Prologue


"I know not what weapons World War III will be fought with, but I do know that World War IV will be fought with clubs and stones."

-Albert Einstein


When most people see me, they run. Well, they'll either run or shoot at me. Come to think of it, most people just shoot at me because they know they cannot outrun me.

Why is that? I'm a deathclaw. That's why humans shoot at me or run from me. Once a raider saw me and peed all over himself. I thought that was pretty funny.

I wasn't always a deathclaw, you know. A year ago, I was a human that wandered in the Capital Wastes armed with deathclaw gauntlets. I wasn't good with guns, so I stuck with the gauntlets. It took a lot of saving to buy two of them, and it also didn't help that most merchants didn't see eye to eye with me.

I don't know why I chose deathclaw gauntlets. It may have been because I was terrible with guns and wanted to give the impression that I was strong enough to take two deathclaws out and use their hands as weapons. What's funny is, it kind of worked. Talon Company stayed away from me, but then again they had no interest in me to begin with. Raiders would want you to think they were afraid of nothing, but if you're walking around wearing the hands of the scariest monster out there like gloves, they have a high chance of heading for the hills.

It doesn't work all the time. I almost got captured by Super Mutants once, and I would have if a couple of passing mercs didn't see me. They put a few holes in the big green idiots and moved on.

I may be one of the only talking, intelligent deathclaws you would meet. I remember reading somewhere once (when I was still human) that there were once talking deathclaws. I don't know everything about them, but appearantly the Enclave wanted deathclaws smart enough to obey orders but not smart enough to question them. Unfortunately for them, the deathclaws they boosted intelligence in were smart enough to question the morality of the orders they were given. I find something about that ironic: The creature known across the nation (what's left of it) for killing anything nearby except other deathclaws without provocation is questioning morality?

I digress. To tell my story, I must bring you back, back to when I made the mistake that cost me most of my humanity.

I say "most of my humanity" for a reason, and most people miss that one reason:

Beneath this gruff exterior is a normal human mind and a normal human heart.

End of Prologue


I'm not promising that this story will continue to the end. I'm not promising that I'll proceed with it. It's going to be one of the most bizarre things I'll ever write.

I know the Prologue is short, but they usually are with me. For now, I want to see how this story fairs. If it generates positivity, it'll stay for a while; if not, then it goes away.

If it's interesting, stay tuned. You'll see where I'm going with this.