"What kind of an idiot goes looking for Deathclaws?"
Oh, you'd be surprised, though one answer would be those who had the power to, a story carried down through the ages from the first members of the clan, straight from Old Goris himself. It was a tale of the black-armored men who used the green stuff to give Deathclaws a mind and a voice, of how the first colony escaped to create a brood and was massacred by the metal mutant. Only the remnants of that clan and those rescued from the oil island remained from then on, the bitter reminder of hellish masters fresh in their minds, determined to never be taken unawares again. Even still, Malkos let the young man continue speaking.
"Seriously, you're the first one we've seen in these parts ever. As far as we knew, the nests were over in the Rockies. What are you doing out this far east?"
"The Migration was before my time. It is NOT your concern..."
Though, anyone who lived around here knew that it got a bit cold in these here parts. And he being of the apparent lizard persuasion preferred the heat over cold. Fortunately, the Goris Clan had an important advantage over all natural Deathclaws: The use of fire. Now anyway, the human he'd thrown a rock at blasted one of themeats[/i] prisoners, leaving the other one too encumbered to really get out of here. What followed was Ollie proposing a plan that would seem mutually beneficial to them.
"...I can't think of anyone who would want to tangle with a 'Claw, so you wouldn't get anymore trouble from us."
"I have heard tales, but..."
He scanned the area for the other Nightmare carcassses, noting the smell of the one consumed by flame. He snorted.
"...acceptable."
Well, this was a weird day. They had discovered that there are Deathclaws in the area and that they uhhh...talk. More than that, apparently they can be reasoned with. Or...at least Malkos' nature could be appealed to. Little were they aware that he had been hatching plans to destroy them if this hadn't come up. How well that would have worked, it would be hard to say, but he alone could have driven their mounts from them, and then terrorized the whole group, night and day, in a series of cutthroat attacks. As it stood, though, the Deathclaw was curious enough to entertain this idea of Ollie's and- Huh?! What are you doing with those- Okay... The Deathclaw was now rapidly lashing its claws into the ground to heft chunks of dirt at the fire. That was...most uncanny of his species.
Oh, you'd be surprised, though one answer would be those who had the power to, a story carried down through the ages from the first members of the clan, straight from Old Goris himself. It was a tale of the black-armored men who used the green stuff to give Deathclaws a mind and a voice, of how the first colony escaped to create a brood and was massacred by the metal mutant. Only the remnants of that clan and those rescued from the oil island remained from then on, the bitter reminder of hellish masters fresh in their minds, determined to never be taken unawares again. Even still, Malkos let the young man continue speaking.
"Seriously, you're the first one we've seen in these parts ever. As far as we knew, the nests were over in the Rockies. What are you doing out this far east?"
"The Migration was before my time. It is NOT your concern..."
Though, anyone who lived around here knew that it got a bit cold in these here parts. And he being of the apparent lizard persuasion preferred the heat over cold. Fortunately, the Goris Clan had an important advantage over all natural Deathclaws: The use of fire. Now anyway, the human he'd thrown a rock at blasted one of the
"...I can't think of anyone who would want to tangle with a 'Claw, so you wouldn't get anymore trouble from us."
"I have heard tales, but..."
He scanned the area for the other Nightmare carcassses, noting the smell of the one consumed by flame. He snorted.
"...acceptable."
Well, this was a weird day. They had discovered that there are Deathclaws in the area and that they uhhh...talk. More than that, apparently they can be reasoned with. Or...at least Malkos' nature could be appealed to. Little were they aware that he had been hatching plans to destroy them if this hadn't come up. How well that would have worked, it would be hard to say, but he alone could have driven their mounts from them, and then terrorized the whole group, night and day, in a series of cutthroat attacks. As it stood, though, the Deathclaw was curious enough to entertain this idea of Ollie's and- Huh?! What are you doing with those- Okay... The Deathclaw was now rapidly lashing its claws into the ground to heft chunks of dirt at the fire. That was...most uncanny of his species.