"This report is ok"
-Smoked Pork, on YRM's WW3FFA reports.
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| The intricate unknown: part 1 | | | Author: | | | IP: | nchobo03XXXX | | Date: | 12/30/00 02:12 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 0, Max: , Min:
Lifetime Rating for Slicer: 6.7333 | | Chapter I - The Toll of War
by Arian Solberg
The countryside moved. Alive with inhuman determination, a blanket of soldiers swept over
hills and rolled through the valleys. Flesh intertwined with cold steel, through loops and back
again to create a perfect army. Thousands of bodies moved in unison as they had been
ordered - to their salvation, to their pyre. Each human, who only years before was unique and
beautiful, now merely existed as a cog in the indifferent game of war. Individually, they were
issued a weapon, and thus became machines. They had been twisted and bent into hateful
automatons that were forced to decide who had the right to exist alongside them. Their
movements now created a morose song that rolled over the countryside and in their wake, was
a trail of bitter tears and withered hopes. These men would soon die.
Hours later, the pale moon betrayed translucent heat waves against the brush.
Moving as a panther, the Ghost flowed through the forest and onto the brink of a knoll that
overlooked the demons. He suppressed a gag as the binoculars focused in on unheard of
horrors. Vile snake-like beasts patrolled the outskirts of a throbbing gray carpet. Bloodthirsty
zerglings skittered across their organic home in packs. Zerg drones moved about their
business, oblivious to the imminent attack only miles away.
The covert agent's pupils narrowed to pinpoints as he watched his enemy. He began to count
the lethargic behemoths floating in the sky - a common way to discern how many enemies
there were. But there was something amiss. There were far too few bugs in this colony to
necessitate the army he was in. Why would the confederacy order such a full-scale attack on
what appeared to be a vulnerable and insignificant target? Not having any answers for such
questions, he made a quick mental map of the terrain below him, and prepared to return to his
commander.
The wicked hiss of a forked tongue slammed into his ears like a cannonball. He whipped his
head around and saw the vicious hydralisk only yards from his throat. He instinctively reached
for his weapon and then remained deathly still. While cloaked, it would be next to impossible
to be spotted without the aid of an overlord. Still, the powerful jaws and natural scythes
wielded by his foe gave him ample reason to be nervous. A putrid smell that seeped from its
mouth made the soldier want to retch. It swayed in the moonlight, devising an almost hypnotic
dance. For a moment, their eyes locked and the Ghost had to force himself to remain still as
he stared into the soul of hell. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, a bony tail carried the Zerg
away as if on a magic carpet. The soldier breathed a sigh of relief and took a few moments to
regain his composure. He then took one last look at targets below him before moving back
into the darkness as silently as he had arrived.
"You sure about this?" The commanding officer eyed his recon agent.
"Absolutely sir, you could send one third of this army and there would be no difficulties in
cleansing the entire area."
"I'll be the one to make that decision. Now go find your team."
The Ghost nodded grimly and vanished into a sea of marines. After taking a moment to
ponder the new developments, the commander turned to his flank and addressed a lieutenant.
"Well, that was certainly good news. Nevertheless, our orders stand. Prepare the troops. We
attack in one hour."
He then looked off into the horizon and spoke quietly, more to himself then anyone else. "This
land will run crimson before the day is out..."
The famished zergling eyed his prey intently. On the ashen planet, tender meat was hard to
come by, and the small rodent would make a fine meal. Keeping a lookout for others of his
brethren who might want an undeserved piece, the alien slowly moved closer to his target.
Muscles rippled in his flanks as he tried to find a delicate balance between distance and
silence. His eyes glinted with greed as he prepared to make his leap. The crouched hind legs
quivered with anticipation, ready to deploy death at a moment's notice. But even as temptation
was literally yards away from his slathering jaws, instincts would not fail him.
His attention was snapped to the forest half a mile away. The trees swayed rhythmically, not
about to reveal their deadly mystery. He sensed something foreign and mysterious but
curiosity kept him rooted to the ground. Minutes passed without development and just when
he was about to return to his dinner, a white-hot flare screamed out of the leaves and the trees
came alive with vigor. From what had appeared to be passive woods streamed hundreds of
soldiers; they sprinted towards the center of the meadow where their target lay bare. The
terrified zergling fled from the onslaught of marines, looking for the assumed safety of the
colony.
The army flew across the field, fueled by their own rage and hatred. Some fired a spray of
bullets into the air in anticipation of the slaughter to come. War cries hung in the air like a
black cloud, always growing bigger and spurring the men onward. They had been told there
would be little resistance, which made them all the more savage. Faster and faster they ran,
unleashing all the years of brainwashing and frustration in a tsunami of steel fury.
Suddenly, the earth shifted. A low guttural roar moved over the land and stopped every man in
his tracks and ran tension into the air. The ground they stood on groaned and rumbled at the
disturbance, causing the over confident troops to stagger back in confusion. The heaving soil
pumped fear into their veins like an incurable poison as they struggled to make sense of it all.
Some turned their backs to the terror and ran back to the forest, hoping to find salvation.
Others stood, too afraid or confused to do otherwise. Soil began to erupt sporadically about
their feet and they struggled to keep their balance.
The earth began to boil and churn while the roar increased its intensity. Men fell to their
knees at the wicked sounds, refusing to again find their feet. Slowly but adamantly, the
countryside released a secret it had been harboring for months. The burrowed aliens tore
through the earth in an effort to get free as thousands of beady eyes and slathering jaws leapt
from the tainted ground. Within seconds, the marines found themselves pitted against
staggering odds. Where once they were the favorite, now they were only lambs to the
slaughter. The ocean of hydralisks turned to their prey, eyeing them hungrily. Silence once
again dipped over the field until one lone soldier raised his rifle above his head and opened his
mouth to the world: "DEATH TO THE ZERG!!!" And so, in a cacophony of wrenching bones
and inhuman screams, the battle was on.
No one was spared; the hateful cataclysm was merciless with its insatiable appetite for life.
Men were hacked to their knees by the biological terrors and still fired their weapons until
every last ounce of strength had flowed from their bodies. Those who were killed immediately
were fortunate; many others died a slow and painful death with cries of agony all around them.
The once peaceful meadow had been transformed into an orgy of crimson fire. Steel clashed
against bone in a bedlam held over fallen comrades and the living envied the dead.
* * *
"Dead! They're all dead!" Lieutenant Shugar towered over the board members with flying hair
and bloodshot eyes. "My entire damn army has been slaughtered! They never even had a
chance! Those.. those bastards knew we were coming! They knew! And I sent my men right
into their waiting jaws!" His voice shook the room while his officers exchanged nervous
glances.
A confident sergeant named Troy strode forward and placed a hand on his maddened
commander's shoulder. "Sir, there was no way of knowing. They must have been underground
for months. You can't blame yourself. It won't help anything. We need your sharp mind. Don't
let it become clouded with anger."
"Who dares?!" Shugar whirled around and faced the startled man. His maroon face betrayed
a deep primeval fury that consumed his entire being. Bearing white knuckles and speaking
through clenched teeth, the lieutenant addressed his officer. "You, leave me to my pain! You
cannot possibly imagine the anguish I have caused this day! Thousands fell to the swarm on
my orders, many with children and wives who loved them dearly. I woke up a man, but I will
sleep tonight as death, the destroyer of lives. Now take your hand from my shoulder! Fall
back. For the love of God fall back or I can't be responsible for what happens."
The sergeant shakily nodded his head and took a step back. He then nodded to the rest of
the board and made a hasty exit.
Shugar took a deep breath and ran a callused hand through his hair. He once again faced his
panel and spoke softly and slowly with great effort. "Reconnaissance. I want twenty-four hour
surveillance on that colony, and wire a message to the fleet. Tell them we need more firepower
down here. Tanks, ships, marines… whatever they can muster. Those things are up to
something, and I'll be damned if we just let them do it. Now move!"
The room came alive as the officers rushed to carry out the lieutenant's orders. Angry as he
was, they had all come to trust their commander, as he had a history of intense battles and
years of experience. Even under tremendous pressure, he had a reputation of keeping his wits
and not always laying all his cards on the table. Even now, his fantastic brain was working
fiercely to assess the situation. He continued to brood all through the evening until finally, he
fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of revenge.
Many miles away, a man bled on the forest floor. He stumbled along blindly, gasping for air
and trying to endure the stinging branches which whipped across his face. It had been a full
day since the massacre, but he still fled from the merciless demons that had slaughtered his
comrades. He held an arm to the laceration at his side, trying to assuage the bleeding.
Although he felt the reaper's hand already beckoning, years of brainwashing in the army had
driven all logic from his head. He ran now because he still could; no purpose or goal in mind
for he had no thoughts of again finding safety.
Each second that passed, he swore by the hisses and beady eyes that he felt were close
behind. There was no escaping the terrible image of those beasts, ripping into his fellow
soldiers like Christmas presents. There was hatred now that welled up with each drop of blood
he lost. Hatred for not just his enemies, but himself. He loathed his decision to flee, but there
was no hope for anyone. It was instinctive and impossible to deny.
He grimaced with pain as each heavy footstep crashed to the ground. Although the night was
warm and he had been running for hours, he was very cold and could feel his limbs hardening
as the red water continued to flow. It became a struggle to even breathe, let alone move
through a dark forest. Vertigo set in and his sight began to haze and blacken. He tried to
scream, but no sound came forth. His knees buckled and he crashed to the ground gasping
for air but knowing that the end was near.
As his vision became utterly useless, he heard the movement around him. Leaves crunched
loudly under the weight of the foreigners. Even without sight, he could imagine the wretched
beasts with their lolling tongues and hungry eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to suck the
flesh from his bones. And with his last few moments of consciousness, he felt the jarring of
his body as unknown creatures set upon him. Then, he felt the hands. They were good, strong
hands that felt safe and warm. As they moved about him in a caring way, his mind slipped into
a deep sleep with one final thought: He was with humans. |
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