This forum has been relatively devoid of good, solid literature, so I thought I'd amend that fact.
Warning! This is set in the modern era, with modern weaponry! I though I'd switch it up a little... you know...
What makes a man a warrior?
Is it his speed, or skill with a blade?
Is it his strength, or the sharpness of his wits?
Even the strongest man may turn to flee, and the quickest may be the first to run.
A bullet can overpower the strongest man, and there is none quicker than that bullet.
So what truly makes a warrior? Well, to know that, first you have to be one.
Thud!
With an alarming jolt I was woken from my daydream. Rifle in my hand, I watched as the back of the amphibious transport swung down, and opened the gates to hell. Ever since the portal had opened between the two servers, the men had longed to get through the portal and bring the action to those bastards. Lord commander Sjeordtim had held the forces back though, giving the reason that defending our own lands took priority over claiming new ones. When the first of the bombs hit our city, then however, he reversed his decision. Hundreds, if not thousands of good men had died defending Empire War, and now the only remaining strength of the server was marching, in one final attempt to push the invaders from our land.
With a crack like lightning, the first bullet of the day sliced through the calm air of the morning. Players had built huts on the beach. Small, wooden things, and further up the beach stood larger and more detailed houses. I scanned the beach for cover, seeing a small hut that would shield my squad from enemy fire, I hoped.
'With me!'
I called, and bolted from the transport with a frantic hand gesture towards the hut. The rest of my men swiftly followed, and we clung to that hovel like it was the last solid thing in the world. Bullets continued to pepper the beach around us. I once again poked my head from the cover to scan the beach. I noticed a pre-made barricade, designed to stop us as we came ashore. The man who had once occupied it lay sprawled and bloody on the sand nearby.
My engineer, Dima, called out to me.
'Joe, the hound's getting frisky! We need to move!'
It was true. The robotic dog drone that accompanied our squad was crouch on it's paws, shiny metal hackles raised.
'Alright then, let's move out! See that bunker there?'
I gestured to the structure.
'Let's do this!'
We sprinted for the bunker as quickly as our legs could carry us. The drone's motorised legs carried it along beside us with ease. A turret mounted on it's back turned swiftly, following the guidance of a motion sensor. It loosed a few rounds at a soldier, missing almost every shot. The final bullet found it's mark however, and we heard a scream echo from further up the beach.
'Nice shooting Cas!'
Called Private Adamson, a new recruit to the Empire War forces. He had been the first to name the drone, and the rest of us had soon cottoned on.
To my left and right I saw other squads moving up the beach with us. Further down the beach I saw the sparking corpse of another drone, blown the bits by an RPG most likely. At the centre of our charge, I could see five tanks rolling up the beach, blowing apart bunkers, and the sheds that dotted the landscape. We had orders to follow the tanks and take the beach. From there we would use camera drones to assess the situation before continuing to push inland. I once more scanned the horizon for enemies, and this time I saw none.
'Steel wall formation lads!'
Almost immediately, Cas's legs swivelled beneath his body, so that he was facing sideways as he walked in the beach. In the position, his body became a shield for my men, as we advanced up the beach behind him. The turret on Cas's torso also swivelled to and fro, scanning the surroundings for any foe. The tanks were about to cross the head of the beach, and with no enemies in sight, it appeared that the battle was won.
We had won the first major victory, but the false confidence this gave us would not last.
See you in part 2!
Warning! This is set in the modern era, with modern weaponry! I though I'd switch it up a little... you know...
What makes a man a warrior?
Is it his speed, or skill with a blade?
Is it his strength, or the sharpness of his wits?
Even the strongest man may turn to flee, and the quickest may be the first to run.
A bullet can overpower the strongest man, and there is none quicker than that bullet.
So what truly makes a warrior? Well, to know that, first you have to be one.
Thud!
With an alarming jolt I was woken from my daydream. Rifle in my hand, I watched as the back of the amphibious transport swung down, and opened the gates to hell. Ever since the portal had opened between the two servers, the men had longed to get through the portal and bring the action to those bastards. Lord commander Sjeordtim had held the forces back though, giving the reason that defending our own lands took priority over claiming new ones. When the first of the bombs hit our city, then however, he reversed his decision. Hundreds, if not thousands of good men had died defending Empire War, and now the only remaining strength of the server was marching, in one final attempt to push the invaders from our land.
With a crack like lightning, the first bullet of the day sliced through the calm air of the morning. Players had built huts on the beach. Small, wooden things, and further up the beach stood larger and more detailed houses. I scanned the beach for cover, seeing a small hut that would shield my squad from enemy fire, I hoped.
'With me!'
I called, and bolted from the transport with a frantic hand gesture towards the hut. The rest of my men swiftly followed, and we clung to that hovel like it was the last solid thing in the world. Bullets continued to pepper the beach around us. I once again poked my head from the cover to scan the beach. I noticed a pre-made barricade, designed to stop us as we came ashore. The man who had once occupied it lay sprawled and bloody on the sand nearby.
My engineer, Dima, called out to me.
'Joe, the hound's getting frisky! We need to move!'
It was true. The robotic dog drone that accompanied our squad was crouch on it's paws, shiny metal hackles raised.
'Alright then, let's move out! See that bunker there?'
I gestured to the structure.
'Let's do this!'
We sprinted for the bunker as quickly as our legs could carry us. The drone's motorised legs carried it along beside us with ease. A turret mounted on it's back turned swiftly, following the guidance of a motion sensor. It loosed a few rounds at a soldier, missing almost every shot. The final bullet found it's mark however, and we heard a scream echo from further up the beach.
'Nice shooting Cas!'
Called Private Adamson, a new recruit to the Empire War forces. He had been the first to name the drone, and the rest of us had soon cottoned on.
To my left and right I saw other squads moving up the beach with us. Further down the beach I saw the sparking corpse of another drone, blown the bits by an RPG most likely. At the centre of our charge, I could see five tanks rolling up the beach, blowing apart bunkers, and the sheds that dotted the landscape. We had orders to follow the tanks and take the beach. From there we would use camera drones to assess the situation before continuing to push inland. I once more scanned the horizon for enemies, and this time I saw none.
'Steel wall formation lads!'
Almost immediately, Cas's legs swivelled beneath his body, so that he was facing sideways as he walked in the beach. In the position, his body became a shield for my men, as we advanced up the beach behind him. The turret on Cas's torso also swivelled to and fro, scanning the surroundings for any foe. The tanks were about to cross the head of the beach, and with no enemies in sight, it appeared that the battle was won.
We had won the first major victory, but the false confidence this gave us would not last.
See you in part 2!