(no subject)

“I’m beginning to wish I didn’t need to wear these goggles, Dogmeat,” said Ellen ruefully as she scanned the sodden ground ahead of them. “That last ‘lurk was nasty. I’ve got enough scars on my face already.”

Dogmeat wasn’t paying attention, or at least gave that impression. The heeler was busy sniffing along what the goggles showed as a faintly glowing orange trail of human scent, one of several that threaded through the area’s tangle of living bushes and dead plants. She reached up very carefully and brushed her armored fingertips just barely against the place where the mirelurk- swamplurk? Maybe she should call them that- had sliced her cheek during the fight. The bleeding had stopped, more or less. As far as facial wounds ever stopped bleeding without being tightly bandaged up. That was something.

Good Lord, a stimpak or some basic bandages would be nice.

Good Lord, a working door would be even nicer.

And as long as she was at it, Scribe Vallincourt’s deathclaw control override device would be really nice, preferably with the deathclaw she’d dubbed Uncle Scary Teeth. But she wasn’t going to get that any time soon so there was no point to the rest of it either. Better just to pay attention to the scent trails and listen for trouble around her, and keep-

Dogmeat tensed suddenly. Ellen dropped her hand. “What is it, Dogmeat?” she said. If they had to face another monster catfish…

But no. He was turning his head back and forth along one particular orange streak in a way that he hadn’t since they’d set foot in this godforsaken mess of a place. She’d seen him do that before, on the way to the Pitt, when he’d caught wind of the slave traders who’d recently sold Dave to new owners. If he hadn’t found the Paladins’ trail, he’d found something close to it- and probably not a friendly something, either.

No, definitely not a friendly something; she heard gunshots in the distance.

Ellen reached for her sylladex. She wanted her plasma rifle for this.

(no subject)

vicarialVisitor began trolling eloquentAdam

VV: I hope this works.
VV: Fawkes?
EA: I'm here, my friend.
VV: Oh thank God.
EA: When last we spoke, you said you'd been sent on a mission beyond the Wasteland.
EA: I assume there's been some difficulty?
VV: You could say that.
VV: I've picked up the paladins' trail, and I've got Dogmeat with me.
VV: That's as far as the good news goes.
VV: Cross and I ran afoul of these bipedal catfish things nearly as tall as you.
VV: They're vicious and there's a lot of them and they're spawning all over the place.
VV: And the mirelurks are all as big as hunter mirelurks, and some of them spit.
VV: Which wouldn't be so bad except that between the fish and the razorbacks Cross got badly hurt.
EA: I don't believe you mentioned the razorbacks.
VV: Oh- sorry.
VV: Quadrupedal things with shaggy fur and tusks coming up from their bottom jaws and little beady eyes and this weird flat snouty nose and bone spurs kind of poking out of their backs.
VV: Thick hides, bad tempers.
EA: Can you describe their feet?
VV: …
VV: Why would- never mind.
VV: Shaped like Brahmin hooves, basically.
VV: Why do you ask?
EA: I believe from your description that you may have encountered mutated pigs.
VV: Huh.
EA: I doubt it's of much significance- please, continue.
VV: Okay.
VV: Cross got hurt, and so did the tribal woman we were talking with at the time.
VV: They're both staying at this house with an old man in it.
VV: The man's name is Obadiah Blackhall.
VV: He said he'd look after them if I agreed to find a book that belonged to his family.
VV: I was out of supplies- those fish hit us HARD.
VV: So I said yes.
VV: And now I've found the paladins' trail.
VV: And a whole lot of very hostile tribals from a different tribe from the pig lady.
VV: And a ghoul with a mouth as foul as- well, he's got a REALLY foul mouth.
VV: Language-wise, not smell-wise, I mean.
VV: His name's Desmond.
VV: He said the paladins came through a while ago and he sent them north.
VV: Because the tribals who grow the punga fruit lived up there.
VV: And because they've been attacking him repeatedly for a while now.
EA: And he believed them to be capable of getting rid of his problem, I presume.
VV: Got it in one.
VV: Anyway, he hasn't seen the paladins since then and the tribals've just gotten worse.
VV: Either the tribals have Whydah and Morgan prisoner, or they killed them.
VV: And I need to find out one way or another.
EA: And about the book?
VV: If I find out anything about a book in the process I'll tell Mr. Blackhall.
VV: I told him I couldn't make any guarantees, but that I'd try.
VV: Speaking of which, does the word 'Krivbeknih' mean anything to you?
EA: I can't say I've ever heard the word before, I fear.
VV: Oh well.
VV: Worth a try.
VV: Anyway, I need to ask you a favor, if that's all right.
EA: Certainly, my friend.
EA: Name it, and it shall be done.
VV: Thank you, Fawkes.
VV: I need you to notify the Brotherhood of the situation.
VV: Specifically, Elder Lyons.
VV: The others don't know about Milliways, so they wouldn't know how I would be in contact with you.
VV: I know you're busy guarding the Lamplighters in Springvale these days, but if you can get a message to the Citadel…
EA: You needn't worry, my friend.
EA: I'll find a way to carry your word.
EA: Shall I ask about this 'Krivbeknih' as well?
VV: If you can get hold of a Scribe, it's worth a try.
VV: Heck, check Moira's copy of the Arlington Library archives.
VV: Mr. Blackhall seemed to think it was an ancient tome of creepy evil forbidden lore but you never know what you're going to find at your local library.
EA: Very well, my friend.
EA: I'll see what I can discover.
EA: And I'll be certain to carry your message to Elder Lyons.
VV: Thank you, Fawkes.
VV: *So* *much*.
VV: I owe you for this.

vicarialVisitor ceased trolling eloquentAdam
vicarialVisitor signed off.