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Fallout, The Wurymmar Story: Part Two

by scarrift


Fallout: The Lupe and the Wanderer

A desolate figure trudged his way across the flat stony plateau, ignoring the crisp, clean air, ignoring the grand rock formations in the distance, ignoring the volcanoes and their clouds of ash and flame, mostly ignoring most of what was happening in the Tyrannian Plateau. But the figure would not, could not, ignore the blazing sun hanging high above his head, which not even his wide brimmed hat could shelter him from.

     Beads of sweat trickled down the figure's red face and down the back of his neck, making his shirt stick to his back. A heavy backpack slung over his shoulder practically plastered the shirt onto his skin as he trekked across the scorched earth.

     A groan escaped the dry lips of the youth and with a mighty heave he un-slung the pack and dropped it to the ground. It landed with a thump, a small cloud of dust and a slight clinking sound, courtesy of about a dozen or more healing potions stuffed tightly into the small backpack. The figure put his hands on his hips and bent his back slowly. There was a loud, profound snap.

     "Oh crud, my back, my back!" the figure yelled, still stuck uncomfortably in the same position. "And I'm not even 20 yet." With a swift movement, he bent forward, producing another snap fortunately this time he was no longer stuck like a disfigured statue. "Ow, ow! That really stung," he groaned.

     Rubbing his sore back, the figure proceeded to look around the bare surroundings. As expected: rocks, rocks, and more rocks.

     "Well Scar," he said to himself. "This is about as good as it gets to a campsite." Shrugging nonchalantly, he started to unsnap the covers of his backpack and take out his camping gear, working fast to set up camp before nightfall.

     Then he heard a low growl.

     Scar froze for but a second, his hand clutching a bottle of healing potion, before setting the flask down and grabbing a large rock, all the while looking about cautiously for signs of predators like Lupes and Grarrls. Then he heard it again, this time a low groan. Moving carefully from boulder to boulder, Scar headed in the general direction of the sound. Then another low moan issued from behind a low mound and quickly Scar, stone raised and ready, his body tensed, ran behind it.

     There he saw a gravely wounded Lupe lying atop a low, smooth stone. Blood trickled from the various cuts and gashes on his red fur, trailing off down his body and onto the ground. One or two of the Lupe's legs were bent in an odd angle.

     Instead of rushing off to help the poor creature, Scar instead stared and gave the Lupe a once over, an appraising look on his face. Medium-build red Lupe, maybe a few years younger than me. Looks like he's taken quite a fall, forty feet I'd say. It's amazing he's still alive. Then Scar suddenly shook his head. What am I thinking? I'd better check on him, just in case.

     Slowly Scar moved towards the prone Lupe for a closer look and, as Scar's shadow moved across the Lupe's body, the Lupe's eyes fluttered open. His mouth opened haltingly as he struggled to speak, obviously in pain.

     "He … help me … puh … please," the Lupe said before it passed out again, his head drooping to a side. Scar hesitated for a moment before lifting the Lupe up and over his shoulders. He noticed that some drops of blood were dripping onto his new jacket. Scar gave a sigh.

     "That's just great. Just the thing to attract the Teasquitos," Scar muttered as he stalked over to his backpack a couple of yards away. "At least those healing potions were worth lugging around. Not like I can use them on myself anyway." Then the shadows around his eyes deepened. "Won't grandpa be pleased," Scar continued in a low voice dripping heavily of sarcasm.


     Wurymmar didn't know what time it was nor did he know where he was. He had drifted in and out of consciousness many times and each time he was greeted by the same burning ball of light that was the sun, stinging his eyes even when they were shut. He had come to again and he felt a warm glow all around him again. The sun, it's burning me. How much longer must I take this? Just let me die. Slowly he opened one sluggish eyelid and saw that it wasn't the searing rays of the sun. The sun had gone down long ago behind the Tyrannian horizon and the chill of the Tyrannian night was beginning to creep over the land, replacing the warmth of day with a bone-chilling cold. It would have been freezing had it not been for the pleasant glow of a crackling fire that had just come into focus. Wurymmar groaned and winced slightly, for his body was still a bit sore (Sore? I was nearly dead a while ago.), and carefully heaved himself up in a sitting position against a rock with his forepaws. Then he felt a blanket fall in a heap around his back legs.

     Wait. Wurymmar remembered the strange dream he had about a dark figure standing over him blocking the sun. Or was it a dream? He opened his other eye and glanced around him, taking in his surroundings cautiously like his instincts told him to. Then he saw someone sitting against the flat side of a boulder on the other side of the fire.

     "I see you've awakened, Lupe," Scar stated nonchalantly, flipping an omelette around in a frying pan. "That bandage on your head will be there for a while." Wurymmar felt the piece of cloth binding his forehead. "In the meantime have an omelette. You must be hungry. Go on, eat it. It's not poison." Wurymmar suddenly noticed his stomach rumbling and immediately nodded. Scar passed him a plain omelette and stared as the Lupe wolfed it down. When Wurymmar was done he wiped his mouth with a paw and turned to face the human, then noticed that he was still staring intently at him.

     Wurymmar's natural curiosity got the better of him and he too stared at Scar intently, an inquisitive look on his face. Slightly taller than he was long, the figure looked to be about 18 or so years old but it was difficult to tell since most of his face was in the dancing shadows of the open flame. A plain light coloured shirt complemented his slim build and his baggy pants had many convenient pockets and were held up by leather belt. A neatly folded dark jacket and a backpack with a few dark spots on it lay beside the figure. But the thing that attracted him was the figure's eyes. Sharp and dark, the figure's eyes seemed to bore right into Wurymmar and yet they showed no indication of any emotion.

     Likewise, Scar too had been appraising Wurymmar. This young Lupe was strong and resilient, he could tell, and maybe a little inexperienced but he would do just fine. Scar stared deep into the red Lupe's eyes. Curiosity featured prominently in them but Scar also saw that they mingled with despair, hopelessness and fatigue. Maybe once this Lupe must have been a lively sort, but now he seems dispirited, ragged, Scar thought. And betrayed. I'd know that look anywhere, I've been there myself.

     "Thank you, mister, for all your help," Wurymmar finally said in a low, tired voice. "My name is Wurymmar and I thank you once again." Scar stared a moment longer before turning to face the fire once again, poking a stick at the embers.

     "You're most welcome, Wurymmar, and I'm Scarven Dessan, but you can call me Scar."

     "Thanks again, err, Scar," Wurymmar answered, now watching the glowing embers. "I am grateful that you found me. What are you doing here anyway?"

     If you only knew, Scar thought. To Wurymmar he simply replied, "Sightseeing. Now, what about you Wurymmar?"

     A lance of pain shot through Wurymmar's heart at the memory of what his pack had done to him. Why did they do it? Why did they abandon me? Wurymmar cast his eyes downwards for a moment before looking up at Scar, who still had not blinked, and told him the whole story, beginning with the trip to Tyrannia.


     "So Wurymmar, I presume you'll be wanting revenge against that Lupe," Scar stated in a monotone. "I can help you if you want." Scar's mind was already working hard to process what he had just heard, never missing a beat. This is perfect. This Lupe will be easy to manipulate. Vengeance is the perfect motivator and gratitude will ensure this one's loyalty for as long as I need him. With time I could train this one into someone grandpa will be proud of, maybe even another Balthazar! The practical part of Scar's mind schemed.

     Then he caught a glance of Wurymmar's sad eyes and a tiny voice crept into his thoughts. But why? I've done it before, and on countless other Neopets, but why should I?

     Scar stole a glance at the red Lupe and saw that Wurymmar had his head bowed, apparently deep in thought.

     Yes, revenge. I really want to get back at them for trying to kill me … No I can't. They're my family, my friends. I can't hurt them, especially not Vrynian and the others. Wurymmar's thoughts wandered back to the Endless Plains to where the other Lupes in the pack would be, innocent and unknowing. Then a fresh surge of anger surged through him as he thought of the blue Lupe's leering face.

     "Yes, Scar I do want revenge," Wurymmar growled. "I want to be stronger so I can have my revenge against those who hurt me."

     Scar saw Wurymmar's face twist in anger but his eyes betrayed him; there was no conviction in the Lupe's outburst. No matter, I can work that out in time, he thought. "Why don't you get some sleep, Wurymmar?" Scar said quietly. "You'll feel better in the morning." Without another word, he proceeded to get into his sleeping bag. Wurymmar watched Scar awkwardly before clearing his throat.

     "Err, Scar can I say something first?" Scar turned his head and nodded affirmatively for Wurymmar to continue. "Well, I was wondering," Wurymmar began softly. "I want to repay you for all you've done for me. I feel indebted to you and all and …" Wurymmar hesitated before continuing. "What I want to say is that I was thinking of being you … your Neopet. Is that alright with you?"

     Scar didn't flinch a bit at the news and just looked at Wurymmar blankly for a moment. Then he gave a slight sigh and rolled over in his sleeping bag, his back facing Wurymmar.

     "I knew you were going to say that," Scar said vaguely, then in a clearer tone he said. "I'd be honoured. Now get some sleep." He heard the sound of Wurymmar settling himself down somewhere behind him. Then he turned his gaze to the darkness beyond the glow of the campfire, thinking and wondering. What should I do with this one? Why don't I feel right with this? Am I doing the right thing?

     A few feet away, Wurymmar too was doing some thinking as he nestled down against a rock beside the warm fire. I wonder what's it going to be like with an owner? What would Vrynian say? I wonder if I'm doing the right thing.

     Maybe, both replied to each of their thoughts. Just maybe.


     "Where are you now, Scarven Dessan?"

     "Somewhere in the wild, of course, what did you expect?"

     "Don't speak to me in that tone Scarven. In future I'd expect you to declare your position so I can reach you easily. Now what do you have to report?"

     There was a long gap of silence.


     "Nothing to report. I have not found any Neopet worthy of your time, yet."

     "You're not telling me the truth, Scarven -"

     "That's Scar."

     "Whatever, don't try to change the subject. You will find me a Neopet and you will find it within the designated time and I expect you to return at that designated time. Do you understand me Scarven?"

     "Yes, grandpa."

     "I'm glad we understand each other. Goodbye."

     The glass orb, a miniature version of Jhudora's Crystal Ball, clouded over again and stopped glowing. Scar stretched out his hand to catch the tiny sphere as it fell into his palm. The pale glow from the milky substance floating around in the orb illuminated his face. Scar's grasp tightened over the sphere and he quickly stuffed it into a compartment in his belt. Then he settled himself again into his sleeping bag.

     Wurymmar rolled over at opened one eye slowly. He saw Scar's body moving up and down as he breathed slowly.

     I thought I heard something, Wurymmar thought. Shrugging, he curled himself up and went back to sleep.


     Scar struggled to tie his bedroll onto his pack, fumbling with the rope and making things worse. Muttering under his breath, Scar glanced at the empty spot where Wurymmar had been the night before and sighed.

     Oh well, at least I don't have to worry about bringing him to grandpa. I wonder what he would have done to him, what I would have done to him. Shaking his head, he finally tied the last knot and heaved his now considerably lighter pack with a sigh. Another lonely track through the plateau today, Scar thought. He had barely made it a few feet when he heard a familiar voice.

     "Scar, hold up a minute!" Wurymmar padded up to Scar's side. Without looking at him, Wurymmar extended a paw towards Scar. The human looked blankly at the sausage omelette in Wurymmar's outstretched paw for a moment.

     "I want to give this to you, for last night," Wurymmar said quickly and Scar almost smiled before catching himself just in time.

     "Thank you Wurymmar," Scar said flatly. "Are you coming?"

     "Huh? Oh, you mean -," Wurymmar started.

     "You want to be stronger so you can exact revenge don't you?"

     "Oh that," Wurymmar answered softly. "I guess I'll be following you then." Wurymmar smiled wryly and padded alongside Scar. Revenge … do I really want it?

     Scar too was doing some thinking.

     Grandpa is going to like this, Scar thought, but why don't I?

To be continued …

Author's Note: What motives does Scar have up his long sleeves? Who is that mysterious old man? Is Wurymmar ever going to get revenge? Find out in the next instalment.

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Other Episodes

» Fallout, The Wurymmar Story: Part One
» Fallout, The Wurymmar Story: Part Three
» Fallout, The Wurymmar Story: Part Four
» Fallout, The Wurymmar Story: Part Five

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