Blackhall Manor

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The slog through the swamps that lie between the murdering tribal's private ritual site and Blackhall Manor has been an unpleasant one. Most slogs through swamps are. This one was compounded by a visit from a seriously oversized swamplurk- it's dead now- and the fact that it's starting to get dark.

"Almost there, Voodoo," Ellen notes. "I can see the lights on Mr. Blackhall's porch up ahead."

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

"Yeah, me too."

They're bright enough that he has to flip his NODs up. In truth, though, he's just grateful that that stupid gas mask is off his face.

"You'd think lights in this kinda swamp'd be inviting attacks."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I don't know. Maybe there's ghouls at night," Ellen says. "People who've degenerated into feral ghouls are pretty photophobic. One of the lobotomy tribals mentioned something about rotting men, if I'm remembering right."

If that's the case she'll be only too happy to get in and get this all done.

"He's got Star Paladin Cross and a woman from the murdering guy's tribe with him. I didn't get her name, unfortunately. They're both in kind of a bad way, but he knew what he was doing first aid-wise. I bought some stimpaks at Milliways just in case."

Dogmeat doesn't seem particularly disturbed by the area, for whatever that's worth. It might be dank and wet and growing darker by the minute, but it doesn't smell like impending violence to him.

[boston_bruiser]

"Sounds good to me. If you run out, I've got my blowout kit."

He rubs at his eyes. "So these two guys we're supposed to pick up, Whydah and Morgan - we know where they are, right?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Ellen nods. "They're back at the lighthouse- the door we came here through. There was an awful lot of prewar biotech still lying around there, not to mention robot parts and munitions. I don't know how much we can fit on the boat, but they've been at this longer than I have, so I'm sure they'll be able to prioritize."

The house, when they push their way out of the trees, is an ancient, decrepit building that once stood three stories tall and probably served as some rich prewar family's summer home. Rusty iron fencing runs around the edge of each level of staggered roof. The uppermost floor doesn't look too sound from the outside any more, and the second doesn't appear too much better. The ground floor windows are mostly boarded up. There's a pillared porch in the front, the lights hanging from between the pillars positioned in such a way as to make it very difficult for anyone to come at the front door without being seen.

[boston_bruiser]

"Well, he's got the market cornered on creepy and foreboding estates, I'll give him that."

Voodoo glances around - he doesn't see anything suspicious, so he doesn't see any harm in jogging up the porch steps and rapping thrice on the door with the back of his hand, either.

"Obadiah Blackhall?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There's a cha-CHUNK noise somewhere on the other side of the door as a shotgun is racked. Only then does a wary, weary-sounding male voice come back: "Who wants to know?"

[boston_bruiser]

"People who've got your book, sir. The K- Kry-vuh - Kry-vuh-something."

He steps back from the door and rolls his eyes at Ellen. "I don't give a fuck what anyone says, that word was not built for a fuckin' Germanic language."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

There's a faint creaking of wood. A tiny port in the door slides open at somewhat above waist height, and a pair of suspicious eyes peer out. Ellen leans out from behind Voodoo and offers a wave of one armored hand; the port slams shut.

On the other hand, the sound of several locks being undone and at least one fair-sized bolt being lifted out of the way is probably a good sign.

"Come in," says the man's voice. "You'll forgive me if I don't stand to greet you."

It's not very well lit on the other side, despite the hum of fission-battery power systems; they're running the lights outside. In here it's mostly candles and oil lamps casting their shadows over the remains of an ancient living room or parlor. Some of it's been tidied up lately, by the look of things. Given that the person who just unlatched the door is a wheelchair-bound wisp of an old man with a long narrow face, there's probably a good reason for that.

(Oh, the shotgun you heard? He's got it across his lap. Just in case anyone tries anything funny.)

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo can respect that. He walks into the house, nodding at Blackhall before leaning against a sturdy-looking wall.

"Like I said, we found your book. But, uh...we think there's something pretty important you oughta know about it."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Blackhall's face twists in a grimace. "It's been lost to my family a damned long time," he says. "I only hope it hasn't done anyone harm. My pappy said we ought to've destroyed it long ago."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo shakes his head. "No, sir, you ain't trackin' me. Truth be told, some dipshit did cut up a lot of people because of it, but it ain't the book that done the hurtin'."

He crosses his arms. "It ain't no arcane spellbook or such. It's a work of fiction. Pages're lifted straight outta a comic book. Ever heard of Grognak The Barbarian?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Blackhall heaves a sigh, his head dropping almost to his chest at the mention of the dipshit in question; he murmurs something to himself and shakes his head.

At the question, though, he looks up. "Can't say that I have," he says. "The family library here-" He indicates a room to the right. "-hasn't got that sort of thing in it. All I know is what I've been told..."

[boston_bruiser]

"What you've been told is wrong. My friend here," Voodoo says, gesturing to Ellen, "can show you the pages herself if you want. Ain't no spellbook - just a real stuffy comic book."

He scratches his jaw. "Might've figured out why you're so hung up on it bein' a family responsibility of yours 'n all, though. Did your folks ever tell you about Blackhall Publishers, Incorporated?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Blackhall hesitates. After a bit of thought he says, "Not... not by that name, that I can remember. I recall being told my great-great-grandma Constance was responsible for bringing that book into the world..."

"And publishers," says Ellen quietly, "bring a lot of books into the world, don't they. Or they did, once upon a time."

"They did indeed," says Blackhall. "Are you saying what I think you're saying, young man?"

[boston_bruiser]

"Mmmmmmhm."

He stands up properly now, one hand on his hip.

"You got yourself all bent outta shape for nothin', Mister Blackhall." He shrugs. "You could still go through with burnin' it, but frankly, I don't see the point. If I were you, I'd relabel it and put it in that library of yours. Ain't no harm'll come outta putting it on a shelf."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Alternatively," Ellen says, "the Brotherhood of Steel is prepared to offer you a hundred and fifty bottlecaps or the equivalent value in shotgun shells or other supplies in exchange for the book."

Blackhall blinks. "That much?" he says. "Why on Earth- that's an awful lot to offer for a book, young lady."

"Sir, you took care of our third highest ranking member when she was in a bad way," Ellen says. "We appreciate that. In the Capital Wasteland, we offer a standing bounty for any and all pre-War books in readable condition that we haven't already got in our archives." She holds up the black book. "I've had a look through this thing. We only have a fraction of the stories here in the archives."

"But if they're just stories, why d'you want them so badly?"

"Because they're from the world before, and we don't have them yet," Ellen says. "Anything that fills us in on the past, whether it's a science textbook or a children's story or a ladies' magazine, has value to us."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo nods along with Ellen's explanation. "That's probably the better course of the two, Mister Blackhall."

The mun is just brain-addled.

"I ain't got much to spare, but I'd appreciate it if you traded it to my friend here."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

Blackhall eyes the book uncertainly. Eventually, slowly, he nods. "I think," he says, "that that sounds a pretty fair deal. I didn't much want to go through with what I thought I'd have to do to see that thing destroyed."

"You won't have to now," Ellen says. "We'll be glad to pay you now, and maybe more before we leave- how is Star Paladin Cross doing, and the other woman?"

"Oh, they've been coming along just fine, as far as I can manage with them," says Blackhall. "That young swamp lady's got a real flair for theatrics, though. I can't ask her even the simplest question without her going off into a speech about it."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo snorts. "Don't sound too far off from the ones we ran into. They ambulatory?"

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"Your Brotherhood friend is, if a bit slow," says Blackhall. "The swamp lady's still got a ways to go before she'll be up and about."

"We've got more medical supplies with us," Ellen says. "There was an old medical facility under the lighthouse to the south. I think we can do her some good- and leave some of the rest of the supplies with you as well."

There aren't many old people in the Wasteland, except for maybe Agatha. Mr. Blackhall reminds Ellen of some of the people in Vault 101 who'll probably never come to the surface- some of the ones she actually misses.

"All right, then," says Blackhall. "Right this way."

It isn't far to the impromptu infirmary. Judging by some of the ancient medical equipment stacked in the corner, Mr. Blackhall and his family have been using the room as a basic care facility for some time. A tall, dark-skinned woman with close-cropped hair lies propped up on a decrepit but still structurally sound couch; she's got what looks like one of the books from Blackhall's library to keep her company. On the opposite wall a much smaller woman, pale-skinned and not much beyond Ellen's own height, is sleeping in a bed that's easily older than anything Ellen has in her house in Megaton.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo barely spares a glance toward the sleeping tribal as he walks in - she's not the mission.

Instead, he looks to Cross and raps thrice upon the wall, gently, so as not to wake said tribal.

"Star Paladin Cross? We're takin' you home."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

The woman looks up and puts down her book. "That went quickly, " she observes. "101?"

Ellen, still in her armor and helmet, comes to attention. "Right here, ma'aam," she says. "I can fill you in on what happened once we're clear of the premises."

Cross spares a glance for Obadiah Blackhall and nods. "Understood," she says."Give me a few minutes. I need to gear up first."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo nods. "Take your time. Ain't no reason to rush."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

'A few' minutes turns out to be around fifteen or twenty, which Ellen spends paying Mr. Blackhall in caps and supplies, and then talking to him about the tribal woman's and Cross's condition. When it's done, though, Cross emerges from the sickroom in her T-51b armor, a blocky, squarish laser rifle and a massive supersledge slung across her back. "Well," she says, "I'm ready. Mr. Blackhall, I want to thank you, both on my own behalf and on behalf of the Brotherhood."

"It was nothing, miss," says Blackhall. "I'd have done as much for any traveler in need."

"Nonetheless, I thank you." She looks to Voodoo. "And you, sir. This isn't the first time we've been in your debt for services rendered."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo returns the thanks with a shrug. "Keep throwin' things that need killin' my way and we'll call it even."

Beat.

"Though, come to think of it, I could do with a stimpack or two."

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

"I think we have enough to spare," Ellen says, and hands him one. "I've already given Mr. Blackhall what we owe him; we shouldn't presume on his hospitality much longer. Let's head out."

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo palms the stimpack into a magazine pouch and follows them. It's simple enough - with the book recovered, all that's left to do is to head to the dock and get working on jumpstarting the Duchess Gambit while Ellen and Cross cover him.

Turns out? It's nowhere near as complicated as a Zodiac.