Ouroboros

Chapter 1 - The End of the Gecko-Back Tribe

A young boy with a sun darkened face, thin build, ragged clothes, long brown hair, and hints of red war paint on his face -- a tribal -- sprang up from his bed and scrambled to the entrance of his tent, throwing the flap open and peering outside. What he saw provided in an instant the horrible explanation for the screaming that awoke him from his slumber. Standing only a short distance away, lit up only by the midnight moon, was a tall man wearing what appeared to be a tattered skirt and a helmet made out of feathers. He was holding a short, rectangular blade in his right hand and was pointing at the Elder's tent with his left. Suddenly, three other men who were also wearing skirts and carrying rectangular blades came rushing out of the darkness and silently approached the Elder's tent.

The boy was confused, he didn't know who the men were but it didn't seem like they were friendly. One of his tribe's best hunters, Stengal-Grekko, had once told of seeing a group of strange skirt clad men while out hunting once, but that was a long time ago, and no one had encountered them since. What if they're looking for me? he thought as wild theories as to why the men were in his village began racing through his head. A cold feeling of fear started to build up inside of the boy; he shifted the tent flap a little bit so that he couldn't be seen as easily and then continued to watch the scene that was unfolding near the Elder's tent.

The men moved in unison as they slipped into the Elder's tent, their blades held high like they were butchers ready for a slaughter.

A short pause followed, deafening in its silence. The boy cringed. An awful feeling of dread suddenly cloaked itself over his mind, he wanted to get out of the tent. Out of the village. Out of --

A chilling scream radiating from the Elder's tent pierced the boy's ears. He became perfectly still. Petrified.

Suddenly, the flap of the Elder's tent burst open. One of the skirt clad men was the first to exit, his left hand was clinging to something behind him, his right hand clutching his blade. It became apparent that he was dragging the body of a man, unmistakably the Elder, behind him. The Elder was limp and lefeless, like an old rag doll ready for the garbage heap.

"Is he dead?" the man with the feather helmet asked.

"No, but he's unconscious," replied the man who had dragged the Elder out of his tent. As he finished speaking, the man carelessly dropped the Elder's body, allowing it to flop onto the cold ground with a dull thud.

The Elder's body was beaten, broken. His normally calm, wrinkled face was swollen and bleeding. The tribal boy felt sick at the sight of his mentor and grandfather looking so hurt and helpless. He felt as though this was a bad dream, that he would somehow wake up and escape from this hellish scene, but there was no escape, nowhere to run to. Black spots began to cloud his eyes and he suddenly felt light headed.

One of the skirt clad men, who was standing over the Elder's body, raised his blade high above his head, its metallic form catching the moonlight. He brought the blade down with great force, yelling as he did so.

Before he could witness the blade doing its job, the boy fainted, falling into the relative safety of unconsciousness.

.......

Chapter 2 - The Lone Survivor

It took a long time for him to wake up, 12 hours perhaps, and when he did he awoke to a living nightmare. Presumably, the Legionaries thought he was dead, assuming he was just another casualty in the slaughter of the Gecko-Back tribe, but he was only unconscious. The smell of death and charred flesh was ripe in the air, and it was that stench which woke the boy.

He found himself laying on one end of a pile of dead bodies, and upon seeing that they were the bodies of his tribesmen, he almost fainted again. Fortunately, his adrenaline began pumping and told him to get off of the pile of bodies as quickly as possible. He sprang off of the pile, shivering frantically, not knowing what to do or what to think. His eyes darted around the camp, looking for the help, but he only saw smoke, blood, and a few heads on pikes sticking out of the ground. Again, the lightheadedness returned, and again the adrenaline fought it off. He had to get out of the village. It was too painful, too awful for him to handle, so he turned and ran away from the smoldering pile of bodies, his mind racing, emotions flooding his mind. He didn't know where he was going to go, how he would live without his family, without his tribe.

Tears began to flood his eyes as he ran, he couldn't see clearly now, everything was blurred. He desperately wanted the tears to stop so that he could keep running, but they just kept coming. Finally, the boy broke down and sobbed, sitting with his back against a large boulder, his arms wrapped around his knees.

The one thing I can recommend is longer chapters. I am interested to see where this goes, but it's very short.

I know, and there is more coming very soon. This was more or less the prologue, so that's why these chapters are really short.

Here's some artwork showing the Gecko-Back tribe:

http://tycho808.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4uo2jh
http://tycho808.deviantart.com/art/Gecko-Back-Tribe-Weapons-293376591?q=gallery%3ATycho808%20randomize%3A1&qo=0
http://tycho808.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4uo53j
http://tycho808.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d4uo5h9

Thanks to my crappy scanner, I had to upload the drawings as screen shots from my iPod, so sorry about that. I know the drawings aren't that good, but the point was to show the tribe's armor and weapons, not for me to draw a detailed depiction of a human being.

Well, that's good. I have two things to mention, 1. Great. 2.Make sure there are longer chapters. Set a goal like 3 very long paragraphs or something.

Like everyone said, the chapters were good, but short. But hey, I'm repeating everyone, by saying this. Seeing as its just started though, I can understand. It looks promising, and I can't wait for the next update.

Oh, look! A deviantart! Just another way to sta--...observe your art. Hey, at least you can draw something that LOOKS human. When I draw people, it's like a elephant-octopus instead.

Thanks! Setting a goal for a number of paragraphs sounds good, I think I'll try to do four or five long paragraphs in every chapter.



*Ahem,* they're called Octophants. Now, do yours look like http://www.mydivinglife.com/uploads/crazydiver_elephant_octopus.jpgor http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2010/135/1/3/Octopus__Elephant_by_Abnormega_art.jpg?

And I thought searching google for "elephant octopus" wouldn't yield any bizarre, wtf results. I guess I should have more faith in the internet.

Oh, and chapter 3 will be posted either later tonight or sometime tomorrow. And it will be longer, I promise.

Chapter 3 - Prospectors' Den

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdHdtEnaFxY&feature=player_detailpage#t=22s
"You know what I'm talkin' about
You let the blues move in, now I-I'm movin' out
This old house ain't a home
with no love inside it"

Victor's eye's flicked open as the song playing on the jukebox continued to interrupt his slumber.

"Ughhh," he grunted as he rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the morning blur, "turn that damned music off; I'm trying to sleep."

A man walked over to the old mattress that Victor was lying on, put his hand on Victor's shoulder, and then shook him gently in an attempt to wake him up.

"Hey man, get up; there's a ton of smoke coming from Nipton and we're gonna go check it out."

Victor squirmed, "Take your hand off me. Now." he said sharply, and the man quickly retracted his hand.

"Well fine then, don't go if you're gonna be an ass about it. I just didn't want you to wake up and have the place empty, that's all." the man said, attempting to make amends with Victor.

"Oh no, I'll go." Victor slowly lifted himself off of the mattress and took a shaky stance on two feet, one hand against the wall for support. "But I'm not your friend and I don't want to be your friend, so don't touch me." he said with a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Whatever man, meet us outside in five minutes if you want to go." the man said before turning around and walking out of the small, wood paneled room, shaking his head as he walked through the doorway and into the small hallway.

"What's the use in buyin' a car
if you won't find gasoline
We used to be, two in a car now we --"

A door slams, signalling that the prospector who had been talking to Victor had now exited the main building of the Prospectors' Den, a small building with a few rooms used as a living quarters and a resting place for prospectors, but Victor isn't a prospector. Grabbing his .357 magnum revolver from the footlocker at the end of his mattress, Victor headed into the hallway and towards the exit door of the small subterranean building. Groggy and irritable, he walked up to the door and began to turn the knob. Could be Legion, if they're still there I'll be as --

"No use a cryin'!
Tell me where....can I go?
East or West or North or due South
You let the blues move in, now --"

"Urgh!" Victor growled as he stormed into the room with the jukebox and promptly turned its volume to zero, how dare it interrupt his thoughts, especially with a song as stupid as "I'm Movin' Out." Victor then walked back to the door and stepped out into the small cavern that made up the rest of the Prospectors' den. A merchant stood with her back against the wall of the building, smoking a cigarette. "Hey there Victor, need any supplies? I heard you're all goin' down to Nipton to check out those fires, bad news, I say. Legion." The word Legion hung in the air, the merchant, whom Victor knew as Sarah, seemed to regard the use of the word as if it was referring to some chilling demon that no one wanted to believe existed, but which was now on their doorstep. "Yeah, I think so too." Victor replied, "damned butchers, they probably murdered everyone in that town. But then Nipton was a [censored]-hole of a place anyways....they probably deserved it." he added. Sarah looked at him with worried expression, then she tilted her head up and blew a small cloud of smoke into the air. Still looking up, she said in a serious tone, "No one deserves that. What the Legion does, I mean. Not even all the scum in Nipton." When she tilted her head back down, Victor was already walking through the small tunnel that led to the exit door of the cavern. She took another hit, looked up again, then watched the stream of smoke rise as she blew out of her mouth.

Victor regained his composure as he opened the wooden door leading out of the cavern and into the wasteland. Talk of the Legion usually made him unbearably angry, but what Sarah had said brought back an emotion that Victor hadn't felt or dealt with since he was a kid -- sadness. "No one deserves that. What the Legion does," echoed in his head as he approached the other prospectors who were gathered around a campfire set in between two small mounds of sand and rock. "Hey, looks like everybody's here; want to get going?" asked one of the prospectors. "When I'm done with my Mutfruit." responded another. Victor didn't bother to wait; he started off in the direction of Highway 95, and none of the prospectors protested his separation from their group. Upon reaching the highway, some movement to his left caught his eye. In an instant, he flicked his head to the left, put his hand on his revolver, and set his body motionless. He eased his stance when it became apparent that the movement was only a small Gecko, which, although it had been 14 years since he lived with his tribe, Victor still regarded with a kind of respect. After all, Geckos provided the food, clothing, and weapons for the Gecko-Back tribe, and without the creature they would have died off far earlier than they had when the Legion wiped them out.

Seeing the Gecko brought back a memory that was both pleasant and painful to think about for Victor, so as usual he turned the memory into anger in order to cover up any possible signs of sadness or emotional pain. The anger was, of course, directed toward the Legion, which Victor suspected was behind the thick, black smoke that was rising from Nipton. He quickened his pace to a slow jog as he continued to move in the direction of the burning town, hoping to catch the Legion in the act, to avenge his tribe, his family, and to...do something else, he couldn't quite place his finger on what else attacking Legionaries would fulfill, but it was there. He knew it was.

The stench of burning rubber hit Victor's face like a pile of Brahmin [censored] -- it was thick, pungent, and horrible. He pulled the T-shirt that he was wearing under his duster up over his nose in an attempt to filter the air of the horrible fumes, but it wasn't working, not to mention that the smoke was burning his eyes. Plunging his hand into his satchel, he pulled out an piece of thick cloth, which he found to be a fairly decent air filter, and wrapped it around his head so that it covered his mouth and nose. It made the stench bearable, but it was still pretty awful. Then he pulled out a pair of prewar goggles, which he put on in order to protect his eyes from the burning fumes. The goggles were a bit dirty, but not dirty enough to where they interfered with Victor's seeing the two Legion standards fluttering menacingly at the entrance to Nipton, their red and gold colors starkly contrasting the blackish-gray smoke that consumed the town behind them.

Dat Legion. A nice update; good use of language, descriptive and whatnot (not that 'whatnot' really defines anything.). I wonder what ol' Victor here will do next.

Oh So Victor is the Gecko-Back Tribe kid all grown up, I guess?

Your descriptions are very vivid, Tycho, well done! Your characters pop off the "pages" and take on a life of their own. Very well written. I also love your drawings. It shows you really put some thought into your story.

I would like to give you a tip about writing dialogue, if I may. Each speaker should be clearly identified and each dialogue should get a line of its own. Dialogue shouldn't run together in a paragraph like narrative.

Separate your dialogue from your narrative like so:

Thanks, I was hoping someone would recognize my use of whatnot. But yeah, the Legion. Always causing problems....



Upon rereading the last chapter, I can see how the dialogue was a little bit confusing, so I changed the format as you suggested for the first paragraph. A quick question though; is the dialogue in the other paragraph (the one with the merchant) just as confusing, or can I leave it the way it is? I reread it and it seemed to work, but then again I wrote it so of course I would understand what's going on. XD

Thanks for the advice

http://tycho808.deviantart.com/#/d4vez7c

Chapter 4 - Nipton

The doorknob creaked slightly as Victor turned it, causing him to stop and listen for the slightest sign of movement inside. Silence. Victor went ahead and threw open the door, which belonged to Nipton's General Store - the first building Victor passed on his way into the town. As soon as the door opened, he raised his revolver and pointed it left and right, searching for possible Legion ambushers. Instead, he found a lone man sitting in chair on the opposite end of the room, in front of what used to be the store's checkout counter. Victor pointed his revolver at him.

"And what the [censored] do think you're doing?" the man said.

"Who are you?" Victor barked.

"Ughh, just put gun down man; I ain't gonna be hurtin' anyone with both my legs smashed." the man replied, pointing to his legs, which appeared to be covered in dried blood.

"Answer my question." Victor snapped

"My name's Boxcars. Okay. Ya happy now Mister Badass? Can you put the gun down now that you know the all important detail of my name? Cause as far as I'm concerned that doesn't [censored] change the fact that my LEGS ARE [censored] SMASHED!"

Victor lowered his revolver. "You a Powder Ganger?"

"I was; until the Legion came here and smashed my [censored] legs." Again Boxcars pointed to his bloodied legs.

"Is the Legion still here?" Victor said as he walked over to Boxcars' chair.

"No. They left a couple of hours ago according to this Courier guy who came through here an hour or so ago."

"This Courier, is he with the Legion?" Victor asked.

"No, he said he was gonna bring me some Med-X to help ease my pain, and none of those sick bastards in the Legion would ever do that." Boxcars scowled and then dejectedly looked down at his legs.

"Thanks for the information. And you're not gonna have to worry about the pain anymore." Victor said as he pulled back the hammer of his revolver.

"What? Why? You're not serious right? You're just messin' with me, right? I mean I never --"

"Did anything to me?" Victor interrupted. "Doesn't matter. You did something to somebody else, something bad enough to land you on an NCR chain gang, and now it's time to pay up for your sins." Victor pointed his gun at Boxcars' head.

"You're a sick bastard! My legs are already smashed; isn't that payment enough?" Boxcars whined frantically. Tears began to fill his eyes as he squirmed around in his chair, unable to move because of his legs.

"Retribution can only be had through death." Victor replied coldly as he pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore the top right quarter of Boxcars' head off, splattering a pink and red mess of blood and brain across the wall behind him. The expression of sheer terror and acceptance of death that Boxcars had on his face before Victor shot him remained there after he was dead. This haunted Victor, causing him to turn away quickly and walk out of the store without even checking the place for valuables.

The smoke outside was still thick and nauseating, and Victor decided that, since the Legion had already left Nipton, he would head elsewhere in search of legionaries and other criminals. He turned back towards the road he came from and walked out of the smoke. The image of Boxcars' dead body with the expression of horror still on his face flashed in Victor's mind, creating a void of guilt that seemed to dwell in his chest. It was for the best, he rationalized. That guy had to have been either a murderer or a rapist to be from the NCRCF, now the wasteland can be a safer place. Victor still felt the void in his chest, but he knew deep down that he had done the right thing, and that the world needed people like him to do the dirty work that went along with keeping the innocent safe.

As he walked down the old highway, he passed the group of Prospectors that he chose not to wait for earlier.

"Hey, what happened up there, did ya see anything?" the man who had woken Victor up yelled.

"The Legion happened. They burned the buildings and crucified the people." Victor said, the word Legion leaving his lips with a sort of growl.

"Well [censored]," one of the prospectors said, "anything worth saluaging?"

"Probably," Victor said as he passed them.

"Well, didn't you check?" one of them yelled back confusedly.

Victor didn't answer, he just quickened his pace and headed in the direction of the NCR's Mojave Outpost, where he planned on warning the local troops of the Legion's attack on Nipton.

. . . . . . .

That's one badass line. I don't see any mistakes, and hey - another good update. I look forward to the next >:{D

Haha, thanks. Remember that line though, it's part of Victor's personal creed, and it's going to make an appearance later in the story.

Chapter 5 - The Village of Ouroboros

3 months later in the Village of Ouroboros in Western Utah

He always thought the Mojave looked beautiful in the early morning, before that old desert sun could rise too high and bleach out the land. Right now the sun was just high enough to where its light flowed over the sand like a golden river of life, casting long shadows and revealing the richest tones the Utah had to offer. Admiring the beauty of the land, Adam let his mind wander, and he let the digging fork he was holding rest at his side.

"Boy, you better get your head out'a the sky and start turnin' that soil; we gotta get a lot'a maize planted today." Adam's father yelled, his deep, calming voice carrying a tone of honesty and seriousness.

"Sorry Pa," Adam replied, quickly taking the digging fork and driving it into the soil.

The soil was hard and dry, not the kind of soil that was good for growing, and Adam wondered why he and his family had decided to move to Ouroboros in the first place. They used to live near Shady Sands where the soil was fertile and trading was good, and they didn't move to Ouroboros until about a year ago when groups of NCR settlers were encouraged by the military to establish a new farming community there after the soldiers drove off a cult-like group of tribals who had previously inhabited the area. The Settlers quickly learned that the Village was not really fit for farming, and that their moving there was more of a benefit to the Crimson Caravan's expansion into the Utah than anything else, but since they were mostly subsistence farmers, they couldn't afford to move back to NCR, or to anywhere else for that matter, so they stayed and farmed in the little Village of Ouroboros. Some took jobs at the town's Crimson Caravan office, but only a few positions there were open, since most of the Crimson Caravan employees were brought in from existing company offices back in NCR.

Adam's father always said that they were lucky to be living at all, considering he had been on the run as a murderer for years. Adam never thought of his father as a murderer though, after all, it had been a big mix up more than anything else. Adam found a particularly dried chunk of earth, and he repeatedly drove the clawed end of the digging fork into it until the once solid mass had been pulverized into small chunks of brittle clay. He thought back to when it happened, when that drunk, unarmed soldier stumbled into his home in the middle of the night, when his father's .357 magnum flashed twice, and when they turned on the lights to find an NCR trooper convulsing on the ground, his blood flowing across the floor. The thought sent shivers down Adam's spine, and tears began to form in his eyes, but he shook them off and continued to break up the soil with the digging fork. Despite his efforts to think of happier times, the memories of that night kept creeping back into his mind, like some great monster that, once awoken, had to be beaten down before it would rest again. He thought of his father, how he was frantically shaking the soldier's body, screaming that he was sorry, that it was a mistake, and how he begged the young man to stay alive. He remembered what his father was like immediately afterwards, how he just kept repeating "I killed a boy, an unarmed boy." Then Adam remembered what his father's face looked like immediately afterwards, how it was emotionless, save for a shocked stare that seemed to glare at nothing in particular.

It turned out that the soldier was on leave and had decided to go back home after a night of drinking, but he was too drunk to find his own house on a nearby farm, so he ended up stumbling into Adam's house. Everyone in the house was woken up by the noise, and Adam's father reacted out of instinct, thinking that someone was robbing the house, or worse. It seemed that no one was really on the wrong side of the incident, and that both the soldier and Adam's father were at fault for the death, but Pa wouldn't hear of it. His guilt for the murder, along with his fear of being thrown in an NCR prison, overwhelmed him, and he insisted that the whole family abandon their ranch and move away the next morning. They did as Pa asked, and the next morning Adam and his parents were on their way to the Village of Ouroboros. The problem, of course, was that the evidence left at their home made it look like Pa did murder the soldier in cold blood, and it was now likely that NCR Rangers were on their trail. Fortunately, the Village was on the fringe of NCR territory, and it was that which likely kept the family safe up to this point. Still, Adam wondered as he continued to break up the dry ground, why his father couldn't have picked a fringe village with fertile growing land.

. . . . . . .

Two Days Later

Victor entered the Village of Ouroboros in the midmorning hours, still groggy from a night of travelling, but he didn't care. His latest quest was about to be fulfilled; he was about to avenge the murder of a soldier from back near Shady Sands, and he was going to do it today.

Wait, what? No! ;~; I'm liking this Adam kid already. Interesting twist, though. I'd like to see what Adam will do when Victor comes for daddy'o.

Oh wow, very very interesting developments. I also have to say that the way you are writing dialogue is a huge improvement. It's really easy to determine the speaker now! Great story so far Tycho!!
I really enjoyed the Nipton chapter and we could get a further glimpse into Victor's character! Very well written.

As for your question, which I just now say, about the merchant exchange, I didn't think it was confusing. Everything reads really well now, after you made the changes.

It will blow your mind (hopefully)



I'm glad everything reads well now, so thanks for that tip (I'm not used to writing dialogue.) And don't worry, Victor is still the main character. You'll see everything come together in the next few chapters (probably the last few).

Victor - Badass

A possible good idea, perhaps a legionare that VICTOR continully meets through the story, a rival of some sorts.

I'm excited to see the eventual ending.

Sorry, but I already outlined the whole story and all of its major events, and I'm going to stick to the outline. You'll see why when it ends.



I'm hoping to write the next chapter tomorrow, as I'm very busy with a huge English essay tonight (that's also the reason why I haven't joined the new convention, and why I haven't kept up with anything else on the forums.)

I hear ya, man.