So, I found out I misspelled tavern. Whoops. All well. Ya live and ya learn. Anywho, onto the story.

Chapter 2: The Fun Begins

So, an Alpha Male Deathclaw and an insane Courier walk into a tavern. Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.

The tavern goes quiet as the strange duo walk inside. Well one of them. Mortem is too big to fit inside the door. So Marcus walks up to the greeter. "You really need to get a bigger door. I mean really, how is a Deathclaw supposed to get a drink if he can't fit through the door? What are you going to, make him drink outside? Every tavern or bar we go to doesn't have door big enough for him. Here I went through all the trouble of taming him, house training him, and teaching him to wash himself and no one has a place big enough for him!", Marcus says being an ass because he thinks it's funny. But he seriously did house train Mortem and got him to bath himself so he doesn't smell like death. How he did it no one knows. Not even him.

"W-well we didn't know of such creatures being tamed or that a Deathclaw even existed. I mean who ever heard of such a thing, sir?", replies the now terrified greeter. "Really now? I guess I am the first. Everyone I knew said it couldn't be done, that I was fool to even try it. Well now who is the fool?! Everyone knows the Alpha Male Deathclaws are bigger, faster, stronger, and smarter than regular Deathclaws, except the Mother of course. Mean ass motherfuckers they are. But I did it and he is now my partner. Anyways, I need a drink. I've traveled for two days and nights and need somewhere to sleep too. I will also need two barrels of your strongest for Mortem there", says Six. "Y-yes, sir", a bartender replies. "Mortem go find the stables and no eating anything in there got it. I be along shortly. Just got to pay them first", Six says in that cheerful voice.

Marcus looks around the place and sees a man in a hooded cloak sitting in the shadows of the tavern alone, not touching his drink. That catches Marcus' eye. After Marcus gets his drink and sits down in front of the cloaked man. "If you're watching someone, you're not doing a good job of it. You see, I noticed you haven't touched your drink yet and are just smoking that pipe like a chimney does wood. So either whatever is in that pipe is really good or you're watching someone? I don't care either way just letting you know your mistakes. One ghost to another. Got a name?", Marcus asks in his deep voice. Marcus is curious about a man like this. He can see the man's eyes when ne inhales the smoke, they are same eyes a Veteran Ranger has. The eyes of experience on the battlefield, which have seen terrible and miraculous things on the field.

"They call me Strider", the cloaked man replies evenly. "Going by titles are we? I usually go by Atrox Irae, Courier Six, Lone Wanderer, or The Wandering Courier. You can choose what you call me as long as it doesn't insult me", Marcus replies in that same deep voice evenly. "I'll call you Courier," Strider replies. "Really? I give all those names and you choose my old job?", Marcus complains in that cheerful voice. Strider just chuckles. "So seen any kids come through here. I saw them before they got to this town and I could immediately tell that their trouble magnets, so I figured "I'm bored so why not follow those kids who are bound to be put in interesting situations and relieve my boredom by protecting them. I a regionally trained Mortem because I was bored and thought it would be funny to see people's reactions to him when I went into towns and villages. But lately I have lost that since of adventure that drove me to become a Courier in the first place. I've done all I've set out to do and have nothing to challenge me anymore. It's like I lost my purpose, my drive. Those kids are my last chance at an adventure", Marcus sadly says. "If I can help more innocent people than so be it, but I want an adventure afterwards or during the aid."

Strider can hear and feel the sadness in the Courier's tone and starts to think. Next they hear a yell of, "Pippin!", and both look up in time to see one of the kids fall to the floor and a ring fall onto his finger before disappearing. "Now that was cool. Where can I get one of those?", Marcus asks cheerfully as Strider stands up and walks, quite briskly in fact, to a table and as kid appears, grabs him and pulls him up the stairs of the wooden tavern. Followed by the three other children with chairs and… a candlestick? Really, a candlestick? "Why didn't I ever think of that? Killing Caesar would I've been much funnier with a candlestick instead of choking him with his bed sheets. Or killing Oliver with it instead of the NCR flag. Or Vulpes with it instead of sending the robodogs from the Big Empty on a fox hunt. Okay maybe not the last one. But still" , thought Marcus. "Of course Lanius' death was funny. Dieing by being covered in pitch, lit a flame, and thrown off the Grand Canyon. Hey Graham survived and he said he was better than Graham, apparently not."

"Well I'm bored again. Might as well see what the kids are up to."

"Let em go or I'll have at you Longshanks," said a very angry, very man like, voice behind door number four. "So you're not kids. Just short people?", Marcus looks them up and down as he says this, "With big furry feet? Huh, who knew? Anyways, in case you haven't noticed he is a trained scout that is so well trained he can probably live better in the wilderness than in civilization. I've met people trained to basically live in deserts, behind enemy lines, for months with little food, and come back with detailed maps and troop movements. They were called NCR Rangers, NCR Veteran Rangers, and Desert Rangers. The Rangers are soldiers with high abilities in stealth, mental capacity, trackers, survival training, and marksmen. Veteran Rangers have all that and basic first aid, sabotage training, experience over a number of years, cunning, capabilities in trap making, and assassinations. Desert Rangers could do all of that in their first year, only in the desert where food and water are scarce, and they worked better in the dark and where much more durable. Rangers of all kinds would see long before you saw them. The Desert Rangers joined the NCR for a number of years before the NCR was kicked out of the Mojave, my home, and joined up with the Mojave Republic. I was a Desert Ranger when I was thirteen. Before they joined up with the NCR, then I cast out even though I was among the best because of my age and became Courier to quench my thirst for adventure. When I turned eighteen I was on my last delivery job. I was going to rejoin now that I could. I let my guard down because of my good mood. Next thing I knew I was tied up in front of a shallow grave. Lost some memory after that and woke up on a bed with a doctor stitching up my head saying I was lucking to be alive. Made the town I was in my home, Goodsprings. Put my training to use tracked down the man, killed him got my package back, got paid, and that is where another story begins."

Everyone is now looking at Marcus in wonder. "You know I just noticed Strider has long hair", Marcus says evenly. Now everyone is looking at him like he has lost it. "What?", Marcus asks. "Is it something I said?"

So everyone now knows he is a few legs short a chair. Anyway this all your getting from me today. Sooo. Yeah.