Post by Xavier Harkonnen on Jan 6, 2008 16:47:52 GMT -5
Well, a story I'm writing, thanks to all who had given their suppot at the realm, so opinions are appreciated. ;P
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Chapter One
175 B.G. (Before Guild)
The quiet of the serene Draconis ice plains was overwhelming. The only thing for miles was a disturbingly quiet milky plain that extended for as far as the eye could see. The only decoration in this icy hell were towering ice-spires in the distance, remains of ancient Volcanoes that had, thousands of years ago, spewed molten magma forth to form the planet. There was not one living creature on IV Draconis.
On the distant horizon a small speck of black decorated the horizon, three others were positioned around it in a triangle formation; the quiet was then disturbed by the intense roar of plasma engines. The disturbance was a Geidi “Bristleback” Class-II gunship escorted by three slim Kindjal fighters on an attack vector.
One of the Kindjal fighters then pulled off, flying intense stunts in and around the spires. The comline was then bombarded with insults, profanity and orders to form back into formation. The Spires loomed almost as if they were trying to crash the pilot. The lone Kindjal then broke off from the joyride and returned to the flight. On a private channel the lead said something about getting himself killed.
Back in the Bristleback however, the pilot was tense. He gripped the flightstick with white-knuckled hands. His tension was slightly relieved when, on the Radar, the Machine main city grid loomed. There is my target, Omnius. The pilot thought, almost reluctantly, as if it would bring down the wrath of the enemy, The Machine Evermind Draconis incarnation, the enemy’s leader. Then almost as if demons attempting to block the path to Satan, ten machine interceptors appeared behind the flight. He called to the tail-gunner, “Icru, how many are there?” It was a few eerie moments before he replied.
“At least,” he then counted the specks, “nine Duad.” The pilot then muttered a curse over the comline.
“Segundo Ordos, something the matter?” the leader of the escort fighters mused in a slightly sarcastic manner.
Ordos answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “No, nothing really. Especially since there aren’t twelve Machine interceptors behind us.” All the Kindjal pilots then madly started to pivot their heads to try to get a glimpse at their six and of the terrifying specks on the horizon.
Behind the flight flew twelve Machine Interceptors, their sleek, razor-like forms cut through the frigid air as if it was paper. The black hook shaped crafts were flying in perfect formation. Able to sustain speeds no human could endure the ships rocketed towards their targets. The lead interceptor transmitted to the flight, “Lord Omnius demands an efficient success here, do not disappoint him.” The others complied without question, as did their programming require. They were now within 2 kilometers to their targets, intimidating Gauss cannon and aerodynamic concussion missiles emerged from their weapon compartments, the hunt was on…
“Icru, keep those demonic bastards off our tail.” The Segundo stammered with hesitation. The gunship was only 3K Kilometers from his target, only a little longer… Just as he was thinking a synthesized voice rang over the comline,
“Feral Hrethgir, prepare to be exterminated. In the name of the Evermind, I shall vanquish you.”
The pilots were surprised by this machine’s audacity, most machines weren’t independent, and aside from a few, and that left only one explanation. Cymek. A human traitor that sold his soul to the Machines, for the price of immortality. A disembodied brain with a machine body. “Come and get it, traitor.” The second Kindjal pilot threatened.
“Then you shall find the tranquility of death.” The Neo retorted, with a lingering on Death.
Ordos was a nervous wreck; his own perspiration fogged his helmet’s faceplate, he couldn’t stop shaking His white-knuckled hands looked as though he was about to crush the flightstick. “K-keep them off us.” He stammered.
“Will do.”
The Kindjals readied their weapons, and activated their Holtzman shields, they then broke away to engage the machine ships. As the Human fighters careened towards the interceptors, the machines let loose a volley of missiles. The lead Kindjal pilot’s eyes dilated, “INCOMING!” he shrieked over the intercom, but alas, it was too late, one fighter sustained a direct hit, and fell uncontrollably out of the frozen sky, the other missiles missed, only by a hair, while frazzling the remaining escorts. They pulled the triggers on their sticks, but the only response was a solemn click, they then remembered, Concussion missiles will disrupt electrical weapon systems. At first the lead pilot was terrified, then he realized what he must do, “Boa two… accelerate to ramming speed.” he uttered flatly. Ordos, upon hearing this was, to say the least, distressed.
“WHAT?!? We need you back here!” But determined to give their lives for the Jihad, the Kindjal pilots flew onwards increasing their airspeed as they went.
“Yes, you do need us,” admitted the Kindjal leader, then he looked to the sky, “but all of humanity needs you.”Then he yelled as though a soldier of ancient earth, he announced the battle cry of the Jihad, ” For Serena Butler and Manion the Innocent!” Just as he finished, his Kindjal careened into an interceptor, destroying both ships and pilots. The second followed suit, but took two with her.
The pilot of the gunship gripped his flightstick even though he could feel the circulation being cut off from some of his fingers, as if it was the only thing keeping the machines at bay. “They’re on us!” Icru announced through the com system.
____________________________________________________________
Chapter One
175 B.G. (Before Guild)
The quiet of the serene Draconis ice plains was overwhelming. The only thing for miles was a disturbingly quiet milky plain that extended for as far as the eye could see. The only decoration in this icy hell were towering ice-spires in the distance, remains of ancient Volcanoes that had, thousands of years ago, spewed molten magma forth to form the planet. There was not one living creature on IV Draconis.
On the distant horizon a small speck of black decorated the horizon, three others were positioned around it in a triangle formation; the quiet was then disturbed by the intense roar of plasma engines. The disturbance was a Geidi “Bristleback” Class-II gunship escorted by three slim Kindjal fighters on an attack vector.
One of the Kindjal fighters then pulled off, flying intense stunts in and around the spires. The comline was then bombarded with insults, profanity and orders to form back into formation. The Spires loomed almost as if they were trying to crash the pilot. The lone Kindjal then broke off from the joyride and returned to the flight. On a private channel the lead said something about getting himself killed.
Back in the Bristleback however, the pilot was tense. He gripped the flightstick with white-knuckled hands. His tension was slightly relieved when, on the Radar, the Machine main city grid loomed. There is my target, Omnius. The pilot thought, almost reluctantly, as if it would bring down the wrath of the enemy, The Machine Evermind Draconis incarnation, the enemy’s leader. Then almost as if demons attempting to block the path to Satan, ten machine interceptors appeared behind the flight. He called to the tail-gunner, “Icru, how many are there?” It was a few eerie moments before he replied.
“At least,” he then counted the specks, “nine Duad.” The pilot then muttered a curse over the comline.
“Segundo Ordos, something the matter?” the leader of the escort fighters mused in a slightly sarcastic manner.
Ordos answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “No, nothing really. Especially since there aren’t twelve Machine interceptors behind us.” All the Kindjal pilots then madly started to pivot their heads to try to get a glimpse at their six and of the terrifying specks on the horizon.
Behind the flight flew twelve Machine Interceptors, their sleek, razor-like forms cut through the frigid air as if it was paper. The black hook shaped crafts were flying in perfect formation. Able to sustain speeds no human could endure the ships rocketed towards their targets. The lead interceptor transmitted to the flight, “Lord Omnius demands an efficient success here, do not disappoint him.” The others complied without question, as did their programming require. They were now within 2 kilometers to their targets, intimidating Gauss cannon and aerodynamic concussion missiles emerged from their weapon compartments, the hunt was on…
“Icru, keep those demonic bastards off our tail.” The Segundo stammered with hesitation. The gunship was only 3K Kilometers from his target, only a little longer… Just as he was thinking a synthesized voice rang over the comline,
“Feral Hrethgir, prepare to be exterminated. In the name of the Evermind, I shall vanquish you.”
The pilots were surprised by this machine’s audacity, most machines weren’t independent, and aside from a few, and that left only one explanation. Cymek. A human traitor that sold his soul to the Machines, for the price of immortality. A disembodied brain with a machine body. “Come and get it, traitor.” The second Kindjal pilot threatened.
“Then you shall find the tranquility of death.” The Neo retorted, with a lingering on Death.
Ordos was a nervous wreck; his own perspiration fogged his helmet’s faceplate, he couldn’t stop shaking His white-knuckled hands looked as though he was about to crush the flightstick. “K-keep them off us.” He stammered.
“Will do.”
The Kindjals readied their weapons, and activated their Holtzman shields, they then broke away to engage the machine ships. As the Human fighters careened towards the interceptors, the machines let loose a volley of missiles. The lead Kindjal pilot’s eyes dilated, “INCOMING!” he shrieked over the intercom, but alas, it was too late, one fighter sustained a direct hit, and fell uncontrollably out of the frozen sky, the other missiles missed, only by a hair, while frazzling the remaining escorts. They pulled the triggers on their sticks, but the only response was a solemn click, they then remembered, Concussion missiles will disrupt electrical weapon systems. At first the lead pilot was terrified, then he realized what he must do, “Boa two… accelerate to ramming speed.” he uttered flatly. Ordos, upon hearing this was, to say the least, distressed.
“WHAT?!? We need you back here!” But determined to give their lives for the Jihad, the Kindjal pilots flew onwards increasing their airspeed as they went.
“Yes, you do need us,” admitted the Kindjal leader, then he looked to the sky, “but all of humanity needs you.”Then he yelled as though a soldier of ancient earth, he announced the battle cry of the Jihad, ” For Serena Butler and Manion the Innocent!” Just as he finished, his Kindjal careened into an interceptor, destroying both ships and pilots. The second followed suit, but took two with her.
The pilot of the gunship gripped his flightstick even though he could feel the circulation being cut off from some of his fingers, as if it was the only thing keeping the machines at bay. “They’re on us!” Icru announced through the com system.
