At the Gates
Oct. 21st, 2014 05:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aaaaaaaagh_sky"Any chance you know mole people this far north?" said Jerald.
Ellen winced inwardly. When she delivered her report to the Citadel, she privately decided, she was going to ask Star Paladin Cross if something couldn't be done about getting Elder Lyons to lift the no-Milliways-disclosure order, at least as far as her husband went. Outwardly, though, all she said was, "I don't think there's a Metro tunnel close enough for me to try."
"Crap."
"Let's keep moving. Whatever a Yinzer is, we're not," Ellen said. "Dogmeat, behave."
The heeler, as was his wont, waved his tail and gave no impression of paying attention otherwise. Ahead, by the side of the road, Ellen spotted another sign:
APPROACHING WESTERN CHECKPOINT
STOW YOUR PIECE BEFORE INSPECTION
TURN AROUND NOW IF YOU CAN'T COMPLY
"Wonder what the literacy rate is like around here, if they have so many signs like this," Jerald muttered. "Megaton doesn't do that."
"Or Rivet City," Conklin agreed. "Here they come, ma'am."
There were two gate guards, who frankly did not look much better than Capital raiders, save in that their gear was more colorful. Ellen couldn't remember ever encountering even a civilized Wasteland wanderer who'd bothered to paint his armor orange. We don't need to conceal ourselves, the color said; we want you to see us. One of them wore a mask over his whole face that had holes for his eyes and an odd pattern of holes where the mouth should have been. The other was a woman, whose spiked shoulder pads looked like they'd been taken from someone much larger, wore a black cerasteel helmet with a clear visor over half her face. Unlike her companion, who had a double-barreled shotgun in his hands, she carried some kind of hooked stick or war-club nearly as long as she was tall. "Welcome to Philly," she said, sounding more bored than threatening. "You wanna get into the city, I'm gonna have to ask yiz all to put your weapons away while we ask a couple questions."
The Knights glanced at Ellen; she nodded fractionally. None of the snipers had been carrying anything heavier than a .308 from what she'd been able to make out- definitely no plasma or lasers- and if their power armor couldn't stand up to a shotgun and a stick at close range, they'd have bigger problems than not being able to fire first. Jerald… well, his robes were reinforced, not actively armored; on the other hand, Dogmeat was as good as a bullet, and a lot harder for anyone to hit than a man-sized target.
"Thank you kindly," said the woman. "Who'm I talking to, and what's your point of origin? Better not be the Pitt."
She was looking at Jerald expectantly. He opened his mouth a moment, made a noise that might've been half a syllable, then pointed to Ellen. "Ah- I'm not in command, ma'am," he said. "She is."
The woman sighed and nodded. "Sorry 'bout that. Same question."
There were three snipers on the city wall, Ellen realized distantly; she'd missed seeing one of them before. And there was at least one auto-turret up there on the rubble. A glimmer of light on it had caught her eye as it moved. They didn't do that in Megaton. They barely even did that kind of thing in the Pitt.
"Paladin 101 of the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel," she said, "and these are-"
"Wait, waitwaitwait," said the woman, pointing her hooked stick at Ellen. "One thing at a time. The Capital?"
"… yes?"
"Like those Sudden Death Overtime guys?"
"I have no idea who you're talking about."
The woman snorted. "Figures. They talk a better game than they play. Lemme try again. Like where the Wasteland Survival Guide comes from- that Capital Wasteland?"
"Oh! Yes, actually," said Ellen. "You have that here?"
"Yeah, it's been real popular with the Franklin crowd," said the woman. "We don't get a lot of people from your area. What brings you up here, anyway?"
Ellen hesitated. Anywhere that mounted a full city wall with armed guards at the checkpoints probably didn't want to hear we understand you have an old robot factory and we'd like to see if we can get anything good out of it. "We've only recently encountered anyone from this city for the first time in I don't know how long," she said instead. "And she hadn't been in the city in a long time. My superiors ordered me to come up here and see what the situation was."
"Talent scouts," said the masked man, nodding. "You thinking of making a play at the Arena while you're here?"
"She didn't mention any Arena," Ellen said truthfully. "I'm sorry."
"Might've been a Friend," the woman noted to her companion. "You know how they get… anyways, sounds to me like you're gonna need to talk to the Prince. He lives in the Pen on Fairmont, not that that's gonna mean anything to yiz, so I suggest you find yourself a local guide as soon as you can and have them take you there."
"is something going to happen to us if we don't?" said Jerald.
"Only if you make a wrong turn down the wrong alley. There's things in the river that ain't penguins. They like to come out at night lookin' for food. You might have fancy armor, but they'll charge and trample you just the same, and they're bigger than that cow of yours, that's for sure."
"Mmmmooooooooooo."
Penguins? Jerald silently mouthed. Ellen ignored him. "All right," she said. "Is there somewhere you'd recommend we go for guides?"
"Keep goin' along City here-"
"You mean the post road?"
"It might be the post road out there, but past that gate it's City," said the woman firmly. "You just keep goin' along City until you get to the sign for Saint Joe- you can read, right?"
"Of course we can read," muttered Jerald. Ellen heard Kang snort.
"Just checkin', just checkin'," said the woman. "Anyway, I got no idea who Saint Joe was, but there's a bunch of buildings with his name on 'em and the people who live there, they'll show you around without hitting you up for too much of a trade. I suggest yiz do it quickly. The Prince ain't the kind of guy who demands everybody present themselves as soon as they come through the gate, but if he hears about out-of-towners who didn't bother showing up at all… well, it usually ain't pretty."
"Understood," said Ellen. "Thank you, ma'am."
The helmeted woman dipped her head in reply. "Y'welcome. And thanks ever so much for visiting our humble city. You have a pleasant stay now."
. . . uh huh.
Ellen winced inwardly. When she delivered her report to the Citadel, she privately decided, she was going to ask Star Paladin Cross if something couldn't be done about getting Elder Lyons to lift the no-Milliways-disclosure order, at least as far as her husband went. Outwardly, though, all she said was, "I don't think there's a Metro tunnel close enough for me to try."
"Crap."
"Let's keep moving. Whatever a Yinzer is, we're not," Ellen said. "Dogmeat, behave."
The heeler, as was his wont, waved his tail and gave no impression of paying attention otherwise. Ahead, by the side of the road, Ellen spotted another sign:
STOW YOUR PIECE BEFORE INSPECTION
TURN AROUND NOW IF YOU CAN'T COMPLY
"Wonder what the literacy rate is like around here, if they have so many signs like this," Jerald muttered. "Megaton doesn't do that."
"Or Rivet City," Conklin agreed. "Here they come, ma'am."
There were two gate guards, who frankly did not look much better than Capital raiders, save in that their gear was more colorful. Ellen couldn't remember ever encountering even a civilized Wasteland wanderer who'd bothered to paint his armor orange. We don't need to conceal ourselves, the color said; we want you to see us. One of them wore a mask over his whole face that had holes for his eyes and an odd pattern of holes where the mouth should have been. The other was a woman, whose spiked shoulder pads looked like they'd been taken from someone much larger, wore a black cerasteel helmet with a clear visor over half her face. Unlike her companion, who had a double-barreled shotgun in his hands, she carried some kind of hooked stick or war-club nearly as long as she was tall. "Welcome to Philly," she said, sounding more bored than threatening. "You wanna get into the city, I'm gonna have to ask yiz all to put your weapons away while we ask a couple questions."
The Knights glanced at Ellen; she nodded fractionally. None of the snipers had been carrying anything heavier than a .308 from what she'd been able to make out- definitely no plasma or lasers- and if their power armor couldn't stand up to a shotgun and a stick at close range, they'd have bigger problems than not being able to fire first. Jerald… well, his robes were reinforced, not actively armored; on the other hand, Dogmeat was as good as a bullet, and a lot harder for anyone to hit than a man-sized target.
"Thank you kindly," said the woman. "Who'm I talking to, and what's your point of origin? Better not be the Pitt."
She was looking at Jerald expectantly. He opened his mouth a moment, made a noise that might've been half a syllable, then pointed to Ellen. "Ah- I'm not in command, ma'am," he said. "She is."
The woman sighed and nodded. "Sorry 'bout that. Same question."
There were three snipers on the city wall, Ellen realized distantly; she'd missed seeing one of them before. And there was at least one auto-turret up there on the rubble. A glimmer of light on it had caught her eye as it moved. They didn't do that in Megaton. They barely even did that kind of thing in the Pitt.
"Paladin 101 of the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel," she said, "and these are-"
"Wait, waitwaitwait," said the woman, pointing her hooked stick at Ellen. "One thing at a time. The Capital?"
"… yes?"
"Like those Sudden Death Overtime guys?"
"I have no idea who you're talking about."
The woman snorted. "Figures. They talk a better game than they play. Lemme try again. Like where the Wasteland Survival Guide comes from- that Capital Wasteland?"
"Oh! Yes, actually," said Ellen. "You have that here?"
"Yeah, it's been real popular with the Franklin crowd," said the woman. "We don't get a lot of people from your area. What brings you up here, anyway?"
Ellen hesitated. Anywhere that mounted a full city wall with armed guards at the checkpoints probably didn't want to hear we understand you have an old robot factory and we'd like to see if we can get anything good out of it. "We've only recently encountered anyone from this city for the first time in I don't know how long," she said instead. "And she hadn't been in the city in a long time. My superiors ordered me to come up here and see what the situation was."
"Talent scouts," said the masked man, nodding. "You thinking of making a play at the Arena while you're here?"
"She didn't mention any Arena," Ellen said truthfully. "I'm sorry."
"Might've been a Friend," the woman noted to her companion. "You know how they get… anyways, sounds to me like you're gonna need to talk to the Prince. He lives in the Pen on Fairmont, not that that's gonna mean anything to yiz, so I suggest you find yourself a local guide as soon as you can and have them take you there."
"is something going to happen to us if we don't?" said Jerald.
"Only if you make a wrong turn down the wrong alley. There's things in the river that ain't penguins. They like to come out at night lookin' for food. You might have fancy armor, but they'll charge and trample you just the same, and they're bigger than that cow of yours, that's for sure."
"Mmmmooooooooooo."
Penguins? Jerald silently mouthed. Ellen ignored him. "All right," she said. "Is there somewhere you'd recommend we go for guides?"
"Keep goin' along City here-"
"You mean the post road?"
"It might be the post road out there, but past that gate it's City," said the woman firmly. "You just keep goin' along City until you get to the sign for Saint Joe- you can read, right?"
"Of course we can read," muttered Jerald. Ellen heard Kang snort.
"Just checkin', just checkin'," said the woman. "Anyway, I got no idea who Saint Joe was, but there's a bunch of buildings with his name on 'em and the people who live there, they'll show you around without hitting you up for too much of a trade. I suggest yiz do it quickly. The Prince ain't the kind of guy who demands everybody present themselves as soon as they come through the gate, but if he hears about out-of-towners who didn't bother showing up at all… well, it usually ain't pretty."
"Understood," said Ellen. "Thank you, ma'am."
The helmeted woman dipped her head in reply. "Y'welcome. And thanks ever so much for visiting our humble city. You have a pleasant stay now."
. . . uh huh.