[FIC]NO Name Story (For reals, no name)

[Fang_Teng]

The Death Lands stretched out endlessly in all directions, a sea of desolation that nearly drowned the two travelers that were walking through it. Each possessed a look of martial determination, fully aware of the importance of the task that lay ahead of them. There was the grim resolve of the leader that led the group, a woman who carried herself with an air of respect and forceful dignity. Even as the sand filled void swallowed them up, her stance remained rigid. The man that followed her had the expression of youthful vigor and confidence. His face was partially obscured behind a battered UCLA baseball cap and his eyes spoke of an intelligence refined and creativity siphoned.

The traveled for hours with no conversation, with only the slight sounds of their Brahmin companion emitting any noise. Walking beside her, the silence began becoming increasingly uncomfortable. The vast expanse of emptiness only served to disorient the gregarious young man.

“Paladin Vector, ma’am? What do you know about where we’re going?� he said.

“Ormazd, there’s no need to refer to me by my rank or address me with any titles of respect. You should also know that we’re keeping close to the red asphalt based on reports that say it leads to a town. However, the destination is still four days of travel away.�

“Hmm. Okay. Wow, four days. I thought Necropolis was bad. This is just depressing.� Ormazd said, reflecting on their surroundings. “What are we expected to encounter out here? I mean, any traders or raiders?�

“Doubtful. But if you want a better answer, you should ask Guzman.� She emphasized the name.

“Speaking of which, where is he?�

“I’m not sure.� She said in an annoyed tone.

“Alright, Vector.� He decided that was a good time to end the conversation.

Other than going higher or lower, the landscape did not change much. Often times the road would be submerged under the sand and they would sometimes walk for hours before spotting it again. Roadside advertisements and signs periodically popped up, and those that still stood acted as markers. This continued for a few hours, until they decided to rest in an abandoned town. Ormazd sat in an old diner chair, while Vector was outside watering the Brahmin. Guzman was still nowhere in sight. As Ormazd walked out, he saw Vector’s face deepen into a scowl as she scanned the horizon.

“I know he’s out there. Why the hell won’t he report back? I still don’t understand why the Elders decided to assign him,� she said.
Ormazd kept silent, the cap pulled tightly around his head.

“Told them he was a risk factor,� she said.

Minutes later, they once again set out. The sun beat down on them, and they sweated in their clothes. Ormazd had taken off his old suit coat and slung it across his back. The wind kicked up a bit of sand, and he spat out pieces of it between his teeth. It was then that Vector noticed the Laser Pistol he had kept on a shoulder holster.

“Keep that weapon in check,� she said. He did not protest, even though Vector knew he wasn’t used to using conventional pistols and rifles.

As night began to fall, they had to set up camp. Vector chose a site behind a few boulders and as Ormazd worked on the fire she set out to bag some food. They had been chewing jerky and some dry grass all day, and a change in diet was sorely needed. Slinging in the assault rifle across her back she made her way out into the chilly desert, her poncho blew aside to reveal a chest plate of combat armor she wore underneath. Out in the wilderness, her thoughts traded between the status of her mission and how to deal with the men under her. Guzman was nowhere to be seen, but the feeling that he was near made her uneasy. This was his neighborhood, and she relied upon him, or was going to rely upon him. Still, she had to display leadership if the group was to achieve any of their objectives. As if to underscore her words, she raised the rifle and clipped the neck of a wolf dog she had been tracking. The animal’s spinal cord was immediately severed from the brain, killing it painlessly. The other wolves in the pack had become disorganized and immediately scattered at the sound of a gun. She then picked up the carcass and returned to camp, where she saw Ormazd writing in a small notebook in the light of the fire. They skinned the wolf and began roasting it, when she finally broke the silence.

“To review, who are we again?� she said.

In reply, Ormazd said, “We’re a group of travelers looking for work. Heard about rumors out east that there are good opportunities in the mountain region. You’re a caravan leader, and Guzman is our guide. I’m the doctor and the three of us know each other through caravan work. Specifically we want to start as guards, and so we’re going to ask a lot of questions concerning how dangerous is caravan work. Like if they’ve known any disappearances and are there any areas they purposely keep away from.� He then tore off a chunk of roasted meat.

“Good. Let’s hope Guzman can remember this as well,� she said.

#

It was not until the third day when Guzman was finally spotted. He possessed the gait of an experienced traveler and his eyes drunk in every detail of the desert. As he approached them the spears he carried on his back swayed in unison with the rosary that he wore. A light sand storm was had begun, so Ormazd and Vector were already wrapped in their gas masks and tarps when he approached them.

“Don’t follow the road,� he said before anyone else spoke up.

“The reconnaissance of the road is vital to our mission, Paladin Guzman.� She laced the word ‘Paladin’ with emphatic scorn, but the meaning was swept away into the wind.

“There’s hills on both sides of the road as it runs. Good for raiding, I should know,� he said.

“I won’t change our course over a hunch. Since even you aren’t confident, and you are supposed to be the expert, we should keep on course. Move out!� She had raised her voice, and it wasn’t because of the howling wind.

Despite Guzman’s attempts to speak out, Vector staked ahead, between the hills. The hills at least blocked a bit of the storm, as the three began making their way through. Soon, small shards of glass began being blown with the sand as the winds picked up in ferocity. By then, all of them had put on their hooded ponchos that protected them from the brunt of the storm. Pieces of glass broke upon the larger boulders, slowly chiseling the rocks away. Not only was the glass lethal, but as it scattered into the air the glass reflected the sun back. The whole landscape gave off a blinding sparkle. Ormazd eyes began to water at the image and he stumbled a few times and felt pieces of glass push against his flesh as he his knee pressed onto the ground. Looking up, he spotted Guzman and Vector a few feet in front of him and hurried to catch on.

Guzman could feel his back tingling as they moved deeper into the road. He wondered why Vector wouldn’t listen to him. The sensation only intensified as they made their way past another bend in the road. It was fortunate that he had his own stake in the mission, or else he would have long abandoned his two other companions. It had been a couple of years since he felt the sands of the desert slap against his body, and he had felt more sharpened than ever by the winds of the desert than he had been in those years since he left. The sensation was better than any alcohol and on that high he felt he would follow these people to the ends of the earth. He licked his lips, tasting the rubber of the gas mask. His rosary pressed against him. If God was willing, he would be able to achieve redemption.

The wind howled mockingly at Vector. The truth was, she could be leading them into a trap. They were running out of food and supplies. She eliminated thoughts of death and failure from her mind. With the right amount of discipline, any obstacle can be surmounted rang the words of her mentor through the droning of the wind. She had trained throughout her life in preparation for a mission like this. She was given a chance to prove that she was just as good as anyone else, and maybe even better than those that stayed behind. She was not going to allow anyone to tell her differently. Obstinately she continued pushing against the wind.

Hours passed and the storm was beginning to die down. In the late afternoon the red haze of the sun peeked out through the ocean of airborne sand. Vector was confident that they were close as they passed another green freeway sign.

“Hey!� a voice shouted, its source unable to be traced as it bounced around on the hills.

Vector had already yanked her .223 pistol from its holster, since her assault rifle was slung over her back and had a bag over it to prevent the sand from fouling it. She spotted a large man wearing a gas mask and leather armor painted to match the landscape. He motioned with his giant paw of a hand for her to put the weapon down. She shook her head and pointed the pistol at the man’s head. Other heads began to pop up, pointing weapons at the three and soon they were surrounded by half a dozen people. Gritting her teeth, Vector spotted Guzman dropping his weapons and she and Ormazd followed suit. Two of the desert men promptly came down to collect their weapons, while the others kept their weapons trained on the strangers. Without much of a choice, the three travelers and their Brahmin followed them as they continued to point their weapons at them. By nightfall they reached another abandoned town, but enveloped in darkness it was difficult to recognize anything. They stopped under an abandoned building, the walls shielding them as the tail end of the storm still blew.

The leader of the desert men took off his gas mask. His face ended in sharp angles and his high cheek bones settled on a prominent chin.

“You can relax now,� he said as a small smile spread across his face.

Vector had taken off her mask and just as she was about to ask who they were, Guzman spoke up.

“Nevada desierto guardabosques,� he said.

“Yes, Desert Rangers. Judging by your clothes, you ain’t raiders, at least not local ones. Had to keep our guns trained, just in case. Sorry about that. Anyways, welcome to Glasstorm, Nevada,� the desert ranger said.

#

Vector was the first one to awake from the hard cots in the Visitor’s Center. Glasstorm had this building set up for travelers and accepted trade goods as payment. After washing her face in the basin in the next room she awakened Ormazd and Guzman. Currently, they were the only ones in the dimly lit Visitor’s Center, which contained about two dozen cots that were neatly arranged. The smell of medicine hung in the lifeless air.

Vector sat on the edge of Ormazd’s bed as she began to talk, “Morning men. I’m sure you’re as excited as I am at what this town is about and all that. So to prevent any overlap, we’re gonna split up. I’ll talk to town’s leaders. Ormazd, our reports said that Glasstorm had a vault, so you know what to do. Guzman, you’re gonna talk to the Desert Ranger that brought us in.�

Guzman’s eyes narrowed as he replied, “I don’t want to do that.� The expression wore on his face was reflective of a long lasting enmity.

Vector grunted, not fully understanding but not expecting anything different from him. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him. You go investigate businesses then.�

Ormazd put his baseball cap on before he spoke, “What about breakfast?�

Vector had already gotten up and spoke as she exited, “You’re call.�

Ormazd turned to speak to Guzman, “Hey, you want to go get some breakfast?�

The words fell on deaf ears, as Guzman was already returned to sleep. Ormazd decided not to disturb the Paladin further and made his way to the front of the center where a woman behind a metal desk was sitting. She wore a vault suit, but had the sleeves cut it off at the elbows.

“Good morning. I believe that your friend just stepped out,� she said.

“Oh, uh, she had to run some errands and left the rest of us with some free time. Speaking of which, you know any place that has some nice food to eat?� he asked.

“Sure. The Arabia has lots of places to eat. I personally would recommend The Desert Diner.�

“The Arabia?� asked Ormazd.

“Oh, you haven’t been here before, I’m sorry. The Arabia was the name of the building before the big ones dropped. Now, I don’t know why you’d name it that, you’d have to talk to Ralph about it. Anyway, it used to have an underground area that was intact enough we use it for some businesses. It’s just a block down and a turn to the right. Can’t miss it.� She smiled back at Ormazd.

“Who’s Ralph?� was naturally Ormazd’s next question and she seemed to expect it as she started as soon as he asked.

“Ralph’s our leader. He’s supposed to be called the Overseer, but insists on being called by his name,� she answered.

“Okay. Thanks for the information, Miss?�

“Call me Betty. If you have any more questions or just need anything else, just come and ask me,� she said, adding another smile in for good measure.

“Sure, Betty thanks again.� Ormazd walked up the steps and found a metal hatch with a thin shaft of light shining through. He strained a bit and then opened it, a slight layer of dust pouring down as he did. He closed the hatch behind him and found himself in a hallway and after taking a few steps he was outside. Looking back, he got a good luck at the Visitor’s Center. The night before it was too dark and sandy, but now in the day he saw that the center was really just an old hospital. Most of it had caved in, the upper floors exposed to the bare sun with chipped paint on the walls. Ormazd thought back to the briefing and recalled Glasstorm was a predominantly underground town, that received the occasional caravan. That would explain the purpose of the Visitor’s Center. He walked through the streets and saw a few strangers looking back at him. Most wore vault suits, but had cut or formed them to fit their own personal needs. Within a few minutes, he found himself in front of the Arabia.

Ormazd felt certain awe as he stared at the collapsed remnants of the building. He had studied a bit on pre-war history and was aware that Glasstorm was a place where people relaxed. What he didn’t understand was why anyone would choose a desert. Personally, he enjoyed the pine woods, though he had only seen them in old National Geographic magazines. He could never imagine anything enjoyable in the desert. However, the building that stood before him explained indirectly why it was a vacation spot. A giant portico that had fallen in on itself was before him. The front had the remnants of the letters ‘Arabia’ and he could see that if used to be lined in lights. Using some imagination he could begin to see the attraction of it. The lights shining in the night sky with the brightly colored building prominently displayed.

Not wanting to just gawk at broken lights all day, he began smelling food and walked to the other side of the portico, where he found a few tables and chairs set up with some fires and cooking going on at the sides. Since it was still early in the morning there were few patrons and a worker was sweeping the glass off the street. Ormazd spotted a sign made of old rusted pipe and a piece of cloth with the words ‘The Desert Diner’ sewn with care. He walked up to the table and was met by a black man.

“Hey, a new face. Well, let me be the first, no wait, the second person to invite you to Glasstorm. I take it Betty was the first?� He extended his hand and Ormazd gave it a friendly shake.

“Correct. My name is Ormazd, pleased to meet you,� he said.

“Ormazd, eh? Well, my name is Hank and this is the Desert Diner. We serve the best food in Glasstorm and at a right fair price,� his slightly serious facial expression drove his point further.

Ormazd clicked his teeth remembering, “Do you accept caps?�

“Caps, huh? Sorry, friend, if more of you came there’d be more use for caps. But, since there isn’t anyone from 15 West out here in nearly a year, I’m going to have to take only chips,� he said. After thinking for a moment he changed is mind. “Now hang on a minute, I’m a fair man. If you can find something to trade with me, I’ll take that too.�

“That’s more than fair. Uh, hmm,� Ormazd fumbled in his pockets trying to find something for use. As he was searching, he spotted the cutting board behind the Hank and saw the dull knife, sharpened repeatedly to the point that the blade was well past the width of the handle. Getting an idea, Ormazd unsheathed his knife and placed it on the table.

With a scrutinizing eye, Hank picked up the knife and looked at it, running his hand on the flat part of the blade a few times.

“This is a good knife, no complaints there. However, I’m wondering, you a doctor?�

“Ya, how’d you know?� Ormazd ask, a bit surprised.

“Saw some packets of pills on your coat pocket, that’s all. Anyways, I gotta ask. Did you ever use this knife to cut human flesh, like operate? I just want to know, for my customers and all,� Hank said.

Ormazd shook his head, “I’m positive I didn’t use the knife for operations. It’s pretty new, and I’ve only used to cut jerky.�

Hank returned a small smile, “Okay then, you got yourself a deal. This knife, is a good one. It’s worth about 20 chips. Now a meal comes with some milk, a biscuit sandwich with cheese and some vegetables, and some fresh fruit. Would you like a meal?� Hank asked. Ormazd replied with a nod. “Normally, a meal cost you 5 chips, but seeing as how I have this fine knife to prepare my fine meals I’ll give it to you for 4. So, Hey Keith, what’s 20 minus 4?� Hank hollered at the boy sweeping, who could not be much older than 13 years old.

“C’mon Hank, you know that. Why are you asking me,� he shot back.

“Boy, you need to keep up with your math if you want to be in a business,� he said matter of factly.

Grumbling, Keith thought for a few moments and answered, “16?�

“Right! Okay, here’s your 16 chips back, and your meal will come in just a jiffy,� Hank said.

While waiting for the meal, Ormazd noticed a sign written with ‘shops’ and having an arrow point into the alley of the Arabia. Minutes later, Hank handed him his meal and his money. Ormazd found a random seat and placed his tin plate on the table which had been recently wiped by Keith. He looked at the food before him. Usually, this would give an accurate picture of what sort of food was available to the populace. He determined Brahmin from the milk and wheat from the biscuits. The vegetables were a bit difficult to pin down, especially the red one that tasted like a fruit. It was delicious, no doubt, but Ormazd couldn’t place what this was. He also took the time to look at the money he was given. It was plastic and had alternating colors of black and red at the edge. The piece he was holding had a ‘5’ etched in and right next to it, an etching of ‘G’ right below it.



That's all for now. The problem is, every time I write a story detailing or slowly alluding to other aspects of the Wastes, it sounds so BORING. Anyone know what I"m talking about here? And if anyone bother's to read, anyone can pick up the real world allusions I'm making?

Also, I'm experimenting with iceberg writing. I don't want to bore my readers in details as soon as we begin the race, and probably will only go into uber faulkner detail mode when I get into something important.

This also marks another recent trend I've been working on: symbols. They aren't prominent as of yet, but they're being establisehd even in this first part.

Since this is also a majorly setting based story, expect a 'companion' to be released with it to explain what all these locations are and how they relate to Fallout/Fallout continuum.

Anyone to bothers to read all of this: THANKS. If there was a place to put money, it'd be here. A nice crisp two dollar bill for you, just like how the Gideons do it in hotel bibles.

[Follower]

Sounds like professional stuff... Good work. <Sigh> Detailing stuff is my curse and I know how boring it is.

[Kashluk]

This stuff is *GREAT*. The dialogue works very well and the way you describe the world... Wow, dude, it's amazing :)

[Fang_Teng]

Thanks Follower and Kashluk. I'm gonna read your guys' work over the weekend (and maybe some other people as well).

[DJ Slamák]

Heck if I could write detailed stuff. But alas, I'm a spoilt kid of the '90s and my attention span has gone to, you know, that one room where even kings must go themselves.

I also don't seem to have caught any of these real world allusions you mention. You mean like Arabia has nothing than brahmin and wheat? I really don't get it.

Other than that, though, I like it. I usually like stuff once I get my arse to read it (my front-arse, that is :) ), but this is good. I'd say what you suggested about the details -- tone them down a bit (but just a bit), make the events flow a bit more, and then when something goes down, überpwn us with an amount of picturesque details directly proportional to the importance of the event.

But in the first place, you're the writer. Subjecting art to referendums doesn't necessarily have to be good. :)

[Som Guy]

That's all for now. The problem is, every time I write a story detailing or slowly alluding to other aspects of the Wastes, it sounds so BORING. Anyone know what I"m talking about here? And if anyone bother's to read, anyone can pick up the real world allusions I'm making?

I can't quite remember what an allusion was. All I remember about allusions was in English class I never fully understood what one was.

Also, I'm experimenting with iceberg writing. I don't want to bore my readers in details as soon as we begin the race, and probably will only go into uber faulkner detail mode when I get into something important.

Actually I perfer when writers write the way you do. I tend to find details exciting because they provide you with a better perspective and understanding of the world the author is putting forth. I do understand your concern about your audience being bored. Many people I know are bored by so many details. The fact that you fear the reader getting bored either means that you are the type of person I described earlier or just overly critical.

I can't say I enjoyed it however. No fault of your own. It is just because the charaters, situation and enviroment just don't suit me. However I do enjoy your writing style and look forward to reading more of your stuff.

[Sykotik]

Detail is good. Some people may not like it, but you can't please everyone. It should please you, first and foremostly.
And I wouldn't have needed a $2 incentive/reward to read this anyway, it's really very good
Kept interesting, nice atmosphere, and a background you can lean against without falling through it , in other words, it seems very well thought out.

Summary: W00t!

--Syke

[Fang_Teng]

Many thanks for all that responded to my story. I'm gonna fix all my mistakes (darn my laziness). Here's the next exciting part (okay, it's more talking, but it's gonna get better, I swear!):

He finished his meal and approached Hank again.

“Thanks again for the meal,� Hank nodded and gave a smile in reply, “I was wondering. I heard this town had a vault. Know where it is?�
“Just follow where most of the workers are going,� he replied as he pointed down the street.

Ormazd gave a quick ‘thanks’ and began walking down the direction Hank pointed in. Debris continued crunching below his feet as he walked and the collapsed shells of buildings provided much needed shade from the relentless sun. He rounded a corner and spotted where all the workers were collecting. There was a tent with tables set up next to it, and workers were lining up to receive their tasks. Most went underground, below the ruins of what looked like the remains of a historic building, while others split off into groups and went in various directions. Not wanting to be out of line, Ormazd decided to wait in line like everyone else.
“There’s a rumor going around that pay’s going to get cut again,� said a male voice.

“Ralph wouldn’t do that, would he? I mean, he keeps telling us that we’re doing pretty well for this year, compared to last year,� said another male voice.

Another voice chimed in, “Ya. Didn’t you read the bulletin? I mean, harvests are up and scav teams have found a whole cache of pre-war items in the southern part of the ruins.�

Ormazd dropped the conversation, and tried to discern what the woman two places ahead of him was saying.

“Raiders are awful. Remember three months ago when –“

She was cut off as a man added, “Ya, you talking about Phil. Wandered off by himself, bad injuries. God, the Desert Rangers arrived too late to save him so he bled to death. Too bad, hope Ralph and Jack are gonna push for more patrols in the outskirts.�

#

It was easy to spot where the Overseer’s office was. A clean adobe building that stood among the charred empty shells of ruined buildings. A guard stood in the front entrance holding an assault rifle. Even the sidewalk around the area had been meticulously swept of all debris, plaster, and glass. Paladin Vector entered the office to be greeted by a smiling male assistant.

“Ah, I heard there were travelers. My name is Barry, I’m Ralph’s assistant. I take it you’d like to see him?� he asked.

“Uh, yah. How long do I have to wait?� she said, a bit surprised at this person’s friendliness.

“Oh, probably twenty minutes. Let me see,� Barry ducked into the Overseer’s office and came out seconds later.

“Looks like I was wrong. You can come in right now,� he motioned with his arm and used the other to hold the door open for her.

Vector stepped into the office of Overseer ‘Ralph’, subtly looking around the room. Only thin shafts of natural light pierced through the drawn curtains and even then it was abruptly ended by the artificial ceiling lights. The walls had various pictures. One was taken at night in a sea of lights, the word ‘Arabia’ shown prominently at the front. Ralph sat behind his desk and immediately arose upon seeing Vector enter. He extended his hand and beamed a smile back at her, in which she returned with the same.

“Hello, Welcome to the town of Glasstorm. How are you doing?� he said, ending with another smile.

“I’m alright. My name’s Vector, really good to meet you,� she said.

“Good, good. Did the Visitor’s Center accommodate you? It’s a relatively recent addition to our city. We figured individual persons couldn’t financially maintain a hotel, so why not start a Center?� he shrugged and added another grin.

He sure grins a lot, Vector thought before continuing. “Ya, it was great. I mean, Betty made sure we were more than comfortable and everything.� She had stopped a bit after ‘and’, wondering what to say and just decided to end it.

“That’s great. So, please tell me, how Ralph can serve you today?� he said.

She was more surprised by Ralph’s behavior and openness than Barry’s. “Oh, well. First, I was wondering about work in the city. Y’know, things like trade, stuff you make, guard jobs, maybe?� She was attempting to bait him into revealing more about the inner workings of the town, without directly saying ‘how’s it organized?’

“Sure, no problem, but just let me say we aren’t hiring right now. You see, I and the employment advisor, Eric, assign jobs to each person in the city. We’re in charge of these people’s lives and their livelihood comes first. And right now, jobs are tight, to say the least. So, I’m sorry about that, but would you like me to go on anyway?� he asked.

“Yes, please,� she said.

“Okay, not a problem. Most of the citizens are employed in the Vault, located under the old city hall. We converted a majority of the facility into a farm with sun lamps and other tools. A good chunk is also taken up in scavenging groups that go into other sections of the city and the outskirts to collect anything of use. Finally, we have those who collect all goods suitable for trade and pool them together into one exchange. We’re a community that believes in the Bible’s words on sharing. There are a few small businesses and restaurants as well. Oh yes, there’s also the civilian militia controlled by Jack. They patrol the city and help enforce laws.�