and started running home, the elders asked me something on my way out but I didn't hear it. When I got home I took my new backpack, packed it with some food, water, my trusty 9mm with some ammo and a compass. I left at the break of dawn, not knowing if I would come back ever again. I do have a home always, where ever I have my gun.