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Author Topic: A doomed novella :'(  (Read 1387 times)

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Offline Aoren Deringer

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A doomed novella :'(
« on: November 15, 2011, 12:18:53 AM »
This was going to be a novella, sadly my accursed muse left me and the file was left to rot. Here's it's final resting place I suppose xD Three pages of... Well I'm not sure what to call it. A little backstory (Although it wont ammount to much, considering nothing will be resolved xD). The human race is extinct. Not from war but due to endless pollution and chemical consumtion choking the life out of it. All species soon became infertile and simply died out. As an attempt to rectify this, the human race built a proverbial "ark"- A device stored with billions of genetic samples designed to restart life on earth once the atmosphere had cleared. The device failed and genetic samples intermixed, mutated (I know that it's an impossible premise, but let me have some artistic room xD) and new races were born. Now theres a war between the Knights of Herthiene (a religious order obsessed with the technology of the past and determined to find their goddess, herthiene.) and all other, comparitively primitive populations. The story has a helluva number of "twists" that make certain miraculous events  and mannerisms become clear, and sheds light on the truth of Herthiene and the ark. As a side note Jerekel is a word for friend. Enjoy three pages of the best writing I can muster xD (working title is The Shroud of Herthiene, I couldnt come up withanything better)
 
 
 
      “Why?” The patter of gunfire partially obscured Jackal’s weakening voice “Why does Herthiene allow for war?” Vil laughed “Because of the ancients, those who tell us how to fight, they fought. They worshiped war, because Herthiene rewards bravery, she loves the brazen. Be silent now, you must rest, I shall call back to the doctors.” Jackal coughed, spattering his fur with blood “Never! Such an affront I cannot stand for! Let me die a warrior than live a coward.”
       “Isn’t that a dated concept? Be sane, my friend! Live, live long!” A burst of artillery fire turned a nearby trench into a crater as Vil said this “But… Jerekel… To die sounds effortless…” More gunfire, closer this time, was audible “Effortless? Then you die as a lazy coward anyway, may as well live. Get up! We rendezvous with the rest of the unit soon, and the convoy shall leave without us if we are not there.” The sun rose over the battlefield, a salt plain “Come, now! The trackers will soon be upon us, this battle is lost.” The screams of the wounded and dying wafted over implements that left others as such “Now!” Vil started running, carrying Jackal as he did so “It’s only a few miles, we can make it!” The bullet that hit him was the only one he never heard; Vil’s leg crumpled like paper as it was torn asunder.
       “Shit… Jackal. You still there? I can’t see.” Vil’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He was still lying on the salt plain. “Jackal!” his panic grew, “Jackal! Jerekel! Are you there!?”  There was no answer, then “Peace Jerekel… I am fine. Quiet now. The trackers passed only recently.” Vil lowered his voice as he responded to Jackal “But your wounds…” He trailed off. Again there was a pause before Jackal answered “They were not as grievous as we thought.”
      “That’s impossible! You caught a round in the chest! Without a doctor, nobody could survive.” The protest was more audible than was meant, and a rustling could be heard from one of the nearby trenches. “Quiet! A tracker!” Jackal’s warning came out as a hiss. Out of the trench emerged the tracker; Tall and lean, with exposed metallic muscles rippling from beneath peripheral armor plating. His eyes were hidden by a dark faceplate as he scanned the plain. Vil’s breathing involuntarily quickened as he saw it. Jackal shifted slightly. The tracker moved on.
      Vil breathed a sigh of relief as he said “He’s gone. Jackal, I can’t feel my leg. I don’t think I can walk.” Vil’s left leg was laying at an angle to the rest of his body, bandaged with dirty rags. Jackal sighed, “I cleaned and bound it as best as I could, but I’m afraid that I am not a doctor.” Jackal’s head slowly emerged from a small crater he was hiding in. “We need to make you some new bandages, and get our hands on antibiotics. I found a field kit and cleaned us both up but we need to get out of here.” Vil groaned slightly and whispered “We’re not going anywhere with that tracker still around. Even if he passes others may come. It’s best to wait for others…” The suggestion was feeble at best, and Vil realized it.
      “Vil… The others are gone. This place is lost. You’ve been unconscious for almost a day. Don’t worry though; he was just a rear guard. We should be in the clear now… Come on, let’s go.” Jackal tried to lift Vil as he said this, but his strength failed him and his knees buckled. Vil let out a sad laugh “If it’s any consolation I know how it feels. Find me a rifle. I can use it as a crutch.” Jackal snorted in derision. “It is none.  And all I can see around here are XR80s and Ferdinand carbines. They’re too short.”
      “Search the trench down there” Vil pointed southward as he said this, “Gavrilenko was supposed to be in it. He had an Aurora; that would do nicely.” Jackal crawled towards the trench, gingerly holding a filthy bandage to his chest. He disappeared momentarily but Vil could hear him moving in the recesses of the ditch. It was a long time before he emerged with a long, thin rifle. Vil examined it as Jackal handed it to him and said “The barrel is rusted from the salt, and the bolt is jammed. But still she manages to impress.” Vil nodded in agreement, admiring the pepperpot muzzle of the thing “Certainly it must please Herthiene. Perhaps one day it shall be used again.” As Vil said this he jammed it rudely into the salt, using it for support as he stood upright “For now I have had my fill of war. Glory is tarnished in defeat. Let’s go, Jerekel. And warn me if you see anything else alive. I’m hardly inconspicuous.” With that he rested the butt under his left arm and began to limp westwards.
       Jackal started after him “Vil, where are you going?” Vil stopped for a moment, staring westwards “You’re right; we’d do better on the plains. Perhaps we can meet with our own people at Rockbreaker’s junction.” He turned around and began heading east, and Jackal followed him, staring at the ditch the tracker came from. It was some time until he spoke again “Vil, the tracker didn’t go east. He went north. Have you heard any news from Rockbreaker’s or the outpost of reeds? How do we know they aren’t already gone?” Vil didn’t respond “Vil, how do we know they aren’t gone. The Knights of Herthiene can crush outposts like those. We wouldn’t even know it. How do we know they are still there, or if they will be if we reach them?”
       Vil stopped, turned to face Jackal and said calmly “Jackal. They are still there. They will be still there.” Then he turned back and continued to limp eastwards. “And how do you know that? Vil they come out of nowhere. They have muscles of steel. Literally. They wield bits and pieces of the ancients… Things we cannot hope to understand! Why don’t we follow them, live off of the refuse of their war machine? At least that life has guarantees.” Vil stopped again and spoke very slowly, mouthing the words with exaggerated motions as he stared across the pitted plain “We would know it. There is no reason for them to attack peripheral civilian outposts and we would know it. Take it on faith. They must be there. For there is no reason for them not to be, and we need them. That is all.”
      Jackal laughed deliriously. He stumbled slightly, following Vil “Jerekel, damn that twisted optimism of yours. No, not optimism; you said it better: faith. Herthiene is mother. Mother likes love, war, and clever things. But never has she given a moment’s thought to what could make those easier. But if that’s what you need to continue, feel free. Who am I to judge?” He giggled lightly as he finished. It did not take long for that to stop as well.
      They did not speak again for some time. The slow pace allowed Jackal to loot the dead they passed and when the sun rose they settled into an abandoned bunker that was hewn into the salt itself. “Here,” Jackal said as he threw a small leather pack in Vil’s direction, “Inside are some rations, bullets and a spool of wire. I also found some new bandages; peel yours off so I can change them.” Vil silently obeyed, wincing as the tender flesh was revealed. Under the bandage was a tangle of matted fur held solid by dry blood, and underneath this grotesque pad was a large scab concealing a deceptively small hole. Jackal observed it before beginning to wrap it in the fresh bandage “It’s a nasty little wound alright. Something small hit you, luckily. Better yet it went clean through. Well, maybe not clean… Oh!” Vil inhaled sharply when Jackal reached the scab “Good, you have feeling. I was worried there may have been more serious damage. Hold still while I finish, it will be over soon.” Vil ground his teeth as Jackal finished “There, not so bad, eh?”
      Vil exhaled a shaky breath and relented to speak “Not so bad. Sure.” He rested for a moment “How come I didn’t feel it earlier?” Jackal stared at the wound, as if it would tell him “I would guess shock. You were in the middle of battle when it happened. I say you just give thanks and let it be. You’re lucky we’re on the plains, too. No mud to get in there.” Vil considered this, then said “Yea but I woke up the next night. You’d think I’d have snapped out of it or something… I didn’t feel like I was in shock.” Jackal sighed, “Then just give thanks and stop thinking about it. Now, it is most definitely time to eat. I recommend the fortified cakes. They look like mud and taste no better but they stick with you.” As he said this he tore into a thin metallic package. Vil took a similar package from the pack Jackal gave him, and looked at it with disgust.
       “How much food do we have, and how are we on water?” Vil asked to take his mind off of the situation. Jackal swallowed a chunk of his cake, and then wrapped the rest back up before replying “Enough to warrant eating only one bite and keeping it down. In all fairness we probably have two weeks food between us. What I am worried about is water. We have maybe three days until we’re out. Four if we’re lucky.” Vil ate his piece and laughed “Three it is, then! At least if we die from thirst we get to escape the extra week and a half of eating this crap.” Jackal smiled at this, his lips cracking “Hopefully we’ll find more along the way. Either way it’s only two days journey to the foothills, and then it’s cake until Rockbreaker’s.”
       “Please don’t say cake.” Jackal grinned again “Anyhow we should be fine. All we have to do is walk a really, really long way with limited supplies and severe injuries, climb up some hills which, for all we know, are hiding a minefield and then cross forty miles or so of open grassland to reach a teeny tiny outpost that may not even be there!” Vil’s face hardened “Don’t be so optimistic. You’ll get smile lines.” Jackal grinned wider at this “Oh don’t be such a bother! All we have to really worry about are infection, dehydration from the salt, some tracker picking up our trail, missing the outpost, going the wrong way, oh or best idea yet going insane and killing ourselves.” Vil exhaled deeply and slowly as Jackal waited for a response “Jackal. Change your bandage. Change your attitude. If you will not, then shut it.” Jackal grinned wider yet “Fine. I shall do as you ask. I shall change my attitude if it so pleases her majesty. Now if you don’t mind, princess, in all the rush you now have the only weapon and we’re still on a battlefield. So, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning it up? Even just a little bit? It would make me feel better.” His sarcasm echoed in the enclosed space.
      “Jackal, I’ll let you have that one. I’ll even clean the rifle. In turn change your bandages and lie down. This isn’t like you. Drink something. Lay down.” Jackal stared at him and half opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, and then he sat down. “I suppose your right. This place is just getting to me. Who makes a bunker out of salt, anyway? It’s crumbly, it’s hot and it’s dry.” Vil’s features softened “I’ve been in these before. They’re not meant to be strongholds, they’re command centers. That’s why this one is so far from the heat.” Vil trailed off, staring at the bare walls.
      “Hey. What do you think the plains will be like?” Jackal’s question threw Vil off “What?” The redundant reply elicited no response. “Well,” Vil began, thinking about what he’d heard of them “I’ve never been. I imagine they’ll be… Vast. Unbelievably huge. So far and wide you can’t see the ends of them. I imagine they’ll be flat. Like this place must have been, before war came. The grasses will be tall and be eternally bent by an endless wind. The whole place will look smoothed and rounded out. And green. Green everywhere. Green grass and green things that live in it. Insects and the like. I think birds will fly over it but you won’t know where they land because there won’t be any trees. I can only imagine that you see flocks of them following the wind in giant V’s like ripples on a still pond.” Jackal lost no time in his response “I think it will be exactly like that. How original of me!”
 
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-Aoren Rekner Ilon Deringer, F.D.F. Mechanised Unit Commander, Four Stars.


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