» Mon Mar 14, 2011 6:12 pm A week ago, an overheard conversation in Megaton had set him on this path, leading him through the dusty wind blasted terrain of the Capital Wasteland, sheltering in improvised camps, carefully avoiding Raider gangs and the silent death of rad pits until he arrived here, just west of Dunwich Building.
He gazed through the scope of his sniper rifle down to his target; an Albino Radscorpion nest. He could see the advlt nearby, a giant among the species that had mutated from the indigenous Emperor scorpion in the decades after the Great War.
He glanced in the direction of the sinking sun, a few hours until sunset. Crawling back to his camouflaged camp, he used his time to prepare.
Sheltered from the stinging dust, he stripped and cleaned his rifle as his father had taught him. This was once his fathers rifle and its regular maintenance over the years had kept it reliable. Out here, neglect of essentials can cost you your life, your corpse bleaching in the dust, food for Bloatfly larvae or scavenged for another’s survival.
Eventually the sun dipped behind him, obscuring his position to those ahead. He crawled forward and sighted again. The Radscorpion had returned to the nest, guarding the large clutch of fist sized eggs. The eggs themselves would bring plenty of caps, coupled with the venom glands, stinger and plating of the radscorpion, this would be a very profitable hunt.
He waited for his moment and as the radscorpion turned front on to him, he fired accurate successive shots into the cephalothorax, the high velocity rounds powering through, destroying internal and sensory organs. Within seconds, the creature was dead, leaving him listening to the gunshots ring out across the Wasteland.
As much as he wanted to leave the corpse til the morning, this was not an option as night-time scavengers would take advantage so after stashing the sniper rifle away, he carefully picked his way down from his camp and quickly made his way over to the nest.
Drawing level with the Radscorpion, its size was impressive. The venom sac alone was the over the size of a basketball and the glistening stinger was easily the size of a combat knife, a weapon in its own right.
He turned his attention to the nest itself, a shallow pit at the base of a rock ridge. A few skeletal human remains protruded out of the fine dust that had accumulated here and a quick search yielded some .32 ammo and a few caps, nothing special but an additional bonus. Turning to the matter at hand, he examined the scorpion eggs; tough and leathery yet slightly translucent, he could see the slowly maturing creatures within and smiled as the rough maths yielded significant caps. The haul of eggs themselves would require two trips to camp and back....
A sudden falling of loose rock and dirt from above brought his senses back to the now and he froze in position, his senses charged. Through the low noise of the wind, the sound he heard made his blood run cold; heavy guttural breathing, heavy plodding gait and sudden deep bark like call meant one thing; a Deathclaw.
The apex predator of the Capital Wasteland, fast, lethal and nightmarish in appearance, a source of scare stories told to disobedient children, powerful enough to bring a look of fear to any mans eyes. This one had smelt the kill on the wind.
He strained his senses to approximate its position above him and heard it move to his left, beginning its descent down the ridge slope towards his position. Cursing himself for leaving his rifle at the camp, he took stock of the weapons he had to hand; 3 frag grenades and a sawn off shotgun.
Improvising, he stripped cloth from the skeletal remains with him and knotted them around the grenades before finally tying them together as a whole. Another piece was threaded through each pin. He worked quickly but even so, fear gripped his heart, the blood pounding in his ears as he heard the Deathclaw close upon his position, the crunch of scree under its raptor clawed feet.
He had only the one chance at this.
As soon as the Deathclaw came into his view, he yanked the pins free from the grenade bouquet and threw with all his strength, diving towards the Radscorpions massive corpse. Scant seconds later, the grenades detonated in a thunderclap, showering sand, fragments and rubble across the area.
He maintained his position, listening for movement. None but for a low moan. Carefully, he pulled himself up, his weight resting on the body of the radscorpion, his sawn off shotgun to hand and peered over.
The Deathclaw was down, the ferocious detonation had sheared off one of its legs and shredded the other. One hand was a mangled wreck and the body was perforated with shrapnel, thick blood oozed from multiple wounds. It was incapacitated.
He approached carefully, his shotgun gripped two handed, ready to react, heart pounding from fear, adrenaline and exhilaration. As he drew nearer, the Deathclaw lashed out feebly but he maintained his distance. Eventually its strength gave out and its defiant clawed hand lowered to the floor.
Sensing the threat was over, he approached the slowly breathing creature, its reptilian eye fixed at him as he brought up the shotgun, discharging both barrels into its head. 'Never leave to suffer that which you kill' his fathers words to him about ending needless suffering of a mortally wounded target.
He dropped to his knees, adrenaline draining away. After a few moments, he drew his knife and quickly removed the remaining good Deathclaw hand. More caps for the pot as he returned to the harvest.
