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DS- Chaos

The cockpit is rattled by a nearby explosion. A fraction of the chaos outside appears on the monitor. Muffled sounds of whistling shells and the crack of massive guns resonate throughout. Sweat droplets sparkle on the visor of my helmet, my breathing is heavy, and I fight to control the trembling of my hands on the joysticks.

They came out of nowhere. Mere hours after we lost contact with the moon, the massive fleet was breaking through the atmosphere. Of course, we were armed. The fleet situated the moon was a mere fraction of what was stationed on Earth. Our assailants’ arsenal rivalled if not surpassed the size of ours, but it’s our home we were defending, and we quickly grew desperate. The nukes soon started to rain upon the enemy. During the scramble, the order was “no mercy, whatever happens”.

All of the American fleet was upon them, and Europe’s vanguard was hours from the front line. The orbital fleet will start firing any second now. Meanwhile, we’re out here on the ground, to make sure these things don’t go anywhere. It’s not an easy fight, but one I’m determined to see through.

I launch my mech into the air, through the smoke and the chaos, take aim at the blurry shapes in the distance, and squeeze the trigger. My target explodes in a mix of metal, circuits and flesh. Whatever it is we’re fighting, they’re also using mechanized armours. Some of them seem to have four arms….

I land hard on the destroyed torso of another friendly mech, noticing the black edged hole through the cockpit. “Rest in peace, mate” My teeth are tense as I spit the words out.

A quick, repetitive beep resonates out of the console. The kinetic sensors. Something hits the left side of my mech, tipping me to the side. I turn my armour back to face my aggressor. A three eyed armour is walking towards me, a strange contraption in hand. He points it towards me, and the barrel starts to glow. A gun.

I press a button. The handle of my attack dagger slides from its sheath. I yank it out with my mech’s right arm, activate the rear thrusters, ejecting my valiant suit towards the enemy, and thrust my blade into the thing’s head. A flash of light erupts from the strange weapon’s barrel.

The next sight I see is the thing’s lights flicker and fail through the gaping hole in my cockpit plating, half of my vision obstructed, probably by my own blood. The right joystick my hand was holding is gone, replaced by a scorching combination of metal, fibre and flesh. The pain hasn’t hit me yet. I doubt it ever will. My body feels more and more numb as a dark liquid gathers on my pedals. What’s left of my vison blurs and goes dark.

……CHAOS-PANIC………..BATTLE-DESPERATE//666—————————//………………….

Sticking to my action/sci-fi/dystopian roots for this first foray into Speakeasy 2.0. Hope you guys liked it. Comments much appreciated!

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Posted by on 12 October 2014 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy

 

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DS Speakeasy 179-Void

I’ve come to love the silence. Only out here in space can one enjoy such peace. Unfortunately, this peace was soon to be shattered. I had abandoned the unmanned resource satellites yesterday,  following the asteroid belt back to the colony. The empty void of space, the predictable, familiar mechanical hisses and clicks of my armoured suit were going to once again give way to the unpredictable chaos of the crowd, the overly natural environment, with its animals, and its trees, with branches trying to grab you, imposing themselves upon you. How could anyone like this? The colonies, they say, were built to provide a home for Earth’s growing population, attempting to reproduce a familiar environment in the process. If Earth is as noisy, chaotic, dirty, and unpredictable as the colony hub, then I’d much rather stick to spatial duties. Humans are horrible to be around. They’re all rude, and violent, and egocentric and….

… I need a break.

I cancelled out my mech’s velocity relative to the asteroid belt, put my helmet on, switched off the hydrogen core, and opened the hatch, letting myself float out into space, a mere cable holding me to the seat of my cockpit. The distant sun was illuminating the millions of rocks that composed the belt, the rays playing and dancing on the metal of my suit. I held my right hand in front of me. Four gloved fingers and a thumb were moving in my field of view. Deep breath. Why do I exist? Why are clones necessary to Humankind? They have too many people to start with, so why add more mouths to feed? Sure, we’re more adapted to 0-G environments, what with the fancy genetic augmentations and all, but why go through all the trouble of creating a new species? Why didn’t they just genetically modify some of their own people? Are they that lazy? Willing to create a new life form, just to avoid doing some dirty work?

I sighed. My HUD indicated me that I wasn’t supposed to be back at the spaceport for another six hours. The colony was very close. I was surprised it couldn’t be seen yet. Without thinking it through any further, I turned towards the sun, and let the vague sense of heat drift me to sleep…

…until a metallic click against my visor woke me up. Something bright and golden was spinning slowly right in front of me. A bullet casing. Startled, I swiped it away with my hand, only to realize I was surrounded with the little golden metal tubes. Hundreds of them, perhaps thousands, drifted all around me.

I felt my stomach drop. Something was horribly wrong. I returned to my mech, turned the main power on. It had been 1H since I last checked the time. Meanwhile, I had drifted closer to the colony, yet it was nowhere to be seen. My mech slowly burst to life. Screens turned on, engines revved, and electricity flowed. Music to my ears. After a few moments, the sensors went crazy. It seemed the asteroid belt was filled with huge chunks of metal and steel and organic matter where the colony should have been.

As I got closer, signs of battle became evident. Fragments of ships were drifting about, crushing asteroids in their wake. Mechs similar to mine were torn and lifeless, floating in the empty void of space. Soon, carcasses of skyscrapers and civilian homes floated about, dotting the sky with eerie images. As I got closer still, bodies started to appear. Some of them were disfigured, maimed and partially annihilated by the battle, but others were too well preserved, almost as if they were about to start moving again. Once I had reached what was supposed to be the heart of the colony, I had already seen horrors beyond count.

Where I stood, bits of plants, cars, buildings, and bodies were all too abundant. I stood there, wide eyed, looking at the still death that surrounded me, motionless, breathless. Something moved into my field of view. A tree. One of the elements of nature I had grown to resent, floating, leafless, through the remains of the colony. It was revolving slowly. After a few seconds, it had completed a semi rotation, revealing the woman whose body lay impaled by its branches…

 

//……………………………………DEATH//SPACE=SILENT::SCREAMS//………………………………………………..//

First post in a while. Here, a somewhat sociopathic space colonist comes back from a mission, only to find his/her home destroyed. Definitely not my usual character! Comments appreciated!

 
26 Comments

Posted by on 16 September 2014 in Dragonspark, Speakeasy

 

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DS- Tavern Boy

We shall first focus on the young, skinny man, whose dream to become a valiant solider seemed to float away from him, replaced by the life of a tavern boy. On the surface of things, he seemed crushed, his very soul torn apart by disillusion. Nevertheless, deep within his heart, his resolve was unbroken, and perhaps strengthened by this extra challenge. He decided to work hard, and to dedicate every waking hour to doing his job correctly, and quickly. His boss, a large, bearded fellow, was so pleased he gave him a raise, only strengthening the young man’s will. Day by day, he watched as his body grew stronger due to the hard work. Eventually, it matched the strength his heart had once harboured… However, he no longer dreamed of adventure and romantic war at night.

Indeed, his heart had grown into this hard, yet very satisfactory life of tavern worker. He had grown fond of the tavern owner, and had gotten used to the cosy, quaint establishment. He had made good friends throughout the neighbourhood and with the regular customers. He was too attached to the old town to abandon those he lived with now, only to pursue his dreams of conquest and gunpowder. When drafting season came around, he was enjoying a day off, playing with young people his age, unaware of the clean uniforms and the oiled mechanics of the weapons waiting for courageous souls to join them in faraway conflicts. Really, his only concern that day was the beautiful blond hair of a woman he hadn’t seen before, and eager to go up and speak to her, to ask her name, and to tell her the funny anecdotes of the Tavern’s customers.

…………………………..///………….LIFE:::GIVEROFHOPE./……………..WAR:::GIVEROFDEATH///…………………

First post in a while… I’ve been busy. With a little luck, I’ll manage to turn something in for this Week’s Speakeasy, but I’m not making any promises. This is the second piece in a project/series we just started, in which we each take turns writing a part. First part right here. Comments and thoughts much appreciated!

The ball’s in your field now, BW!

Next part right here!

 
14 Comments

Posted by on 14 September 2014 in Dragonspark, Epic Co-written Story

 

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DragonSpark- Death’s Scythe

I walked through the desolated battle field, a spectre from another era. Scattered throughout, the golden cases of deadly projectiles lay, waiting for Time to give them another purpose, to return them to the ground, to purge the artificial shape Man has given them.

In the distance, beyond another bomb crater, the carcass of an armoured vehicle lies. A tank, they called it. The belly of the beast was torn open, its insides still black from hellfire: A piece of armour turned into an open air oven.

I continued to walk on the shrapnel covered path. Up ahead, Time had turned a giant crater into a lake. The crooked, lifeless tail of an aeroplane pierced the surface of the still, grey water. One could tell, the landing hadn’t been pleasant. The fuselage was rigged with bullet holes of various calibre.

I kept on walking until I reached a vantage point. Before me was an eerie field of all things lifeless. Remains of guns, vehicles, cover, camouflage, and ammo plagued my field of view until the horizon… and beyond.

Regardless of why this battle was fought. Regardless of who fought it. Regardless of the cause each side fought for, and their respective righteousness. Regardless of the flag that, in the end, remained upright.

Then only victor here is Death’s scythe.

:…………………………GRIM…..::R34P3R//…………………………………L0V3P34C3//N0W4R::

Little anti-war piece for this week’s moonshine, experimenting with a different POV. Since there is no conflict or tension, this probably doesn’t really qualify as a story. It’s not a ramble either, and definitely not poetry. I’m not really sure what to call this… Anyway, hope you guys liked it! Your opinions and thoughts are always much appreciated! Thank you for your time and attention.

 
8 Comments

Posted by on 1 August 2014 in Dragonspark

 

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The place that life did shun

Where have all the flowers gone?

For winter’s been and done,

What have all the people done

To make such beauty run?

 

It is because the flowers know

That people burn and kill,

The war and devastation show

That coulors suit us ill.

 

The sun starts to fades away

To leave us in the dark,

Such creatures don’t deserve to stay

Lighted by a spark.

 

The flowers bleed their sorrow and hurt

For Man has pierced their shield:

Their brothers laid down in the dirt

Under the poppy fields.

 

………….•••••••••••………..•••••••••……..••••••••………•••••••……..•••••…….••••••…..

 

I’m sorry this had to be so sad and I’m not sure I’ll be uploading this to the grid, I’ll probably find something more fun :/

Ok scrap that I wrote something I liked a little more but it was way too long (over 900 words) and I didn’t have the heart to cut it that much so I’m going to cheat by adding a link if you want to see it but feel free to ignore it. Here it is

Feel free to comment on anything you see should you choose to roam around this blog (I even encourage you do so) even if something is months old it’s always nice to get new feedback or even just appreciation (or depreciation but with reason). Also if you want to participate in a friendly prompt or prompt me (or us, I think DragonSpark would be happy to give it a go) do so, go ahead 🙂

By the way I’m leaving for two weeks on Friday so don’t be offended if it takes me a while to answer, I promise I’ll answer you when I get back.
If you read this far thank you for bearing with me as I rambled on ^^’

 
23 Comments

Posted by on 14 July 2014 in Banzaï

 

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Green Soldiers with Guns

Down from the abyss came-
A deep rumbling song
A sound to wake the dead,
Come let the mourners come,
Rise them from their beds.

Tell them that their flesh and blood
Are soldiers gone to war,
And tell them that they died in vain
Strewn upon the floor.

Tell them how their kinsmen cried
And watched their brothers die.
Tell them how they took a gun
And never wondered why,

And tell them that when all was gone
They sat there looking back,
And wept their hearts out and their souls
For those they killed and did not know
And those that they saw die.

Tell them how in fields of green
They still see pools of blood,
Now tell me if it’s war you seek
I’ll tell you that it’s wrong.

Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on 22 May 2014 in Banzaï, Friendly Prompts

 

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Toys of Flesh and Blood

Thud thud thud thud

Thud thud thud thud

Go the toy soldiers as they march out to war,

Thud thud thud thud

Thud thud thud thud

Marching to the beat of the toy drummer’s drum,

Thud thud thud tara-

Tata taratata,

Toy men and boys march

With toy guns, swords and cannons

Thud thud thud tara-

Tata taratata

Boom tatata boom tatata boom tatata boom

Down go the toy soldiers still fighting for glory and worth

Down those on horseback with the bright, coloured clothes,

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

Out come the soldiers – the ones who don’t have swords

But wear them on their guns, shiny small and sharp

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

Here there are no drummer boys nor coloured uniforms

But dirty holes in which they hide and wait for bombs to strike

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

Here horrified poets write of horrible war to home

And others like to sit and stare and wait for bullets or maybe shells

To hit their mark and end the pain,

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

There is no glory here.

Boom tatata boom

Tatata boom tatata boom

When war is won and all is lost and strewn upon the ground

Then a newer kind of soldier comes out to play

Some call him atom bomb, some just call him nuke

But wherever A-bomb goes, disaster strikes like no-one knows

Save those too far away to fall and those that passed away.

 

There is no sound for war now all the soldiers go and hide,

If ever A comes out again no-one will survive…

 
2 Comments

Posted by on 17 May 2014 in Banzaï

 

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