EMBRACE DEMOCRACY
ANCHORAGE ALASKA
STR: 10 | END: 10 | LUK: 8
Frenetic tensing of finger and toe claws signaled a deathclaw entering sleep as the deep mind of primal savagery calling out its cravings for violence. A primal beast left gnashing its peal on the bars of its cage of Anchorage's higher thought which took the keys to the kingdom. Deathclaw slept stomach and chin down to keep their long claws and horns from piercing themselves so that wrathful reflexes twitching wouldn't draw their blood. When Anchorage first came to Florida, as the heart's thrum driving that day's prodigious physical endurance ebbed, predatory instincts said to go high to sleep as the light of a higher thought saw a mountain. He'd climbed nearly to its peak by scrabbling up cliffs to seek out hiding scents and find a soft, mossy grotto with an opening to the sky so he could see when it was morning. Night and sleep fell on him quickly, like tonight, as the moon shone down on the tiny curled-up deathclaw.
A mountain loosing from its top a conflagrated mind mired in unrestrained mental force. In a castrophony of primal howl unseen, but by the pale mother, not unheard. The worried eyes of civilians peering at darkness as instinct said some predator was out there with their senses too coarse to hear quite where. The Tartary was, in some respects, to harden the priestesses against the violence of natural forces so they could see into the winding paths of the pale mother's thorny power. One that would rake the unworthy until their minds bled to death. They were to be stronger, better. Anchorage, however, manifested into that ethereal swamp soaked in blue moonlight with the supreme violence of a pyroclastic flow. An imprisoned slashing predation set free in a pale blue eruption of slashing and flames. Not a thing of anger or fear but one of the deathclaw's hot-burning psyche amplified by the unwise and attracted to the micco's density of power; it merely was. A half-present skeleton of a mind ran through gullies and paths in the swamp, hunting mindlessly but never catching until the pale mother caught the animal's gaze.
The advancing trail of fire and slashing careened across the dream landscape of the deep swamps slashing and tearing through the obstacles set to restrain it. Though it seemed not merely some mutated animal in focused decisions of persuit as it carried a steel light of lucidity in true intelligence forcing open a sleepy third eye to stare back at the pale mother above. A steel mind forged in a conflagration that now scented blood on the horizon by resistance as the pyroclasm mellowed from a red-hot slashing to a soft blue backdraft. The contact makes the burning hot mind something shapeable by the attention paid to it as directable but not chained. A path the swamp soon found less a trail of destruction than a lantern for nature's wrath content to flare along the watery gullies hunting moonbeams.
Though the pale mother wasn't the only one here. Another mind was not reaching into the Pale Mother's realm, but out of the deathclaw. American soldiers peering out of blue foliage in the helmets seen between reeds. Rifles poking out of winding trees and the faint beating of vertibirds in the distance. All hunting too in sprinting across this battlefield he'd brought with his mind, that Anchorage had just run from. Pale white and red monsters with human faces with cracks in their skin that seep rot and red from them. Anchorage leaping from gully to gully as the bullets and bolts start flying across the field of half-dream fighting some endless hunt against the creatures bearing the hammer and sickle for faces. A faint colossus stands astride the endless gullies of the Pale Mother's realm. A creation part of the deathclaw's psyche and part not, Phoenix Prime. An active thing that looked up at the moon with the deathclaw in synchrony until the lull in the battle-dream continued in bloody earnest. The small deathclaw's horns erupt in the clinking of broken manacles as Phoenix Prime bore a key marked the flag of America and showed it to the moon.
Below in the gully Anchorage clinks his broken chains heralding the burning blue wake behind him just to find the scent of a white flower assaulting his mind but the sense of it just drives him onward. A goat leaps across the gully only for the battle to stop and tartary flowers to overtake the landscape. Anchorage immediately surmounts the border of the gully and is beset on by strange zombies but teeth and claw butchers them back in equal measure leaving a puddle behind to actively chase the goat. There's a cry from the goat that makes the Deathclaw stop, Its eyes peering out for communists.
The spectre flits over to a small figure that appears along Anchorage's path in a human with sparking horns and scared eyes amid a watery gully but its humanity sees the Deathclaw race around and around rather than through. The goat is food and the patriot is not. Red careens across the horned figure the dream grants the face of the American flag. The stretching dream steps forward larger as the horned woman patriot is slung over a shoulder as the burning effigy tears across the swamps seeking the gleaming rock that shows moonlight. Where the patriot would be safe. The effigy placing the unconscious patriot by the rock is a small deathclaw once more as Anchorage starts to fall out of the dream and gain a body and skin over the skeleton. Taking a very real stimpack injector from a lunchbox and slamming two of them in the woman attacked by raiders. When she woke up at the rock the figure would be gone only the upside down message carved into the Fengiven shrine would be there scratched in an angular script, "Defeat is not an option."
Anchorage had gone to sleep when the rest did, after snuffling around this level of the building some more, and fell asleep under the blanket he'd been given. The Pipboy put away in his lunchbox for safekeeping. Though Vinny had seen the small Deathclaw twitching and scratching at the floor as he slept. Hunting something in a beam of moonlight that didn't seem to want to leave. Anchorage slept solidly and woke up that morning as he always did, well sometimes, when he had that dream. He took his nearby lunchbox and put the seeds scattered around him inside. Leaving the ring of petals there as he didn't need flowers. With a big stretch and a tiny growl he flexed his muscles before beginning the new day. He saw Misha looking at something and wanted to see too with a tiny hop to dangle from the edge of a ledge and look over the windowsill. That cadence of Liberty Prime coming as Anchorage called out in a growl,
"Red Chinese invaders. Lethal force to the red menace is the sovereign right of every American."
As Anchorage drops to the ground with a tak-tak of his clawed feet, he sniffs the air as Sachria approaches with some actual food. Anchorage took it away from the window near the barricades after fetching his lunchbox. Casually eating his food he puts the pipboy back on, because he's going hunting, as Vinny comes over to inspect the deathclaw. Casually chewing breakfast and some questionable jerky from his lunchbox as well as eating some particular seeds like snacks. He liked them because it made his brain tingle and they didn't make him sick anymore. Food was Food.
He replied to Vinny in that same Liberty Prime cadence while chewing on the seeds he'd woke up with, which is where they usually went,
"Directive 7842: Reestablish command and control contact with the President at
Vault proper
America.
Vinny
subterranean compound obstruction two meters impossible."
Anchorage pointed at the pipboy, as he'd have to take them in the front vault door instead of his tiny cave access,
"Endowed with certain unalienable rights."
Liberty Prime
Franklin D. Roosevelt
SparkVinny
Psycho
Sachria
Misha
Jensen
Phoenix Prime
