Chapter 2:
A New Path
The wasteland, so dry, so barren. If only I could find a shield from the burning sun. Condemned to live the life of a wonderer. I could only imagine.
Dakarri? Dakarri? Are you there? Suddenly, Moro interrupted my thoughts. Recognizing the constant uncomforting feeling in my stomach from starving, I looked up to see my friend looking straight into my eyes. It had been two days since I had eaten anything. I was getting weaker, I could feel it.
"What? Sorry Moro, I wasn't listening," I apologized to my friend. We had been traveling for two months since the battle for the Boneyard.
It's all right. I think we're coming up on a town. I think it's only on the other side of this plateau. She informed me. If only we could find an easy way to get there. I knew what she was saying made sense; I could smell the food, and the people.
"Let's hope that we find one soon, I'm starving." She almost looked like she could laugh, if a Deathclaw could. Our constant pursuit of a place to sleep and food to eat or warmth to keep us from freezing brought us even closer. The few things that I brought with me had mostly been used up by now. The food was getting to be nothing but stale crumbs and a few drops of good water. Most of my other items had been traded for safety or food. My two weapons, a spear and my pistol, which had run out of all but one bullet, were the only things that I would not trade.
Carefully, we scanned the horizon for a way around it or through it. In the distance, I thought I saw what might have been a valley cut into the steep face. For all I knew, though, it could have been a mirage. After all, I was dehydrated, starving, and it was hot. "Hey, Moro, what's that?" I questioned, pointing out the spot.
I think you found the easier way. She said with a brief smile. With a quick stop to adjust my pack, we set off to finally find food.
* * *
On our approach to the canyon, I examined the steep cliffs that surrounded me. Paintings. They're everywhere, observed Moro. The white and chalky figured decorated the rising stone. They looked almost extraterrestrial.
"Do you have any idea who put these here or are you just as clueless as I am?"
No clue. Whoever did it, or what, was really high up. Those are in the middle of the cliff! Shadowy coolness cloaked me as I ventured into the gorge. A strange feeling rushed through my dry and tense body. Something told me that this was not a good place to be.
Suddenly, a rush of air behind me alerted me. A spear struck the ground directly behind me. Figures high above the basin of the canyon up on the bluffs stared down at Moro and me, spears in the air. Primitive clothing draped from their tanned bodies. Was that supposed to hit me or was that just a warning? I thought to myself as they seemed to gather into a larger group.
This cannot be good, inserted Moro. Rustling from the dirt behind me said that there was another being behind me. Slowly, I reached for my holstered Desert Eagle pistol. Right before I reached the release of the strap restraining my gun, the point of a spear lightly touched the middle of my back. Out of reflex, my hands slowly rose into a surrendering position. We were trapped.
"Why have you come here?" questioned and unidentifiable male voice from behind me. "You have intruded on our sacred grounds."
"We didn't know," I assured him. "We were just looking for a way through to the other side."
"Wait… Turn around." Although I was puzzled about why, I turned to face a rather elderly man with fading features. The dark skinned warrior levelly held the impressively carved spear directly at my throat. Gathering up every inch of bravery in me, I looked straight into his eyes and spoke.
"What do you want with us?" I mentioned curiously.
"You must have great power or a wonderful blessing to be able to control this beast," he said, ignoring my question.
"I don't control her, just talk to her," I ignorantly corrected.
"Well, I will take your word that you are not here to kill or enslave us. You look like you have been out in the harsh desert long. Come, I will help you, but only if you will help me in return," he proclaimed.
"We will, if you first tell your guard to remove his spear from my throat."
* * *
After we all left the gorge, we were guided up the plateau to a small village. The tribals had apparently established this encampment many years previously. I the middle of the structures, there was a well-decorated tent, which was, more than likely, the elder's tent. As we entered the large gathering, many of the warriors faded off into miscellaneous tents. Only five stayed behind, one of whom was the sturdy man that was waving his spear at me. Eventually, we made it to the central tent.
"You said you talk to her, how?" mentioned the elder as he invited me into the tent.
"I really don't know. It just happens," I honestly replied as I walked through the leathery tent flaps. Genially, he signaled me have a seat on a pile of blankets.
"Really? That is quite interesting," he replied taking a seat on the other side of the room on an almost identical pile.
"I don't see why. So what is it that you want me to do? I don't want to get into anything until I know what it is."
"Of course. I understand," he began. Before he spoke the next line, he sat on the ground, closed his eyes, and took a hand full of dirt and let it run through his fingers.
What is he doing? I thought to myself, puzzled by the man's actions.
As his eyes opened, he began to speak once more. "Over the years, our culture has searched for one person. He or she is proclaimed to bring salvation to the land. Many years ago, one of these such people saved us from a group called the Children. There have only been two ever to walk these barren lands. We need you to help us find this person. We know they're out there." Slowly, his eyes closed one more time and he once more took his place on the pile of blankets. He had been paying his respects.
"How would I do that?"
"Find others that you think would be suitable for a trial of strength, skill and agility. Also, we must ask you to find an item, the Garden of Eden Creation Kit or G.E.C.K. It is told to have the power to generate a paradise in the driest of wastelands and recreate the lost," informed the great leader.
"Alright. What do I get in return? And how long do you think it'll take?" I inquired.
"We will supply you with what ever you need of what we have. Any time. Also, it really depends on how long it takes you. I can't tell you much in the way of places that could have the kit so who knows how long."
Do you think we can trust him? Intruded Moro, standing outside of the tent. I honestly didn't have and answer for her. I couldn't decide weather this was some sort of real life quest or just a well-established hoax. I could hardly tell the difference. Instead of arguing, because I didn't want them to kill me for denying them, I agreed.
"That sounds good to me," I replied. "How hard could it be?"
* * *
After situating myself and resting, I collected Moro and we set out, fully supplied and ready. The first place we were to go was a town not too far away, The New California Republic, where all of the political business occurs for this reign. Once there, we were to meet up with a man that the elder, Kensaun, said would be waiting for us on the outskirts of town, because I couldn't bring Moro into the city.
Still a few miles away from the town, something caught my eye. A glint of green tantalized my adrenaline-addicted mind. There was something there. With a small and yet deep craves behind us, Moro and I looked at each other as I reflexively removed my pistol from it's holster. With the same precision marksmanship that killed Klane, I turned around fired two shots before even looking at the creature. It was a giant praying mantis, another one of the pests of the wastes.
They travel in groups, reminded Moro. It was true, the devious monsters were known for traveling in swarms that could range from five to thirty. From behind me, a few more of the mutants emerged from behind a medium sized rock formation. Apparently, they did not enjoy our company. With her lightening-fast reflexes, Moro jumped up onto two of them, being able to manage them with her size and her massive claws. Dropping my pack against a rock, I grabbed my spear and gripped my gun in the opposite hand.
Bring it on! My mind raged with the familiar feeling of the heat of the battle. Every soul in the wasteland has felt it once or twice at least. One by one, we eliminated our opposition. In the end, the count was seventeen mutilated and squished green, bloody, corpses. "How pleasant."
After reloading, I realized that there was something wrong. Moro stood, fixated on a spot farter into the desert that I could see. There's some one there, stated Moro, still gazing into the distance. Although I had no clue why she cared or why I hadn't picked up my pack and gotten ready to finish out trek to the NCR, I walked up to her and looked out into the distance where she was looking.
"Have any clue why there is one lone person standing staring at us in the middle of the desert?" I asked, almost sarcastically. After a moment of contemplation, I realized that he was probably the man we were supposed to meet. After all, who could miss a Deathclaw and a woman that weren't attacking each other?
Looks like a tribal. Could be our mystery man, Moro informed me, only adding to the suspicion that we think alike.
"I was thinking the same thing." Finally, I turned, grabbed my overly heavy pack, and set off.
* * *
His burly, tough build and deep chestnut skin showed through his leather ensemble. He was obviously the man we were looking for. Dark brown hair topped the stern but warm face. Glancing up at Moro, he almost hid back in fear. Most of the wasteland had a great fear of Deathclaws. All for a good cause, of course. Because of their ridges of spikes and horns and their knack for mischief, catching sight of one of their giant claws, would mean instant death of either fear or sighting from the deadly creature that normally traveled in a pack.
"You must be Dakarri. I'm Kerosher. My grandfather said that you would need my assistance here. I can see why," introduced the tribal guide.
"Thanks, I think," I replied, looking over at Moro who was only a few feet away from me. "Yes, I am Dakarri. What is it exactly that I need to do here at NCR?"
"Well, since the original leader of the New California Republic, Tandi, was overthrown by a man named Harrison. Since then, no one really listened to anything that came from the offices or anything that had to do with politics for that matter unless it was within their own town or tribe."
Why would anyone want or care about politics? genuinely asked Moro. Because no one really cared about what happened in the NCR in the Boneyard, we really didn't know much about what happened in politics.
"And what do I have to do with this?" in injured.
"Well, in order to get to the first person that grandfather wants you to find, you must overthrow him. In short, you must find a way to take over the republic."
Isn't that comforting, I thought to myself. After being briefed, I told Moro to wait for me about four miles out of town in a set of caves that Kerosher had told us that the tribe owned. With that I set out, alone.
* * *
Rustic colored archways towered over the entries of the outer wall of the once beautiful but now dark city. It was obvious that the town had not been cared for in a few years. Passers on the street, after giving me funny looks, just shook their heads and looked away. I don't know if it was because the town was in such a horrible downfall or because all of my desert camouflage had been ripped and worn into nothing more than rages. Luckily, I had gotten some clothes from the tribals. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind.
Why didn't he ask me to go through the trial? The thought hadn't crossed my mind until just now. It stumped me that Kensaun hadn't asked me to endure the test. Instead I was here, looking for people to take it. What if this is the test?
Just then, I realized that I had almost reached the core of the town. There was only one problem, there was a large, military-like gate protecting the inner political sanctum from the prying eyes of the public. This sucks.
Unexpectedly, a tap on my shoulder caused me to whirl around only to see a rather short man wearing rather worn attire with a black bandana tied messily around his forehead, and an eye patch, more than likely symbolic, affixed to his right eye.
"Can I help you?" I asked bluntly, but almost politely.
"No. But I bet I can help you," he began. "You want in right? Well you can't just waltz up. You need ID tags."
"I'm sorry, but… Never mind. Why does that mean that I need you? Oh, wait, let me guess, you have tags."
"Bingo! Only two thousand caps a piece! It's a real bargain!" he squawked.
"Two-thousand! I can buy this whole place for less!" I resented, repulsed that he would want that much for something like that.
"I guess you don't really want in then. It's fine with me, I'll just take my business elsewhere," he bluffed.
"Fine I'll pay one-thousand five-hundred. That sounds pretty reasonable," I suggested.
"One-eighty. Then I'll do it," he confronted.
"Fine. One-eighty. Here." I agreed, reaching into my pocket. After pulling out about seven sacks of caps and the few that I had in my pocket, He handed me one well-pressed and neat access card.
"Nice doin' business with you. Might I recommend that you wear something, well, nicer, clothes, before going in," he commented. Realizing that it was, in fact, getting late, so I figured that I could go in after breakfast tomorrow. Moro could fend for herself for a day.
After putting the tag safely away in my pack, I looked for the nearest place that I could sleep. Luckily, like most cities, NCR had an inn that was almost empty. I could sleep there and go to the interior of town tomorrow.
With that, I hid my pack next to me in the rather cozy king-sized bed and I fell asleep…
A New Path
The wasteland, so dry, so barren. If only I could find a shield from the burning sun. Condemned to live the life of a wonderer. I could only imagine.
Dakarri? Dakarri? Are you there? Suddenly, Moro interrupted my thoughts. Recognizing the constant uncomforting feeling in my stomach from starving, I looked up to see my friend looking straight into my eyes. It had been two days since I had eaten anything. I was getting weaker, I could feel it.
"What? Sorry Moro, I wasn't listening," I apologized to my friend. We had been traveling for two months since the battle for the Boneyard.
It's all right. I think we're coming up on a town. I think it's only on the other side of this plateau. She informed me. If only we could find an easy way to get there. I knew what she was saying made sense; I could smell the food, and the people.
"Let's hope that we find one soon, I'm starving." She almost looked like she could laugh, if a Deathclaw could. Our constant pursuit of a place to sleep and food to eat or warmth to keep us from freezing brought us even closer. The few things that I brought with me had mostly been used up by now. The food was getting to be nothing but stale crumbs and a few drops of good water. Most of my other items had been traded for safety or food. My two weapons, a spear and my pistol, which had run out of all but one bullet, were the only things that I would not trade.
Carefully, we scanned the horizon for a way around it or through it. In the distance, I thought I saw what might have been a valley cut into the steep face. For all I knew, though, it could have been a mirage. After all, I was dehydrated, starving, and it was hot. "Hey, Moro, what's that?" I questioned, pointing out the spot.
I think you found the easier way. She said with a brief smile. With a quick stop to adjust my pack, we set off to finally find food.
* * *
On our approach to the canyon, I examined the steep cliffs that surrounded me. Paintings. They're everywhere, observed Moro. The white and chalky figured decorated the rising stone. They looked almost extraterrestrial.
"Do you have any idea who put these here or are you just as clueless as I am?"
No clue. Whoever did it, or what, was really high up. Those are in the middle of the cliff! Shadowy coolness cloaked me as I ventured into the gorge. A strange feeling rushed through my dry and tense body. Something told me that this was not a good place to be.
Suddenly, a rush of air behind me alerted me. A spear struck the ground directly behind me. Figures high above the basin of the canyon up on the bluffs stared down at Moro and me, spears in the air. Primitive clothing draped from their tanned bodies. Was that supposed to hit me or was that just a warning? I thought to myself as they seemed to gather into a larger group.
This cannot be good, inserted Moro. Rustling from the dirt behind me said that there was another being behind me. Slowly, I reached for my holstered Desert Eagle pistol. Right before I reached the release of the strap restraining my gun, the point of a spear lightly touched the middle of my back. Out of reflex, my hands slowly rose into a surrendering position. We were trapped.
"Why have you come here?" questioned and unidentifiable male voice from behind me. "You have intruded on our sacred grounds."
"We didn't know," I assured him. "We were just looking for a way through to the other side."
"Wait… Turn around." Although I was puzzled about why, I turned to face a rather elderly man with fading features. The dark skinned warrior levelly held the impressively carved spear directly at my throat. Gathering up every inch of bravery in me, I looked straight into his eyes and spoke.
"What do you want with us?" I mentioned curiously.
"You must have great power or a wonderful blessing to be able to control this beast," he said, ignoring my question.
"I don't control her, just talk to her," I ignorantly corrected.
"Well, I will take your word that you are not here to kill or enslave us. You look like you have been out in the harsh desert long. Come, I will help you, but only if you will help me in return," he proclaimed.
"We will, if you first tell your guard to remove his spear from my throat."
* * *
After we all left the gorge, we were guided up the plateau to a small village. The tribals had apparently established this encampment many years previously. I the middle of the structures, there was a well-decorated tent, which was, more than likely, the elder's tent. As we entered the large gathering, many of the warriors faded off into miscellaneous tents. Only five stayed behind, one of whom was the sturdy man that was waving his spear at me. Eventually, we made it to the central tent.
"You said you talk to her, how?" mentioned the elder as he invited me into the tent.
"I really don't know. It just happens," I honestly replied as I walked through the leathery tent flaps. Genially, he signaled me have a seat on a pile of blankets.
"Really? That is quite interesting," he replied taking a seat on the other side of the room on an almost identical pile.
"I don't see why. So what is it that you want me to do? I don't want to get into anything until I know what it is."
"Of course. I understand," he began. Before he spoke the next line, he sat on the ground, closed his eyes, and took a hand full of dirt and let it run through his fingers.
What is he doing? I thought to myself, puzzled by the man's actions.
As his eyes opened, he began to speak once more. "Over the years, our culture has searched for one person. He or she is proclaimed to bring salvation to the land. Many years ago, one of these such people saved us from a group called the Children. There have only been two ever to walk these barren lands. We need you to help us find this person. We know they're out there." Slowly, his eyes closed one more time and he once more took his place on the pile of blankets. He had been paying his respects.
"How would I do that?"
"Find others that you think would be suitable for a trial of strength, skill and agility. Also, we must ask you to find an item, the Garden of Eden Creation Kit or G.E.C.K. It is told to have the power to generate a paradise in the driest of wastelands and recreate the lost," informed the great leader.
"Alright. What do I get in return? And how long do you think it'll take?" I inquired.
"We will supply you with what ever you need of what we have. Any time. Also, it really depends on how long it takes you. I can't tell you much in the way of places that could have the kit so who knows how long."
Do you think we can trust him? Intruded Moro, standing outside of the tent. I honestly didn't have and answer for her. I couldn't decide weather this was some sort of real life quest or just a well-established hoax. I could hardly tell the difference. Instead of arguing, because I didn't want them to kill me for denying them, I agreed.
"That sounds good to me," I replied. "How hard could it be?"
* * *
After situating myself and resting, I collected Moro and we set out, fully supplied and ready. The first place we were to go was a town not too far away, The New California Republic, where all of the political business occurs for this reign. Once there, we were to meet up with a man that the elder, Kensaun, said would be waiting for us on the outskirts of town, because I couldn't bring Moro into the city.
Still a few miles away from the town, something caught my eye. A glint of green tantalized my adrenaline-addicted mind. There was something there. With a small and yet deep craves behind us, Moro and I looked at each other as I reflexively removed my pistol from it's holster. With the same precision marksmanship that killed Klane, I turned around fired two shots before even looking at the creature. It was a giant praying mantis, another one of the pests of the wastes.
They travel in groups, reminded Moro. It was true, the devious monsters were known for traveling in swarms that could range from five to thirty. From behind me, a few more of the mutants emerged from behind a medium sized rock formation. Apparently, they did not enjoy our company. With her lightening-fast reflexes, Moro jumped up onto two of them, being able to manage them with her size and her massive claws. Dropping my pack against a rock, I grabbed my spear and gripped my gun in the opposite hand.
Bring it on! My mind raged with the familiar feeling of the heat of the battle. Every soul in the wasteland has felt it once or twice at least. One by one, we eliminated our opposition. In the end, the count was seventeen mutilated and squished green, bloody, corpses. "How pleasant."
After reloading, I realized that there was something wrong. Moro stood, fixated on a spot farter into the desert that I could see. There's some one there, stated Moro, still gazing into the distance. Although I had no clue why she cared or why I hadn't picked up my pack and gotten ready to finish out trek to the NCR, I walked up to her and looked out into the distance where she was looking.
"Have any clue why there is one lone person standing staring at us in the middle of the desert?" I asked, almost sarcastically. After a moment of contemplation, I realized that he was probably the man we were supposed to meet. After all, who could miss a Deathclaw and a woman that weren't attacking each other?
Looks like a tribal. Could be our mystery man, Moro informed me, only adding to the suspicion that we think alike.
"I was thinking the same thing." Finally, I turned, grabbed my overly heavy pack, and set off.
* * *
His burly, tough build and deep chestnut skin showed through his leather ensemble. He was obviously the man we were looking for. Dark brown hair topped the stern but warm face. Glancing up at Moro, he almost hid back in fear. Most of the wasteland had a great fear of Deathclaws. All for a good cause, of course. Because of their ridges of spikes and horns and their knack for mischief, catching sight of one of their giant claws, would mean instant death of either fear or sighting from the deadly creature that normally traveled in a pack.
"You must be Dakarri. I'm Kerosher. My grandfather said that you would need my assistance here. I can see why," introduced the tribal guide.
"Thanks, I think," I replied, looking over at Moro who was only a few feet away from me. "Yes, I am Dakarri. What is it exactly that I need to do here at NCR?"
"Well, since the original leader of the New California Republic, Tandi, was overthrown by a man named Harrison. Since then, no one really listened to anything that came from the offices or anything that had to do with politics for that matter unless it was within their own town or tribe."
Why would anyone want or care about politics? genuinely asked Moro. Because no one really cared about what happened in the NCR in the Boneyard, we really didn't know much about what happened in politics.
"And what do I have to do with this?" in injured.
"Well, in order to get to the first person that grandfather wants you to find, you must overthrow him. In short, you must find a way to take over the republic."
Isn't that comforting, I thought to myself. After being briefed, I told Moro to wait for me about four miles out of town in a set of caves that Kerosher had told us that the tribe owned. With that I set out, alone.
* * *
Rustic colored archways towered over the entries of the outer wall of the once beautiful but now dark city. It was obvious that the town had not been cared for in a few years. Passers on the street, after giving me funny looks, just shook their heads and looked away. I don't know if it was because the town was in such a horrible downfall or because all of my desert camouflage had been ripped and worn into nothing more than rages. Luckily, I had gotten some clothes from the tribals. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind.
Why didn't he ask me to go through the trial? The thought hadn't crossed my mind until just now. It stumped me that Kensaun hadn't asked me to endure the test. Instead I was here, looking for people to take it. What if this is the test?
Just then, I realized that I had almost reached the core of the town. There was only one problem, there was a large, military-like gate protecting the inner political sanctum from the prying eyes of the public. This sucks.
Unexpectedly, a tap on my shoulder caused me to whirl around only to see a rather short man wearing rather worn attire with a black bandana tied messily around his forehead, and an eye patch, more than likely symbolic, affixed to his right eye.
"Can I help you?" I asked bluntly, but almost politely.
"No. But I bet I can help you," he began. "You want in right? Well you can't just waltz up. You need ID tags."
"I'm sorry, but… Never mind. Why does that mean that I need you? Oh, wait, let me guess, you have tags."
"Bingo! Only two thousand caps a piece! It's a real bargain!" he squawked.
"Two-thousand! I can buy this whole place for less!" I resented, repulsed that he would want that much for something like that.
"I guess you don't really want in then. It's fine with me, I'll just take my business elsewhere," he bluffed.
"Fine I'll pay one-thousand five-hundred. That sounds pretty reasonable," I suggested.
"One-eighty. Then I'll do it," he confronted.
"Fine. One-eighty. Here." I agreed, reaching into my pocket. After pulling out about seven sacks of caps and the few that I had in my pocket, He handed me one well-pressed and neat access card.
"Nice doin' business with you. Might I recommend that you wear something, well, nicer, clothes, before going in," he commented. Realizing that it was, in fact, getting late, so I figured that I could go in after breakfast tomorrow. Moro could fend for herself for a day.
After putting the tag safely away in my pack, I looked for the nearest place that I could sleep. Luckily, like most cities, NCR had an inn that was almost empty. I could sleep there and go to the interior of town tomorrow.
With that, I hid my pack next to me in the rather cozy king-sized bed and I fell asleep…
