Gunpowder Knight
Moderator: Moderators
Oh god, double post.
###
Alex spooned some watery soup into his mouth. He had started thanking the Gods that he had almost tripped (and died) on the frying pan. The way the food was doled out was, at it's heart, incredibly unfair. The Imperials would bring whatever bowls or other food holding devices they could, and that's how much soup they'd get.
Alex never filled the whole frying pan. No, he had enough restraint to only go for half the pan. And, amazingly, no one bothered him about it.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan plopped down next to him, holding his own mess kit. He brushed some snow aside and put his mess down. ├óÔé¼┼ôThink it's going to get any colder?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex shook his head, his mouth full. The soup had been scorchingly hot when it was ladled into his frying pan. After a few minuets, it had sunk to luke warm. By the time Alex was licking the pan clean, it was cold.
├óÔé¼┼ôThis winter is a bitch,├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex muttered, tightening his coat. After he had been mistaken for Knight Lieutenant Farly, Alex had cut a hole in his coat. The upside was he was no longer called a Lieutenant. The downside was the cold got just that much worse.
├óÔé¼┼ôDon't I know. It's getting harder to keep our powder dry.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan sighed, sending a large puff of steam. ├óÔé¼┼ôI hear some Knights are getting new chambers that keep the shot dry.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, and I hear they're putting ball and powder together.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex scratched at his hair. The cold hadn't killed the bugs that crawled through his hair and uniform.
├óÔé¼┼ôLast war, they didn't even have cartridges.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan muttered. ├óÔé¼┼ôNext war, the flints will probably...five a thousand times faster and a hundred times farther and they'll have exploding shot like our cannons...├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex cocked his head. ├óÔé¼┼ôJonathan.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMmm?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex glanced around at the other Imperials. Those that listened were grinning. Most were too busy eating and staying crouched down behind the earth that some Knight Engineers had piled up to keep at least some of the snow fall from the Imperial army. Alex wondered when they'd be moving out again.
A sudden crack made everyone stop eating.
├óÔé¼┼ôShit.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex glanced around. Some Knights peeked over the dugout.
├óÔé¼┼ôI don't see anything,├óÔé¼┬Ø One of them muttered. ├óÔé¼┼ôJust...snow.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex unslung his flint and checked the chamber, hunched over to keep the snow on his back and not on his powder. He slapped the breach closed and attached the bayonet.
├óÔé¼┼ôTrouble?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan whispered. Some Imperials didn't even bother listening. They were the new recruits who had caught up with the army.
├óÔé¼┼ôBOTTLES!├óÔé¼┬Ø Someone shouted.
Alex clutched his flint with a death's grip. Cover didn't work against bottles. Nothing but dumb luck and the enemies skill at throwing.
Alex saw the first bottle. Something was odd about it.
Also, it was heading right towards him. He lurched backwards and...the bottle crashed to the ground in front of him. It shattered and splattered him with foul smelling liquid and...it didn't burst into flames. Alex gasped.
├óÔé¼┼ôGods...the cold!├óÔé¼┬Ø He giggled, feeling the insane joy of someone pardoned from a horrific death. Another bottle crashed down about ten feet to the right. The same thing happened.
├óÔé¼┼ôScream!├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex hissed at Jonathan.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø The other Knight looked bemused.
├óÔé¼┼ôScream!├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex hissed louder, then started to scream as if he were on fire himself. Jonathan did likewise.
The other Knights looked at them like they were crazy. For a moment, Alex wondered if he was crazy.
Then the first Silverback peeked over the dugout. He looked absurdly offended to not see several burning corpses. His expression didn't last long: An Imperial bayonet ruined it, and most of his face.
├óÔé¼┼ôTo the dugout!├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex shouted, running up to the Silverback's corpse. He pushed it out of the way and propped his flint up. Silverbacks shot at him, kneeling down behind any cover they could find. But they had expected Imperials to be broken by flames and by surprise.
They found neither. Alex bawled out the fire command. A line of smoke and flames spat from the Imperial dugout, lost in the snow. The Silverbacks pitched forward and died in droves. They ran soon after.
Knight Lieutenant Farly ran down the dugout. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho organized this?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked. He had a slightly ripe smell that managed to stick out even through the nose numbing cold.
├óÔé¼┼ôAlex did,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan said, pointing at Alex.
Knight Lieutenant Farly nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou are a Corporal?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex showed his shoulder. Farly nodded again.
├óÔé¼┼ôGood job,├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, clapping Alex on the shoulder. ├óÔé¼┼ôSergent. Round up these men and see what we can find out there. Keep your eyes open and don't let anyone shoot you.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex blinked. His eyelids almost froze together, but he rubbed at them with his thumbs until they came apart again. ├óÔé¼┼ôRight...Jonathan...Kenny, Miles, you are with me.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Knights he pointed out nodded. Alex went out of the dugout, keeping his flint in hand. Snow hit him full in the face and he wished he had a scarf or something. In lieu of that, he kept his head down and ran. The next hour was unpleasant, to say the least. A few Silverbacks clung to life, despite the cold, despite their wounds. Alex's bayonet got bloody and they stopped clinging so hard.
He found a scarf. That helped. He found some absurd looking goggles. After some experimentation, he found they kept his eyelids from getting stuck. He settled them onto his face, adjusted the straps that were made to fit around wolfish ears. After a while, he and his men came back with some extra clothes, and plenty of Silverback rations.
The Imperials in the dugout were very happy to get their hands on the rations.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell are those,├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank asked. He had gotten his hands on some Silverback rations and was chewing thoughtfully on them. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd these aren't half bad.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThere are all good, actually.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex tapped the goggled. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhen it gets colder, your eyelids freeze together. These will stop that.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hank nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôI wrap a scarf around my eyes when that happens. If you stretch the fabric, you can almost see out.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThese are better.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex grinned.
Hank scowled at him as the wind picked up, howling louder and louder.
###
After a month of being a Sergent, Alex had figured two things out. The first was never ask those under you to do what you yourself are unwilling to do. And the second was, it involved less cussing than the Training Sergents used.
├óÔé¼┼ôAll right, listen up!├óÔé¼┬Ø He pitched his voice to carry over the cracks and boom of distant cannons...no. Artillery. Alex shook his head slightly, kicking himself mentally. The new pieces were called artillery, not cannons. That in itself had been worth talking about for a few hours. Imperials didn't change names or make up new ones easily. It had taken two decades of use to come up with Flint rather than fire bow.
His men looked at him. Alex pointed down the street of this particular battered and beaten Silverback village. At the other end, a rather entrenched group of Silverbacks sat behind dugouts and entrenched positions, their flints glinting with bayonets. Who knows how many Bottles and cartridges they had. Alex, unfortunately, had to find out just how many.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe are going to hit that position.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex barked. His glance had shown him the cover, the different attack angles. Cold, hard, experience and the same knack that had kicked in more than half a year ago in Camp 1, all combined to give him a fine tactical eye. ├óÔé¼┼ôAt the same time-├óÔé¼┬Ø he hoped, ├óÔé¼┼ô-Knight Sergent Miles is going to bring his squad around to flank them. We're going to be the hammer. He the anvil. Lets go!├óÔé¼┬Ø
His men nodded. Alex clambered over a small bit of broken wall, keeping himself bent at the waist. It didn't work. A flint shot bit into the wall behind him as he ran forward. A bottle flew forward, crashing into the middle of the street that ran alongside their advance. His squad scrambled through partially flattened buildings. He himself knelt part way through his charge and put his flint to his shoulder. Smoke and flames leaped from his barrel.
But smoke and flames came from the Silverback's position. An Imperial fell, yelping. A bottle crashed into the mostly intact house that the squad had paused by. Flames started to lick the thatch, wood, and furniture. Alex bailed out of the window, shouting at his squad. They were veterans; they knew what to do.
And Alex realized that he had landed right next to Silverback position. Alex brought his flint around and fired.
A Silverback died, pitching backwards, blood and spine getting dragged with the flintshot. Alex surged to his feet.
And another Silverback stuck him between the lungs with a bayonet.
Alex looked at the foot long blade stuck almost completely into his body. He looked up at the snarling face of the Silverback who had stuck him. The Silverback jerked his flint back, the bayonet sliding out of his body with a grating sensation. He fell to the side even as the Silverback jumped over his body.
Flintshot. Battle cries. All of it sounded muted and far far away.
Alex looked with a detached eye at the pool of blood that stretched before him.
├óÔé¼┼ôIs that mine?├óÔé¼┬Ø He coughed. His eyelids felt very heavy. He closed them.
Blackness.
###
Alex spooned some watery soup into his mouth. He had started thanking the Gods that he had almost tripped (and died) on the frying pan. The way the food was doled out was, at it's heart, incredibly unfair. The Imperials would bring whatever bowls or other food holding devices they could, and that's how much soup they'd get.
Alex never filled the whole frying pan. No, he had enough restraint to only go for half the pan. And, amazingly, no one bothered him about it.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan plopped down next to him, holding his own mess kit. He brushed some snow aside and put his mess down. ├óÔé¼┼ôThink it's going to get any colder?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex shook his head, his mouth full. The soup had been scorchingly hot when it was ladled into his frying pan. After a few minuets, it had sunk to luke warm. By the time Alex was licking the pan clean, it was cold.
├óÔé¼┼ôThis winter is a bitch,├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex muttered, tightening his coat. After he had been mistaken for Knight Lieutenant Farly, Alex had cut a hole in his coat. The upside was he was no longer called a Lieutenant. The downside was the cold got just that much worse.
├óÔé¼┼ôDon't I know. It's getting harder to keep our powder dry.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan sighed, sending a large puff of steam. ├óÔé¼┼ôI hear some Knights are getting new chambers that keep the shot dry.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, and I hear they're putting ball and powder together.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex scratched at his hair. The cold hadn't killed the bugs that crawled through his hair and uniform.
├óÔé¼┼ôLast war, they didn't even have cartridges.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan muttered. ├óÔé¼┼ôNext war, the flints will probably...five a thousand times faster and a hundred times farther and they'll have exploding shot like our cannons...├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex cocked his head. ├óÔé¼┼ôJonathan.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMmm?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex glanced around at the other Imperials. Those that listened were grinning. Most were too busy eating and staying crouched down behind the earth that some Knight Engineers had piled up to keep at least some of the snow fall from the Imperial army. Alex wondered when they'd be moving out again.
A sudden crack made everyone stop eating.
├óÔé¼┼ôShit.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex glanced around. Some Knights peeked over the dugout.
├óÔé¼┼ôI don't see anything,├óÔé¼┬Ø One of them muttered. ├óÔé¼┼ôJust...snow.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex unslung his flint and checked the chamber, hunched over to keep the snow on his back and not on his powder. He slapped the breach closed and attached the bayonet.
├óÔé¼┼ôTrouble?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan whispered. Some Imperials didn't even bother listening. They were the new recruits who had caught up with the army.
├óÔé¼┼ôBOTTLES!├óÔé¼┬Ø Someone shouted.
Alex clutched his flint with a death's grip. Cover didn't work against bottles. Nothing but dumb luck and the enemies skill at throwing.
Alex saw the first bottle. Something was odd about it.
Also, it was heading right towards him. He lurched backwards and...the bottle crashed to the ground in front of him. It shattered and splattered him with foul smelling liquid and...it didn't burst into flames. Alex gasped.
├óÔé¼┼ôGods...the cold!├óÔé¼┬Ø He giggled, feeling the insane joy of someone pardoned from a horrific death. Another bottle crashed down about ten feet to the right. The same thing happened.
├óÔé¼┼ôScream!├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex hissed at Jonathan.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø The other Knight looked bemused.
├óÔé¼┼ôScream!├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex hissed louder, then started to scream as if he were on fire himself. Jonathan did likewise.
The other Knights looked at them like they were crazy. For a moment, Alex wondered if he was crazy.
Then the first Silverback peeked over the dugout. He looked absurdly offended to not see several burning corpses. His expression didn't last long: An Imperial bayonet ruined it, and most of his face.
├óÔé¼┼ôTo the dugout!├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex shouted, running up to the Silverback's corpse. He pushed it out of the way and propped his flint up. Silverbacks shot at him, kneeling down behind any cover they could find. But they had expected Imperials to be broken by flames and by surprise.
They found neither. Alex bawled out the fire command. A line of smoke and flames spat from the Imperial dugout, lost in the snow. The Silverbacks pitched forward and died in droves. They ran soon after.
Knight Lieutenant Farly ran down the dugout. ├óÔé¼┼ôWho organized this?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked. He had a slightly ripe smell that managed to stick out even through the nose numbing cold.
├óÔé¼┼ôAlex did,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan said, pointing at Alex.
Knight Lieutenant Farly nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou are a Corporal?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex showed his shoulder. Farly nodded again.
├óÔé¼┼ôGood job,├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, clapping Alex on the shoulder. ├óÔé¼┼ôSergent. Round up these men and see what we can find out there. Keep your eyes open and don't let anyone shoot you.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Alex blinked. His eyelids almost froze together, but he rubbed at them with his thumbs until they came apart again. ├óÔé¼┼ôRight...Jonathan...Kenny, Miles, you are with me.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Knights he pointed out nodded. Alex went out of the dugout, keeping his flint in hand. Snow hit him full in the face and he wished he had a scarf or something. In lieu of that, he kept his head down and ran. The next hour was unpleasant, to say the least. A few Silverbacks clung to life, despite the cold, despite their wounds. Alex's bayonet got bloody and they stopped clinging so hard.
He found a scarf. That helped. He found some absurd looking goggles. After some experimentation, he found they kept his eyelids from getting stuck. He settled them onto his face, adjusted the straps that were made to fit around wolfish ears. After a while, he and his men came back with some extra clothes, and plenty of Silverback rations.
The Imperials in the dugout were very happy to get their hands on the rations.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell are those,├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank asked. He had gotten his hands on some Silverback rations and was chewing thoughtfully on them. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd these aren't half bad.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThere are all good, actually.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex tapped the goggled. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhen it gets colder, your eyelids freeze together. These will stop that.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hank nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôI wrap a scarf around my eyes when that happens. If you stretch the fabric, you can almost see out.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThese are better.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex grinned.
Hank scowled at him as the wind picked up, howling louder and louder.
###
After a month of being a Sergent, Alex had figured two things out. The first was never ask those under you to do what you yourself are unwilling to do. And the second was, it involved less cussing than the Training Sergents used.
├óÔé¼┼ôAll right, listen up!├óÔé¼┬Ø He pitched his voice to carry over the cracks and boom of distant cannons...no. Artillery. Alex shook his head slightly, kicking himself mentally. The new pieces were called artillery, not cannons. That in itself had been worth talking about for a few hours. Imperials didn't change names or make up new ones easily. It had taken two decades of use to come up with Flint rather than fire bow.
His men looked at him. Alex pointed down the street of this particular battered and beaten Silverback village. At the other end, a rather entrenched group of Silverbacks sat behind dugouts and entrenched positions, their flints glinting with bayonets. Who knows how many Bottles and cartridges they had. Alex, unfortunately, had to find out just how many.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe are going to hit that position.├óÔé¼┬Ø Alex barked. His glance had shown him the cover, the different attack angles. Cold, hard, experience and the same knack that had kicked in more than half a year ago in Camp 1, all combined to give him a fine tactical eye. ├óÔé¼┼ôAt the same time-├óÔé¼┬Ø he hoped, ├óÔé¼┼ô-Knight Sergent Miles is going to bring his squad around to flank them. We're going to be the hammer. He the anvil. Lets go!├óÔé¼┬Ø
His men nodded. Alex clambered over a small bit of broken wall, keeping himself bent at the waist. It didn't work. A flint shot bit into the wall behind him as he ran forward. A bottle flew forward, crashing into the middle of the street that ran alongside their advance. His squad scrambled through partially flattened buildings. He himself knelt part way through his charge and put his flint to his shoulder. Smoke and flames leaped from his barrel.
But smoke and flames came from the Silverback's position. An Imperial fell, yelping. A bottle crashed into the mostly intact house that the squad had paused by. Flames started to lick the thatch, wood, and furniture. Alex bailed out of the window, shouting at his squad. They were veterans; they knew what to do.
And Alex realized that he had landed right next to Silverback position. Alex brought his flint around and fired.
A Silverback died, pitching backwards, blood and spine getting dragged with the flintshot. Alex surged to his feet.
And another Silverback stuck him between the lungs with a bayonet.
Alex looked at the foot long blade stuck almost completely into his body. He looked up at the snarling face of the Silverback who had stuck him. The Silverback jerked his flint back, the bayonet sliding out of his body with a grating sensation. He fell to the side even as the Silverback jumped over his body.
Flintshot. Battle cries. All of it sounded muted and far far away.
Alex looked with a detached eye at the pool of blood that stretched before him.
├óÔé¼┼ôIs that mine?├óÔé¼┬Ø He coughed. His eyelids felt very heavy. He closed them.
Blackness.
-
Archangel of Death
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Guessmyname
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Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
I have the craziest desire to call the new Bottles: "Sploosh"
###
Jonathan hefted the bottle in his hand. The liquid inside sloshed oddly, not the same way the alcohol in the few captured Silverback Bottles he'd handled.
├óÔé¼┼ôIt's a new concoction.├óÔé¼┬Ø The quartermaster who handed the bottles out rasped. ├óÔé¼┼ôBurns when air hits it. Don't drop it.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jonathan nodded, slipping the bottle onto a makeshift slot on his belt. He walked out of the line, the next person behind him getting their own bottle.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe can't call these bottles,├óÔé¼┬Ø He muttered to himself. ├óÔé¼┼ôSilverbacks call them bottles. Our's are different. Are they?├óÔé¼┬Ø
As he walked, distant artillery sounded. The Silverback city Jovialbore had a stiffer back than the others the Imperial army had pushed through. It's buildings were taller, it's obsolete cannons slightly less obsolete than the other cities, and their gunnery top notch. Cannon balls shattered artillery pieces, maimed crew members, and sometimes scattered ammunition. And with exploding balls, impacts like that were especially disastrous.
Jonathan scowled when a sudden loud BANG shook the ground. He looked at the Imperial artillery position. Black smoke rose from a largish crater. A few artillery pieces were literally blasted apart, and their crew members looked no better than the contents of a butcher shop's slop bucket. The remaining pieces, however, opened fire with a savage abandon. Exploding balls arced in the air and smashed into the Silverback city. Explosions sent parts of buildings flying...and parts of people.
No. Jonathan shook his head. Not people...Silverbacks. That made all the difference in the world. He turned away as the Silverback's started to return fire once again.
├óÔé¼┼ôI like it best when they're shooting at each other,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan said as he dropped into the dugout. Hank, Kenny, Miles and a few other Knights sat there already, cleaning their revolving flints. Each revolving chamber was split into four segments, which held room for shot and powder. If you flipped open the upper chamber, you could load your revolving flints like an older model. But, if you took the time to load each chamber, you could fire four times in rapid succession. Jonathan picked up his own R-flint and popped open the upper chamber. It, just like the last five times he had checked, was loaded. He popped it closed.
He looked around. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah.├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank said after a few moments. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhen they stop shooting, we have to start.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jonathan shook his head. ├óÔé¼┼ôIt's better that we shoot when they stop. Or do you want to advance with exploding balls and cannon balls and Gods know what else our side has thought up dropping on us?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hank shrugged. ├óÔé¼┼ôI'd rather be home with a pretty, large breasted redhead with NO fur, NO tail and no gods damned fleas on top of me.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jonathan nodded. His imagination had run that way more and more often through the winter months. The snow had leveled off recently, but another blizzard could kick up at any moment. Jonathan prayed that any blizzard could kick up when he was either under some real covers (unlikely) or with a moderately attractive Silveback whore (all too likely)
The artillery fire leveled off. A Knight Officer's whistle started to blow. Jonathan grabbed his R-flint and clambered out of the dugout, his hands digging into freezing mud. He got out of the dugout and onto his feet, His R-flint felt odd in his hands, which were still used to carrying the lighter weight old flint. Other Imperials did likewise.
Hank fell in beside him. ├óÔé¼┼ôKeep your heads down!├óÔé¼┬Ø He shouted to the Knight Privates that ran beside him. Hank had made Sergent and, unlike Alex, had managed to avoid-
Jonathan thew himself into a puddle of mud and behind a boulder as flint shot started to pepper the advancing Imperials. The city of Jovialbore looked to keep up it's stubborn defense, even with half the city buried under the rubble of the other half. Several battalions of Silverbacks with one shot flints had set up a small position near the edge of the city and looked to take as many Imperials down as they could manage.
Jonathan brought his R-flint up. Smoke and flames spurted from his barrel. A Silverback rolled to the side, trying to get under better cover. With a oneshot flint, Jonathan would have had to let him finish his rolling.
With the R-flint, Jonathan just fired again. The Silverback didn't finish his roll. Jonathan pressed his back against the modestly sized boulder and frantically opened the two chambers he had emptied. The smell of burnt powder filled Jonathan's nose. He slammed in two new cartridges and ripped off their covers, then slapped the chambers closed and glanced over the cover.
More Silverbacks. More death. Jonathan put his R-flint to his shoulder and started banging away again for as long as he could.
###
The battle ended an hour later, with the city of Jovialbore looking like all the legions of all the hells had run roughshod over it. Civilian corpses and Silverback fighters littered the streets. Rubble and knocked over buildings and burning homes filled the city. The survivors were almost entirely military. Jonathan guessed the civilians had been smart enough to run like the hells when they saw the oncoming Imperials.
He watched the tattered remnants of the Silverback army that marched past. Their hands were raised, their eyes dead. Their flints all lay in a large pile, guarded by two Knight Corporals.
Jonathan heard a sudden crack and a long stream of cursing from a familiar voice.
├óÔé¼┼ôHank?├óÔé¼┬Ø He ran to the fallen Imperial, who clutched his foot.
├óÔé¼┼ôSon of a bitch!├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank growled through gritted teeth.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat happened, sarge?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan asked, looking around at the rubble strewn streets. A few other Knights ran up to them, including a medically trained Knight.
├óÔé¼┼ôI shot myself in the damn foot, what does it look like?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank hissed as the medical Knight looked the foot over.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou, Knight Corporal, take your Sargent back to the air station.├óÔé¼┬Ø The medical Knight said. Jonathan nodded.
Jonathan helped Hank hobble along, heading back to the edge of the city.
├óÔé¼┼ôDamn Silverbacks,├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank growled. ├óÔé¼┼ôThey startled me, is all...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, at least they didn't kill you, like Alex.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hank sighed. ├óÔé¼┼ôLike too many of us...├óÔé¼┬Ø
###
Key fiddled with her crystals and sighed. Life in Shrillbore was incredibly dull and looked to be duller by the minuet. Oh, yes, a Silverback revolt simmered under the harsh boot of Imperial occupation, and the war's death toll jumped higher and higher, but neither of those were things that Key had anything to do with. The closest she had gotten to helping the Silverback revolt issue was a small obsolescent flint pistol that still sat on her desk, stubbornly refusing to reveal any secrets or evidence.
├óÔé¼┼ôTalk, damn you,├óÔé¼┬Ø She hissed, suddenly turning on the pistol. The pistol sat there.
Key prodded it with her finger. The pistol sat there.
Key conjured a small sphere of ghost light and shoved it down the barrel. The pistol sat there.
Key tapped the pistol with her crystal. It sat there.
Key stood, snarled, and picked up the pistol by the barrel. She threw it out the tent door...just as her secretary stuck his head in. The pistol struck his forehead and he yelped, falling on his behind.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh gods,├óÔé¼┬Ø Key would have blinked (if she had eyes). ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you okay?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFine.├óÔé¼┬Ø Her secretary got up. He picked up the flint. ├óÔé¼┼ôMadam, this would do more damage loaded-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI wasn't trying to hut you...specifically.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key sat down. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy do you call on me?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Her secretary gave her a watery grin and stepped in, holding the pistol with one hand, and a small piece of parchment in the other.
├óÔé¼┼ôMadam,├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, bowing slightly. ├óÔé¼┼ôUh, remember a few months ago, you told me to keep an eye on that Knight Private, Alexander of Tervarthen?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key sighed, rubbing at her temples. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course I remember that. How could I forget? He was a very-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHe's dead.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Key stopped, feeling an odd shiver of fear run down her spine. It wasn't a feeling she was used to. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's...dead?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The secretary nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôYes, his body is going through this city for processing before it is shipped home. His family already has received the letter-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôTake me to him.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key stood, her flowing red robe rippling as she stood. ├óÔé¼┼ôRight now.├óÔé¼┬Ø
###
Key's secretary wrinkled his nose. He held the position of Knight Clerk and had only fired his flint once, while in basic training. Actual combat gave upset his stomach, while the aftereffects gave him nightmares. But to show this in front of a woman, even a Source, would have been too much of an embarrassment for him to bear, so he stood his ground.
├óÔé¼┼ôI can't believe it.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key breathed, looking down at Alex's body. He lay, wrapped in a white gown. She jerked the gown open to reveal the wound in his chest.
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, Madam!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key leaned close, sniffing. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis doesn't make any sense. Why would he be told to avoid a charge at a city he hadn't reached yet? That would be a rather pointless bit of information if he was dead already...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMadam?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Key continued ignoring her secretary. She stood, starting to pace around Alex. ├óÔé¼┼ôBayonet, did him in?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, yes.├óÔé¼┬Ø The secretary gulped and looked at the parchment. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe died outside of Longfur, a city betwixt-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI understand.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key sighed. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell, I guess that'll just be another mystery.├óÔé¼┬Ø She reached out to brush her fingers along Alex's chest. Her fingertips touched the skin. She paused, then gently pushed her hand down.
├óÔé¼┼ôMad-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up!├óÔé¼┬Ø She hissed, looking up. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood Gods...are these medical Knights fools?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you mean?├óÔé¼┬Ø Key's secretary asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôAlex...is most definitely not dead.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key frowned. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's not exactly what I would call alive, but he isn't dead. Not by a long shot...├óÔé¼┬Ø
###
Jonathan hefted the bottle in his hand. The liquid inside sloshed oddly, not the same way the alcohol in the few captured Silverback Bottles he'd handled.
├óÔé¼┼ôIt's a new concoction.├óÔé¼┬Ø The quartermaster who handed the bottles out rasped. ├óÔé¼┼ôBurns when air hits it. Don't drop it.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jonathan nodded, slipping the bottle onto a makeshift slot on his belt. He walked out of the line, the next person behind him getting their own bottle.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe can't call these bottles,├óÔé¼┬Ø He muttered to himself. ├óÔé¼┼ôSilverbacks call them bottles. Our's are different. Are they?├óÔé¼┬Ø
As he walked, distant artillery sounded. The Silverback city Jovialbore had a stiffer back than the others the Imperial army had pushed through. It's buildings were taller, it's obsolete cannons slightly less obsolete than the other cities, and their gunnery top notch. Cannon balls shattered artillery pieces, maimed crew members, and sometimes scattered ammunition. And with exploding balls, impacts like that were especially disastrous.
Jonathan scowled when a sudden loud BANG shook the ground. He looked at the Imperial artillery position. Black smoke rose from a largish crater. A few artillery pieces were literally blasted apart, and their crew members looked no better than the contents of a butcher shop's slop bucket. The remaining pieces, however, opened fire with a savage abandon. Exploding balls arced in the air and smashed into the Silverback city. Explosions sent parts of buildings flying...and parts of people.
No. Jonathan shook his head. Not people...Silverbacks. That made all the difference in the world. He turned away as the Silverback's started to return fire once again.
├óÔé¼┼ôI like it best when they're shooting at each other,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan said as he dropped into the dugout. Hank, Kenny, Miles and a few other Knights sat there already, cleaning their revolving flints. Each revolving chamber was split into four segments, which held room for shot and powder. If you flipped open the upper chamber, you could load your revolving flints like an older model. But, if you took the time to load each chamber, you could fire four times in rapid succession. Jonathan picked up his own R-flint and popped open the upper chamber. It, just like the last five times he had checked, was loaded. He popped it closed.
He looked around. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah.├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank said after a few moments. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhen they stop shooting, we have to start.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jonathan shook his head. ├óÔé¼┼ôIt's better that we shoot when they stop. Or do you want to advance with exploding balls and cannon balls and Gods know what else our side has thought up dropping on us?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hank shrugged. ├óÔé¼┼ôI'd rather be home with a pretty, large breasted redhead with NO fur, NO tail and no gods damned fleas on top of me.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jonathan nodded. His imagination had run that way more and more often through the winter months. The snow had leveled off recently, but another blizzard could kick up at any moment. Jonathan prayed that any blizzard could kick up when he was either under some real covers (unlikely) or with a moderately attractive Silveback whore (all too likely)
The artillery fire leveled off. A Knight Officer's whistle started to blow. Jonathan grabbed his R-flint and clambered out of the dugout, his hands digging into freezing mud. He got out of the dugout and onto his feet, His R-flint felt odd in his hands, which were still used to carrying the lighter weight old flint. Other Imperials did likewise.
Hank fell in beside him. ├óÔé¼┼ôKeep your heads down!├óÔé¼┬Ø He shouted to the Knight Privates that ran beside him. Hank had made Sergent and, unlike Alex, had managed to avoid-
Jonathan thew himself into a puddle of mud and behind a boulder as flint shot started to pepper the advancing Imperials. The city of Jovialbore looked to keep up it's stubborn defense, even with half the city buried under the rubble of the other half. Several battalions of Silverbacks with one shot flints had set up a small position near the edge of the city and looked to take as many Imperials down as they could manage.
Jonathan brought his R-flint up. Smoke and flames spurted from his barrel. A Silverback rolled to the side, trying to get under better cover. With a oneshot flint, Jonathan would have had to let him finish his rolling.
With the R-flint, Jonathan just fired again. The Silverback didn't finish his roll. Jonathan pressed his back against the modestly sized boulder and frantically opened the two chambers he had emptied. The smell of burnt powder filled Jonathan's nose. He slammed in two new cartridges and ripped off their covers, then slapped the chambers closed and glanced over the cover.
More Silverbacks. More death. Jonathan put his R-flint to his shoulder and started banging away again for as long as he could.
###
The battle ended an hour later, with the city of Jovialbore looking like all the legions of all the hells had run roughshod over it. Civilian corpses and Silverback fighters littered the streets. Rubble and knocked over buildings and burning homes filled the city. The survivors were almost entirely military. Jonathan guessed the civilians had been smart enough to run like the hells when they saw the oncoming Imperials.
He watched the tattered remnants of the Silverback army that marched past. Their hands were raised, their eyes dead. Their flints all lay in a large pile, guarded by two Knight Corporals.
Jonathan heard a sudden crack and a long stream of cursing from a familiar voice.
├óÔé¼┼ôHank?├óÔé¼┬Ø He ran to the fallen Imperial, who clutched his foot.
├óÔé¼┼ôSon of a bitch!├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank growled through gritted teeth.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat happened, sarge?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jonathan asked, looking around at the rubble strewn streets. A few other Knights ran up to them, including a medically trained Knight.
├óÔé¼┼ôI shot myself in the damn foot, what does it look like?├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank hissed as the medical Knight looked the foot over.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou, Knight Corporal, take your Sargent back to the air station.├óÔé¼┬Ø The medical Knight said. Jonathan nodded.
Jonathan helped Hank hobble along, heading back to the edge of the city.
├óÔé¼┼ôDamn Silverbacks,├óÔé¼┬Ø Hank growled. ├óÔé¼┼ôThey startled me, is all...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, at least they didn't kill you, like Alex.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Hank sighed. ├óÔé¼┼ôLike too many of us...├óÔé¼┬Ø
###
Key fiddled with her crystals and sighed. Life in Shrillbore was incredibly dull and looked to be duller by the minuet. Oh, yes, a Silverback revolt simmered under the harsh boot of Imperial occupation, and the war's death toll jumped higher and higher, but neither of those were things that Key had anything to do with. The closest she had gotten to helping the Silverback revolt issue was a small obsolescent flint pistol that still sat on her desk, stubbornly refusing to reveal any secrets or evidence.
├óÔé¼┼ôTalk, damn you,├óÔé¼┬Ø She hissed, suddenly turning on the pistol. The pistol sat there.
Key prodded it with her finger. The pistol sat there.
Key conjured a small sphere of ghost light and shoved it down the barrel. The pistol sat there.
Key tapped the pistol with her crystal. It sat there.
Key stood, snarled, and picked up the pistol by the barrel. She threw it out the tent door...just as her secretary stuck his head in. The pistol struck his forehead and he yelped, falling on his behind.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh gods,├óÔé¼┬Ø Key would have blinked (if she had eyes). ├óÔé¼┼ôAre you okay?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFine.├óÔé¼┬Ø Her secretary got up. He picked up the flint. ├óÔé¼┼ôMadam, this would do more damage loaded-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI wasn't trying to hut you...specifically.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key sat down. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy do you call on me?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Her secretary gave her a watery grin and stepped in, holding the pistol with one hand, and a small piece of parchment in the other.
├óÔé¼┼ôMadam,├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, bowing slightly. ├óÔé¼┼ôUh, remember a few months ago, you told me to keep an eye on that Knight Private, Alexander of Tervarthen?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key sighed, rubbing at her temples. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course I remember that. How could I forget? He was a very-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHe's dead.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Key stopped, feeling an odd shiver of fear run down her spine. It wasn't a feeling she was used to. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's...dead?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The secretary nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôYes, his body is going through this city for processing before it is shipped home. His family already has received the letter-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôTake me to him.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key stood, her flowing red robe rippling as she stood. ├óÔé¼┼ôRight now.├óÔé¼┬Ø
###
Key's secretary wrinkled his nose. He held the position of Knight Clerk and had only fired his flint once, while in basic training. Actual combat gave upset his stomach, while the aftereffects gave him nightmares. But to show this in front of a woman, even a Source, would have been too much of an embarrassment for him to bear, so he stood his ground.
├óÔé¼┼ôI can't believe it.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key breathed, looking down at Alex's body. He lay, wrapped in a white gown. She jerked the gown open to reveal the wound in his chest.
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, Madam!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key leaned close, sniffing. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis doesn't make any sense. Why would he be told to avoid a charge at a city he hadn't reached yet? That would be a rather pointless bit of information if he was dead already...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMadam?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Key continued ignoring her secretary. She stood, starting to pace around Alex. ├óÔé¼┼ôBayonet, did him in?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, yes.├óÔé¼┬Ø The secretary gulped and looked at the parchment. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe died outside of Longfur, a city betwixt-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI understand.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key sighed. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell, I guess that'll just be another mystery.├óÔé¼┬Ø She reached out to brush her fingers along Alex's chest. Her fingertips touched the skin. She paused, then gently pushed her hand down.
├óÔé¼┼ôMad-├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up!├óÔé¼┬Ø She hissed, looking up. ├óÔé¼┼ôGood Gods...are these medical Knights fools?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you mean?├óÔé¼┬Ø Key's secretary asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôAlex...is most definitely not dead.├óÔé¼┬Ø Key frowned. ├óÔé¼┼ôHe's not exactly what I would call alive, but he isn't dead. Not by a long shot...├óÔé¼┬Ø
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Archangel of Death
- Posts: 854
- Joined: 28 Jan 2005, 18:15