Post by signasul on Jun 21, 2007 9:52:13 GMT -5
Back Story:
The world is at war! Too the north the U.S.V.R. keeps on the advance, brave Foxes, ferrets, and stoats die daily to push back the fascists. To the south, Prince Talitus and his army of rats hunker down in an attempt to draw the badgers away from the remains of Salamandastron. To the west the final remnants of the Long Patrol fleet and the A.T.M. (Allied Territories of Mossflower) Air Force bombard the shore, in a desperate attempt to find a way passed the Fascist defenses.
In the middle of it all, cut off from its allies, the vermin fortification of Omega hunker down and wait for help, they will stave off the badger onslaught, or die trying…on a front line that cut Mossflower in two.
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“Take cover!” the squirrel shouted to the rest of his platoon just before the shell hit, blowing a sizable hole in the trench line. The day had been just as hard as the past few weeks, as the badgers pressed in and ran out. They had already broken through the primary line, and across the barb-wire planes, and now on to the second line. There they had been forced to stop at the cost of many thousands of lives.
As the smoke cleared the sergeant could see that more would not go home. The squirrel who had given the warning was now lying in three different places, and the burly ferret who had been his second in command had turned into furry mush. Still some were alive so the weasel still had a few under his command.
“Ok! Listen up!” he shouted over the chatter of guns, and the low thud of bombs. “we have some reports of badger lines advancing. Those suckers are trying to brake through to the main gate again.” He turned to a stoat who was shaking with fear “Bandis! Your going with Cal to the air turret, defend it. And if it looks like you can’t then destroy it, better to leave it out of the badger’s p…”
A rocket slammed into the concrete wall behind him sending a shower of ton sized chunks onto the troops. When the dust cleared, Bendis was dead, the poor stoats head crushed beneath a segment of wall. Signasul looked over the rest of his squad, they didn’t seem to be in the heat of the moment, in fact if he didn’t know any better he’d say they looked down right sad. They’re uniforms were covered in blood and mud and wet fiddly bits that used to be some beasts insides. Some of them hadn’t eaten in days, others hadn’t slept in weeks. The weasel himself had been fighting none stop for… 8 days… maybe? He’d been shot in the leg, and his arm was broken… a little. Clearly not the best situation for the upkeep of moral. It was time to say something heroic, but nothing came to his mind, at least nothing inspirational.
“Come on you bunch of life lovers! Do you really want to stay alive!?” he shouted “Cal, looks like your taking that gun on your own, the rest of you come with me!”
They fallowed him down the line, running onward, to live or add to the blood stained mud, this day.
The world is at war! Too the north the U.S.V.R. keeps on the advance, brave Foxes, ferrets, and stoats die daily to push back the fascists. To the south, Prince Talitus and his army of rats hunker down in an attempt to draw the badgers away from the remains of Salamandastron. To the west the final remnants of the Long Patrol fleet and the A.T.M. (Allied Territories of Mossflower) Air Force bombard the shore, in a desperate attempt to find a way passed the Fascist defenses.
In the middle of it all, cut off from its allies, the vermin fortification of Omega hunker down and wait for help, they will stave off the badger onslaught, or die trying…on a front line that cut Mossflower in two.
-----------------------
-------------------
“Take cover!” the squirrel shouted to the rest of his platoon just before the shell hit, blowing a sizable hole in the trench line. The day had been just as hard as the past few weeks, as the badgers pressed in and ran out. They had already broken through the primary line, and across the barb-wire planes, and now on to the second line. There they had been forced to stop at the cost of many thousands of lives.
As the smoke cleared the sergeant could see that more would not go home. The squirrel who had given the warning was now lying in three different places, and the burly ferret who had been his second in command had turned into furry mush. Still some were alive so the weasel still had a few under his command.
“Ok! Listen up!” he shouted over the chatter of guns, and the low thud of bombs. “we have some reports of badger lines advancing. Those suckers are trying to brake through to the main gate again.” He turned to a stoat who was shaking with fear “Bandis! Your going with Cal to the air turret, defend it. And if it looks like you can’t then destroy it, better to leave it out of the badger’s p…”
A rocket slammed into the concrete wall behind him sending a shower of ton sized chunks onto the troops. When the dust cleared, Bendis was dead, the poor stoats head crushed beneath a segment of wall. Signasul looked over the rest of his squad, they didn’t seem to be in the heat of the moment, in fact if he didn’t know any better he’d say they looked down right sad. They’re uniforms were covered in blood and mud and wet fiddly bits that used to be some beasts insides. Some of them hadn’t eaten in days, others hadn’t slept in weeks. The weasel himself had been fighting none stop for… 8 days… maybe? He’d been shot in the leg, and his arm was broken… a little. Clearly not the best situation for the upkeep of moral. It was time to say something heroic, but nothing came to his mind, at least nothing inspirational.
“Come on you bunch of life lovers! Do you really want to stay alive!?” he shouted “Cal, looks like your taking that gun on your own, the rest of you come with me!”
They fallowed him down the line, running onward, to live or add to the blood stained mud, this day.