From: bkoike@sdcc13.UCSD.EDU (Bryce Koike)
Subject: STORY: Otherworld (Chapter 19)
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: Fri, 8 Jan 1993 15:19:29 GMT

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                              ****
                             **  **
                             **  **
                         The  ****  THERWORLD

                              CHAPTER 19

                         (> Opening Moves <)

                    Copyright 1992 by Bryce Koike
                         All Rights Reserved
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-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
     Any comments, criticisms, opinions, etc, are welcome.  I can
be reached on Internet as:
     bkoike@sdcc13.ucsd.edu
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
"Seas-
    Frozen
        Unchanged

Talk to me as you break
The ice swallowed
The night come again
To devour my day

Seas-
    Frozen
        Unchanged

Tell me why you break
Cities gone as
Before when I was young
To devour my day"
                            ("Frost" -- TECHNICOLOR MINDWAR)
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
On History
    Four days after the violent destruction of the Quunan Mur reality
crossing device a strange storm brews over the planet Ter.
    And a Dark Rider is brought to the Otherworld, a single command on
its mind:  destroy enemies.
    It makes its way to the city Las Vegas and there it creates the
first Dark Tower.  The progeny of that Tower would spread across the
American continent and eventually come to the state of California and
beyond.
    Thus, a second war brews in the Otherworld.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Date:      September 28, 1992
Location:  Southeast of the Anza Borrego Desert
           Southern California, Otherworld
Time:      1:00 pm

    There was no telling how many had died.  Their screams were short
and quickly the only sound heard was the communal roar of the Tribe's
vehicles.  Xavier had a dark look about him, his eyes blazing with
some internal fire.  Bates feared that if he were to touch the man, he
would be consumed in his fury.  A man -- a professor, his hands tied,
unable to save the people he loved.  Bates understood the man very
well indeed.
    "Will you call that one Tower Five?" Bates asked over the bike's
engine.
    "Six!" spat Xavier.  "Number Five was located this morning
forty-five miles northeast of Tribe's camp.  Bastards!"  His voice was
full of acid. "We asked and they knew our need, but they refused!
Those deaths will be on _their_ heads!"
    The man was trembling with rage.
    "Who?  Who refused?  Dammit, Xavier, talk to me!"
    "The Quunan Mur!" shouted the Tribesman.  He glared at Bates for a
moment that warned him to bother Xavier no longer.
    Quunan Mur?  It was just a name, but Xavier had spoken it as if it
was power incarnate.  "They" must possess a powerful weapon capable of
destroying even the Dark Riders, then, and they had refused Xavier's
plea for aid.  What this meant, Bates did not know.  He simply
couldn't fathom it.

    They stopped at the nearest town and started scavenging for
supplies.  The place looked like they had frequented it before.  They
selected certain homes and moved in as if they belonged.  Bates felt
uncomfortable at first, as if he was trespassing, but the feeling soon
vanished once he was comfortable.  The look on the faces of the people
of the tribe was one of anguish, especially on Xavier.  Once they had
reached the town, Xavier had disappeared without saying a word.
    Bates walked the streets, unaware of the sun beating down on him.
The air was clean, the streets were uncrowded, and that was enough for
him.  When that all-too familiar feeling of being followed hit him,
Bates was ready.  He caught a glimpse of incredibly skinny legs
catching up to him.  He turned and saw the woman he had seen leaving
the Great Mother's tepee.  The old woman had been saved, miraculously.
    "You are Bates," the woman stated.  It seemed as if she couldn't
wipe away that strict, austere look from her face.  Bates also noted
that her speech was strange.  Russian?  Or was it something else?  The
way she said those three words so precisely . . .
    "Yeah, I'm Bates.  What do you want?"
    The woman shrugged.  "You wanted to see me.  I came."
    Maybe if she put on some weight, the woman would look somewhat
attractive.  As it was, Bates could see her ribs jutting out from the
skin-tight outfit she was wearing.  Did she think that she looked like
some superhero?  Something caught Bates' eyes then -- the woman's
necklace.  Peering more closely, he saw that instead of beads,
miniature skulls were threaded to the string.  The woman noticed his
stare.
    "It is customary among my people to wear about their neck the
skulls of their ancestors.  It is done for reverence as much as it is
for the power their memory can convey.  I am Tova."
    "Uhm.  I don't remember wanting to see you."
    She raised an eyebrow.  "One doesn't have to talk to request."
    Bates uncomfortably noticed Tova's nipples showing through the
tight material of her suit.  He looked away, ashamed at himself.  He
looked toward the horizon, trying to find the newest tower and
failing.  It was too far away with too many buildings in the way.
    "Who are you?" Bates asked at last.
    "Haven't I told you?  My name is Tova.  I am the envoy of my
people, their embodiment in this fight against the Dark Riders.  This
is my sole destiny."
    The woman walked deliberately around to face Bates.  He had to
turn his face up to look at her.  The woman had to be over six feet
tall! So much of it was bone and sinew.  She studied him for a moment.
    "When I first saw you," Tova said, "I thought that you were a
weakling.  So caught up in your own guilt that there was no room for
healing in your heart.  Perhaps now I no longer feel this way, I do
not know.  But I will answer the question you have no courage to
speak: I will follow you.  Call on me when the time comes and I will
call you leader."
    She arched a brow as if in salute, then turned and walked away.
    "Damned if I know what she's talking about," Bates muttered to
himself.
    Him stomach grumbled then, and he turned to see what was for
lunch, if anything.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Date:      September 28, 1992
Location:  California Coast
           Otherworld
Time:      2:31 pm

    Slowly, she drew the whistle to her lips and blew into it three
times.  Fear convulsed in her as the bear looked up and peered at her
curiously.  "I'm not food!" she thought viciously.  "Don't eat me!"
    The bear turned away without interest and continued to smell the
bank of the stream.  Angela couldn't bring herself to blow the whistle
again; she was too scared.
    Heavy footsteps pounding down the slope forced Angela to rip her
gaze away from the bear and to look behind.  Norwell, with sweat
burning on his brow, was charging down the hill.  It was too steep for
his pace and Angela was certain that he'd trip and fall, but Norwell's
feet were swift and sure.  Each step looked like it would be his last,
as if his feet couldn't keep up to the momentum of his body.  He
skidded to a halt meters away from her, fear and concern flashing in
his eyes.  Bellowing at the top of his lungs he picked stones up and
flung them at the bear.  Angela recoiled.
    "Go away!" he shouted.  "There's no food here!  Beat it!"
    He threw another rock and screamed at the bear.  As the first rock
hit it, the bear looked up and seemed to think better of what it was
doing.  It turned and started wandering away from them.  Norwell
continued to scream and threw more rocks.  Eventually the bear broke
into a lumbering run to flee the noisy human and his stones.
    Angela let out a shuddering breath.  Norwell jogged over to her
and grabbed her shoulders.
    "Are you okay?" he asked.
    She nodded stiffly.  Norwell sighed in relief.
    "It was just a bear," he said with a little smile.  "C'mon.  Grab
your water bottles and let's get back to camp."  As they walked, he
explained.  "Black bears are pretty timid.  The ones that aren't have
been around people so long that they just don't care.  If they get too
crazy, sometimes the forest service has them killed."
    He said it as if it was such a simple thing.
    "But black bears are usually scared of people.  Standing, you're
taller than they are.  The best tactic is to do what I did -- shout
and make as much noise as you can and throw rocks at them.  It works
with most of them and the bears are usually more interested in your
food than you if they aren't afraid."
    "What about grizzlies?"
    "There're no grizzlies on the west coast," Norwell explained.
    That put them on the map, then.  Angela thought.  This couldn't be
Southern California -- it was much too wet.  So they had to be
somewhere up north.  Either Northern California, Oregon, Washington,
or Canada.  Angela guessed that they were in Northern California.  No
bets, but California seemed to draw her so strongly that it was nearly
unbearable at times.  It seemed right that Hombany Mansion would bring
her and this man to California.
    "I wish there was a grave," she said quietly.
    Norwell frowned.  "Huh?  What was that?"
    "I wish that Matt had been given a grave.  I wanted to pay my
respects."
    Confused, Norwell just shook his head.
    "Camp" consisted of a small ground pad, sleeping bags, and a tiny
object that Angela assumed was a stove.  It didn't look big enough to
cook with.
    "Hungry?" asked Norwell.  "There's some food here that you can
snack on.  Peanuts, crackers . . ."
    Automatically, Angela took them and ate, passing the bags back to
Norwell when he reached out for them.  Neither of them had watches and
he stared anxiously up toward the heavens as if looking for a sign.
    "I'd guess it's near three o'clock," he said finally.  "September
28.  Doesn't look like rain, so I won't set up the tent."
    Angela looked up and all she could see was the overcast sky.  No
tent?  Norwell looked over at her and gave her a pitying smile.
    "The tent's all smelly anyway," he explained.  "And it's a pain to
get the tent dirty or wet when it's not raining.  You never slept
outside before?"
    "No."
    He shrugged.  "Who knows, you might like it.  Get to watch the
stars shine down on you when you go to sleep."
    The cold was becoming bitter, so Angela pulled on a jacket and
huddled near the stove while Norwell boiled water.  He had decided on
cooking the heaviest foods first to get the weight off their backs as
fast as possible.  Angela could feel her stomach growling and wasn't
about to complain.
    "WHO ARE YOU?" cried the voice in her head.
    Everything seemed to shift.
    She looked up and the sky was night black save for a dim sun at
the horizon.
    "WHO ARE YOU?" the voice shouted again.
    She shook her head.  Tendrils and claws seemed to be scraping away
at her.  She shook her arms, but couldn't keep them away.  Her legs
refused to move.
    "No!" she cried.
    "NAME YOURSELF!"  The voice was becoming louder.  "NAME YOURSELF
OR I WILL TEAR IT FROM YOU!"
    "Angela!" she shrieked as she was sucked into some invisible
quagmire, drowning in cushions.  "Angela, Angela, Angela!"
    "THEN WATCH.  AND SEE.  KNOW."
    What flashed before her eyes then was not the future, but the
present.  In an incredible mental leap, Angela took the picture of the
unnamed man and attached a being to it -- Bates.  She would know those
who stood by him.  Somewhere the Scarred Man was there, but the faces
were already whipping by.  A face -- a strong face -- snapped by her
and it seemed intimately familiar.  Then the Dark Rider came into
view, its face as emotionless as ever.  Its poise suggested danger.
Behind it loomed its tower.  The being turned and walked to it.  The
spires seemed to reach down and engulf it.  The Tower lifted itself
into the sky and descended upon the whole Earth.
    Then the darkness overcame her and she went down shrieking.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

    Bates was up before the dawn.  He walked the empty, lonely streets
of the town whose name he had never learned.  Somewhere in the
distance another tower was growing, slowly devouring the materials
beneath the earth's crust and building them into its structure.  He
clenched his fists and grimaced.  He knew -- he KNEW -- that he was
meant to be a part of the conflict and yet he had no idea what his
purpose would be.
    He heard steps behind him.  Men's steps.
    "Some of us are up early," said a soft voice behind him.  Xavier.
    Bates shrugged.  "I'm thinking before I go see the Great Mother."
    The cold of the night still clung to the air and it nipped at his
cheeks as the wind kicked up occasionally.  It was a calm wind,
abiding its time before the storm.  The two men were quiet for a long
time before Xavier had the courage to speak.
    "I know what you're doing," he said in a voice so soft he was
nearly whispering.  "Do you want to see the Great Mother now?"
    "I don't want to wake her."
    Rustling behind him.  "The Great Mother doesn't sleep, Bates.  You
can see her any time you want."  The man's voice was trembling now.
"Bates, I know what you're doing.  I had a dream of it last night."
    No.
    "Bates, take me with you!"  That last statement was a ragged gasp.
Bates did not have to look into Xavier's face to see the desperation
their.  The tension between them seemed to almost shake the coming
day.
    "No."  Bates couldn't even give the man a reason, so filled with
dread was he.
    Xavier's voice was quiet again.  "Don't do this to me!"
    "Your people are here," Bates mumbled.  "They need you.  I can't
have you dragging the whole damn tribe with me everywhere I go."
    "They don't need me, Bates, they have the Great Mother!  Bates,
I'm begging you.  Take me, please!  What do I have to do?  Do I have
to get on my knees and beg?  Do I have to bury my face into the mud?
Do you want me to grovel?  Tell me what I must do!"
    Bates spun, fury building on him.  "Damn you, man!" he shouted.
"Are you trying to destroy me?  I can't take you with me, you'll die
just as sure as I will!"
    "No!" cried Xavier.  "You're wrong!  We won't die, we can't!"  He
shook his head, suddenly his normal self.  "And even if only death
lies in our future, it'd be better to die for a cause then to die in
dread.  Better to fight for what we love!"
    Bates moaned inside.  "You're too idealistic, Xavier.  You're a
dreamer.  Dreamers aren't heroes.  Go back to your people, Xavier.
They still need you, now more than ever."
    "No."
    In what little light was available, Bates could see the frenzied
desperation in Xavier's eyes.  The smaller man looked up at him with
his moustache trembling and his hands clenched.
    "Bates, I'm going with you," he said.  He dropped to his hands and
knees.  "Even if I have to plead for it."
    "Get up."  Xavier did not move.  "Get up!" spat Bates.  "Damn you,
come with me if you want!"
    Fuming, he turned and stalked away.  He could feel Xavier's
saddened smile of triumph on his back as he headed toward the Great
Mother.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

    "No!" shrieked the girl.
    Norwell spun around in shock, his pocket knife coming to his hand.
Angela writhed on the ground, her hands clutching at her face as if
trying to pull it away.  Her mouth was twisted open and saliva spouted
from it as she cried out.  Norwell leaped toward her and tried to hold
her down.  Was the girl epileptic?  He didn't recall them being able
to scream.
    She made a sound that was akin to choking, then Angela was limp.
    "Angela!" shouted Norwell.  He shook her puppet body and brought
no response.  The girl was still until her mouth opened and she sucked
in a deep breath and moaned.  "Angela!"
    Her eyes were still closed.  "Dark man, hear me now while I speak
through this girl's body."
    Norwell's eyes widened in horror and fear.  He let go of her and
let her slump to the ground.  She awkwardly pushed herself into a
sitting position, her eyes still closed.
    "You will travel long and while you are her strength now, in the
end, it is she who must carry you."
    She was drooling.  Angela's head rolled about and occasionally her
eyes fluttered, revealing only the whites.  Whatever had possessed her
seemed to be choking.
    "Your weapons will have no effect.  Your hopes will be destroyed.
You will despair.  In the end, you too will die."
    She burbled then and screamed.  Gasping for breath, Angela let out
another shriek and then collapsed to the ground, finally silent.
Norwell shivered and sat there for a long time, staring in fear at the
child sprawled on the ground.  Only when he noticed that the sun was
beginning to set did he pick her up, brush the dirt off her clothes,
and place her in a sleeping bag.
    He ate his food in brooding silence, frowning deeper and deeper as
the night swallowed the day.  That night, there was no moon.  It
wasn't until the fire had died completely that he finally resigned
himself to rest, carefully placing as much distance as possible
between him and the strange girl that he had agreed to travel with.
With a final glance upward to make certain that no clouds graced the
sky, Norwell closed his eyes and tried to sleep.  He blamed his
restlessness on the stars which were burrowing into his eyes.

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