Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Give me a kiss to build a dream on, and my imagination will drive upon that kiss. Ooh,
sweetheart, I ask no more than this, a kiss to build a dream on. Give me a kiss before
you leave me, and my imagination will feed my hungry heart. Ooh, leave me one thing before
we part, a kiss to build a dream on. When I'm alone, with my fancies, I'll be with you.
Weaving romances, making believe they're true. Oh, give me your lips for just a moment, and
my imagination will make that moment live. Oh, give me what you alone can give, a kiss
to build a dream on.
War. War never changes. The end of the world occurred pretty much as we had predicted. Too many humans, not enough space or resources to go around. The
details are trivial and pointless, the reasons, as always, purely human ones. The Earth was
nearly wiped clean of life. A great cleansing, an atomic spark struck by human hands, quickly
raged out of control. Spears of nuclear fire rained from the skies. Continents were swallowed
in flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans. Humanity was almost extinguished, their spirits
becoming part of the background radiation that blanketed the Earth. A quiet darkness
fell across the planet, lasting many years. Few survived the devastation. Some had been
fortunate enough to reach safety, taking shelter in great underground vaults. When the great
darkness passed, the vaults opened, and their inhabitants emerged to begin their lives again.
One of the northern tribes claim they are descended from one such Vault. They hold that
their founder and ancestor, one known as the "Vault Dweller," once saved the world from
a great evil. According to their legend, this evil arose in the far south. It corrupted
all it touched, twisting men inside, turning them into beasts. Only through the bravery
of the Vault Dweller was the evil destroyed, but in so doing, he lost many of his friends
and suffered greatly, sacrificing much of himself to save the world. When at last he
returned to the home he had fought so hard to protect, he was cast out. Exiled. In confronting
that which they feared, he had become something else in their eyes... and no longer their
champion. Forsaken by his people, he strode into the wasteland. He traveled far to the
north, until he came to the great canyons. There, he founded a small village, Arroyo,
where he lived out the rest of his years. And so, for a generation since its founding,
Arroyo has lived in peace, its canyons sheltering it from the outside world. It is home.
Your home. but the scars left by the war have not yet healed. And the Earth has not forgotten.