[ EU ] The year is 2296 and Vault 9 and 3/4 finally opens it 's blast door . Wizards have returned to the British Wastelands .

War, war never changes. 
 
 The British people never asked themselves if the world was going to end, they pretty much assumed it was right around the corner. The embroiling Resource Wars and the dissolution of the European Commonwealth had painted a pretty clear, if bleak, painting of what was to be expected. Just like bad weather, the British chose to respond with a stiff upper lip and its occasional complaint. 
 
 But nuclear holocaust proved a bit too much to handle with just a stiff upper lip. 
 
 Unlike the more industrious-minded corporations in the USA, the British corporations never really saw the point of great vaults to preserve the future. There was no Vault-Tec equivalent to build vaults to shepherd its people and conduct government-sponsored experiments. But the British government itself had a certain instinct for self-preservation and therefore engaged Vault-Tec via a third party corporation called Westson's Bunker & Safety to at least ensure that some, the most important of them all, survived. So when the bombs finally fell, those who survived did so thanks to the usual stiff upper lip and a few hundred meters of solid concrete and dirt above their heads. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 More than 200 years later, In a dreadful cesspit of the British Wasteisle was a particular area called Nothingshire by the more humerous-minded stragglers that somehow survived on in this part of the country that once had the audacity to call itself great. 
 
 Civilization was difficult to find in this place, mostly due to the rampant numbers of raiders and clans such as the Bakersfield Skulltakers, Salisbury Steakers and worst of the all, the Forest Demons. There were no'grand' wasteland cities such as the oddly prosperous Square Mile within the ruins of London or the legendary Inbhir Àir that resides somewhere north in the wildlands of Alba. 
 
 But where civilization was struggling the most, an old forgotten vault finally opened itself to the new, terrible world. Vault 9. 
 
 The vault door opened slowly, painstakingly so, with all its internal pressure and clean air protesting the onslaught of the exterior climate flushing inside. As the door had finally been pulled aside, a single soul stepped outside and looked around quizzically. The man, tall and bearded with silvery gray streaks of hair lining against the more mellow brown, seemed at a loss of expression and decided to turn around to the waiting ensemble of other men who was nervously peering outside. 
 
 `` I say, dear chap, how's it looking out there?'' came a question from one of the group. 
 
 `` Is it as we feared, has the magmapits erupted and tore the continental plates asunder?'' came another question. 
 
 `` What about dragons, do you see any of those?'' followed a third. 
 
 The group, all bearded and dressed in robes that were something of an obscene contrast to the the gray and brown colours of the world outside; theirs more sprangly purple, gold and velvet red. They all look anxiously toward the man furthest outside, their Overseer. 
 
 The Overseer turned towards his fellows and seemed a bit conflicted. 
 
 `` Well... It certainly *seems* like Notthinghamshire, chaps! But I just ca n't remember it being *this* messy, per see.'' 
 
 The group carefully approached their Overseer and got a better loook at the vista around them, some of them seeming visibly disappointed by the gray and lifeless wasteland around them. 
 
 `` Pretty sure the city was a bit more in order.'' ventured one of them, scratching his beard. 
 
 `` It's been 200 years, you'd imagine these Notts would have started fixing up the rubble by now.'' scoffed one them, frowning at the despair around them. 
 
 `` But no dragons? I really thought we'd have dragons now. Maybe they're hibernating.'' 
 
 `` Oh blast it all, Myrddin! Would you kindly desist with all this dragon nonsense? Nothing in the Codex would even remotely suggest that exposure to radioactive magic would summon dragons!'' snapped the Overseer back at poor Myrddin. 
 
 `` I'm terribly sorry, Merlin, it's just... I like dragons.'' muttered Myrddin back to Overseer Merlin. 
 
 `` There's no shame in that, Myrddin, I'm quite fond of chimeras myself -- but I do n't go about thinking they've taken residence in Notthingham. Anyhow, fellow wizards, our adventure begins! The Codex has prepared for this ever since we sought refuge in the Vault. For 200 years we've bided our time and trained ourselves in the Secret Art that our benefactors have provided us, we've taken the elixirs of long livety and we are ready! Ready to take control of this land so ravaged by time and nuclear bombs!'' Merlin held out his staff in a triumphant gesture to rally and inspire his fellow wizards, there was a restrained but polite applause as reply which to Merlin was the same as a standing ovation, seeing as they already were standing. 
 
 `` Well said, Overseer! Well said, indeed! But what, exactly, are we supposed to do once we're out here?'' asked another Wizard 
 
 `` Excellent question, Umiel! Excellent question! Well first of all we need to head down to the city and teach these Notts a thing or two about priorities. I've always said that a messy room is the symptom of a messy mind and I think that counts just as much for a city and its inhabitants.'' 
 
 `` But, uh, if they're not co-operative...? I mean, some of them might be *anarchists* after all these years without proper government and guidance!'' Myrddin protested with a fearful expression on his bearded face. 
 
 `` It's a sad truth of life that there'll always be a bit of bad apples about, and moreso perhaps after a nuclear holocaust. But we'll just have to teach them a thing or two about respect wont we?'' Merlin nodded with some gravity. `` Well, let's not dally about, chaps. We've a country to protect! For King - well, in spirit - and country!'' 
 
 The rest of the group cried out `` Huzzah!'' and thus took their first steps into a new and unfamiliar world. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- - 
 
 War, war never changes. 
 
 200 years had gone since the world was destroyed by nuclear bombs and in the British Wasteisle there was no exception to the calamity of a post-nuclear world. Some would struggle to rebuild, renew and adapt to a world that did life even less favours than before. Others would prey, attack and live off others' misfortune and burn a furious flame until they too, as always, were snuffed out by the stronger or merely more cunning. 
 
 Whether it was the Sea Lordlings based off the ruins of Porthsmouth that plagued the coastlines, the Followers of The Sun that engaged in brutal practices of torture and were devoid of journalistic standards, or the Red Devils Gang that were notorious for their brutish and thuggish way. It did n't matter, for war never changes. 
 
 That was, of course, until 150 or so aristocrats, MPs and government members emerged from a Vault that was designed to test the viability of psionic, long-livety and telepathic powers by slow exposure to gamma-radation and ingestion of several psychoactive drugs and stimulants. Deluded into seeing themselves as wizards of old thanks to their vault library containing nothing but fantasy stories and the sort, hellbent on the mad vision of them travelling to the free the land from itself. 
 
 Then war became a bit more interesting. 
 
 [ Follow-up, sort-of, kinda can be read here! ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3ucltv/eu_the_year_is_2296_and_vault_9_and_34_finally/cxen9cy )
