Children of the Corn… field.

After a good night’s sleep I’m not really in a hurry to move on to Novac. It might be nice to stick around and keep exploring around this area for a while. Besides, the idea of leaving Goodsprings was to break patterns of behaviour and keep away from the ‘devil drink’, and there is certainly no booze out here.
So I’ve stored most of my gear in the little cabin’s locker and set out east to see what I can find.

Looking out at the road before me, the first and most obvious thing is a small town off in the distance. Definitely worth checking out! Also of note is what appears to be an airport, slightly to the south.

Where to loot go first?!?

Where to loot visit first?!

There’s also a little ‘ol camper van which I’m inexplicably drawn to.
In the harsh capital wasteland, behind the saloon in Goodsprings or the trailer park in Nipton – I’ve had a lot of luck with caravans and trailers.
And as I get closer I see that there is more to this particular caravan then I could see from further away. There’s a corn field, a shed and a defensive walls.

Where the hell did those walls come from, because I swear they weren't there a moment ago...

Where the hell did those walls come from, because I swear they weren’t there a moment ago…

Ed-e’s scanners only report one docile life-form, so I figure that it would be safe to pay a visit. Maybe a famer lives here! Maybe he’ll want to trade!! Maybe he’ll be my friend!!!

But, alas, as I make my way around to the door a single raven, the life-sign that Ed-e’s scanners had picked up, flew off over the caravan and away. The grim reality is almost immediately apparent – dried out old bones lay scattered around the entrance way, weathered scraps of deteriorating clothing still clinging at the broken frames of their former owners.
Tragically, inside the doorway are yet more bones, including the skeletal remains of a child – a mare third of the size of the other piles of bones, likewise abandoned to the elements. The desolate remains of a once loving family.
We can only hope that they are gone to a better place, the great Vault in the sky… where the food is always less than a century old and the water is never radiated.

Oh well, let’s hope they left Joe some awesome stuff to sell!

Ashes to ashes, Dust to Dust. You had to go, but you left me your stuff.

Ashes to ashes, Dust to Dust.
Sorry you died, but I’m taking your stuff.

Sure enough, inside the former farmhouse (farmvan?) I find a small treasure trove of items. Ammo, weapons, armour, a few medical supplies and various miscellaneous items that will be easy enough to trade away.
I’m gleefully shoving the items into my mystical pockets-of-holding when panicked whistling from Ed-e alerts me to the fact that his scanners have picked up a lot more life-signs… and they are heading this way… and these ones are NOT docile.
Guess this makes three ambushes in three days, huh?



I might have fallen directly into a trap, but with Ed-e’s advance warning there is a good chance that I can pull through this. I have enough time to pull my trusty leather armour over my clothes and sort out my weapons before the fugitive jaws of the trap spring shut.
Even with the added warning it seems like only moments before a grenade detonates outside the caravan and bullets are zinging about me.

I hate you, kama.

I hate you, kama.

The bandits seem to have started in a big circle around the small farm, closing in like a noose. But they were all forced to come round through the corn-field, and that’s become my killbox. Or, really, Ed-e’s killbox. He hovers in the doorway, bright red laser blasts burning trails of death through the oncoming raiders. Mostly, I just hide by the widow.

You call this a corn field? I call this your grave!

You call this a corn field? I call this your grave!

Laser > Head

Raider < Little Floating Ball

My amateur-level target shooting proves to be a minor issue, as Ed-e's laser is apt at bringing down the raiders. We take down three, and then two more, and then another pair came over the hill. For a moment it seems like they'll just keep coming, but after the seventh raider the onslaught stops and silence once again returns to the small, doomed farmstead.

Laden with the loot from the raiders and the items from the farmers, I make my way back to the ranch.
I've had a good day – best not to ruin it by falling into yet another trap.

Ed-e, it's not polite to stare.

Perhaps tomorrow will fair better?


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