Name: Tart (Short for Tartan)

Gender: Female, nominally fertile (-Mutant, --human)

Age/DOB: ~20 / 2260

Origin: Vault Earth, Capital Wasteland

Family: Unknown but they are definitely alive and definitely much more 'civilized' than their bretheren elsewhere

Other: Tart is quite fashionable and enjoys the attention that her gear gets - maybe some handsome Supermutant will be to her liking

Height: 8'4"

Weight: don't ask a girl her weight! particularly not THIS girl

Hair: None on her head, but genetically she's a redhead as indicated by her bright eyebrows

Eyes: grey-green, typical of Supermutants, larger than most locals or 'wild' mutants

Appearance: lighter green skin and extremely burly muscles, a build like most Supermutants bearing extremely good upper body and arms, torso strength aplenty. She's hardly effeminate but is happy to doll herself up, and has asked Willow to actually make her a wig to match her outfit. Her clothing brightly contrasts with the local dangerous Supermutants', and she keeps herself very clean, preferring to guard from the rooftops; she speaks very clear English, if in a markedly deep and scary voice

Genetic Abilities: as a Supermutant she is 'clearly superior' to humans in their raw form - not like their uncooked form. Please don't think she eats human meat. She doesn't. She's fully capable of it, as her digestive system is heavily modified and can handle nearly any kind of nourishment from plain old mongrel leg to 200 year old cans of beans (can included), to mirelurk shells and the occasional sip of incredibly irradiated water. Her physical form obviously is massive and burly, she's resistant to radiation from the world as well as weapons, is very strong (can lift the remnants of an entire Vertibird over her head and throw it ...), though she isn't as agile or quick to run as a human.

Icarus Processing: none, but her 'kind' is the result of the Forced Evolutionary Virus, or FEV, and her specific line of Supermutants also had further experiments and concerted breeding to make themselves smarter and more civilized than their wild peers in the Capitol Wasteland

Image Credits: HeroMachine 3

Events or History: "We are Super Mutants! We! Are! Unstoppable!"

Trinity winced at the massive mutant's voice as it shook the entire hillside. But she also shook with that sound as the mutant in question began laughing riotously.

"Enough bricks and bullets make us pretty stoppable actually!" She slapped her white-gold kilt-covered thigh and kept laughing. Her broad smile was even more terrifying with the tusks and sharp teeth...

Come to think of it, though, Trinity nodded deeply and laughed, herself.

"It is true, and... I'm glad you already pointed out that you're 'not like them' and so I don't have to feel really bad about having, you know." She made finger gun motions.

"Oh, don't feel bad at all, you only killed the ones who were weak."

Trinity blew the invisible smoke coming from the finger-guns barrel. "I guess so, maybe you should be thanking me for helping make them stronger!"

"I have heard that before," Tart tapped her chin, "oh yes, they do like that here, in the Commonwealth."

"Not so much that way in the DC area?"

"Those there are... diverse? I think that is the word," she pondered. "The Centaurs are frightening, I have never liked looking at those ... things." When Trinity squinted in confusion, Tart explained with wiggling fingers, "they are... low to the ground, they are mistakes. Not like Supermutants. Not like humans, either, something went wrong with them." The visible shudder that Tart gave told Trinity all she needed.

"I ... see. That's fine - I don't really need to worry about them if they're still down in DC."

"They do not go far from their keepers," she replied. "But I don't want to be around them. I fear very little, but those things... crawling like bugs made of meat."

"I --" Trinity tried to stop her, but Tart continued her description in many, many more words. A bit queasy by the end of this, Trinity finally stated, "well that's... certainly a ... good thing you're here with us where we absolutely do not have those."

"But you do have dangers, and I can help keep this settlement safe from them." She punched her hand into her palm, and the tree behind Trinity shook enough to lose leaves. "And you have a tailor!"

"I do love your outfit," Trinity said. "Is there a reason you chose those colors specifically?"

Tart pulled herself up straight, "I do," she announced, and then from the small pouch - which she explained was called a sporran - produced a folded booklet. It had seen better days, that was certain. "I know very little about the before-time, before the war," she explained. "But I do know that my own ancestors - when they were just humans like you - were of this clan. I looked up their names. Records are very difficult to find."

It had hardly occurred to Trinity that... Supermutants might be interested in family crests and colors, but there they were.* "I don't go by Larrie," she sighed and tilted her head, looking oddly wistful. "They were recruits, more of those records exist than this," she waved the pamphlet, which had come, apparently, from an old church registry of some kind. She clearly treasured this item, and on that note...

"We'll set you up in the loft," Trinity said, indicating first with her eyes, and then with her extended arm. "There is a hatch, I ... think we can make it bigger for you, to get on the roof of it." The Vault's 'atrium' would normally have been covered by thousands of tons of stone and dirt, but now provided an A-shaped kind of cathedral, and up near the top were several large spaces for storage and machinery. Those weren't being used, as the rest of the Vault below the hill served perfectly well. It wasn't like they were going to be sitting underground for hundreds of years, themselves, it was merely a very safe spot. "And you can put whatever you'd like in there, we have access to furnishings that can fit you."

Tart nodded deeply, appraising the spot, and slowly smiling. Before Trinity could either ask why the grin, or stop her as she crouched to gain spring-like momentum, Tart physically leapt into the air from halfway across the hill, and onto the top of the Vault Atrium. The structure rang with her impact, but obviously was not damaged, it would take far, far more than that to get through the well made walls. And as abruptly as she'd done it, with the shrieks of those surprised by the shadow passing them as the farmers tended the crops below, Tart jumped away from it, back to the 'interview tree'. The dirt parted as she put her feet down and tracked deep runnels, which would be fixed by whoever got to it with a hoe and shovel, probably.

Tart had already stated how happy she was to have a group of humans to protect, rather than fight. She turned to those farmers, on realizing they were startled, and waved at them in apology. "This is a good place, you can see very far, I can already see where I want to do some work."

***

"So we have all of these options," Trinity said to the group at large, as the adult settlers looked over all the information they'd been given. Tart and the other Supermutant, Hognose, passed the pamphlet between their hands, finally asking for some help seeing the tiny print. Trinity stuck it into the overhead projector, which pleased quite a few of the folks who had yet to have their eyes examined by Howard... "If we know what might suit your needs best, we can then arrange transportation."

She looked over all the inhabitants, noted the confused looks on some faces, but also noted that neither Hognose nor Tart was wearing them. And not merely because they didn't care enough to not-comprehend, but because they were both smart enough to understand the concept of 'other Earths'. While Hognose was still making his mind up, weighing the options, Tart decided straight away.

"This one," she pointed at Dawn Watch Weyr. "Big and small dragons, used to ruins like we are in. That's important to know. They'll understand how to fly around buildings that may fall, I think." Trinity agreed, the sturdy looking dragons could match the big Supermutant's size too, it would be amusing to see but probably painful to have anything smaller than a 'big' dragon for either of them, if they were to ride.

"Hopefully," Trinity pondered, "they'll be okay with... well, with you overall."

"Green and scary?" Tart smiled again, widely displaying her fangy teeth...

***

At the Weyr:

Tartan noted how much wider a space she got than most... Which made sense. The closeness of a 'weyr' and its pressing walls were a bit claustrophobic, but she realized it would be over soon. The dragon's mind had said 'now', it was definitely now!

The eggs made her think of the many times she'd seen lesser creatures hatching in the Commonwealth - usually mirelurks, one or two deathclaws. And that one radscorpion nest... But those were delicious, spicy.

These were not for eating, she chastised herself. But... she certainly did feel hungry. Very hungry.

Others moved around the dark sands, even going so far as to summon someone to help break one of the eggs. Apparently whatever was inside that one was too weak to get out. Tartan checked herself - that was the wrong attitude... She was so hungry though. Breaking eggs meant breakfast!

Two eggs broke open at the same time, spilling their occupants onto the sands. One an eye-searingly bright green, and the other a pale hatchling whose hide shone with muted shades of many colours as they moved. The green glanced at the pearl, made a high-pitched creeling sound and ran off into the candidates.

The Pearl was slower in getting to their feet, blinking as they gazed out at the many people surrounding them.

What do I do with them? He, for the voice was distinctly masculine, asked his mother, looking up at her goldenrod form.

You go find your rider Wrenth replied patiently They're in there somewhere

Alright then

With that the pearl finished getting to his feet and moved off. He took his time about it, stopping to sniff at each candidate he passed by, looking up into their faces before moving on.

More eggs moved and shook, those two people were chipping away at the egg...

The Pearl continued to wander, looking this way and that. He'd started at one end of the group of candidates and was methodically making his way through to the other side. He seemed to have a soft word for everyone he passed by, a gentle bit of encouragement for those feeling down, or a cheerful agreement for those who thought their dragon would come soon.

However, the moment he came upon a large gap among the people, the already perky dragon suddenly seemed to be bouncing on his feet as he bounded forward.

Tartan! He cried as he approached the supermutant. I was looking for you. Gosh, you're tall. How didn't I see you over everyone else? Nevermind. I'm Rialoth. I'm hungry. Can you find me something to eat?

Well no wonder she was so hungry! Tartan knelt toward the dragonet, and then realized with a start that she'd heard his voice inside her own mind. It was as if they were one. There was something distantly nagging at her, something in the deep dark past of her own kind, that warned her about such closeness, but still it was marvelous to have this new mind seeing through her eyes.

"Meat is this way," Tartan pointed, offering the little dragon a lift on her other arm. "I might join in, you're hungry enough for both of us!"

Do you eat raw meat? The dragon was both curious and amused by this thought. As they went to the feast, Tartan chuckled.

"I do when there's no fire, you don't get to be this big without a little fresh blood!"

***

Though it seemed like the Weyrling master, a human man named L'dan, fretted a bit before assigning everyone their tasks, Tartan and Rialoth rose to theirs with gusto. Probably too much gusto, in fact, but her heart as always was in the right place. The first few weeks of their training was mostly tending to the little dragonet's feeding and cleanup, so Tartan was able to do quite a bit of helping around the Weyr in the meantime. Picking up rubble or moving heavy items was always something any Supermutant liked to do. She'd brought more conventional clothing for such outings, though by the end of the first few months she also had gotten gear made by the local leather crafters and tailors, suitable to ride a dragon or do these chores that involved getting scuffed up.

Rialoth slept so much those early days, but it was apparent that he kept peeking into Tartan's mind. She would find herself staring at things with curiosity that otherwise wouldn't have been her own, and when Tartan slept she had odd dreams that clearly mingled her mind with the dragon's. They had classes for this, and it was then that she realized that her 'odd ancestral fear' was very deep indeed. Though her particular family line had all been grown on the east coast of the States, those who started the breed two hundred or more years before had been digging around with mind control. She was careful to never, ever, lose her patience with the dragonet - but sometimes... it felt like he was trying to control her. It was innocent, obviously - dragons minds weren't made for such things, but still, she felt ashamed to admit that it was a fear at all. After talking to the weyrlingmaster, however, she felt a bit better about it. Only those with strong mental ability and empathy could even stand for a dragon, let alone Impress one. It was something needed in the dragons - and... it was just like the Master's control over his creations out west. Supermutants had been made to perform and behave, got out of hand, there. Dragons, if they were somehow left to their own devices at their size? They could certainly become dangerous. Just. Like. Her.

Tartan hugged her dragon softly, that night. I know you are just like me, she thought, let's make them all proud of how good we are.

When Rialoth wanted to come with her on her trek around the Weyr looking for rubble or good deeds to do, she realized he was big enough to start attending those classes with the others - which they had to do outside, because frankly she was half again taller than the tallest Human on hand. They marched and wore out their little dragons quickly at first, but as always time marched with them. They ate a tremendous amount of food, and needed so much care. Not just cleanup, which Tartan expected, but their lovely hide would grow dull and require a lot of scratching, peeling the skin off as if it was a bad sunburn. They learned all about each dragon's physical needs. How their wings worked, how they used their tail for balance in flight, how they could eventually take off from a standing leap, but would always benefit from having a big run before that. Little dragons wouldn't be flying for quite some time, of course. But they did get dirty, and they did learn to float and swim in the lake! That was something that would be a luxury at best back home, Tartan knew.

Oils and scrubbing had to be very carefully applied, after all Tartan's size made it a little difficult for her to get the smaller areas, and she did not want to break any of Rialoth's bones in the process. But soon enough he was strong, he was standing proudly at attention with her, throwing his wings into the air and bringing them down in time with the drummer beats, as the people (and... that other dragon maybe, once or twice) marched in place. Day after day of this, with very little distinguishing the weeks apart, except for the measuring days!

Soon they were ready to start attempting to fly, which coincided with the dragonets also being willing to hunt down their own small prey. Well, some of them anyway, and maybe by accident. Tartan knew that Rialoth would definitely be a good hunter, as they prowled into the wilderness nearby, he was attentive and quiet, even as he was growing taller and taller. He was always on the lookout for vermin, particularly after that one human woman's son was nearly bit by one of them! Protective as they came, Rialoth gently head-butted the child to make him feel better, and gulped back the small critter with satisfaction. Maybe some day, he'd be doing that with Mirelurks or molerats!

***

Some day came - and the mole rat den provided a more than adequate meal... Time and again. The creatures seemed unable to comprehend that even though this den was 'theirs', they'd dug it into the Wakefield territory, and every group of them that sniffed out the tunnel or started to make a new den there, they would be snapped up by eager dragon claws. Rialoth waited patiently whenever he caught wind of a new generation of the ugly things. He sat near one of their exits and just stared.

"I half wonder if someone is breeding these things on purpose," Tartan muttered, while the dragon eagerly smacked six of them around as they burrowed below his feet and burst up expecting to encounter humans or deer. It was much harder to devour something when it could literally stomp the brains out of you. Trinity was watching with the Supermutant, from a nearby ledge, with the dragon down in a gulley by a bit.

"It will be another few weeks before more come, they do not breed that quickly," Tart said, answering herself. "But it is something to consider if all of our dragons wind up being as excited to hunt them as Rialoth."

Trinity made a grunt, "huh, that's... a good point, we do have a lab down in the Vault. I can look into that, but putting molerats near our excavation areas might be a bit risky."

Tartan looked at the dark-skinned woman, "they are already there, just not as easily disturbed in the deep earth."

Come to think of it, there usually were some molerat scratching and exit holes down there, not quite as close to the Vault as this den was to the above-ground areas, though. They pondered while Rialoth got a good meal, whether they could somehow attract them down in the Vault proper, and contain them before releasing them up here, once the dragon population became bigger.

*don't get me wrong: this is Fallout, they are made up because no Tartan exists in specifically this color in the registry I found, but close enough...

Dragon

Name: Rialoth
Gender: Male
Size/Shoulder/Length: medium 8'3" s / 32' l / 58' ws Average sized for his colour, Rialoth has an unusually heavy build, broad chested and large winged, with slightly longer than usual legs, making him a little taller than expected for his length.
Colors: mid-rank Aurora Borealis Pearl #EFEAF8 | #D7CFE6 | #EBD18C | #ABBB8A | #B6B7E7 | #8C4646 He's a slightly purple toned pearl, with a darker shade covering his wings and tail. His sheen is warm over his extremities, yellows and reds, with a pale green over his torso and hints of blue on his upper legs.
Features: Pernese Alt, Dawn Watch variation, hide skin requiring maintenance, four legs with 5 and 3 digits having short sharp claws, thumbs on fore; two leathery wings with 5 internal fingers and no visible thumb nor claws; large eyeridge knob-horns, boxy head, low triangular ridge from head to tail tip, split ended tail; egg layer, nonstandard color variations beyond Pernese; -TH ending names, requires bond at hatching
Powers: Winged Flight, Rialoth is decent enough at flight that he will always be happy to fly, and has a good amount of endurance thanks to the broad size of his wings. It does take him some amount of hard flapping, a good run, or a high ledge to jump from, to really get going though. Once he's up, he's up for a while, so get used to it!
Teleportation / Between, Rialoth doesn't much care for going between but he will do so in emergencies. It's very instinctual for him, but he isn't jumpy or easily frightened and more responds to his bond for this. He is confident in his locational ability, he knows where he's going if he needs to do this: to the Vault's hillside if he has prey caught, to the inner dragon landing (... on Xen) if he must hide, and to the deeper and slightly-less radioactive Boston bay when he needs to rest from combat and cool down.
Communication, telepathic speech which is strong and supportive, very happy sounding, though clearly also masculine; can reach his bond at any distance, and speaks in clear easily understood statements.
Assisted Firebreath, though he isn't going to be required to actually breathe fire, there are adequate reserves of what equates to 'firestone' all around this area, and he can smell it distinctly, enough to be able to dig it up or find crates or boxcars with coal in them scattered on railroads. He is adequate with it, but they didn't see any active combat in the time they spent at the Weyr, and likely won't see any at least not the same kind of fighting here in the Commonwealth. If he encounters something that needs to be grounded out of the sky, he will more likely outright attack it with his tail, claws, or a sharp wingsnap, depending on what kind of vehicle it might be (or monster, there are some that fly).
Parentage: clutch 1, Out of Gold Wrenth, by Bronze Yunjith
Origin: Dawn Watch Weyr / Nomi, hatched 3.13.21
Other Info: Cheerful | Social | Guardian | Inquisitive Rialoth is a dragon who is almost relentlessly positive. He always seeks the silver lining of a situation, trying to find something good in even the worst of situations. It's not that he doesn't acknowledge when terrible things are happening, but that he wont allow such things to rule over him. Tomorrow always comes. He enjoys spending time with others of all species and gets quite protective of his community, as well as anyone he views as needing help.

(hatchling then adult)