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The Seax of Beagnoth is a real thing you can go see in a museum in 2021. In 2287, it's a murder weapon.
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"Over a thousand years old and still sharp as the devil himself," Becky Fallon smugly joked, "And it can be yours for a meager price of fifteen thousand caps.
"Who the hell has fifteen grand just laying around, Fallon?," Moe hollered from the other side of the patio.
"Mr. Cronin, please lower your voice," said Wellingham, "This is a quality eating establishment, and your caps are only as good as your decorum."
"Keess my ass, robot," Arturo chimed in, "How's that for decorum." This got a laugh from most of the patrons, much to Fallon and Wellingham's chagrin.
"All joking aside, Rebecca," Moe said, "What's the deal with that thing?"
Becky turned up her nose slightly at Moe using her full name. It was something only those close to her did, and just because he was a Friday night amusement, Moe Cronin was not in her circle. All the same, he made her happy. If she couldn't share that with her friends, that was fine. Her features softened.
"Someone found it in the Thames back in the Nineteenth Century," she said, "Apparently, it was never meant as a functional piece, it's far too large and ornate."
"What did you call it," Myrna, who up until this point had been sneeringly silent, "Sax of Bagnot? What's a saxophone have to do with a knife?"
"It's a Seax," Arturo said, lovingly, "It was so much more than a knife. It was a tool and a weapon. It's a machete, a wood axe, and a deadly matadora" the last two words rolled off the Latin man's accent dripping with almost sensual desire.
"Do you wish to murder or mate with it?"
The silence that fell over the upper stands from Wellingham making a burn was so absolute you could hear Abbot's brush on the Wall. A full ten seconds passed before the entire patio erupted into a boisterous guffaw that echoed around the stadium, contagiously amusing everyone out of doors.
"Sounds like Taphouse is on fire tonight," Vadim muttered to his brother, taking a drag off a cigarette. "All we have is sad drunks!"
"Suck a Protectron, Bobrov," yelled Nick. Everyone chuckled, but Vadim was right, he thought to himself. The Dugout was not a place of celebration tonight, or most nights. He needed better clientele.
Forty feet above his head, the laughter continued for almost twenty minutes, with even Wellingham losing his composure, his hovering spheroid body bouncing erratically.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Arturo," said Myrna, "I know you have that kind of cash."
"I just might," he mused, "lo amo. The runes, my dear sweet Myrna. They tell a tale. It's just an alphabet, but it's the only copy that still exists of that one. That Seax was never meant to be swung, it was meant to hang on a wall. It is more than a weapon, it is art."
"What's Bagnot?" someone piped up.
"Beeg-noth," said Becky, "The other runes on the blade. Its a name. They thought maybe it was either the smith or the family name of the commissioner."
"So it was probably someone's shingle," said Nick Valentine, wandering in from the shadows. "Heard the party up here, wanted to see what was going on. Guess we're talking about Ms. Fallon's new acquisition?"
"The Seax of Beagnoth," Arturo said, "A piece of history."
"Everything's a piece of history around here," Nick joked, "including me."
"Where's that Vault Dweller that showed up looking for their kid, Nick?" asked Moe.
"Piper and 'dem are tracking that scary merc that lived here for a while, Kellogg," said Arturo, "They loaded up on ammo before they headed out."
Dropping the name brought the room down a little. Kellogg was known for nothing in Diamond City except being very dangerous and tight with the Mayor. If Piper had made an enemy of him, it was likely one of them would wind up dead.
"You didn't go with them?," Myrna said, "Figured barreling into the face of the Institute is kind of your thing."
"Nobody believes Kellogg works for the Institute, Myrna," Becky chided.
"Piper does!"
"Piper thinks everyone works for the Institute!"
"You work for the Institute!"
Voices raised, chairs scooted, hands went to hips. A 10MM shot rang out. Everyone froze. Slowly they turned to where Piper and the Soul Survivor were standing, covered in blood, clothes torn. Piper's pistol was extended into the air, smoking.
"He WAS working for the Institute. That kid he had was their" - she waved at the Soul Survivor - "kid."
"I thought he was a baby- "
"I was frozen, remember? I had no memory of the time. Kellogg took Shaun ten years ago."
Everyone gasped.
"The Institute has him, but I'm going to get him back."
Everyone went silent. After a few moments, Nick looked at Piper. "Did he give you anything?"
The reported slowly shook her head.
"We have a lead, but it's pretty thin, and..." She grimaced at Nick and the Survivor, "...kinda nasty. We need your help."
"We'll head to my office in a few, just want to finish up here."
"Yeah, what is going on?" The Survivor asked.
"Becky bought a piece of history from a scavver, and now wants WAY too much money for it," said Moe.
Becky Fallon's smugness returned once more. A subtle smile was all she gave him, here in public. He didn't mind, he liked being her guilty pleasure. There may be more there, they both thought, but in this world, with no guarantees, they were happy just to have found someone.
"I know what I have," She said.
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"Who the hell has fifteen grand just laying around, Fallon?," Moe hollered from the other side of the patio.
"Mr. Cronin, please lower your voice," said Wellingham, "This is a quality eating establishment, and your caps are only as good as your decorum."
"Keess my ass, robot," Arturo chimed in, "How's that for decorum." This got a laugh from most of the patrons, much to Fallon and Wellingham's chagrin.
"All joking aside, Rebecca," Moe said, "What's the deal with that thing?"
Becky turned up her nose slightly at Moe using her full name. It was something only those close to her did, and just because he was a Friday night amusement, Moe Cronin was not in her circle. All the same, he made her happy. If she couldn't share that with her friends, that was fine. Her features softened.
"Someone found it in the Thames back in the Nineteenth Century," she said, "Apparently, it was never meant as a functional piece, it's far too large and ornate."
"What did you call it," Myrna, who up until this point had been sneeringly silent, "Sax of Bagnot? What's a saxophone have to do with a knife?"
"It's a Seax," Arturo said, lovingly, "It was so much more than a knife. It was a tool and a weapon. It's a machete, a wood axe, and a deadly matadora" the last two words rolled off the Latin man's accent dripping with almost sensual desire.
"Do you wish to murder or mate with it?"
The silence that fell over the upper stands from Wellingham making a burn was so absolute you could hear Abbot's brush on the Wall. A full ten seconds passed before the entire patio erupted into a boisterous guffaw that echoed around the stadium, contagiously amusing everyone out of doors.
"Sounds like Taphouse is on fire tonight," Vadim muttered to his brother, taking a drag off a cigarette. "All we have is sad drunks!"
"Suck a Protectron, Bobrov," yelled Nick. Everyone chuckled, but Vadim was right, he thought to himself. The Dugout was not a place of celebration tonight, or most nights. He needed better clientele.
Forty feet above his head, the laughter continued for almost twenty minutes, with even Wellingham losing his composure, his hovering spheroid body bouncing erratically.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Arturo," said Myrna, "I know you have that kind of cash."
"I just might," he mused, "lo amo. The runes, my dear sweet Myrna. They tell a tale. It's just an alphabet, but it's the only copy that still exists of that one. That Seax was never meant to be swung, it was meant to hang on a wall. It is more than a weapon, it is art."
"What's Bagnot?" someone piped up.
"Beeg-noth," said Becky, "The other runes on the blade. Its a name. They thought maybe it was either the smith or the family name of the commissioner."
"So it was probably someone's shingle," said Nick Valentine, wandering in from the shadows. "Heard the party up here, wanted to see what was going on. Guess we're talking about Ms. Fallon's new acquisition?"
"The Seax of Beagnoth," Arturo said, "A piece of history."
"Everything's a piece of history around here," Nick joked, "including me."
"Where's that Vault Dweller that showed up looking for their kid, Nick?" asked Moe.
"Piper and 'dem are tracking that scary merc that lived here for a while, Kellogg," said Arturo, "They loaded up on ammo before they headed out."
Dropping the name brought the room down a little. Kellogg was known for nothing in Diamond City except being very dangerous and tight with the Mayor. If Piper had made an enemy of him, it was likely one of them would wind up dead.
"You didn't go with them?," Myrna said, "Figured barreling into the face of the Institute is kind of your thing."
"Nobody believes Kellogg works for the Institute, Myrna," Becky chided.
"Piper does!"
"Piper thinks everyone works for the Institute!"
"You work for the Institute!"
Voices raised, chairs scooted, hands went to hips. A 10MM shot rang out. Everyone froze. Slowly they turned to where Piper and the Soul Survivor were standing, covered in blood, clothes torn. Piper's pistol was extended into the air, smoking.
"He WAS working for the Institute. That kid he had was their" - she waved at the Soul Survivor - "kid."
"I thought he was a baby- "
"I was frozen, remember? I had no memory of the time. Kellogg took Shaun ten years ago."
Everyone gasped.
"The Institute has him, but I'm going to get him back."
Everyone went silent. After a few moments, Nick looked at Piper. "Did he give you anything?"
The reported slowly shook her head.
"We have a lead, but it's pretty thin, and..." She grimaced at Nick and the Survivor, "...kinda nasty. We need your help."
"We'll head to my office in a few, just want to finish up here."
"Yeah, what is going on?" The Survivor asked.
"Becky bought a piece of history from a scavver, and now wants WAY too much money for it," said Moe.
Becky Fallon's smugness returned once more. A subtle smile was all she gave him, here in public. He didn't mind, he liked being her guilty pleasure. There may be more there, they both thought, but in this world, with no guarantees, they were happy just to have found someone.
"I know what I have," She said.
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