Back again to dabble in the written arts! I have added a bit of story work to the past 2 Dark Age games and have done so this year too! This year I plan to contribute several chapters to the story and invite you to follow it on the offical sit and here in the forum! http://livinglegends.../ll7/storyline/
(my previous work can be found in the sections for each of the previous games!)
Without further ado,
Passing the torch
The sun was low, casting long shadows across the ruins of a world that it had thrown into chaos a scant three years before. The “angry sun” they called it. Cosmic wrath, embodied in the form of massive waves of electromagnetism and radiation, had killed billions and reduced the world to a medieval ice age for the few that survived. Those who had not starved when the crops failed across the globe or rotted from the plagues that followed gathered where they could start over. Inward, toward the equator, and away from the growing ice they had traveled.
Even with so few left, conflict was inevitable. The two strongest of the survivor groups had clashed in what had once been Central America. One massive and yet indecisive battle had passed, and another was drawing to a close.
“Where is Wolf? Where is the Gladiator?” Legatus Phillips yelled over the roar of battle. “Has anyone seen him?”
Behind him his Praetorian Guard marched on the Horde’s last line of defense. It was a wide, low, black hill just short of the rail yard where they had built their camps. The hill was topped with dark obelisks and covered with the bodies of the fallen. Everything smelled of ash. Empty shipping containers, surrounded with earthen walls, lay around the hill’s base. The Horde’s warriors had used them as bunkers, slowing the Legatus’s legion. The staccato rapport of gun fire echoed from all corners as his Praetorians cleared them of their savage enemies.
A voice yelled back from the maelstrom. “Last I saw Wolf, he was running over that hill with three of his guardsmen, chasing after the Horde Tribal Elders. He’s hell bent on ending this here.” Phillips knew the voice, loudest of all the Legati: Hercules. His cavalry styled unit, the Pegasus Legion had made the camp’s edge before him, but had held at its edge waiting for support. It was the plan. A plan they wouldn’t have a chance to execute with the Imperator across the line. All hell had broken loose when The Gladiator had realized Slayer and Pestilence were outside of the defense line. Why they were was anybody’s guess.
“I want that hill yesterday! Hercules, have your men split and wrap the hill’s flanks. Praetorians, we go up the middle. Thad, I want you and that heavy machine gun on that container’s roof. Hold those berserkers down until we near the hill’s top, then get your *** up there with us!”
With a head nod, Thad shouldered his bulky weapon like it was no more than a light hunting rifle and sprinted toward the point Phillips had indicated.
“Some guys were born for this world,” Phillips said with a shake of his head.
A moment later, with his man in place, the Legatus signaled to advance. His men moved behind him in near silence. The air filled instead with the howling of Thad’s covering fire. The footing was treacherous as the hill was piled high with the bodies of fallen Horde cabal and scraps of wood. Just short of the crest, the cover fire paused, allowing silence to return. Phillips held his left arm up for a moment then waved forward signaling the final advance over the hill. Lying before them was the Hordes’ base camp, a shipping rail yard. Stacks of containers and rows of rail cars stretched out for nearly half a mile. Scattered around were fires, tents, opened crates and signs of habitation. The Hordes’ war tribes had been here nearly two years. At the base of the hill was a platform with a few chairs, and a podium. A burning torch was fixed to the podium’s side. What was decidedly missing from the scene was the Horde. As the Praetorians started down the far side of the hill, the camp seemed mostly deserted, the only movement coming from a large open sided tent ahead. It was filled with rows of cots, many of which were occupied. Between the cots a few figures could be seen standing over them. The Legatus crossed the gap between the hill and the tent with his men in tow behind him. At the tent’s entrance stood a lone Hun warlord, his rifle raised and ready, staring down the legion and waiting. Phillips broke the silence.
“You’re either very brave or very stupid to stand alone against all of us heathen. Who are you and what do you guard?”
“I am War Chief Saumure, leader of the Hun war tribe. Behind me are my men. Those we could not move yet are being tended to by our medics. I stand over them.”
Phillips paused, and then continued. “Where are the rest of your men?”
“Leading the families away north with what survives of the Horde war tribes.” Saumure said unwavering in his stance between the legion and the tent.
The Legatus pointed at two of his men. “Davis, Hunter, sling your weapons and check the tent. Make sure they’re unarmed. Confirm what the Chief’s telling me here.”
The soldiers jogged out into the tent while the two leaders stayed fixed upon one another. After a few minutes Hunter jogged back to report. “Fifty-six wounded sir, most pretty badly. Three medics and the only weapon was an emptied pistol still in a dead man’s holster. Not much to speak of in supplies either.”
Phillips eased his rifle down. “Stand down Chief; I’m not here to slaughter wounded savages. Daniels, get with the other medics in this legion and Pegasus Legion, see what we can spare. Hercules, I want you to detail a dozen men from Pegasus Legion to guard them. The rest of you break into squads and search the camp. The Gladiator is still here somewhere.”
“I can save you some time.” A voice from his side cut the air. Phillips spun to his right readying his weapon again. Stepping out of the shadows a black clad figure was atop a nearby container.
“Falcon! Why are you here? You and your men are supposed to be hunting down the Horde murderers that retreated into the jungle east of here.” Phillips surprise with the enigmatic Legatus of the Blood Legion was evident.
“My Assassins have that under control. I came here with a team of my brothers to clean up the rear guard. There wasn’t much of one.” The dark hooded Falcon dropped to the ground and approached Phillips. A handful of other similarly dark dressed men emerged around the camp, one no more than a few feet from Phillips.
“The Gladiator and his men chased Slayer, Pestilence, and four Horde wildlings into that warehouse. No one has left the building since.” He pointed with one of his matched pistols at an oversized looking building next to a toppled crane. “It got real loud in there for a minute, and then it’s been quiet since.”