It’s been awhile since this digger’s had a chance to do a proper walkabout in the Wastelands. Turning over rocks and listening to the whispers carried on the wind. Speaking and listening to the dirty faces among us, new and familiar. I’ve seen new masheens and strange mysterious creatures. I’ve also heard of new factions and clans but my notes on those warrant a separate article.
HEALING MASHEENS
This isn’t anything new but the glow stones, the “healing rocks” as most folks called them, are long gone from the Wastelands. It appears the sands swallowed up what was once pushed to the surface, disappearing just as mysteriously as they arrived. Regardless, new yet familiar devices have shown up in Fort Stygian, the Great Fissure, and Hambone Slash.
Someone or something must have gathered up chunks of that strange material and dumped them into old salvage masheens. Wounded scavengers can no longer just run to the rocks for a quick and easy fix. They need to feed these repurposed masheens some salvage in order to activate the healing power of the rocks for some period of time. At the moment, their healing properties are far weaker than the original stones. These masheens probably best serve a gathered crowd of scavengers to take advantage of the effects. Those that actually live among our ruins seem to get slightly stronger doses ((by wearing the Wastelands group tag)). Individuals should probably still rely on a healthy diet of food to regain their strength instead of some magic rocks!
WATERING HOLES
Since the settlement lost the Trade Post, wastelanders were hard-pressed to find a decent place to wet their dry throats. Nothing can ever really take the place of the Trade Post, but time changes all things so it’s heartening to uncover at least two new scav-stops built since the days of the Trade Post. These establishments have open doors and they welcome any scavenger to stop in for some food or drink and maybe hear a tale or two.
Ole Wankerstein Clapsaddle keeps an open bar on the level above his Genral Stoar overlooking the Great Fissure. Although the wrinkled and busy old-timer isn’t always there, he don’t mind if folks stop in and help themselves. Pull some of his brew from behind the bar and have a seat. A good breeze might whip up from out of the shaded chasm of the Fissure and sneak its way through the wall seams to cool you off.
Meanwhile, Lunesta Matova is currently operating the Monkey Bar, a tavern on the upper floor of an old Junkyard warehouse. Folks can follow the sound of laughter and a clunk-clank-clatter of mugs and bottles up to the bar via the exterior metal stairway or the supply lift within. You’re on your own if you go down into the lower chambers but it seems like a ghoul, Smokey Steamweaver, has a “clinic” in the basement tunnels morbidly named “The Chop Shop“. Who knows? Maybe he WAS some sort of doctor before he became a ghoul. If so, patients might want to ask just how much of his skill he remembers these days before seeking medical attention.
Similar to the Trade Post, the owners of both establishments appreciate a word or token of gratitude for their service but they still expect folks to mind their manners and don’t make a mess. Keep your fights out in the streets. If you refuse, there’s no telling what they’ll break out from behind the bar to break over your head with a boot to your rear if you stir up a ruckus.
PAINFUL PLANTS
It’s been over a moon ago since, but I still hear stories in passing from all kinds of scavengers about a bloody event that took place one day while I was gone. Descriptions of a pair or more of very strange beasts. The details about their sizes varied slightly from scavenger to scavenger but all agreed they looked like walking plants! Humanoid beasts with thick green skins and root-like feet. Tendrils and red vivid eyes. Cavernous chests with branching ribs.
Where did these things sprout? Initial sightings spotted them in the muck and dirty waters of Malady Bog but encounters with the ravenous creatures spread throughout the settlement.
What did they want? Wastelander hearts by all accounts. Many unlucky scavengers were hacked and slashed by the beasts with crude but deadly clawed weapons. The slithering tendrils of their hands delved into their victims’ chests, tearing out hearts only to drop the bloody mess upon the fallen. Only a few scavengers were able to defeat the beasts in their first encounter, making a trophy of the things’ heart instead. But it didn’t stop the onslaught. These walking salads got right back up and continued their crazed hunt through the ruins.
The deadly plant-things continued to terrorize folks for the rest of the day. Some scavengers bravely or foolishly gathered together to retaliate with fierce fighting that dragged across the swamp and junk and desert sands. A few even tried to communicate or reason with the beasts only to be chased and cut down. These things seemed enraged or driven mad with hunger perhaps. Maybe they’re something that retreated from the toxic fog of Bloodmoss and took root somewhere in the Bog? As usual with most mysteries in the Wastelands, we’re left with only questions. Regardless, at the end of that long bloody day, I’ve been told the plant creatures stalked back to the Bog and disappeared into its murky waters.
While writing this report, I wasn’t sure what to even call them but the Food Trader mumbled something about “Botans” and “plants with legs” while turning his nose up at some old bits of mangy fur I offered him. Not that I trust much of what that ugly codger says. I’ve also heard whispers of the word “botan” from what I can only call “the Mirage” of the Wastelands…something that seems to appear and disappear, changing shape nearly every time I see it. Even then, it won’t say much…it’s just an eerie and silent thing to behold, returning your gaze with dark eyes and a wry smile, sometimes a toothy grin. Maybe the desert sun has indeed baked too much of my brainmeat as some folks might tell you, but here I am, writing about “Botans” and “walking plants” as if such a thing was real.
But Botans are definitely real. Not too long ago after that deadly day of heartless massacre, I saw one for myself in the Bog. It was different from the others I heard about, but still similar. At first, Aposiopesis Fullstop and I mistook it for a mound of weeds and roots until it sprung up from the muck. It was hunched over but clearly larger than either of us. Its body, legs and arms were thick as stumps, ending with large gnarled branching claws. Roots and leaves and weeds sprouted from its back and it studied us with inhuman features. An array of blood-red eyes on its head watched us while its thorny maw opened and closed.
Apo and I remained wary and the botan cautiously approached us, somehow sniffing the air around us with those spiny jaw-petals. I do not know if it can smell things the way manimals do, but it certainly looked like it was examining us as much as we were examining it. We were surprised when it simply lurched away into the weeds. I think we both expected to be attacked by the thing.
Apo, who is possibly even more curious (at the risk of life and limb) about odd things in the Wastelands than myself, soon found a big fat swamp rat scurrying around her hut. I watched as she chased it some and pinned its tail with her boot and stomped it dead for good measure as it tried to bite her. Her dirty face smiled with pride when she held it up and stated she was going to give the dead critter to the botan! I’d rather we just ate it ourselves but she wasn’t to be discouraged so we tracked down our “friend”.
The botan circled Aposiopesis warily as she stood upon a shed looking down at it and I kept my distance. I don’t know if it recognized us but it definitely reacted when she tossed down the rat. It gathered the dead rodent up in its claws and moved away a bit and quickly devoured the rat in its wicked mouth. As soon as it finished, it quickly turned and jumped at Apo, attacking her and gurgle-snarling angrily. I rushed in to back her up, hacking at the suddenly violent vegetation, while Apo scrambled to arm herself. The botan swiped its sharp branch-claws at me and snapped its maw at Apo as it turned and climbed and clambered around the wrecked huts in its rage.
Eventually, the botan paused its attack and snarled at us threateningly before returning to the weeds and muck of the Bog. We were left scratching our heads and rubbing our bruises from the hectic fight with no clue as to why it suddenly attacked after Apo’s offering. It certainly didn’t turn down the rat when she tossed it to him, but it didn’t seem very grateful for the gift either.
It’s been awhile since that encounter but I have heard the occasional report of others meeting this same botan. They’ve seen it in various moods also. At times aggressive or briefly curious but always patiently stalking through the bog…eyeballing the muck and scavengers…carefully searching and studying the water and huts…