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North of the Wasteland
Jan. 5th, 2012 02:47 pmThere’s this whole stretch of territory down in the Capital Wasteland that just ain’t worth going into. Runs along the northeast edge of the area. Damn place is crawling with Deathclaws. You go west a little, it’s not so bad. All you got to deal with there is the local assholes, the ones who moved into the old comsat towers. Most of ‘em have itchy trigger fingers, but they’ll hold off if you pay ‘em first and tell ‘em when you’re coming. They ain’t so bad. Farther west than that and it’s Deathclaws again, or crazy fucking robots, and it just ain’t worth it.
Thing is, any asshole with a pair of binoculars that work can stand on a hillside and see for himself there’s some real sweet property on the far side of the lizard line. Farmers. Brahmin. Lots of food- fresh stuff, not canned crap. No sign of water, but you don’t get a place like that and not have a well or something somewhere. Whoever these jerks are, they’re pretty flush. A man could make a hell of a profit off a couple good raids into their property, assuming he didn’t die of lizard poisoning first. Can’t spend caps if your ass is dead.
So what. So you deal. There’s other jerks to raid and places to scav. No big deal, right? Yeah.
Except there ain’t been near as many Deathclaws lately as there used to be. Seriously, you’ve been looking, your boys’ve been looking, and the count’s dropped way the hell past where it used to be. Maybe the damn things got a disease. Maybe somebody came through and wiped ‘em all out. Who knows. Point is, the Deathclaws suddenly ain’t where they used to be, and the ones that’re left, they ain’t looking like all that and a can of Cram any more. Shit, you could go most of a day now without seeing one of those sons of bitches.
That little farm’s looking real damn sweet all of a sudden. Food’s tough to come by out here in the hills. There’s maybe what, two guys who ever do any kind of guard duty on that farm? Three, if you count the twerp who tags along after them sometimes. That’s it, tops. Take them down, round up their Brahmin, throw as much of their shit as you can carry in sacks and head on out. Or, hell, stick around a while. There’s women.
Come to think of it, Paradise Falls ain’t been sending people through lately. There ain’t been anybody from Paradise Falls at all. It used to be suicide to fuck with them, but if they’re not around…. there’s always somebody looking to buy. That’s profit for you.
So, yeah. You, three or four of your boys, and that flamer Ebby got working last week. It’s a farm. They grow shit. Fire ain’t their friend. Set a couple where they’ll see the flames spreading. Wait for ‘em to run out and start putting the fire down. See where the assholes with the guns go. Then you make your move. By the time the guards figure out what’s going on, you got three quarters of what you came for, and you got a flamer. Play your cards right and you could take the guards down hard enough that they won’t wake up until you already sold them to somebody else. There’s no way it can go wrong.
No way at all.
Thing is, any asshole with a pair of binoculars that work can stand on a hillside and see for himself there’s some real sweet property on the far side of the lizard line. Farmers. Brahmin. Lots of food- fresh stuff, not canned crap. No sign of water, but you don’t get a place like that and not have a well or something somewhere. Whoever these jerks are, they’re pretty flush. A man could make a hell of a profit off a couple good raids into their property, assuming he didn’t die of lizard poisoning first. Can’t spend caps if your ass is dead.
So what. So you deal. There’s other jerks to raid and places to scav. No big deal, right? Yeah.
Except there ain’t been near as many Deathclaws lately as there used to be. Seriously, you’ve been looking, your boys’ve been looking, and the count’s dropped way the hell past where it used to be. Maybe the damn things got a disease. Maybe somebody came through and wiped ‘em all out. Who knows. Point is, the Deathclaws suddenly ain’t where they used to be, and the ones that’re left, they ain’t looking like all that and a can of Cram any more. Shit, you could go most of a day now without seeing one of those sons of bitches.
That little farm’s looking real damn sweet all of a sudden. Food’s tough to come by out here in the hills. There’s maybe what, two guys who ever do any kind of guard duty on that farm? Three, if you count the twerp who tags along after them sometimes. That’s it, tops. Take them down, round up their Brahmin, throw as much of their shit as you can carry in sacks and head on out. Or, hell, stick around a while. There’s women.
Come to think of it, Paradise Falls ain’t been sending people through lately. There ain’t been anybody from Paradise Falls at all. It used to be suicide to fuck with them, but if they’re not around…. there’s always somebody looking to buy. That’s profit for you.
So, yeah. You, three or four of your boys, and that flamer Ebby got working last week. It’s a farm. They grow shit. Fire ain’t their friend. Set a couple where they’ll see the flames spreading. Wait for ‘em to run out and start putting the fire down. See where the assholes with the guns go. Then you make your move. By the time the guards figure out what’s going on, you got three quarters of what you came for, and you got a flamer. Play your cards right and you could take the guards down hard enough that they won’t wake up until you already sold them to somebody else. There’s no way it can go wrong.
No way at all.