(no subject)

[calmhrtprevails]

The door opens on a vista of rocky landscape punctuated here and there by yellowed, rough-edged grass and low, scrubby brush. There's a hint of coolness on the breeze in the otherwise warming air, and a scent of distant rain. "We are," Fawkes rumbles, "some hours' distance from the Citadel. We're likely to stop at the town of Megaton first, and then make for the Arlington route the rest of the way."

Comments

[cantdiequiteyet]

Teresa holds her head up, looking out over the landscape with a distant expression for a few seconds, as she gets used to the look and feel of the environment.

"Alright," she says. "Let's go to this town."

[calmhrtprevails]

Fawkes nods, and sets off to the southwest. The buzzing of flies can be heard, as if quite a lot of them are somewhere nearby.

... oh. There's only two, circling an unpleasant looking puddle-pond to Fawkes' left. They just happen to be roughly the size of rabbits.

"Mind the bloatflies. They tend to hurl unpleasant things if they think themselves threatened," Fawkes notes.

[cantdiequiteyet]

Teresa falls in beside him, the gentle tmp tmp of her sabatons on the ground keeping a casual rhythm. She turns her head to follow the sound of the flies, watching them circle the pond.

"They're bigger than the insects we have at home," she remarks.

[calmhrtprevails]

"Many insects and their kind here are much larger than one might think," Fawkes says. "I've seen ants as large as children, and scorpions that might well snap a human leg off. The energies released by the Great War mutated their ancestors and drove them to grow larger, and more dangerous."

(says the nine-foot-tall, muscles-and-more-muscles, hammer-and-laser-wielding dispenser of violent death.)

[cantdiequiteyet]

"Oh," she says, only mildly interested.

"These are the energies that make people sick?"

[calmhrtprevails]

"The very same," says Fawkes. "Not as common as-"

He pauses, raising a hand to shade his eyes as he peers into the distance.

"I believe," he says after a moment, "that we'll be having company quite soon. I see two- no, three- stingers coming."

[cantdiequiteyet]

Teresa stares for a second, still not used to not being able to see bad things a mile off with their auras. But she follows his gaze with her better than normal human vision and sets her sights on the company.

"I see them," she says, and draws her sword.

[calmhrtprevails]

Radscorpions, the three of them. The largest of the bunch is an albino, and rather on the large side even for its kind. The other two are perhaps half its size, maybe two-thirds its size.

"Their natural armor is thick, and their venom painful," says Fawkes. "It would kill an ordinary human quickly."

A mere trivia point, by the sound of things. He's too busy pulling his supersledge free from his back and making ready to charge the first of the vile things.

[cantdiequiteyet]

"Then try not to let it bite you," says Teresa, in ignorance of what a scorpion does. No sooner as she started the words, but she races forward, her sword held with one hand. When half the distance is covered, she leaps into to at least twice her own height, and covers the rest of the distance in the air.

As she completes the arc, her arm moves in a blur, and the sword's blade slices through white armor as if it were made of warm butter, slicing the albino neatly into two halves.

[calmhrtprevails]

Fawkes cackles, a high half-mad sound that oughtn't ever to come out of something that looks like him, and swings the sledge in a long, swift arc as inexorable as a meteor's fall.

Perhaps that is not quite the right comparison. Meteors do not, in general, lift things from the ground and send them flailing through the air. (Crater ejecta don't count.)

There is one scorpion left, although there is of course a slim chance the other one might still be alive once it lands. Very slim.

[cantdiequiteyet]

That one scorpion round on Teresa as soon as she lands in the middle, its tail readying to sting.

She turns lightly on her feet, catching sight of it, and leaps before it can attack.

One, two sweeps of the sword and the head and tail fall off together. Teresa lands and turns to Fawkes. With a faint smile on her face, she wipes her sword down before returning it to its place.

"Strange creatures."

[calmhrtprevails]

"Radscorpions often are," says Fawkes. "They sting their prey with the tails, and devour them once the venom begins to paralyze them in earnest. I suspect they had been looking for a meal, and aimed above their ability to handle."

[cantdiequiteyet]

Amused, "Anything that tries to eat us is aiming above its ability to handle."

That's a weird word for her to be using, and it surprises her.

us.

[calmhrtprevails]

Fawkes lets out a barking noise that resolves itself into a laugh. "Too true!" he exclaims. "Now, unless you have some use for the venom glands, we ought to be on our way. I have no need of them, myself- but it's polite to offer."

[cantdiequiteyet]

"Is it?"

Now she is surprised, but not enough to stop her from falling in to walk with him.

"Why would someone do that?"

[calmhrtprevails]

"The humans of the Wasteland haven't got access to the same sort of weapons you and I use," says Fawkes, "or if they do, they haven't always got the skill to use them. Some of them make use of the scorpions' venom. They dip their weapons in it, so that when they draw their enemies' blood, the venom acts as a paralytic. A living foe that moves more slowly, or loses the use of its legs, is far less dangerous to them and can be finished off more safely."

[cantdiequiteyet]

Oh," Teresa says, with the mild interest of someone who's been presented with a thing she has never thought of before. "That is a good idea."

Humans are so resourceful.

[calmhrtprevails]

"It serves its purpose," Fawkes says placidly. "If it works for the scorpion, it works for us as well. I've heard that there are humans who've taken to using the hands of Deathclaws as gauntlets, so they can slice their enemies with those claws. It seems... useful."

[cantdiequiteyet]

Teresa nods.

"I encountered humans with special swords when I was alive." One human, really. "Mostly they seemed to wait for us to fight for them."

[calmhrtprevails]

"A pity," says Fawkes. "Being able to defend yourself is vital, in a land like this. But I suppose not everyone's able, and so they turn to the stronger."

[cantdiequiteyet]

"And yoma are good at hiding," Teresa allows. "Only a half yoma can detect them among normal people."

[calmhrtprevails]

"Are they the only threat to the people of your world?" Fawkes says. "Or at least, the only one your kind are meant to fight?"

[cantdiequiteyet]

"That's right."

She smiles a little, amused at the word 'only'. "It doesn't sound much, but they keep us busy."

[calmhrtprevails]

"I never meant to slight you," Fawkes says. "We have no yoma here. Not that I've heard of, anyway. There are so many species of creature, and so many dangerous humans, that the idea of there being only one is... very strange."

[cantdiequiteyet]

Teresa smiles again. "Oh, no slight taken.

"It is strange enough for me to see how many different kinds of creatures live on other worlds. The world I lived on was very limited, I see now."