All Creatures Great and Small

It’s fair to say that my imminent death was a humbling experience and Joe has been laying low. There is a spare room up above Veronica and the stall, and Joe spends the bulk of the next week recovering up there. It’s nothing special but, gosh darn it, it’s home.
And it really is beginning to feel a bit like home. It’s nothing compared to the comparative luxury of the Novac motel room, but I’ve been in Vegas longer then I was in Novac… or Goodsprings for that matter,

Spare, but it's home.

Be it ever so humble

I’m not sure how I feel about this. It’s nice that this is beginning to feel like home. On the other hand, this is pretty literally an unadorned ruin. Ever since being evicted from Vault 101 because of my dickhead father, my prime goal has been to recreate that same safe, boring existence. This is not that existence.
All I’m saying is this… The Strip had better be spectacular.

Well, dreams of The Strip are free, but the only place I go the whole week is to visit the doctors at Followers of the Apocalypse. They seem like likeable folks, but it’s no charity… at least not for me. Apparently I must look too well-to-do. But I can procure bunches of stim-packs and doctor’s bags which help Joe on his way back to health.

"I want medical jargon I'll talk to a doctor." "You are talking to a doctor."

"DAMNIT, if I want medical jargon I'll talk to a doctor."
"You are talking to a doctor."

After my ‘bed’ week I spend another whole week around Freeside wherein I just keep on keeping my head down. There is the odd visit to the stores or visits to the bar… but nothing dangerous.

The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.

The cause of, and solution to, all of life's problems.

Two whole in-game weeks later, and it’s time to get back up on the postapocalyptic mutated-horse equivalent. I don’t really want to, but the time I’ve spent on the mend, and the medical supplies, have set me back a long way.

Where to go? Well… sure as f#$% not west again.
Back before my doomed expedition west, I’d spotted an outlet that seemed accessible. It was back near gecko-land. The geckos weren’t easy pickings, but compared to the ass-ripping wasp-creature they’re freaking teddy-bears.

It’s a bit of a walk and there’s nothing of interest along the way. In this case the boredom is sweet relief, and I actually enjoy the tramp.
It’s about mid-morning when I arrive at the rusty old gate, and my adrenaline has me on edge. I go in with my weapon drawn.

I'll put this place on the map! Because... err... it doesn't seem to show up on the map.

I'll put this place on the map! Because... err... it doesn't seem to show up on the map.

Vegas - so glamorous.

Vegas - so glamorous.

So… sewers. Awesome. Still, who knows what could have washed down here from pre-war days. Gadgets, money, jewellery… all kinds of crap. You know, other than the literal crap.

It’s a sad commentary on the state of the world that the poop-shoots of the pre-war world are built like impenetrable fortresses compared to the modern post-apocalyptic buildings. I mean its one thing if their normal buildings are better than ours, they had all sorts of cool things we’ve forgotten how to make. But these are supposedly just sewers. What the hell were they eating that such a solid contraction was required to contain their waste?

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the sewers are not immediately a stockpile of cool pre-war equipment. On the bright side it’s also devoid of creatures wanting to eat my flesh, so that’s nice.
In fact, my first contact with any other living thing is a little rat scuttling about in the darkness. Not terrifying at all… And a good source of protein.

Become a prospector, they said. See the Mojave, they said...

Become a prospector, they said.
See the Mojave, they said...

You Damn Dirty Rat!

You Damn Dirty Rat!

Natural 20!

Natural 20!

I press on with little bit more confidence and am rewarded a short while later when I uncover the dead body of another prospector. Granted, this is another mark in the ‘desecrating corpses’ column, rather than the ‘prospecting’ column – but a good find is a good find. Perhaps I should just accept, embrace and declare ‘Grave Robber’ as my profession from now on?

And what I find is substantial. She had food, water, lock-picks, ammo and (most intriguingly) and old key engraved with the words “Luke’s Find”

Luke’s Find, eh? Well Luke, fair warning – finders keepers.

My sorrow is offset by the contents of your pockets

My sorrow is offset by the contents of your pockets

Just as soon as I can find my way out of these sewers…

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One Response to “All Creatures Great and Small”

  1. Oh god, Almost afraid to read the next one. I remember “Luke’s find”.

    Even as a high level courier, I remember it reeeeaaaaaalllyyyy well.

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