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this is a continuous story i will be working on. feedback is welcome and i really hope you enjoy my newest journey into the world of story writing.
Harmonica music wailed in my ears, the soft sound of bowl acids assailed our tiny cacoon. “go fish” one of the people said beside me “and will you quit the music!” he added. You might be wondering, where are we? Why am I stuck with friends playing go-fish and listening to cliche harmonica music? Well it all happened 3 days ago.....
Chapter 1: The Mission
“God dammit Rosco!”...... “don’t you start with me!”........ “I’ll start with you anytime I like!”......
The sounds of the argument echoed out into the tundra back at our tiny outpost.
“If you hadn’t missed that shot we would have nailed those bandits!”
one of them yelled,
a katana in one hand ready to strike. That was Wess..... A reformed prisoner who always carried a katana, we never had the guts to ask why. Of course that isn’t his only weapon, he carries a modded Guass rifle with red-dot sight and armor piercing rounds. Wess could get through tooth and nail, get home and still have enough energy to wrestle a pack of lyotes.
“I wasn’t the one who ran right in there with that oversized toothpick!”
the other one replied.
Rosco, the best shot this side of the fringe world. He’s the womanizer of the group but the only thing he every keeps in his bed for more than 1 night is his trusty commando model C-20 sniper rifle.
“There they are going at it again”
Someone mumbled beside me.
Ross was the veteran of the group, he lost his arms in the brood war days and had em replaced with perdition flame throwers, not even Wess has the guts to mess with him. But because of his amputations he never takes off his suit. I finally mustered the guts to step between the 2
“Guys lets just calm down and think about this for a second”.
Of course there’s me, the combat medic. I suddenly realized how stupid I had been. If these 2 start a brawl all I had to defend myself was a combat shield and plasma pistol.
relief flooded through me as I got backup from the veteran.
“I know being stuck on Melgan wasn’t the ideal way of spending your life serving as marines but we have to get used to this tundra world and the tiny outpost we live in”
Wess and Rosco relented, both going back into their dorm rooms mumbling insults and other profanity. Just another day in the life of squad A-230-B, or as we like to call it the life of the royally f*cked.......
Edited by darkra on 2/20/2013 1:51 PM PST
... I would not suggest doing an RP and a Story that are running the same course ... unless the story is based off the RP and not the other way around *cough* Separatist Space *cough* even then ... *shrugs*
naw i decided to quit the RP. it was this idea that was forming in my head but after making an RP out of it i realized a took the wrong path with it completely.
Lol. I like it, and the tone's got a nice roll to it.
My problems with this are:
- Your lack of punctuation at the end of your sentences.
- Not writing out numbers (bad form).
- And not separating out the spoken parts (makes it a much less daunting wall o' text).
Edited by Warhawk on 2/19/2013 6:56 PM PST
- Your lack of punctuation at the end of your sentences.
can you elaborate war? Maybe a few examples and revised versions? i want to make my posts top notch
haha its k i had a feeling the RP was a long shot anyways. don't forget to check by for more segments!
No problem, here's a couple. Edits in bold:
He’s the womanizer of the group but the only thing he every keeps in his bed for more than 1 night is his trusty commando model C-20 sniper rifle. “there they are going at it again” someone mumbled beside me. “hey Ross” I replied.
He’s the womanizer of the group but the only thing he every keeps in his bed for more than one night is his trusty commando model C-20 sniper rifle.
“There they are going at it again...”
Someone mumbled beside me.
“Hey Ross.” I replied.
Edited by Warhawk on 2/19/2013 7:05 PM PST
its decent. i would be overconfident to say perfect as there are errors maybe here and there but War already mentioned most of my mistakes
Cool, I'll read it later on today :)
I woke up with a start. The banging of the door hammering in my ears,
“I’m coming I’m coming!”
Getting dressed I proceeded outside to the “mission briefing room”. But in reality it’s a tiny room with concrete..... well everything. We have a wooden table where we put all kinds of paperwork on it stacked mountains high, and of course there was our adjudant in the corner. When I got there I found Ross stretching, and of course Wess glaring at Rosco from across the table.
“so what’s up? Are we doing recon? Bandit problems?”
“we’re not sure. The adjudant just alerted us about a mission but hasn’t went into specifics. I think they’re gonna send a transmission”
“are you sure that things even works? Its old.......like ancient”
As if in reply the robot creaked to life. We all gathered around it as a static filled transmission came through
“greetings dominion marines. This is your commander speaking. We are sending you to retrieve a protoss artfact dropped not far from your outpost. About 50 clicks away. We want you to bring it back to this location, a planet hopper will be waiting to confiscate the relic from there.”
“wait, so you’re actually sending us to do something important?”
“yes. Here is a picture of the artfact”
The commander answered as a hologram of the protoss relic projected from the forehead of the adjudant.
“you have got to be kidding me!”
Wess said gapping,
“are you sure that’s the item?”
I just sat there in shock staring at the image. Projected from that hologram was a round black 8 ball...
Note: I wanted to make this longer but tomorrow I'm participating in the Pascal math contest sponsored by the university of waterloo so I’m studying like a bawse
Edited by darkra on 2/20/2013 6:55 PM PST
10 minutes later
We were all gearing up in the armory now. We only had 1 suit outfitter so everyone had to go one at a time. Of course Wess muscled his way to the front. His armor was a Warpig mercenary model with scars and scratches all over it. We’ve tried to urge him to get that armor repaired but he refused, wanting to keep his “war scars”.
“locked and loaded”
Before grabbing his custom guass rifle and slinging on his katana. Next was Rosco, he had a standard marine suit but there was a picture of Kyla Velassi on his shoulder pad. Every time we mention that tattoo on his armor he would go on a wild rant trying to convince us that she used to be his girlfriend before she got famous. He grabbed his C-20 sniper rifle, tested its sights, and grabbed his bowie.
“you call that a knife?”
“its bigger then your d!ck”
We just let the 2 bicker. Ross of course was always in his suit. It was polished to a shine, not a mark, scratch, or dent on it. As I got suited up in my medic marine suit I looked at it. A little more dingy then Ross’s but just as clean, more for medical reasons then anything else. I felt the familiar thump on my back as the robotic arms attached my med-pack equipped with every surgical tool I’ll ever need. I mag-locked my shield and holstered my plasma pistol.
“lets go get our ride”
We arrived at our garage. Our hellion was untouched, it was in the wasteland when we found it but Wess seemed to have a special connection to it. The flamer didn’t work but he got it running and polished, installed with special seating for four.
“you couldn’t bother to add some improvements Wess?”
“hey it gets us where we need to be doesn’t it?”
“I call shotgun”
I say before leaping into the front seating compartment. Ross and Rosco sat at the back and Wess got into the driver’s seat. The engine started and we zoomed off into the dunes.
1 hour later.....
“how much closer until we reach our destination?”
“maybe another 2 hours”
Followed by a series of moans from me and Rosco.
“ya about that..... I have to pee”
“why didn’t you go back at HQ!”
“hey I didn’t have to go back then! Besides its not my fault!”
“not your fault! You’re the one that had to order an extra large fizzy at the gas station!”
He screamed back
“why is there a gas station in the middle of nowhere anyways?”
But no one replied. Wess stopped the hellion, the wheels skidding a few meters.
“you can go behind that rock”
Before he could finish the sentence Rosco was already there, leaving a trail of dust in his wake. That’s when I saw dust clouds in the distance.
“hey the adjudant didn’t mention anything about dust storms today”
I said curiously,
Wess grabbed Rosco’s sniper and looked through its scope at the plumes of dust.
“those dust clouds aren’t from a storm.... They’re from zerg drop pods”
To Be Continued.....
Edited by darkra on 2/21/2013 1:52 PM PST
note: i took a short break from this story but its back at full force!
here's a soundtrack for this part of the story, i feel it fits the moment
“Rosco get your @ss back here!!!”
as Wess starts revving the engine of the hellion.
“What! What’s going on!”
Running full sprint back to us.
“Zerg dead ahead”
He goes silent, only picks up his sniper before the hellion roars off, veering to the side to try and avoid a stampede. As the dust cloud grew closer everyone couldn’t help but stare in awe. Creep was spreading wherever the pods hit, eggs spilled everywhere as abominations of all types spilled forth. Mutalisks flew across the sky, letting out ear-piercing screeches. Wess stomped hard on the accelerator. Even as we veered farther away from the zerg forces we knew this planet was doomed. We were the only forces for thousands of clicks. We were spread thin, too thin to deal with this threat.
“eyes ahead soldier”
I could hear the pain in his voice as he recalled the Brood War days. The destruction and havoc it caused. An eerie silence descending upon our group. The hellion veered sharply to the left toward the army. No one complained. I could remember it well, Rosco standing on the roaring hellion sniping every single f!cker he could find. Wess’s grim expression as our wheels hit creep. The roar of Ross’s flamers out of the window, the familiar rattle of Wess’s rifle. Even the growl of nydus worms as they popped out of the very ground. The sound of zerglings scorching under Ross’s flames. The grim determination of the group was never felt as strong as it was at that moment. When we really lived up to the name “Suicide Kings”. The hour we passed through the zerg army felt like an eternity. A last goodbye, a last deed for this planet, the last deed for Melgan. Before we had to go back to our mission, before we had to abandon all the innocents of this planet. As we finally exited the war zone and left the Zerg behind we stopped at a large rock cliff. Each soldier stepping out and lined up in single file out to the horizon. We all slammed our legs together and pounded our fist onto our chestplate. The final farewell....
30 minutes later...
I said to Wess
“hey you ain’t the one with 10 hydralisk spines wedged into your arms”
Wess gritted back.
I heard the sharp shuck of flesh as I pulled out the last spine
“that’s all of them”
Followed by the sharp sigh of relief from my patient. We took many wounds in this battle, Rosco took a few acid blasts but most of it didn’t get through the armor except for his forearm which took a huge burn from roach acids. Even Ross had taken a few glave wurms from the mutas. I had my shield so I only had some minor scratches.
“this artefact better be worth it”
“we all hope so”
We were nearing out destination, the interior of the hellion once again reverted to grim silence as the task at hand approached.
Edited by darkra on 2/26/2013 1:32 PM PST
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