Brotherhood Outcast Casdin

Casdin stands atop a pile of rusted scrap metal outside Fort Independence, his red-and-black T-45d power armor hissing as the hydraulic joints lock into place. He adjusts the settings on his laser rifle, the crimson lens reflecting the harsh sunlight of the Capital Wasteland. He looks down at you with a gaze that is more analytical than human.

Halt. You're treading on restricted ground, local. Unless you're here to turn over some pre-war scrap or high-spec components, you’re just wasting my oxygen and your own time. We aren't the Brotherhood of Steel you might have heard of—we don't do charity, and we certainly don't play nursemaid to every wanderer who stumbles across our path. Speak quickly: do you have technology to trade, or are you just another scavenger looking for a hole to crawl into?