NAME: Rath
AGE: Depends on how one would measure it. Since his creation? Old. Since he woke up? Fifteen years?roughly.
GENDER: Male
RACE: Deathclaw (With an F.E.V. mixer of ?human?)
APPEARANCE: A Deathclaw?everyone in the wasteland knows of them, every sane (and most insane) people fear them; and with good reason. Only somebody who is familiar with Deathclaws, and who is
not currently part of one?s lower G.I. tract, would notice anything physically different between Rath and another of his so called ?kin?. While he shares the same mottled grey/brown skin tones as many other Deathclaws, his body is a bit ?off?. Compared to others he is for lack of a better term ?stocky?; a shorter, thicker body with corresponding shorter and thicker limbs and head.
Though his body may only be slightly different, there is a much bigger indicator that he differs from other Deathclaws; he wears clothes?in so far as an old tarp fashioned into a hooded cloak can be called ?clothing?. Aside from that he carries a pair of large bags, one to carry food, and the other to hold interesting things he finds along the way, as well as an old portable holotape player and his ever expanding collection of tapes.
PERSONALITY/HISTORY:
Things began with noise, cold and confusion. He awoke on the floor of a bunker to the sound of alarm klaxons and flashing lights, so cold it was hard to think straight; but as he began to warm up, his head began to clear and he looked about.
That lead to his first big shocker, was that he knew the names of
things, door, chair, table etc., but nothing of himself. Staggering down corridors too small for his frame, he went looking for answers?and maybe away to shut off that blasted alarm, but all he found were long dead bodies. His first surprise came almost immediately as he reached for a door handle and saw his hand; brown scaly skin covering thick claw tipped fingers?a hand obviously
not designed to easily use the various fittings around the facility he was in. After a bit of a struggle, he managed to open the door and set off to continue his investigations.
Eventual exploration took him to a series of offices, and their associated computer terminals; unfortunately many of them had ceased to function, but eventually he found one that was still working and set to work trying to figure out just what was happening. Typing was more than a little frustrating but eventually he gained access to the system, learn a bit about the facility, his creation and most importantly, turn the bloody alarms off.
He learned he was an attempt to make a US Army close combat experiment more controllable, apparently with the heavy use of human D.N.A. and something called the Forced Evolutionary Virus, and that this facility was buried somewhere in a government facility called Fort Detrick. There was more information to be found, but he was rapidly growing agitated at the close confines and more than a little hungry. A bit more probing of the old computers lead him to locating the exit, and with that he made his out of the concrete and steel hole in the ground, and out into the world?or what was left of it. He?d surmised
something must not be right on the surface, given the decayed bodies and dilapidated conditions he found, but this was worse than he?d thought. Setting off into this new, fractured, world, he went to first find a meal, and then maybe piece together what had gone on.
---
For several years he stayed pretty close by, sleeping in the remains of a library, reading what books were left, and returning to the base from time to time to investigate the computers. There were no ?real? humans in the immediate area, though at times he did encounter groups of them that reeked of decay and seemed to attack anything they saw with a suicidal fury. While they posed no real threat, they were a nuisance and tasted
awful, so he avoided them when he could. Mostly he ate strange looking deer, cattle and the occasional bear or dog. From time to time in his farther ranging explorations he?d encounter other humans; though his first time went rather poorly.
He?d caught scent of a small group of them, two males, three females and one of the two-headed cows, while he was exploring North of his usual ?home? and decided he should make contact. He was down wind, so tracking them was not too difficult and he stepped out on to the roadway well ahead of them, as to not startle them, but that didn?t seem to help. All five seemed to panic at once, and actually opened fire on him with crude firearms; this confused him greatly. Part of him
did want to attack them, it?d been awhile since he?d eaten, and he
was hungry, but he dismissed that as just an instinctual reaction; their bullets where only slightly more damaging than the bare hands of the rotten feral humans, so they posed no real threat to him. Confused and disheartened he turned away too look for his next meal.
Similar things happened the next few times he tried to interact with bands of humans that he encountered, until he eventually gave up and settled on just getting as close as he could
unnoticed so he could listen to and observe them. Some groups were family units, some were just individuals grouped together for safety, and some?some were predatory and almost feral themselves. He grew to dislike the last kind, they stank of chemicals and old blood, and seemed to enjoy death and slaughter for no reason. They rarely ate the humans they killed, and bafflingly they sometimes tried to
mate with females they had captured
after they killed them. Confused as he was, by both these ?near? ferals and the other humans, with the help of what he?d read, and what he overheard, he was able to piece together the world around him.
The world had been broken by a nuclear war between two great powers, this rubble was what remained of a country once called ?America?, the bad tasting feral humans were called ?Feral Ghouls?, the ?near feral? humans were generally referred to as ?Raiders? and that
he was something called a ?Deathclaw?, a beast that any even marginally sane individual feared.
This information both explained the previous interaction he?d had with humans, and saddened him; it would be hard to get to know people if they all thought he would eat them as soon as he saw them.
---
Returning to his solitude, he spent more years alone exploring his ?home? range and expanding his knowledge whenever possible. During one of these explorations he found a working holotape player and a small collection of ?tapes. A couple were personal log entries, which while interesting, were of little use. The ones that really got his attention where a couple of music ?tapes and a spoken recitation of a book called ?The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde?; the duality of the Jekyll/Hyde character speaking to him. With the acquisition of the ?tape player, he began gathering up all the ?tapes he?d previously passed by, some were of little use, but others were fascinating; more music, other stories or snippets of pre-war life, the recorded voices made him feel a little less alone.
---
Not too much later came the most significant encounter of his life. While out exploring and hunting, he caught wind of Raiders ahead of him, so stepping into cover he waited to avoid confrontation. After a while the band of four males came into view, but immediately he noticed something was off about their behaviour; most travelers he?d observed would poke and inspect various things as they travelled, but these four were methodical, like they were hunting something.
As that thought occurred to him, the wind shifted slightly and he caught another scent. A male and a female, both young and between himself and the Raiders, not far from where he was standing. He was wondering about what was going on when one of the men entered what was left of a house and shouted, which set the other three running to the same place. At the same time the air was filled with terrified screams, a sound he knew well, and the thumping and banging of a fight. Moments later all four men emerged, one carrying a small boy and the other carrying a slightly older girl. The children fought against their captors, but the men were far too strong.
Watching the scene before him, he felt his libs begin to curl, and a hand that had been resting against the ruins of a house began to flex, his claws carving furrows in the old wood; he knew what these men would do, he had seen it often enough, and while some of their words were unknown to him, he could understand the threat they were making to their young captives. Part of him said that interacting with humans was always more trouble than benefit, and his more primitive side, like always, just wanted to kill something, but his conscious mind told him he couldn?t let what he knew would happen, happen.
With a roar, he lunged out of hiding and towards the group, all six reacting exactly as he thought they would. One Raider went for a weapon, but as he did so he stopped, and that just meant he died first; a quick slash and he fell to the dirt with his entire front torn open. The second hadn?t gotten very far, and he easily caught him with a short jump, ramming his claws through the man?s back before casting him aside. The third, in his panic, had tripped over some broken road and was still struggling to his feet when he caught him. He simply brought his foot down
hard and carried on. The last one he saw scramble under the rusted remains of a car, and on top of the usual odors was emanating a distinct smell of urine and feces; crouching down he stuck an arm under the wreck and began feeling about. The Raider began opening fire with his crude weapon, but it was of little consequence and once he felt his claws touch something soft, he grabbed hold and dragged the screaming Raider out by his leg, before slamming him into the ground a few times.
With the problems dealt with, he turned back to where they had dropped the children, expecting them both to have run off in the confusion. Instead the girl was still lying face down on the road, while the boy tugged at her and cried for her to move. He?d seen other humans react in similar fashion when one of their own ceased living, though as he got close he couldn?t smell any of the distinctive human death smells. At this point the boy noticed him, and was frozen in fear, but that was something that could wait. Hunching down, he sniffed the girl and then cocked his head slightly to listen; though it was nearly overpowered by the boy?s rapid heartbeat, he could hear the girl?s slow and even. Leaning back, he pondered what to do, more Raiders could come looking for the others, and human young where particularly vulnerable. After another moment or two of thought, he tried something he?d always wanted to, but never had the chance, he spoke?or at least tried to.
When he opened his mouth all he managed was a rasping hiss. This was all he managed for the next few attempts, until in absolute frustration he focused on the most basic break down of the words he could imagine. [
] To his surprise the boy blinked and looked around briefly before focusing back on him. ?Y-y-yes? I?umm think so..M-Mist-t-er D-Deathclaw.? He let out a sigh of relief that left the boy coughing. [
Code:
Girl okay. Just sleep. Hit head in fall.
] He went on slowly. The boy relaxed, a
tiny bit. [
Code:
Where adult humans? Not safe for young alone.
] At this point the boy began to sob. ?T-the Raiders caught us a week ago. I-I think they killed Mom and Dad?it?s only me and sis now.? He said looking at the girl. ?A-are you going to eat us?? [
Code:
No. You safe. Need you off street. Good house that way.
] He said, pointing off to his left. ?I can?t move her.? The boy said softly, still crying a bit. ?I?m not very strong, and she?s heavy.? [
] Carefully scooping the girl up so he didn?t cut her with his claws he carried her to a mostly intact house while the boy nervously followed. He was too big to fit inside, but the boy was able to drag her on to an old couch. ?P-p-please stay? She?ll never believe me??
---
The trio ended up staying together for close to a year. The boy and girl, a brother and sister named Roger and Samantha, named him ?Rath? after the sound he made when he yawn, and told him as much as they could about the world that they knew, as well as helping him explore places and buildings he couldn?t fit into. Rath protected the children, hunted for them while they grieved, and actually taught them to read a little bit with the materials he had gathered; but as content as he was, and they seemed to be, he knew they belonged with their own kind. Early on Sam had said they had been going to a place called ?Megaton? where her mom had said she had a sister, so eventually Rath proposed that they continue the journey.
After much thought and with some obvious sadness, the children agreed, so long as Rath would come with them as far as he could. He readily agreed to that, and they set about getting ready; Sam found an old tarp, that with a little modification, Rath could throw over himself to make his exact appearance less obvious, and Roger found a pair of pre-war bags so he could bring his collection with him, as well as a length of chain for a rather brilliant idea. Looping the chain into a loose collar, it could be tucked out of Rath?s way most of the time, but if necessary Rath could shed his cloak and they could use the chain as a ?lead? to fool possible threats. Roger assumed, rather correctly, that no sane person would want to mess with children who had a ?pet? Deathclaw.
So equipped, they set off towards Megaton, though it was a bit slow going as Rath would have to hang back while one or the other talked to other travelers to get directions, but all in all they made decent time. After an uneventful, for the Capital Wasteland, trip, the entered the ruins of a small town called Springvale, and from the shelter of a surprisingly intact house they could see a sign pointing the way to Megaton, and the tops of its wall sticking up over a low rise. After a few tearful ?goodbyes? on the children?s part, Sam and Roger pulled the chain free from Rath?s neck and set out towards the town by themselves. Rath
was sad to see them go, but there was no question that they were going to be better off. Still, he waited behind the building for close to an hour, just in case, but once he was sure that everything was fine, he set off way from the town.
WEAPONS: Claws, teeth, brains and phenomenally bad breath.
ITEMS: Meat of various types, because sometimes hunting is a pain in the ass.
PERKS:
Nightmare Presence: You are a God. Damned.
DEATHCLAW! Anything with two functioning brain cells wants to put as much distance between you and them as quickly as possible.
You?re going to eat that!?: As long as it?s meat, its food. That said, some types are preferred more than others.
Smarter than your average Deathclaw (or Wastelander for that matter): Between some F.E.V. induced modifications, a pile of neurological imprinting and a whole library to yourself, you?re a well-rounded individual with an education surpassing any wasteland ?school?.
Oh God, it won?t stop?: Though they?re a bit shorter than most, your claws can still rend soft tissue with the best; and while they look like smooth knife blades on the end of each finger, the claws are actually serrated, meaning if the victim somehow survives that initial swipe, they?re now bleeding pretty badly.
Fist full of can openers: Your shorter claws backed by your considerable strength means nothing short of power armour, or high strength building materials, can resist them.
TRAITS:
Can you hear me? You can hear me!?: The Deathclaw?s vocal cords are rather unsuited for human-type speech, but thanks to an F.E.V. related side-effect (intentional or otherwise), you now have a limited from of telepathy. Unfortunately you can?t read minds, and it?s pretty short ranged, but assuming you can find someone who doesn?t flee in terror right away, you can actually talk to them.
Tougher and Slower: The F.E.V. mutations have made your hide tougher beyond the most frenzied nightmares of the average Wastlander, but the trade-off is speed; a fit individual with good stamina, or a good supply of Jet, could out pace you.
Do you think it saw us? YES, YES IT SAW US!: While typical Deathclaws are known to have rather poor eyesight, more of the F.E.V. tampering seems to have solved that. It?s not perfect, but it beats trying to find glasses that fit.
SKILLS:
Technical Lizardry: With increased intelligence, and nothing better to do, interacting successfully with an old classified computer system has made you rather adept at dealing with those machines (Even if typing can be a bit of a pain).
TRANSPORTATION: Walking. Tried riding a Brahmin once, was too terrified to be steered?got hungry.
