Let me know what you guys think I plan for this to be longer covering the most of Fallout Alaska's important people.
Chapter 1 The King of Bears
The year is 2205 the crumbling building was once littered with popcorn, cups and trash. It had been years since the Beartooth Theatrepub has been that way. A passing man with tribal markings running down his face walked into the main theater room. At the center a large chair cut from the back half of a highwayman. A man adorned with bones and furs. Drank greedily out of a metal chalice as the colored contents ran down his cheeks. He was a heavyset man with dark brown skin. The clothing he wore had various plating on it. Under the furs that draped over his shoulders. Mixes of brown and gary. Unknown pelts to most. He was no weak man. NO, he built this kingdom out of blood. As the tribal approached, he spoke with fear in his voice. Not of the man before him no, of something else.”Sire. The runners report that the bloodpack is on the move. Heading our way. Three hundred men they are. All drugged up on cocktails of chems. Running naked screaming at the top of their lungs most are.”
The man slammed down his chalice. The contents spilling over. He fiercely gripped the hilt of his axe. Made of metal scraps. With a thrust of his arm he drew it over his own head.”We meet them in battle, arm the men! Ready the cannons! May the Great Mountain Bear ‘Vltron’ Guide us to Astten Guared.”
The men cheered filling the building with the sounds of roaring mortal men, ready to give their lives. In the name of their King, and God. The army of the Bear King. Morton Bearhorn. As he so called himself. Charged into battle, just off the streets of Benson and Arctic. Metal clashed and gunfire thundered. Filling the air with smoke, as the streets turned red. Cannons sent balls and debris flying into decrepit buildings, sending some tumbling down crushing those beneath. A Young Bear Tribal Yules Thornthrop blasted a Bloodpack psycho at point blank as he came in wielding a power saw. He crawled to his feet, before being impaled by a pointed pipe.The splatter of blood dripped off his armor. While the man gasped for air. With a weak voice it spoke.”Slice the tendons.. Fill our bellies with.. With. Ears….” He fell over the spear removed. Men and women died all around Yules, satisfied in their death. The look on their faces was almost as if the Vulpines had carried them away to Astten Guared. He smiled before charging off again.
Battle cries of unintelligible design flooded the city. As men fought each other one for life, the other for blood. The Bloodpack sought nothing else but to kill and get their chem fix. They are a wild and mindless plague. Hours of later after the slaughter the remaining Tribe. Those that call themselves Clan Bearhorn. They stood over the bodies of their fallen, but more so gazed upon the bodies of their slain enemy. And celebrated joyously. Their King Morton Bearhorn stood over a mountain of men, junk blades and axes stuck out of his body. He turned and yelled.”GLORY IS OURS!!! We burn our dead so they may travel in peace to Astten Guared. Then we Feast!”
They gathered the dead, and burned them. A party was held in the great hall, drinks and food were spread out. As the warriors consumed their shares still covered in blood. They told tales of their victory.”This woman charged me with zeal. She had grenades tapped to her hands as she bolted towards me. I raised my club and swung high. It connected with her torso and sent her airborne. She exploded in midair raining down chunks of flesh. It was brilliant!”
Another Bear Tribal laughed.”So you say Bilyorn but you were not the only one with a tale. I had three Bloodpack tribals closing in on me. There I was cornered only my claws for protection. I ripped the throat of the first one. The second one swung at me with an axe made of junk, I blocked with the back of my claws. It slid off the metal where I clawed his eyes out. Plucked them out I did.” “What about the third Galmun?”
“I’m getting to that Uared. Now the third He was tricky had some kind of chain blade. He whipped it around like I did last night in the brothel! Hahaha. It got me right here in my shoulder just above the bone. Dogging that was difficult. But I closed the distance and knocked him down where I pinned him to the ground. I slashed away at his face. I’m still picking out flesh from my claws.” Cheers and knocking of glasses could be heard throughout the room as similar tales spread of glory and valor. The King himself cheered them on, as his wounds were mended.”To Clan Bearhorn! And to the glory of Vltron. Our God! He won us this battle, this honor.” The Clan Bearhorn was one of many Raider Tribes who called Anchorage their home. But Morton Bearhorn was one of the few with the men and power to hold the title of King.
Chapter 2 The Gray Wolf King
Morning broke in the early may sky. Farmers and homesteaders were out tending the fields and cattle; children were rising from their beds and preparing for school. It’s not been the same since the Great War.”Children take your seats. Now I’ll teach you how to tell time with a sun dial. This lamp here will be our sun. Watch as the shadow of the wedge moves around the dial. That there is three, good, who can tell me the year today?” Children raised their hands in eager anticipation.”Yes Anton?” The teacher called out.”The datae is May 2 2206, teacher.” The boy spoke nervously at first.”Very good Anton. Let’s move on to the next subject shall we.”
As children studied survival techniques and gun safety. They learned the basics of math, writing and science. Those who showed an aptitude towards a subject was often instructed further. Much the same for the once young Rodger Unallit. It had been many years since he was taught the basic studies. So many years had passed. He was already a High Chief; essentially a King you could say. The man was in his forties with dark brown hair grown wildly. It reached the back of his neck and rested on his shoulders. His facial hair was long with a beard that touched his stomach, and a moustache that curled at the tips. He had a slight dark tanned white skin, with hazel eyes. Scars covered not only his face but most of his body. He was once a Arctic Wolf, the highest rank anyone in the army could obtain. Few held that title in the Arctic Rangers the military of Vault 118. Nestled in a corner of Denali National Park, surrounded by trees and water the land was perfect for farming.
othing more than an unfinished project, panels missing from the walls, not a trace of furnishings. All the Vault had was power a Door and a waterchip. The people here later provided the rest. People flocked towards the Vault mainly military personnel and civilians aware of the Vault, some workers who were still installing various electronics and riveting panels were hold up together. All cooped up. The food supply was the first to go, it never had time to be stocked nor did anyone bring enough with them. In less than a week more than a thousand people were out of food. The Vault door opened no matter what was out there.
To their surprise it was not what they expected, they thought of radiation and destruction. But outside nothing? At first they thought it was just an false alarm but after a week of sending out scouts they learned the truth. They were just the lucky ones; reports of a burning Anchorage and high levels of radiation terrified the people. But they lived on and survived. Decades past and a new generation had risen, and with it a new leader. High Chief Unallit sat at his desk shuffling paperwork and going over reports. One such report was about the Clan Bearhorn. “Another raid on our scavenging teams, dirty raiders call yourselves what you will. You refused our offer of peace and continue to kill our people.” The Chief sighed. It hadn’t even been a year since a convoy was sent, only to return with severed heads and a bloody note. Between Clan Bearhorn the Bloodpack and the many Raider Tribes. Anchorage was a hostile place to them. Unallit rubbed his forehead trying to release the stress. He ran his fingers through his hair as he tilted his head back, reports about wolves stalking the livestock, the next hunt and the latest sighting of a Wendigo. Put him in a constant state of unease.
A Alaskan Emperor Penguin waddled into his office, they were a species introduced by Mountain Genetics to study the declining numbers. But after the bombs fell they somehow mutated into a speaking, human like intelligent species. They spoke rough and were difficult to understand.”Chhf Unallit, yu re dsstrsd.” (Chief Unallit you are distressed. it spoke.) “Iii Cme to imfo yu tht th shppnet of fsh wll be dlayd.” (I’ve come to inform you that the shipment of fish will be delayed.) ”A uforsnn srm hd prvnt us fom acirg yur odr.” (An unforeseen storm had prevented us from acquiring your order.) ”It wll bee aothr wo dys, w’ll acptt pamnt oce yur odr hs bnn flled.” (It will be another two days, we’ll accept payment once your order has been filled)
Alaskan Emperor Penguins were natural fishermen, stretching nets and hauling more than any man. They had a taste for a certain prepared fish, the Smoked Salmon. And used it as a form of payment. They accepted other prepared fish meals as well, but loved Salmon. The Penguin itself didn’t have a name, no they used special individualized calls to identify themselves. He waddled back out of the office. Back on home. They weren’t an unusual sight but they did grab their share of odd looks. They did business kind of anyways; with various groups those who weren’t hostile to them. They were a rather amiable race, that preferred peace. Yet they were also intolerant of violent acts towards them.
Unallit gazed into a picture frame on his desk. In it stood a young woman with a tall and slender physique, and light brown hair. He pushed back his chair and strode out of his office. His long coat of furs trailing behind him, a mix of browns and grays. Flowing down to his calves, his boots stomping through the metal hallway. Each person he passed he gave a smile and passing wave, he was well known as a kind and respectful leader. The armor he wore was the traditional Arctic Ranger Combat Armor, which he removed the duster to something of his own liking. The armor itself was a mix of grays and whites, to blend with the snow better. It was a redesign for arctic conditions and to suppress former Canadian freedom fighters after the annexation, that and rumors of Chinese sleepers who still eyed Alaska after their loss. The Texas Rangers, Alaska State Troopers and various military groups and branches were solidified under Ranger command. They remade the men into tough combatants after the main forces were shipped off to war. The armor redesigned to better suit Alaska’s harsh cold and unique environment it regulated heat and sealed out the cold. The helmet had narrow lenses tinted blue as well as thermal vision. A feature not employed as often since it always ate through it’s power source, and needed an external backup.
As he exited the Vault his men stood at attention ready to meet him.”Sir. Everything accounted for. Were ready for the hunt. Let’s bring us back some meat Sir!”
Rodger Unallit smiled as he slung his rifle over his shoulder a .308 Caliber Scoped M-14.”Well men, at ease. We hunt a Wendigo, the mutated Moose won’t know were coming!” The men headed out with enough supplies to last a week. If it took longer they knew how to survive for that.
Chapter 3 The Wild Hunt
The Afternoon sun broke through the tree line showing the hunting party the way through the forest. They used various methods to make their way, compasses were common but it still was necessary to know more ways of traversing land. The green trees and pines swayed in the wind as it pushed their branches gently. Here any evidence of radiation was absent amongst the floating seeds and insects. Birds chirped overhead as the men walked through some shrubs on the other side a small stagnant pond, the water was shallow but soothing to the men who had been on their feet for hours now. Unallit spoke as he surveyed his surroundings.”We rest here for five minutes. you! Wafore, you’re with me. We’re scouting ahead.” The man known as Tolard Wafore. A Native man with light dark skin and a rough black beard followed. The path was non existent, large roots broke through the ground rising three to four feet above the soil.
“ If we follow the tracks of the Wendigo, we’ll need to go through here to make good time. As it is there’s not another option, just more roots as far as I can see.” Unallit spoke hand held over his eyes with a compass in his hand. Unallit and Wafore walked back to camp as the men prepared to move out. Climbing over the roots the men found the first set of hoof prints, a sure sign they were on the right trail. They tracked the beast until nightfall with no further sign of it, which was to be expected with the amount of ground it could cover. The fire crackled and burned dancing in the night sky, in the distance howling and the rustling of bushes kept the lookout alert until the next shift.
Morning came and the hunters rose ready to continue their hunt. As they walked small animals scurried about, rabbits could be seen darting from shrubs to their homes, voles nibbled on fallen fruit or seeds. They continued this way until they spotted movement. The vines on the ground began to move about.”Forget me nots.” One of the men spoke. They were a poisonous vine that bloomed beautiful flowers. They were harmless before the war, but the once pretty flower mutated into a nest of poison barbed vines after.”We’ll have to go around.” Unallit said as he motioned to the right.
Hours passed as the men walked through the dirt and mud, pockets of radiation caused the geiger counter to tick rapidly.”Great a hotspot, what does it say?” A man asked.”About.. Three rads a second. But look over in the corner up ahead, you see those marks on the trees? Hoove marks dug into the trees. This is where it was feeding.” Unallit scanned the area with his binoculars.”The beast is not here, must have moved on, and we must as well. Else we end up glowing.” The men moved on, walking until they found a place to break camp.”How are we on supplies?” Waylen asked. “Alright. But we’re running low on smoked jerky. Fourth night out I guess. Can’t wait to cook it’s heart and liver.” Wafore spoke, licking his lips.
Unallit walked over.”Haha. First we have to track and then kill it, before we start thinking about that. I’m sure our leatherworkers would be glad to have it’s hide and brain be easier to tan it. Ah well Wafore you’re on first watch, then Eddington. Get some sleep the hunt is on first light.”
The morning sun slowly rose over the forest, illuminating the ground where the hunters slept. The fire crackled out and burned to embers, as a pot of Coyote Coffee brewed in the low heat. The men sat around finishing breakfast, some dried foods and a few eggs, as they sipped away. Once Unallit rose everyone had all but finished, the last man sitting had to clean up.”Looks like you’re on cleaning duty Eddington!” A few men laughed as Unallit started packing up his tent. The men soon packed and campsite cleaned up.
he trail was hard, it crisscrossed through multiple hotspots and thick underbrush. As the sweltering may heat made tracking the beast all that harder. But a few miles later, there it was; drinking from a pool of water. It’s large palmate antlers spread out from it’s large head. With an elongated skull and snout it lapped up the water. Unallit and the hunters took position, and fanned out.
They waited for Unallit to give the signal, before they opened fire. If the first shot failed to bring it down the others would lay into it. It was deathly quiet until a fox ran through and disturbed the Wendigo. It jumped hairs stood on the back of it’s neck, and he towered on his hind legs. Unallit’s shot rang out, and struck the left temple of the Wendigo’s skull, it let out a low howl in pain, but charged the first thing it saw. Unallit ran dodging the antlers by mere seconds as they ripped through the tree leaving deep gashes. It continued to howl while the men opened fire aimed at it’s head. The beast staggered and fell, gasping for air on it’s last breaths. The Hunters finished it off swiftly. Thanking the beast for the meat and fur. Now they will skin it, and drain the blood. Before another three days walk back home.
Coming Soon Chapter 4 Slava Of The Reds
Chapter 1 The King of Bears
The year is 2205 the crumbling building was once littered with popcorn, cups and trash. It had been years since the Beartooth Theatrepub has been that way. A passing man with tribal markings running down his face walked into the main theater room. At the center a large chair cut from the back half of a highwayman. A man adorned with bones and furs. Drank greedily out of a metal chalice as the colored contents ran down his cheeks. He was a heavyset man with dark brown skin. The clothing he wore had various plating on it. Under the furs that draped over his shoulders. Mixes of brown and gary. Unknown pelts to most. He was no weak man. NO, he built this kingdom out of blood. As the tribal approached, he spoke with fear in his voice. Not of the man before him no, of something else.”Sire. The runners report that the bloodpack is on the move. Heading our way. Three hundred men they are. All drugged up on cocktails of chems. Running naked screaming at the top of their lungs most are.”
The man slammed down his chalice. The contents spilling over. He fiercely gripped the hilt of his axe. Made of metal scraps. With a thrust of his arm he drew it over his own head.”We meet them in battle, arm the men! Ready the cannons! May the Great Mountain Bear ‘Vltron’ Guide us to Astten Guared.”
The men cheered filling the building with the sounds of roaring mortal men, ready to give their lives. In the name of their King, and God. The army of the Bear King. Morton Bearhorn. As he so called himself. Charged into battle, just off the streets of Benson and Arctic. Metal clashed and gunfire thundered. Filling the air with smoke, as the streets turned red. Cannons sent balls and debris flying into decrepit buildings, sending some tumbling down crushing those beneath. A Young Bear Tribal Yules Thornthrop blasted a Bloodpack psycho at point blank as he came in wielding a power saw. He crawled to his feet, before being impaled by a pointed pipe.The splatter of blood dripped off his armor. While the man gasped for air. With a weak voice it spoke.”Slice the tendons.. Fill our bellies with.. With. Ears….” He fell over the spear removed. Men and women died all around Yules, satisfied in their death. The look on their faces was almost as if the Vulpines had carried them away to Astten Guared. He smiled before charging off again.
Battle cries of unintelligible design flooded the city. As men fought each other one for life, the other for blood. The Bloodpack sought nothing else but to kill and get their chem fix. They are a wild and mindless plague. Hours of later after the slaughter the remaining Tribe. Those that call themselves Clan Bearhorn. They stood over the bodies of their fallen, but more so gazed upon the bodies of their slain enemy. And celebrated joyously. Their King Morton Bearhorn stood over a mountain of men, junk blades and axes stuck out of his body. He turned and yelled.”GLORY IS OURS!!! We burn our dead so they may travel in peace to Astten Guared. Then we Feast!”
They gathered the dead, and burned them. A party was held in the great hall, drinks and food were spread out. As the warriors consumed their shares still covered in blood. They told tales of their victory.”This woman charged me with zeal. She had grenades tapped to her hands as she bolted towards me. I raised my club and swung high. It connected with her torso and sent her airborne. She exploded in midair raining down chunks of flesh. It was brilliant!”
Another Bear Tribal laughed.”So you say Bilyorn but you were not the only one with a tale. I had three Bloodpack tribals closing in on me. There I was cornered only my claws for protection. I ripped the throat of the first one. The second one swung at me with an axe made of junk, I blocked with the back of my claws. It slid off the metal where I clawed his eyes out. Plucked them out I did.” “What about the third Galmun?”
“I’m getting to that Uared. Now the third He was tricky had some kind of chain blade. He whipped it around like I did last night in the brothel! Hahaha. It got me right here in my shoulder just above the bone. Dogging that was difficult. But I closed the distance and knocked him down where I pinned him to the ground. I slashed away at his face. I’m still picking out flesh from my claws.” Cheers and knocking of glasses could be heard throughout the room as similar tales spread of glory and valor. The King himself cheered them on, as his wounds were mended.”To Clan Bearhorn! And to the glory of Vltron. Our God! He won us this battle, this honor.” The Clan Bearhorn was one of many Raider Tribes who called Anchorage their home. But Morton Bearhorn was one of the few with the men and power to hold the title of King.
Chapter 2 The Gray Wolf King
Morning broke in the early may sky. Farmers and homesteaders were out tending the fields and cattle; children were rising from their beds and preparing for school. It’s not been the same since the Great War.”Children take your seats. Now I’ll teach you how to tell time with a sun dial. This lamp here will be our sun. Watch as the shadow of the wedge moves around the dial. That there is three, good, who can tell me the year today?” Children raised their hands in eager anticipation.”Yes Anton?” The teacher called out.”The datae is May 2 2206, teacher.” The boy spoke nervously at first.”Very good Anton. Let’s move on to the next subject shall we.”
As children studied survival techniques and gun safety. They learned the basics of math, writing and science. Those who showed an aptitude towards a subject was often instructed further. Much the same for the once young Rodger Unallit. It had been many years since he was taught the basic studies. So many years had passed. He was already a High Chief; essentially a King you could say. The man was in his forties with dark brown hair grown wildly. It reached the back of his neck and rested on his shoulders. His facial hair was long with a beard that touched his stomach, and a moustache that curled at the tips. He had a slight dark tanned white skin, with hazel eyes. Scars covered not only his face but most of his body. He was once a Arctic Wolf, the highest rank anyone in the army could obtain. Few held that title in the Arctic Rangers the military of Vault 118. Nestled in a corner of Denali National Park, surrounded by trees and water the land was perfect for farming.
othing more than an unfinished project, panels missing from the walls, not a trace of furnishings. All the Vault had was power a Door and a waterchip. The people here later provided the rest. People flocked towards the Vault mainly military personnel and civilians aware of the Vault, some workers who were still installing various electronics and riveting panels were hold up together. All cooped up. The food supply was the first to go, it never had time to be stocked nor did anyone bring enough with them. In less than a week more than a thousand people were out of food. The Vault door opened no matter what was out there.
To their surprise it was not what they expected, they thought of radiation and destruction. But outside nothing? At first they thought it was just an false alarm but after a week of sending out scouts they learned the truth. They were just the lucky ones; reports of a burning Anchorage and high levels of radiation terrified the people. But they lived on and survived. Decades past and a new generation had risen, and with it a new leader. High Chief Unallit sat at his desk shuffling paperwork and going over reports. One such report was about the Clan Bearhorn. “Another raid on our scavenging teams, dirty raiders call yourselves what you will. You refused our offer of peace and continue to kill our people.” The Chief sighed. It hadn’t even been a year since a convoy was sent, only to return with severed heads and a bloody note. Between Clan Bearhorn the Bloodpack and the many Raider Tribes. Anchorage was a hostile place to them. Unallit rubbed his forehead trying to release the stress. He ran his fingers through his hair as he tilted his head back, reports about wolves stalking the livestock, the next hunt and the latest sighting of a Wendigo. Put him in a constant state of unease.
A Alaskan Emperor Penguin waddled into his office, they were a species introduced by Mountain Genetics to study the declining numbers. But after the bombs fell they somehow mutated into a speaking, human like intelligent species. They spoke rough and were difficult to understand.”Chhf Unallit, yu re dsstrsd.” (Chief Unallit you are distressed. it spoke.) “Iii Cme to imfo yu tht th shppnet of fsh wll be dlayd.” (I’ve come to inform you that the shipment of fish will be delayed.) ”A uforsnn srm hd prvnt us fom acirg yur odr.” (An unforeseen storm had prevented us from acquiring your order.) ”It wll bee aothr wo dys, w’ll acptt pamnt oce yur odr hs bnn flled.” (It will be another two days, we’ll accept payment once your order has been filled)
Alaskan Emperor Penguins were natural fishermen, stretching nets and hauling more than any man. They had a taste for a certain prepared fish, the Smoked Salmon. And used it as a form of payment. They accepted other prepared fish meals as well, but loved Salmon. The Penguin itself didn’t have a name, no they used special individualized calls to identify themselves. He waddled back out of the office. Back on home. They weren’t an unusual sight but they did grab their share of odd looks. They did business kind of anyways; with various groups those who weren’t hostile to them. They were a rather amiable race, that preferred peace. Yet they were also intolerant of violent acts towards them.
Unallit gazed into a picture frame on his desk. In it stood a young woman with a tall and slender physique, and light brown hair. He pushed back his chair and strode out of his office. His long coat of furs trailing behind him, a mix of browns and grays. Flowing down to his calves, his boots stomping through the metal hallway. Each person he passed he gave a smile and passing wave, he was well known as a kind and respectful leader. The armor he wore was the traditional Arctic Ranger Combat Armor, which he removed the duster to something of his own liking. The armor itself was a mix of grays and whites, to blend with the snow better. It was a redesign for arctic conditions and to suppress former Canadian freedom fighters after the annexation, that and rumors of Chinese sleepers who still eyed Alaska after their loss. The Texas Rangers, Alaska State Troopers and various military groups and branches were solidified under Ranger command. They remade the men into tough combatants after the main forces were shipped off to war. The armor redesigned to better suit Alaska’s harsh cold and unique environment it regulated heat and sealed out the cold. The helmet had narrow lenses tinted blue as well as thermal vision. A feature not employed as often since it always ate through it’s power source, and needed an external backup.
As he exited the Vault his men stood at attention ready to meet him.”Sir. Everything accounted for. Were ready for the hunt. Let’s bring us back some meat Sir!”
Rodger Unallit smiled as he slung his rifle over his shoulder a .308 Caliber Scoped M-14.”Well men, at ease. We hunt a Wendigo, the mutated Moose won’t know were coming!” The men headed out with enough supplies to last a week. If it took longer they knew how to survive for that.
Chapter 3 The Wild Hunt
The Afternoon sun broke through the tree line showing the hunting party the way through the forest. They used various methods to make their way, compasses were common but it still was necessary to know more ways of traversing land. The green trees and pines swayed in the wind as it pushed their branches gently. Here any evidence of radiation was absent amongst the floating seeds and insects. Birds chirped overhead as the men walked through some shrubs on the other side a small stagnant pond, the water was shallow but soothing to the men who had been on their feet for hours now. Unallit spoke as he surveyed his surroundings.”We rest here for five minutes. you! Wafore, you’re with me. We’re scouting ahead.” The man known as Tolard Wafore. A Native man with light dark skin and a rough black beard followed. The path was non existent, large roots broke through the ground rising three to four feet above the soil.
“ If we follow the tracks of the Wendigo, we’ll need to go through here to make good time. As it is there’s not another option, just more roots as far as I can see.” Unallit spoke hand held over his eyes with a compass in his hand. Unallit and Wafore walked back to camp as the men prepared to move out. Climbing over the roots the men found the first set of hoof prints, a sure sign they were on the right trail. They tracked the beast until nightfall with no further sign of it, which was to be expected with the amount of ground it could cover. The fire crackled and burned dancing in the night sky, in the distance howling and the rustling of bushes kept the lookout alert until the next shift.
Morning came and the hunters rose ready to continue their hunt. As they walked small animals scurried about, rabbits could be seen darting from shrubs to their homes, voles nibbled on fallen fruit or seeds. They continued this way until they spotted movement. The vines on the ground began to move about.”Forget me nots.” One of the men spoke. They were a poisonous vine that bloomed beautiful flowers. They were harmless before the war, but the once pretty flower mutated into a nest of poison barbed vines after.”We’ll have to go around.” Unallit said as he motioned to the right.
Hours passed as the men walked through the dirt and mud, pockets of radiation caused the geiger counter to tick rapidly.”Great a hotspot, what does it say?” A man asked.”About.. Three rads a second. But look over in the corner up ahead, you see those marks on the trees? Hoove marks dug into the trees. This is where it was feeding.” Unallit scanned the area with his binoculars.”The beast is not here, must have moved on, and we must as well. Else we end up glowing.” The men moved on, walking until they found a place to break camp.”How are we on supplies?” Waylen asked. “Alright. But we’re running low on smoked jerky. Fourth night out I guess. Can’t wait to cook it’s heart and liver.” Wafore spoke, licking his lips.
Unallit walked over.”Haha. First we have to track and then kill it, before we start thinking about that. I’m sure our leatherworkers would be glad to have it’s hide and brain be easier to tan it. Ah well Wafore you’re on first watch, then Eddington. Get some sleep the hunt is on first light.”
The morning sun slowly rose over the forest, illuminating the ground where the hunters slept. The fire crackled out and burned to embers, as a pot of Coyote Coffee brewed in the low heat. The men sat around finishing breakfast, some dried foods and a few eggs, as they sipped away. Once Unallit rose everyone had all but finished, the last man sitting had to clean up.”Looks like you’re on cleaning duty Eddington!” A few men laughed as Unallit started packing up his tent. The men soon packed and campsite cleaned up.
he trail was hard, it crisscrossed through multiple hotspots and thick underbrush. As the sweltering may heat made tracking the beast all that harder. But a few miles later, there it was; drinking from a pool of water. It’s large palmate antlers spread out from it’s large head. With an elongated skull and snout it lapped up the water. Unallit and the hunters took position, and fanned out.
They waited for Unallit to give the signal, before they opened fire. If the first shot failed to bring it down the others would lay into it. It was deathly quiet until a fox ran through and disturbed the Wendigo. It jumped hairs stood on the back of it’s neck, and he towered on his hind legs. Unallit’s shot rang out, and struck the left temple of the Wendigo’s skull, it let out a low howl in pain, but charged the first thing it saw. Unallit ran dodging the antlers by mere seconds as they ripped through the tree leaving deep gashes. It continued to howl while the men opened fire aimed at it’s head. The beast staggered and fell, gasping for air on it’s last breaths. The Hunters finished it off swiftly. Thanking the beast for the meat and fur. Now they will skin it, and drain the blood. Before another three days walk back home.
Coming Soon Chapter 4 Slava Of The Reds