G
Guest
Guest
Well..I posted this over at v13, and so far..only William has responded. So..here it is...and have your fun with it..
The Base of this is the story I posted earlier...
The Bet
by bluepencil
Warning:
This fic is the basis of a challenge I'm making to all Fallout fans out there. Forgive me if I appear a bit too...presumptuous in making this. I just want to experiment a bit..that's all... : )
_______________________________________________________________________
It was a formless void. It was a Darkness beyond Darkness, a screaming cacophony of Non-sound and Non-light. It was an emptiness so vast, that it seemed to take on a shape of its own.
The camera focuses on the flash of light that appeared slightly below its viewing axis. The small dot of light expanded outwards into a blazing white disk, spinning on a central axis. The disk deepened, and took on a darker hue, becoming blue at the center. It spun rapidly, with the center becoming darker and deeper in color with each rotation, until the white corona became a shade of vermilion.
There was another flash, and someone stepped out of the Blue Portal.
He wore a businessman's suit, a color black, slightly lighter than the Darkness around him. He walked around an invisible floor until her reached a certain spot in the Vastness. He tapped on the 'floor with stylish black shoes, and from it poked out....a well.
It was made of stone, and crystal water filled more than half of its depth. The stranger stared into the well and grinned. With a *poof*, he became a black cat, and paced around the circular wall.
"TolTiiR...", a booming, macabre voice rang out. The cat blinked bright green eyes and looked around.
"Yes?", Toltiir asked.
"It iS GoOd to See you AGain....I haD ThouGhT You DiDn'T Do THIS Type of ThinG AnyMore...."
"Nahh", Toltiir said with a wave of his paw. "I'd always be ready for any of your summons, sir. But can we hold off on the 'booming, macabre voice' for a while."
The Entity laughed. "All right then. I see that you stil haven't lost your touch."
"Well, as they say.... if you're a God of Mischief, you stay a God Of Mischief."
"Good."
The Feline Eldeer God of Mischief peered into the Well. "Why is Mimir's Well back up? I thought it was destroyed in the Insurrection."
"This is not Mimir's Well. It is a reasonable facsimile."
"Oh."
The Entity paused, then moved suddenly. The Darkness pulsed around Toltiir. The 'Cat' shuddered.
"Could we also hold off on display of massive power and ungodly might?"
"I can't help it, you know that. It comes..with the job."
"Of course, of course, Boojum. You are, after all, the most powerful of us Gods."
"I...am not a God. To treat me as such would be an insult."
"Right. I forgot."
There were several more flashes of light, and several 'people appeared, dressed in varied modes of attire, ranging from a shank of bearskin to full hi-tech battle regalia.
"So..why do you call us here, Boojum?", Toltiir purred.
"The Boojum?!", a bearded man dressed in a Grecian toga remaked. "He is here?"
"Yes. Now shut up, Jupiter."
Instead of shutting up, the various Higher gods started to bicker. They argued over whose fault it was this time. The Boojum never summoned them unless there was a serious deal of righteous Rank-shuffling to be done.
The Darkness rumbled, sending waves of immeasurable anger.
The Gods shut up.
"I have....called you here, not to punish you, though the True God knows you all need a good dose of it...."
They quailed. "Why then?", Odin asked.
"I have....created a new universe....and it is sorely in need of Pantheons. I have called you here to decide which among you shall rule."
"<A new Universe...>, came across the minds the Gathering . "<A PROMOTION!!>"
"Oh, Great Boojum, Highest Servant of the Most High, tell us, to whom shall this noble charge pass..?"
"Crom...the tongue wit you have gathered will do you no good in this instance."
Crom shutted up.
"Toltiir."
"HIM??!!", the Gathering screamed indreculously. "You can't mean that/It's insane/Can't be"
"Ahem..not that I don't appreciate the Grace and all....but I'm not really the All-Seeing and All-Knowing Manager type."
"I know. An I'm not making you do something that you don't like. I am merely relegating to you the task of choosing the one to be promoted."
"WHAT?!!"
"I will brook no interference in this matter from you all. Toltiir will supervise the means of choosing the candidates. The final decision will still remain upon me. I will be watching you."
And with that...the Boojum left them.
The High Gods gathered upon the Feline Elder God.
"Toltiir........."Throth said almost threateningly.
"Heh.", the Feline snorted. "I can match any and all of you stuck-up Gods in sheer Power any day. Don't presume to cow me. Keep it up, and you'll be expelled out of the roster immediately."
The Other Gods just narrowed their eyes at him. "So...choose."
"No way."
"What?"
"It will be fair. There will be a contest, and the winner will become the High God of the universe the Boojum just created."
"What..is this contest?"
"First, the rules. No Cheating. No Second Tries. No using of Time and Space dilation to further your Chances. No patsies."
"Right, right. The contest, the contest."
Toltiir sat on his haunches and looked down at the well. On the water, an image formed. It is a barren Wasteland, a post-apocalyptic world. A nuclear disaster had destroyed most of the human race, and the survivors were tasked with rebuilding their failed society.
But there were many things that stood in their way. Mutated beasts, the degradation of humanity, plans of Madmen.
Through these hardships, they triumphed, and people rose to the occasion, to give their all to the good of all.
The Vault Dweller. The Chosen One. And there will be more...
"The Contest is this. It is open to ALL Gods (no, don't complain), Lesser or Higher alike will have an equal chance. You are to introduce a change in the timeline of this universe. The subtlest and the one with the most far-reaching effects will become the winner."
"But that's..."
"That is the way. Those who don't like it can complain to the Boojum."
Nobody moved.
"Well, now that that's settled, I'll cast my chances. I will be invalid, of course, as I am not supposed to be taking part. Butt...you get the idea."
A tiny pebble popped into existence into his paw. He was about to drop it into the Well, when the water rippled, and the image changed.
"Well, well, looks like the Boojum decided to participate, after all..."
The Gods clustered around the Well.
"He pulled a random person from several universes and grafted them into this timeline?!"
"Not very subtle, but unusual, that."
"Well, he's just trying to set an example. If it was too good, we'd never try to match it."
"Look at what it done...the Brotherhood of Steel is being given technology it's not supposed to even know exist!"
"And forces a confrontation between it and the Enclave, eighty years too early.."
"Which ends up with both the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave being rendered broken and useless.."
"Ouch."
"And the rise of democratic NCR."
"But ..they outlawed guns! Do they have any idea of how that will affect these people?"
"But the people he pulled from the various universe are going along quite well...they're..immortal?!!"
"Well, not really."
"Look, more people are crossing over."
"By accident, or design?"
"I don't know..."
"Reality is collapsing."
"Boom."
They looked away as the sample timeline self-destructed.
"That..wasn't entirely what I had in mind...but it does illustrate the principles. Another requirement is that the timeline should be stable. No interference with the Cosmic Laws. Got that?!"
The Gods muttered in assent, forming plans already.
Toltiir sighed as they all disappeared. "Why do I always get the crackpot jobs?" He turned to the well and dropped his stone. The Well rippled, and the Change was made.
***********************************************************************
an invitation to Fallout writers:
This is the Challenge of The Bet.
You must write a fic about changing the Fallout Universe. At one point in time in the Fallout timeline, a character must do something different from what
really transpired or an event was changed. I.e: The Master continued to live, The President was killed too early, and the Enclave became instead a band of highly-paid mercenaries, or instead of taking the right turn at an intersection, the Vault Dweller went left, and became married, and their lineage continued to act as hidden Crusaders for Justice (ala the Phantom)..
The possibilities are endlesss....
Rules:
It must start with a conversation between Toltiir and a god(Or a mortal. Or an alien. Or you! Anybody can participate!). Toltiir is a feline Elder God of Mischief, and even if the fic you're writing is dark, the intro must of necessity be light.
Each entry must be different. The wilder, the zanier, the better.
Brevity is a requirement. After all, who would want to wait around for a 100k file? The official Bet entry should only contain at most five chapters of a series, if that's what you want to make. You can post it as a separate series, only the first eye-catching chapters will be considered.
And the prize is....what? I not really sure. The satisfaction of having done something good, of having contributed your slice, of having shown just how creative you are. Fame, I think, would be part of it, since after all, the winner of the Bet will be considered as someone whose wit and creativity eclipses others. You can also call yourself the Net.God of Divergent Fallout Fanfiction, if you want.
Who will decide? No freakin' way I'm going to be roped into this... the winner will be decided by a poll. It's the readers and the concession of authors that will decide. Let's argue about that later on. The main purpose here is to have FUN!
**********************************************************************
Toltiir sat on a raised dais by the Mimir's Well. He napped, as there were no Gods to around to bother him, for the moment.
It was too good to last. He was shaken awake by the loud booming sound of several thousand drums beating as one.
"Stop it!!!", he yelled.
The sound stopped.
"Oh, it's you."
Hunuhehotl stepped proudly in front of the well. "I am ready to make my Bet into fruituition.."
"Oh. Right. Great.", said Toltiir, trying to stave off the intoxicating perfume his visitor was emitting.
The God of Spring Fever moved to the Well and dropped a grape into it...
The Well rippled, and the Change was made.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere, a guy with too much time in his hands and too much caffeine coursing through his veins looked into his computer screen and was made to type....."The Bet. Proposed by bluepencil."......
Toltiir sighed.
.
.
.
And....my sample entry..
*********************************************************************************
Toltiir eyed his guest warily. He paced around the well, and kept his gaze, mixed with both curiousity and doubt, on the tall man in a smart double-pleated suit.
His visitor smiled mysteriously.
"You're here to participate in the bet, Appalica?", Toltiir asked, his voice filled with disbelief. Of all Gods, he'd never expected the Spirit of Irony to come. He didn't seem the type to act on something so...frivolous by his standards.
"Yes, Toltiir....I come here.....to cast my Bet. I have.....thought over .... the implications....of this contest. If I cast my bet......hoping to win...it would be ironic if I....lost. Or if I cast my bet...and expect to lose......and won....ironical it would be too. Or...if I cast my bet..and what I expect....happens...also ironical it is....since it is...unexpected.."
Toltiir lifted his brows. "Oh? Well, good luck to you then."
"Luck....is not.....of significance..... I will...cast my bet .......now."
Appalica walked over to the Mimir's well and dropped a rose thorn into it. The well rippled, and the Change came into being.
Toltiir looked down upon the waters.
"So...you Changed it so that the Chosen One never made it back to Arroyo after he rescued his village. What's the point?"
Appalica did not reply.
*********************************************************************************
*khunck*
*khunk*
*kchinrk!*
"Ow.. !"
Randi rubbed the shallow wound that the flying chip of stone caused. He glared at the pickaxe he held in his hands as if it was a stinging radscorpion tail. He gritted his teeth and sunk the slightly less blunt end into the unyeilding ground again.
"HIIIIYAAAAAAA!!!!!"
The pickeaxe flew out of his hands and spun into a graceful arc in the air.
"Who the- ...oh. It's you."
The little girl smiled in a cute (and somewhat predatory) way. "What'cha doin?"
"Go away, Tandi."
"Can't make me.", she teased as she pranced around and around the knee-deep hole. "Youu can't maake mee!!!"
"Tandi....", he said menacingly.
"Bleeh!", Tandi blew him a raspberry.
Randi cradled his face in his hands. "What do you want, Tandi?"
"Are you looking for treasure again?"
"No, I'm digging your grave."
Tandi's eyes widened. "WAAAAHH! I'm TELLING MOMMY!!!", she screamed, and ran towards the settlement.
Randi sighed. Is there a Universal Law that made little sisters so annoying? Just because he was named after their Great-Grandmother, she thought she could sweet-talk her way in (or out of) anything...
He trudged over to where his pickaxe lay stuck into the ground, spat on his calloused young palms, and resumed his digging.
Digging was something he was very good at. He'd found something in the Archives about a man named Jones, an archeologist. He was so impressed by what he heard that he resolved to become on just like him. What was an archeologist? He wasn't sure, but it seemed to involve a lot of digging.
And digging was something he was very good at. His parents found no real objections to his little hobby. After all, this community had once been a part of a mining settlement. They just assumed it was the miner's blood that was running through his veins. They did notice that he was become a little bit to obsessive about it lately, but then, it wasn't that too severe an affliction to warant undue attention.
He wasn't sure what he'd find this time, but that never stopped him before. Once, he'd dug up a tunnel into a nest of Mole Rats. Heh. That little experience taught him the ability of Move Silently and Run Really Really Fast in a jiffy.
What would he like to find? A relic. He'd known that there was a Vault here somewhere, buried under the sands. He'd heard tales of the legendary Vault Dweller, and the Chosen One. It happened all a long time ago, but the stories of their great adventures lived on, and lodged themselves in his mind. He looked upon the two liked some kind of idols. He worshipped them in the manner of a true devotee, he praised all their good works, treated all of their items as holy relics, but NEVER in his entire life would he want to go through what they had underwent.
*kchunk*
"Hmm..."
Randi struck again. There was the same *chunk*, a sign of his pick metting something of solid origin. Another freakin' rock....
But as he bent down and scraped off the layer of dusty soil. his eyes widened in wonder.
Under the soil was an empty suit of (what he didn't know was) a Brotherhood of Steel Power Armor. He cleared up the strange metallic ceramic-plated armor, and examined it with reverence. What was this thing? Surely, something this magnificent could only belong to the *gasp* Vault Dweller...
He took his pickaxe and began to dig with almost manic zeal. Perhaps there were more of these things.....
His pickaxe bit into the soil.
Under that inch-thick layer of sand was a metal case.
His pick had punctured the casing.
Inside the case were electronic technology of mysterious design.
His drive had ruined it, smashing a circuit board into pieces. The electrodes flicked and sparked on contact with the steel pick.
The metal casing had letters engraved into it.
The letters spelled out G.E.C.K.
* boom.*
Everything within a mile radius was leveled. The ground directly below ground zero was instantly fused into molten glass.
Welcome to Hell.
*********************************************************************************
And Clark Kent turned over in his grave.
_______________________________________________________________________
So... what IS the point to this fic? Well, it is focused mainly on.. what the hell is going to happen to Randi?
Will he:
a\ die and go to heaven?
1. becomes an Angel of Dreams?
1.1. falls in love with a mortal?
2. becomes a Valkrie Legoinnaire?
3. becomes a God-In-Training?
b\ die and go to hell?
1. becomes a demonic inucubus?
1.1 falls in love with a mortal?
c\ live, and be horribly mutated?
1. becomes a mutant leader?
1.1 a bureaucrat?
1.2 a revolutionary?
2. becomes a specialist in hunting for acheological finds in radiated zones?
2.1 finds something incredible in the Glow?
d\ live, and gain super powers?
1. becomes a super hero?
2. becomes a reclusive man who helps out only occasionally, with a mysterious past?
2.1 is hunted by the Enclave?
e\ live, and gain the ability to angst beyond mortal men?
1. becomes a drunk? (good POV material, that)
2. becomes a cynical thief?
f\ be sent into a limbo, where he can create his own world?
Damn me for pulling the night shift...No wonder I have too much free time! All this coffee is getting to me.
I'm not a plagiarist! Am not! Am not! Am not!!!
http://bpen.topcities.com/bplogo.gif
~cause anything less than total and utter overkill is a complete waste of time~
-it's the freakin' bluepencil!
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^
The Base of this is the story I posted earlier...
The Bet
by bluepencil
Warning:
This fic is the basis of a challenge I'm making to all Fallout fans out there. Forgive me if I appear a bit too...presumptuous in making this. I just want to experiment a bit..that's all... : )
_______________________________________________________________________
It was a formless void. It was a Darkness beyond Darkness, a screaming cacophony of Non-sound and Non-light. It was an emptiness so vast, that it seemed to take on a shape of its own.
The camera focuses on the flash of light that appeared slightly below its viewing axis. The small dot of light expanded outwards into a blazing white disk, spinning on a central axis. The disk deepened, and took on a darker hue, becoming blue at the center. It spun rapidly, with the center becoming darker and deeper in color with each rotation, until the white corona became a shade of vermilion.
There was another flash, and someone stepped out of the Blue Portal.
He wore a businessman's suit, a color black, slightly lighter than the Darkness around him. He walked around an invisible floor until her reached a certain spot in the Vastness. He tapped on the 'floor with stylish black shoes, and from it poked out....a well.
It was made of stone, and crystal water filled more than half of its depth. The stranger stared into the well and grinned. With a *poof*, he became a black cat, and paced around the circular wall.
"TolTiiR...", a booming, macabre voice rang out. The cat blinked bright green eyes and looked around.
"Yes?", Toltiir asked.
"It iS GoOd to See you AGain....I haD ThouGhT You DiDn'T Do THIS Type of ThinG AnyMore...."
"Nahh", Toltiir said with a wave of his paw. "I'd always be ready for any of your summons, sir. But can we hold off on the 'booming, macabre voice' for a while."
The Entity laughed. "All right then. I see that you stil haven't lost your touch."
"Well, as they say.... if you're a God of Mischief, you stay a God Of Mischief."
"Good."
The Feline Eldeer God of Mischief peered into the Well. "Why is Mimir's Well back up? I thought it was destroyed in the Insurrection."
"This is not Mimir's Well. It is a reasonable facsimile."
"Oh."
The Entity paused, then moved suddenly. The Darkness pulsed around Toltiir. The 'Cat' shuddered.
"Could we also hold off on display of massive power and ungodly might?"
"I can't help it, you know that. It comes..with the job."
"Of course, of course, Boojum. You are, after all, the most powerful of us Gods."
"I...am not a God. To treat me as such would be an insult."
"Right. I forgot."
There were several more flashes of light, and several 'people appeared, dressed in varied modes of attire, ranging from a shank of bearskin to full hi-tech battle regalia.
"So..why do you call us here, Boojum?", Toltiir purred.
"The Boojum?!", a bearded man dressed in a Grecian toga remaked. "He is here?"
"Yes. Now shut up, Jupiter."
Instead of shutting up, the various Higher gods started to bicker. They argued over whose fault it was this time. The Boojum never summoned them unless there was a serious deal of righteous Rank-shuffling to be done.
The Darkness rumbled, sending waves of immeasurable anger.
The Gods shut up.
"I have....called you here, not to punish you, though the True God knows you all need a good dose of it...."
They quailed. "Why then?", Odin asked.
"I have....created a new universe....and it is sorely in need of Pantheons. I have called you here to decide which among you shall rule."
"<A new Universe...>, came across the minds the Gathering . "<A PROMOTION!!>"
"Oh, Great Boojum, Highest Servant of the Most High, tell us, to whom shall this noble charge pass..?"
"Crom...the tongue wit you have gathered will do you no good in this instance."
Crom shutted up.
"Toltiir."
"HIM??!!", the Gathering screamed indreculously. "You can't mean that/It's insane/Can't be"
"Ahem..not that I don't appreciate the Grace and all....but I'm not really the All-Seeing and All-Knowing Manager type."
"I know. An I'm not making you do something that you don't like. I am merely relegating to you the task of choosing the one to be promoted."
"WHAT?!!"
"I will brook no interference in this matter from you all. Toltiir will supervise the means of choosing the candidates. The final decision will still remain upon me. I will be watching you."
And with that...the Boojum left them.
The High Gods gathered upon the Feline Elder God.
"Toltiir........."Throth said almost threateningly.
"Heh.", the Feline snorted. "I can match any and all of you stuck-up Gods in sheer Power any day. Don't presume to cow me. Keep it up, and you'll be expelled out of the roster immediately."
The Other Gods just narrowed their eyes at him. "So...choose."
"No way."
"What?"
"It will be fair. There will be a contest, and the winner will become the High God of the universe the Boojum just created."
"What..is this contest?"
"First, the rules. No Cheating. No Second Tries. No using of Time and Space dilation to further your Chances. No patsies."
"Right, right. The contest, the contest."
Toltiir sat on his haunches and looked down at the well. On the water, an image formed. It is a barren Wasteland, a post-apocalyptic world. A nuclear disaster had destroyed most of the human race, and the survivors were tasked with rebuilding their failed society.
But there were many things that stood in their way. Mutated beasts, the degradation of humanity, plans of Madmen.
Through these hardships, they triumphed, and people rose to the occasion, to give their all to the good of all.
The Vault Dweller. The Chosen One. And there will be more...
"The Contest is this. It is open to ALL Gods (no, don't complain), Lesser or Higher alike will have an equal chance. You are to introduce a change in the timeline of this universe. The subtlest and the one with the most far-reaching effects will become the winner."
"But that's..."
"That is the way. Those who don't like it can complain to the Boojum."
Nobody moved.
"Well, now that that's settled, I'll cast my chances. I will be invalid, of course, as I am not supposed to be taking part. Butt...you get the idea."
A tiny pebble popped into existence into his paw. He was about to drop it into the Well, when the water rippled, and the image changed.
"Well, well, looks like the Boojum decided to participate, after all..."
The Gods clustered around the Well.
"He pulled a random person from several universes and grafted them into this timeline?!"
"Not very subtle, but unusual, that."
"Well, he's just trying to set an example. If it was too good, we'd never try to match it."
"Look at what it done...the Brotherhood of Steel is being given technology it's not supposed to even know exist!"
"And forces a confrontation between it and the Enclave, eighty years too early.."
"Which ends up with both the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave being rendered broken and useless.."
"Ouch."
"And the rise of democratic NCR."
"But ..they outlawed guns! Do they have any idea of how that will affect these people?"
"But the people he pulled from the various universe are going along quite well...they're..immortal?!!"
"Well, not really."
"Look, more people are crossing over."
"By accident, or design?"
"I don't know..."
"Reality is collapsing."
"Boom."
They looked away as the sample timeline self-destructed.
"That..wasn't entirely what I had in mind...but it does illustrate the principles. Another requirement is that the timeline should be stable. No interference with the Cosmic Laws. Got that?!"
The Gods muttered in assent, forming plans already.
Toltiir sighed as they all disappeared. "Why do I always get the crackpot jobs?" He turned to the well and dropped his stone. The Well rippled, and the Change was made.
***********************************************************************
an invitation to Fallout writers:
This is the Challenge of The Bet.
You must write a fic about changing the Fallout Universe. At one point in time in the Fallout timeline, a character must do something different from what
really transpired or an event was changed. I.e: The Master continued to live, The President was killed too early, and the Enclave became instead a band of highly-paid mercenaries, or instead of taking the right turn at an intersection, the Vault Dweller went left, and became married, and their lineage continued to act as hidden Crusaders for Justice (ala the Phantom)..
The possibilities are endlesss....
Rules:
It must start with a conversation between Toltiir and a god(Or a mortal. Or an alien. Or you! Anybody can participate!). Toltiir is a feline Elder God of Mischief, and even if the fic you're writing is dark, the intro must of necessity be light.
Each entry must be different. The wilder, the zanier, the better.
Brevity is a requirement. After all, who would want to wait around for a 100k file? The official Bet entry should only contain at most five chapters of a series, if that's what you want to make. You can post it as a separate series, only the first eye-catching chapters will be considered.
And the prize is....what? I not really sure. The satisfaction of having done something good, of having contributed your slice, of having shown just how creative you are. Fame, I think, would be part of it, since after all, the winner of the Bet will be considered as someone whose wit and creativity eclipses others. You can also call yourself the Net.God of Divergent Fallout Fanfiction, if you want.
Who will decide? No freakin' way I'm going to be roped into this... the winner will be decided by a poll. It's the readers and the concession of authors that will decide. Let's argue about that later on. The main purpose here is to have FUN!
**********************************************************************
Toltiir sat on a raised dais by the Mimir's Well. He napped, as there were no Gods to around to bother him, for the moment.
It was too good to last. He was shaken awake by the loud booming sound of several thousand drums beating as one.
"Stop it!!!", he yelled.
The sound stopped.
"Oh, it's you."
Hunuhehotl stepped proudly in front of the well. "I am ready to make my Bet into fruituition.."
"Oh. Right. Great.", said Toltiir, trying to stave off the intoxicating perfume his visitor was emitting.
The God of Spring Fever moved to the Well and dropped a grape into it...
The Well rippled, and the Change was made.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere, a guy with too much time in his hands and too much caffeine coursing through his veins looked into his computer screen and was made to type....."The Bet. Proposed by bluepencil."......
Toltiir sighed.
.
.
.
And....my sample entry..
*********************************************************************************
Toltiir eyed his guest warily. He paced around the well, and kept his gaze, mixed with both curiousity and doubt, on the tall man in a smart double-pleated suit.
His visitor smiled mysteriously.
"You're here to participate in the bet, Appalica?", Toltiir asked, his voice filled with disbelief. Of all Gods, he'd never expected the Spirit of Irony to come. He didn't seem the type to act on something so...frivolous by his standards.
"Yes, Toltiir....I come here.....to cast my Bet. I have.....thought over .... the implications....of this contest. If I cast my bet......hoping to win...it would be ironic if I....lost. Or if I cast my bet...and expect to lose......and won....ironical it would be too. Or...if I cast my bet..and what I expect....happens...also ironical it is....since it is...unexpected.."
Toltiir lifted his brows. "Oh? Well, good luck to you then."
"Luck....is not.....of significance..... I will...cast my bet .......now."
Appalica walked over to the Mimir's well and dropped a rose thorn into it. The well rippled, and the Change came into being.
Toltiir looked down upon the waters.
"So...you Changed it so that the Chosen One never made it back to Arroyo after he rescued his village. What's the point?"
Appalica did not reply.
*********************************************************************************
*khunck*
*khunk*
*kchinrk!*
"Ow.. !"
Randi rubbed the shallow wound that the flying chip of stone caused. He glared at the pickaxe he held in his hands as if it was a stinging radscorpion tail. He gritted his teeth and sunk the slightly less blunt end into the unyeilding ground again.
"HIIIIYAAAAAAA!!!!!"
The pickeaxe flew out of his hands and spun into a graceful arc in the air.
"Who the- ...oh. It's you."
The little girl smiled in a cute (and somewhat predatory) way. "What'cha doin?"
"Go away, Tandi."
"Can't make me.", she teased as she pranced around and around the knee-deep hole. "Youu can't maake mee!!!"
"Tandi....", he said menacingly.
"Bleeh!", Tandi blew him a raspberry.
Randi cradled his face in his hands. "What do you want, Tandi?"
"Are you looking for treasure again?"
"No, I'm digging your grave."
Tandi's eyes widened. "WAAAAHH! I'm TELLING MOMMY!!!", she screamed, and ran towards the settlement.
Randi sighed. Is there a Universal Law that made little sisters so annoying? Just because he was named after their Great-Grandmother, she thought she could sweet-talk her way in (or out of) anything...
He trudged over to where his pickaxe lay stuck into the ground, spat on his calloused young palms, and resumed his digging.
Digging was something he was very good at. He'd found something in the Archives about a man named Jones, an archeologist. He was so impressed by what he heard that he resolved to become on just like him. What was an archeologist? He wasn't sure, but it seemed to involve a lot of digging.
And digging was something he was very good at. His parents found no real objections to his little hobby. After all, this community had once been a part of a mining settlement. They just assumed it was the miner's blood that was running through his veins. They did notice that he was become a little bit to obsessive about it lately, but then, it wasn't that too severe an affliction to warant undue attention.
He wasn't sure what he'd find this time, but that never stopped him before. Once, he'd dug up a tunnel into a nest of Mole Rats. Heh. That little experience taught him the ability of Move Silently and Run Really Really Fast in a jiffy.
What would he like to find? A relic. He'd known that there was a Vault here somewhere, buried under the sands. He'd heard tales of the legendary Vault Dweller, and the Chosen One. It happened all a long time ago, but the stories of their great adventures lived on, and lodged themselves in his mind. He looked upon the two liked some kind of idols. He worshipped them in the manner of a true devotee, he praised all their good works, treated all of their items as holy relics, but NEVER in his entire life would he want to go through what they had underwent.
*kchunk*
"Hmm..."
Randi struck again. There was the same *chunk*, a sign of his pick metting something of solid origin. Another freakin' rock....
But as he bent down and scraped off the layer of dusty soil. his eyes widened in wonder.
Under the soil was an empty suit of (what he didn't know was) a Brotherhood of Steel Power Armor. He cleared up the strange metallic ceramic-plated armor, and examined it with reverence. What was this thing? Surely, something this magnificent could only belong to the *gasp* Vault Dweller...
He took his pickaxe and began to dig with almost manic zeal. Perhaps there were more of these things.....
His pickaxe bit into the soil.
Under that inch-thick layer of sand was a metal case.
His pick had punctured the casing.
Inside the case were electronic technology of mysterious design.
His drive had ruined it, smashing a circuit board into pieces. The electrodes flicked and sparked on contact with the steel pick.
The metal casing had letters engraved into it.
The letters spelled out G.E.C.K.
* boom.*
Everything within a mile radius was leveled. The ground directly below ground zero was instantly fused into molten glass.
Welcome to Hell.
*********************************************************************************
And Clark Kent turned over in his grave.
_______________________________________________________________________
So... what IS the point to this fic? Well, it is focused mainly on.. what the hell is going to happen to Randi?
Will he:
a\ die and go to heaven?
1. becomes an Angel of Dreams?
1.1. falls in love with a mortal?
2. becomes a Valkrie Legoinnaire?
3. becomes a God-In-Training?
b\ die and go to hell?
1. becomes a demonic inucubus?
1.1 falls in love with a mortal?
c\ live, and be horribly mutated?
1. becomes a mutant leader?
1.1 a bureaucrat?
1.2 a revolutionary?
2. becomes a specialist in hunting for acheological finds in radiated zones?
2.1 finds something incredible in the Glow?
d\ live, and gain super powers?
1. becomes a super hero?
2. becomes a reclusive man who helps out only occasionally, with a mysterious past?
2.1 is hunted by the Enclave?
e\ live, and gain the ability to angst beyond mortal men?
1. becomes a drunk? (good POV material, that)
2. becomes a cynical thief?
f\ be sent into a limbo, where he can create his own world?
Damn me for pulling the night shift...No wonder I have too much free time! All this coffee is getting to me.
I'm not a plagiarist! Am not! Am not! Am not!!!
http://bpen.topcities.com/bplogo.gif
~cause anything less than total and utter overkill is a complete waste of time~
-it's the freakin' bluepencil!
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