Chapter Text
It happened a handful of years ago in the town of Melini. A little island in the center of a lake just outside of the New California Republic’s border. Things were desperate at the time; people were starving in the streets of the settlement when a figure appeared to a pair of kids fighting over a rat near the sheer face of one of the cliffs on the outskirts of town proper. At first, the kids assumed that the figure was some kind of ghost, as such things weren’t wholly unheard of in the bomb cratered planet they called home.
The figure, once more, people started to see it looked human at first. Then its pale blue skin began to warp, becoming gnarled and fetid like that of a ghoul. “Whoever should venture down into the depths and defeat the mad bastard who controls the caves will have untold riches to their name!”
Then, just as easily as it appeared, it vanished, and the wall that would become the caves opened up, revealing untold pre-war ruins for the people to explore.
2283
Things started with a typical scene: A group of wasteland mercs fighting a deathclaw in the dark of a cave. The whole scene was lit up by glowing moss on the ruins of a section of the caves called The Burbs. There were six of them, which makes for a decent fighting force if you know what you’re doing.
At the head of the group was Laios Touden, a Vault Dweller who braved the horrors of the Midwest to get to California. He was what you might describe as a melee user with a zweihander that somebody made out of the hull of an ancient tank. He was smacking the deathclaw about the face with his sword, doing very little damage to it, but keeping it distracted while his other party members took potshots at it.
Immediately to his right was Marcille Donato, a ghoul from the Boneyard who burned through a handful of microfusion cells attempting to put the monster down, while she and her friend Falin attempted to keep everyone alive with their meager healing supplies. A wrong turn on their map led to them burning through stimpaks days ago, so everyone had resorted to eating handfuls of a homemade healing powder, which was hell on their perception and did nothing to fight back the hunger that was plaguing all of them.
The deathclaw swung a meaty paw, swiping Laios into two other members of the party. The synth burglar Chilchuck got an artificial tooth knocked out of his mouth by Laios’s armor chestpiece, and the wasteland ronin, Shuro, fully got knocked the fuck out.
“Dammit, Laios, get your head in the game!” shouted Namari, the strong yet short weaponeer whose minigun had been the end of supermutants, lakelurks, and gulpers. Yet, the rounds seemed to bounce off the scaly hide of the deathclaw.
“This is getting bad,” said Laios, hefting up Shuro’s unconscious body. “Everyone, prepare a full retreat!”
Then there was the final member of the party, Falin Touden. A former member of the Followers of the Apocalypse, like Marcille, proficient in medicine and homicide. She ran up on the deathclaw with a belt of grenades, only to be snatched off the ground in a clawed hand.
“Falin!” shouted Marcille, losing her focus.
Falin dropped a weird-shaped hand grenade, and the last thing everybody saw was a flash of light, coupled with a blue electrical charge that made everything taste like licking a nine-volt battery.
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Laios came too in some farmer’s garden with an assaultron in a straw hat, hitting him with a shovel.
“Get out of here! You tramps! You sluts!” shouted the assaultron farmer.
“I’m going! I’m going!” shouted Laios back as he fled the field, hoping to god that the farmer didn’t activate her head laser and cut him down like he was nothing.
He found Marcille and Chilchuck leaning on the fence that divided the farmer’s land from the dirt path that led up to Melini proper.
“Guys, have you seen Falin?” asked Laios.
“I think she was out of the range of the reverse-relay grenades,” said Chilchuck. “That, and they can’t teleport anything bigger than a human.”
“Shit,” muttered Laios. “We have to get back down there and help her!”
“Laios,” croaked Marcille. “As much as I don’t want to admit it. I think this might be a losing battle…also…Namari and Shuro have left us.”
Evidently, Laios’s affinity with the two of them was lower than it should have been, despite having been a party for a year.
“Oh, hell,” said Laios.
“And that’s only the start of things,” said Chilchuck. “We’re out of money.”
Laios ran his fingers through his short blonde hair as he started to think. A herculean effort, some people might say. Some people are also quite mean.
“Give me whatever equipment you have,” said Laios. “I’ll sell it in town and set myself up to go down into the cave solo and get Falin…or Falin’s body back.”
“Like hell you will!” shouted Marcille. “I care about Falin just as much as you do! If anybody’s going to solo the caves, it’s going to be me!”
“And you’re both stupid if you think you’ll make it past the array of traps without my superior synthetic senses,” said Chilchuck with a cocksure grin.
Laios couldn’t help but smile a bit, but quickly the smile vanished beneath a serious look. “Are you two sure about this…Are you willing to do the unthinkable to get back to Falin?”
“I…yes?” said Marcille, a little scared by the look in Laios’s eyes.
Laios didn’t elaborate; he started in the direction of the cave entrance. Just outside of it were the local cults. The New Canaanites had set up a church booth where they could take advantage of the stupid by selling them overpriced guns, medicine, and dirty nuka colas. They also collected dead bodies from the caves, making a mint off of grieving families.
“Have you heard the good word?” asked a Gen 2 synth who had a mess of exposed wires making up his “hair”.
Laios brushed past him and into the entrance of the cave. The first level of everything had become something of a place of commerce. People sold equipment out of stalls, and graves had been set up by the New Canaanites to entomb those who weren’t claimed by friends or relatives.
“Laios, what are you doing!” shouted Marcille as she and Chilchuck trailed after him.
“We can save ourselves a lot of grief…and caps…by eating whatever we fight down there,” said Laios.
Marcille narrowed her black, doll-like eyes. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“You eat Brahmin, don’t you?” asked Laios. “It’s not that weird.”
He pulled a strip of cloth that had once been an old sock out of his inventory and began to wrap it around the tip of his sword.
“That’s different, Laios,” said Marcille. “Brahmin are domesticated. We have ways of checking them for diseases now. You can’t just eat any radioactive monster from the depths of hell and call it a day!”
“Yeah, that’s how humans become ghouls, Laios,” said Chilchuck.
Laios froze as he considered that, his lips pursed.
“You’re going to die of radiation poisoning, Laios,” said Marcille.
“It’s going to be fine,” said Laios, resting his cloth-wrapped sword hilt in front of an opening in the wall that was too small for most to fit through.
Pincers the size of a baby’s hands seized on the sword, and Laios dragged the monster out, revealing to everyone an adolescent radscorpion.
“What’s that asshole doing?” said a wasteland vendor who was packing up because he didn’t want to get stung.
With his free hand, Laios drew his iconic 10mm pistol and fired, killing the scorpion immediately. He didn’t even need to use VATS.
“Yeah, what are you doing, Laios?” said Chilchuck.
“The Wasteland Survival Guide says that radscorpions are especially nutritious,” said Laios.
“That thing is written by a shut-in, Laios. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” said Marcille.
“Maybe, but it’s the greatest resource we have for what wild cuisine is like,” said Laios.
Laios dug his fingers into the carapace of the relatively gigantic anthropod and ripped it open with a sickening squelch, his fingers immediately coated themselves in green blood as he started rooting around for the sweet meats. When he found his disgusting prize, Laios tore out a handful of monster flesh and attempted to eat it raw.
The flavor was like that of metal, and Laios immediately ran to a porta-potty and vomited it back up.
“See, that’s exactly what happens when you go around trying to eat these things, Laios!” shouted Marcille.
“I think the issue is more that he was trying to eat the beast raw,” said a cheerful voice, like someone stepped out of a pre-war commercial for Abraxo Cleaner.
Marcille and Chilchuck turned to see that a little man had appeared. He was short and buff, looking like Namari, at least his arms did. The rest was totally consumed by his full-bodied black beard.
“Who are you?” asked Marcille.
The little man pushed past the pair and over to the scorpion. They could see more of him. He wore an old army helmet, and on his back, he had a cooking pot. He took it off his back and revealed he had a whole chef’s kit. Without another word, the man started to peel off the hardened shell of the rad scorpion and pull out its guts.
“Don’t worry, my hands are clean,” said the little man. “Just washed them.”
He said that like he didn’t actively have radscorpion blood running down his forearms in great rivers.
After he washed that from his hands, he set about erecting a fire pit. It was then that Laios returned and saw what the little man was up to. He found himself immediately dazzled, like he was watching a Mister Handy perform close-up magic tricks.
“Who are you?” asked Laios.
“My name’s ‘Senshi’,” said the little man. “It means seeker back in my tribe…let me think…”
Senshi snapped his fingers and started to slice off the pincers and tail of the radscorpion before setting them to the side. He set to work on the body, making thick cuts of meat.
“It’s not like a twelve-ounce steak, but it’ll be good,” said Senshi, more to himself than to the others.
“What are you making, Senshi?” asked Laios.
“I’m thinking hotpot. Have you ever had hotpot, lad?” asked Senshi.
“I’ve read about it in pre-war cookbooks,” said Laios.
“Then you’re familiar with the basic concept…But I need just…something to add to it,” said Senshi, repeatedly snapping his fingers to try and summon the correct ingredient from thin air.
He reached into his cloth sack and produced a bag of green fungus that Marcille and Laios immediately recognized as Brain Fungus mixed with some purple flowers.
“What is that?” asked Chilchuck.
“It’s a fungus lavender mix,” said Senshi. “It will give the meal a floral quality that mixes well with the fungus.”
Radscorpion Hotpot
1 Radscorpion
1 bag of Radaway
2 hefty spoonfuls of Brain Fungus Lavender Blend
3-4 cans of water.
Serves 3-4
+2 INT
+ 125 Hit Points
- 10 RAD
+15 Energy Resistance for 10 Minutes.
Marcille, after a moment of prolonged whining, decided that she would eat of the meal. It was thick, and there was the metallic taste that Laios experienced, but it was rich after a fashion. She ate her portion without radaway, allowing the radiation present in all the ingredients to soak into her form, healing whatever minor wounds she’d gained from the melee with the deathclaw.
“Naturally,” said Senshi. “This blows my whole trip because I think I have to go with you.”
“You don’t have to,” said Laios. “But…Admittedly, we will need someone with your experience to come with us.”
“So, I have to,” said Senshi. “End of argument.”