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Red Sun [alternate story]

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Red Sun [alternate story]

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Azmodai2 on Fri Apr 20, 2007 3:12 am

NOTE: starts the same way as the RP but turns differently. The last bits a little sloppy, I wrote it at 1 AM

Lucretia City

Simulated trumpets blared over the public announcement system as the whole city tuned in. “I give you his Eminence, the Emperor!� a dignitary announced over the intercom. A slow, deep resonating voice began to speak, “Citizens of the Lucretian Empire, inhabitants of my capital city, hear me! We have our hated foe, the fools of Red Sun, on their heels, we are pushing them back in a huge offensive as I speak to you this very moment! Long has Red Sun been a thorn in the side of our glorious Empire, and with this last pocket of resistance stamped out Lucretians everywhere may rejoice! Our conquest will be complete! I ask all of you to commit yourselves totally to our most noble cause! The unification of the northern continent under the Lucretian banner!� The intercom shut off and the people who had been captivated by the voice and had stopped to listen began to mill about the streets once more, some were visibly heartened others seemed unaffected, a few looked worried. In the Emperors throne room the scene was serene. The aging Emperor had adorned himself in all manner of opulence and he retired to his throne to muse over recent tidings. The resistance Red Sun City had put up was formidable, indeed they were determined not to come under the control of the empire. But why? Why would they deny the obvious enlightenment he offered? He had given them the same ultimatum every other city had received: convert or be swept away by the tide that is the Imperial Army. Yet they still chose to refuse and fight, clinging to their antiquated notions of freedom and justice. He was freedom, He was justice, He was the Empire and He impressed his will down upon His people. The Emperor smiled to himself, “Yes� he thought with disdain, “I AM justice, and these imbeciles from Red Sun will bow to MY will.� The Emperor rose from his seat and looked out a huge window across his city. The modern styled buildings and ill-lit streets lent a feeling of somberness to the whole area and the skyscrapers blotted out the sun over much of the down-town area. Groups of Imperial soldiers patrolled the city, enforcing it’s already oppressive (innovative and intelligent to the Emperor, who had written them himself) laws. “Ah my old friend Adam Ozlin, why do you choose to fight me? In the end there has always been only one fate for you…� The Emperor smiled to himself and retired to his room, he had a city to destroy.

Paradise City

Rain. The rain saturated the broken cityscape, it drenched the shattered buildings and fallen pieces of masonry. The rain seeped into the dank subway system with a drip-drip-drip. It washed the dust-covered highways, cleaned and exposed pot-holes, craters and cracks in the forgotten and unused streets. A low rumble reverberated through a street as three black, hulking, suits glided through the downpour, water droplets splashing off the flat black armor of the land-mates. At a signal from the lead suit there was a shimmer and nothing but a distorted image of the suits was left. The suits disengaged their hover engines and touched down lightly on the broken road, at which point they slipped into a nearby dilapidated building whose front had been shorn off by who-knows-what kind of munitions.

The comm-link buzzed- “Hey Capn’ how long you think this damn rain will hold?� Captain "Hellhand" Hellan glanced at his HUD, Elenes was the one who had buzzed him. “I’m not sure, and until we have orders to move out we’re staying here, you and McConnell establish a perimeter, I’m going to clear out the interior so our suits’ll fit better,� Hellan replied over his radio. A green acknowledgement light flashed on his HUD as Elenes and McConnell began to check the perimeter of the building. Hellan began to walk his suit through the shattered remains of what appeared to have once been a huge office building. Pieces of dry wall, cubicle walls and broken and warped steel beams lay scattered on the first floor, he began to push rubble out of the way making a clearing approximately 1000 square feet. No new orders in three days, communications with High Command were down. Hellan spoke the voice command for standby mode and his suit hunkered down into a kneeling position. This was the worst part, the waiting.

Red Sun City: Red Sun Regular Army HQ

Three men, all in deep green military uniforms draped with medals and awards, stood around a holo-field table with the map of the ruins of nearby Paradise city overlaid on a grid. Groups of three green triangles dotted the translucent landscape and some were moving in a northerly direction. To the north of the triangles were little red triangles, vastly outnumbering the greens, all of the red triangles were in groups of five. The men seemed to grumble among themselves until a fourth man stepped into the room. It was a veritable colloquium of military minds. He was elderly, wearing a faded and worn uniform and carrying a simple military cap. He sighed as he walked in, the deep lines on his face seemed to emphasize the man’s tired appearance, his bloodshot eyes and his unkempt uniform only contributed to the look. “What’s the situation,� the older man said as he slumped into a black armchair at one end of the table, his nametag, Ozlin, jingling lightly. “Not good, sir, our forces are outnumbered 5 to 1 and the enemies dug in deep all along north side of the city, they have units posted at all the key bridges over the Pallis River, which runs straight through the city, and it looks like they’re going to make a push for the local field command within the month.� The reply was issued, with a lot more zeal then was intended, from a young, crisp officer with short black neatly combed hair and an immaculately clean and pressed uniform, his nametag was polished and sat perfectly on his left pocket, it read Alberlin. Ozlin nodded, and an exasperated look issued from his face, “Recall half the sweeper teams to the second level perimeter of the field command and consolidate the other half along River, post double sentries at the bridges and have our sniper teams set-up to cover as many of them as we can. If we lose the city then we lose our biggest forward base protecting Red Sun. Bastards from Lucretia aren’t setting on step past that river if our boys have anything to say about it, how many suits do we have left active?� “Eighteen, nine are standard fit combat, three are snipers, three are recon suits and the last three are Captain Hellan and his command suits,� replied a middle-aged officer in a black uniform, his nametag read Mafta. “That should be enough to hold the southern sector until we can re-deploy, call all units and inform them we’re on Protocol 817 and no quarter is to be given, under any circumstances,� Ozlin replied, then he turned to the holo-image and mused over the placement of his troops, some of the groups adjusting to the new orders. “Make your move Lucretia…�

Paradise City

He had to ascertain the situation quickly before things got out of hand. Hellan spoke the voice command for active mode and walked his suit over to the edge of a broken section of the wall and looked out. Five enemy soldiers were gliding down the street towards his position, they appeared as evanescent ghosts as their white forms slipped through the rain. He spat into the small waste-receptacle in his cockpit. The insipid soldiers all looked the same, but that didn’t change the fact that they were tenacious enemies. The Lucretian Imperial Army was aptly named the ‘Destroyers’ and their reputation for cruelty was well known. They reminded him of Roman armies; archaic in methodology; stoic and vivacious in battle and verbose, hedonistic, and ultimate lovers of avarice. He shifted the weight on his suit and brought his weapon up, a magnificent and rifle, at 105mm, it looked like the very epitome of destruction. He took careful aim, dexterously guiding the red crosshairs of the scope towards his targets, depraved and impetuous individuals. They were obviously on a clandestine mission into Red Sun territory. He smiled to himself, “Well they won’t get far…� he said cryptically. Another light tap of the joystick brought the unwieldy weapon to bear upon the Lucretians. Normally doctrine dictated he ask permission before firing but when 817 was in play he needn’t bother. He galvanized himself mentally and with a sharp exhale he tapped the trigger. He let his animosity flood into the weapon, allowing it to manifest itself in the form of the huge shell round now speeding towards the garish outline of his hated enemy. There was a grotesque rending sound as the round tore into the lead unit. The rest of the unit dropped to a prone position and scanned the surrounding buildings. “Imbeciles,� he thought. He took aim again and prepared to eradicate another insolent interloper. The second round sped off after the first, but this time its flight seemed protracted, as if the stalwart guardian of time had lapsed in his duties. Time resumed as the bullet impacted another of the enemies, eliciting a loud screeching as it tore the leg off, hampering its movements. He smiled again. He deftly tapped the joystick to a new target and prepared to fire. He sat in his suit and stared at the world through his scope, impassive, impervious to the weather. To be apathetic was almost a prerequisite to serve in the Red Sun army. Your enemy was imperious, cruel, evil and disgusting. You had to be aloof from the battlefield and you couldn‘t let your inhibitions get in the way. He checked his aim, then tapped the trigger sending death in the guise of lead to its new home. The third suit dropped, missing its torso. Good that meant he had killed the pilot also. Paradoxically one had to be kind, caring and jovial while at the city. He switched targets. The enemy had made a move to nearby building and he followed them with his scope, it was imperative to neutralize this enemy unit. He fired a shot just slightly ahead of one of the fleeing enemies. This time, however, his target remained elusive. He chastised himself for his bad timing and leaned into his radio, “Targets to my 10 o’clock. 300 meters, close and eliminate. Two live hostiles, one incapacitated. My suspicion is they were on a covert mission.� He received green acknowledgements as he saw the shimmer of two cloaked suits head towards the building the Lucretians had taken cover in. It was going to be a visceral fight, and it was highly plausible that one of his men could be injured in the ensuing battle. He stowed the huge rifle by breaking it down into several components then fitting it into one of the many storage compartments on the suit. He nonchalantly drew out a large knife and a pistol, weapons designed for close quarters combat. Yes, his niche was certainly on the battlefield. No need to be conscientious of anyone’s feelings here. Just you and your enemy, a true test of a man’s mettle. Nothing like convoluted politics, economic quagmires or the plethora of power-hungry figures exercising their whims upon the populace. The battlefield was his home and on it he was a impregnable fortress, an intractable guardian of his city and a valorous figure which was evocative of the dogged determination of the people of Red Sun. He stretched his muscled form a little then punched his engines and took off at high speed towards the old and ruined building. The Emperor’s laws were incorrigible and they had no place in his world. He touched down just outside the building, his external audio sensors already picking up noises of the altercation inside. He hit the jump-jets again and landed inside the building poised for combat. He apprised the situation and began to close on the remaining enemy suit. He leveled his pistol and fired off a single armor piercing round. It penetrated the tick casing of the cockpit and the suit slumped over, clearly debilitated due to the loss of its pilot. The other suit had been dispatched before his arrival, he scanned over his team members quickly, no injuries, good. He gave a motion for his men to follow and they shot off towards the damaged machine he had left on the street earlier. They landed around him, quickly scanned the pallid landscape then grabbed him suit and all and bore him off to their original hiding place. Upon returning to their original place of concealment they stripped the armor off his suit then forced the cockpit open, pulling him out forcefully. There would be no benevolence in this interrogation, and the intent was certainly not benign. They would coerce him into divulging any information he had on Lucretian forces, and the myriad ways of interrogation were… dubious. The man’s uniform was ornate and he had clearly been posthumously decorated for his special services to the Empire. His knowledge, thankfully, was esoteric and much was gleaned from him before he was spent and useless. They let his broken body languish in a corner of the building while they discussed what they could do with the new information. There was no empathy for this man, he was a mercenary soldier, with no scruples of any kind. Some of the knowledge gained was negligible but certain choice items were a proverbial goldmine. They eliminated from memory anything that wasn’t pertinent and broke down the copious results of the interrogation into a concise report. They executed the broken shell of the soldier after that. He hoped the clues gleaned were credible and not just inane banter issued from a loquacious hostage realizing his end. A large part of it had been talk of illicit activities, the exorbitant taxes upon the Imperial citizens, technical jargon and deplorable acts enacted on conquered cities by the Imperial Army. Then came the goods, troop placements in Paradise, how the teams were arrayed, the various impediments that posed the biggest threats to the Red Sun army, which officers had grown complacent and even the methods that the Imperials had used to dupe the Red Sun recon teams. The decision was made to radio field command with the information regarding the Lucretian forces.

Paradise City: Red Sun Field Command

“Sir, we’ve got Capt. Hellan on the radio, says he has some important intelligence.� There was a commotion in the radio receiving room as several top-ranking officers rushed inside. After the initial clamor had abated and everyone had managed to succumb to the quiet Hellan began to speak. He related the news of the troop movements and key buildings he had pulled from the man’s confessions. Finally High Command could begin to fathom the Lucretian’s plans. It all began to fall into place. This new information augmented the lack of intel that had been accumulated over the past few days. Perhaps this would allow them to stave off the incessant secret attacks and lift some of the morose tension that had sprouted from the tedious defense. The transmission cut off and the officers moved back into the war room. The most bombastic and haughty of the officers, Major Coprulu, laughed aloud and proclaimed, “We’ll have those damned Imperials running for the hills in no time!� Some of the others nodded in agreement while other more pragmatic officers did not share the same amiable attitude. The commanding officer, Brigadier General Deslan ordered silence and stepped into the center of the war room. He was a corpulent man but his demeanor still gave him a commanding presence. He began to peruse the written version of the report Capt. Hellan had made. Meritorious conduct indeed on the captains part, perhaps a medal was in order. He looked ruefully at his command cadre and began to speak, “Gentlemen, while this information is a fortuitous, it will not save us wholly from the threat of the Lucretian Empire. Ever have they been an ominous cloud at our southern border, and ever will they threaten the egalitarian utopia we have built. However, if we act on this information to repel our repugnant foe then we may stand a better chance of saving Red Sun.� Several of the officers nodded emphatically. He activated the holo-display and began giving new orders to the various teams. The task was onerous but eventually all of the units had adjusted based upon the new intel. General Deslan sighed and stepped out of the room. He lit a cigarette and took a deep puff. The war had gone on for far too long. They had managed, until last year, to be prudent enough to keep out of the Emperor’s prying eyes, but that changed as soon as the rest of Northern Territories came under his control. But the Emperor’s voracious appetite for control had eventually turned him towards Red Sun. He had underestimated them, they would not meekly lie down in the dirt and let him consume him simply to satiate his hunger. Soon enough the situation would be rectified. The Red Sun army was sagacious and astute, and any enemies it faced would be fighting an uphill battle all the way. On the other hand the Imperial Army was an irascible beast whose querulous nature prevented it from reaching its full potential. With a flourish he tossed the spent cigarette off into the night. “Let them come,� he thought. “We will stand undaunted before them and, when all is said and done, the Red Sun will rise victorious.�

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Azmodai2
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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Circ on Tue May 01, 2007 8:09 pm

Style:
1. Break up your paragraphs a lot more. Lengthily equals hard to read.
2. Watch our for comma splices.
3. There are places where you run two distinct sentences together with a comma where it is inappropriate. See: "HUD, Elenes," amongst others.
4. The story kind of jumps around a lot.

That said, I do like your writing style and you exercise good use of vocabulary. If you break it up into more manageable chunks, I think this could shine.

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Circ
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Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Azmodai2 on Tue May 01, 2007 8:17 pm

ah danke, i would like to point out the ridiculous vocabulary and spots with terrible conventions were attributed to the fact that i had to morph the story to fit with an english assignment, my writing style really couldnt come to the forefront but i dont have the time to really go back and revise what i have written.

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Azmodai2
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