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| Fallen Omen | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 3 2010, 02:15 PM (427 Views) | |
| Vaelyis | Jul 3 2010, 02:15 PM Post #1 |
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Echoes of Her Lullaby
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Gears of War: Fallen Omen Bullets rocketed through the air above the heads of the fighting soldiers. Blood covered their suits of armor, staining within every blood pattern. Blood dripped off the curved saw-blade edges of the Lancer's chainsaw boyonette. The COGs fought vigorously against the Locust Horde, trying to push them back, but their effort was futile. The Locust Horde pressed against the COG horde, forcing them to retaliate, smashing their resources and defenses to where they were limited, soon becoming scarce. Frags hurled through the air, detonating in the path they were driven from the throw of their owner, leaving their hands. The grenades boomed with solid explosions, killing many to thousands. But not enough to pull back the Locust Horde. 15 years since Emergence Day, the Locust Horde demanding control over Sera and the decimation of the Human Race. The extermination and mass genocide. The Gears and COG refused to tolerate the Locust's demand, throwing back defenses as they could to help win their own battle. Ravens swarmed the skies above, firing their bullets at incoming Nemacyst and Reavers. Shooting through the air, Nemacyst target their enemies, spiraling into the sides of King Ravens, knocking them out one by one out of the sky. Seeders clung themselves against the walls of buildings or in the courtyards behind large structures that used to hold important documents. Using their claw-like legs, Seeders attached their bodies, gripping the cemented walls filled with broken windows. Gears screamed back in horror, fleeing an area where mortars struck the ground. Locust planted the mortars on the ground, embracing them with their weight, the ground for support. Clicking the trigger once they exacted their elevation for the mortar, they released the trigger, sending the whistling bomb into the sky above the COG swarm. As the mortar departed from it's weapon, it shot through the air, coming to its peek before it broke off in mid-air, raining a rain of fire below the mass army of Gears. Men screamed in shock, suffering, death, and pain. The wounded and dead flooded the streets of Sera, the Locust Horde pushing them back with mighty force, thwarting the enemies with every ounce of their power and muscular bodies. Roaring with billowing grunts and snarls, baring their stained, nasty teeth, the locust Horde began to draw back into their emergence holes, some running through the streets, others walking back, pulling the triggers of the Hammerbursts and Lancers, giving one final stand against the Gears. Retreating, the Locust fled from the area, leaving nothing but death behind their deadly tracks. The Gears held their weapons steady, ready for any of their tricks and sneaky guerrilla attacks. One thing is known about Locust: they're sneaky maggots of flesh and blood, taking you from the dark. Gears learned the hard way—grisly and vilely. "Why did they fall back?" a man asked from behind the crowd. "Because they're planning something. Who knows. The Locust are well known for their lack of defense, but their vile tactics make up for it." Everyone turned to face the man who had replied, seeing his cold eyes, his tone of voice shallow and cold. Holding a Lancer against his chest, gripping the trigger with his right index finger, the other gripping through a hold above the chainsaw boyonette. His eyes a light blue-white with a Delta Squad of three men—Damon Baird, Dominic Santiago, and Augustus Cole "The Cole Train"—behind him. Sargent Marcus Fenix, commanding officer of Delta Squad and prisoner in Jacinto Maximum Security Prison. Marcus nodded his head, stepping forward through the group of Gears, Delta Squad trailing behind. "Man, we should catch up with them Locust and show them bitches we mean business! Woo!" "Shut it, Cole. We're not going anywhere. We have to stay here and keep guard. Who knows where they went. It might be a trap." "Come on, baby! We can show them Grubs!" "Enough, we're staying here. That's an order." Marcus snapped, turning his head to face Cole. "Okay, okay. No hard feelings." Cole stepped back, walking side by side with Baird, Dom next to Marcus. "What are we going to do, Marcus?" Dom asked softly, looking back at the men, then to Baird and Cole, attuning to wait for Marcus' reply. "We stay here and wait. If the Locust don't come, we proceed forward." "Will do." Dom departed from Marcus, helping a wounded solider, Marcus continued with his walking, Lancer gripped in his hands, tucked underneath his elbow and armpit. His eyes glanced at the brave men who fought against the Locust Horde, many dying, others wounded - some even to be proven fatal. Nodding his head at the men who looked up at him, Marcus advanced forward, not looking back. Baird held his gun at his side, dangling there, Cole holding his much like Marcus was. Baird watched cautiously on Marcus, attuning to Cole. "Do you ever wonder what goes on in his head?" "He's the man, Baird. A lot things are going on in his head. Come on, Baird. We have wounded to help." Cole motioned to Baird. Taking once last glimpse, Baird turned his body, Lancer in his arms, following Cole to the wounded pack of men. Staring at the mass massacre of men and Locust, piling over one another, Gears burning the many dead men and Locust, some even spitting on the Locust corpses, walking away with their scouting. His lip rose, shaking his head in dismay, returning to his walk. His mind pondered, his eyes darting all over, like a paranoid child walking down a dark alley. Locust were all over, the only problem was where would they pop up? They can pop up anywhere unexpectedly, taking the Gears by surprise. They were also well known for that. Corpsers provided them support for their underground tunnels, creating deep trenches or rising from the ground to attack the COG defenseless, a leverage for the Locust to annihilate the army of Gears. The Locust were maggots and vermin in the Gears' eyes, but as to the Locust, they were the same, but also prey for their betrothed Locust Queen who hid deep inside the Hallow palace embedded miles below in Mount Kadar, in a city called Nexus. The threshold of all Locusts. The Lightmass bombing had done nothing to the Locust Horde, only making them more stronger with a force unbearable to match. Over the years their intelligence advanced, proving the Gears worthy matches of their weapons and tactics. If they keep stalling any longer, the Gears would have no chance against the Locust Horde, forcing to yield and submit, Locust taking sovereign over Sera... or worse, the entire planet. The planet would never survive under Locust control—it would withering and die slowly, Imulsion the prized possession of every creature. The Pendulum Wars hosted every event to show the hostile behavior for the chemical. As the luster grew on, more people fell victim to the chemical, leaving themselves dawned for death and slaves of a chemical used by man to be used as a tool of war and mass destruction, genocide, and decimation. Gears used the chemical for their own purposes, but Chairman Prescott demanded them in words of convenience and truth, which conveyed the soldiers into making weapons powerful enough to destroy their own civilization or even the planet itself. Man has shown their weaknesses, but through the decades and millions of years of living, they also shown their decent hostile living, fighting against other creatures, battering one another to the top until one is King of the Hill. The superior race. Every higher demand toppled over one another, proving the flaws guilty or unsustainable and futile. The COG and Gears will never submit to the Locust Horde, and by doing so they will proceed forward with a force unimaginably strong, even the Locust Horde will be set to their imminent doom. A rolling thunder of clashing with Gears and Locust, only one doom falling upon them: death. Two species fought endlessly for their own territory, one wanting more than the other. This was child's play. Locust were taunting the Gears, luring them like dogs and cats. Infuriating species to the Gears, they did not take the bate—not this time. The Gears had wised up, pulling the bate back on them, quickening their advancements and tactics, flanking the Locust with effortless force to yield them to their feet. It was a victory. But, years had passed, and now the Locust took the demand in high rising, towering over the Gears; the balancing act teetering from side to side, no grounds to be supported upon, no leverage for the Gears to grip and fight back the Locust Horde. It was an endless bloodbath of effortless tries and futile, ruthless attempts to seize the Locust. The Gears lost their grip over the Locust, falling back to their gunfire and power. No longer would Sera live to see her last sunrise. A falling country of the Gears, the home place of the birthing of the Coalition and the human race who's stand was now ending. This was their last stand. Now it was their choice to end this war or seize to the Locust Horde. Wings beats pounded, mustering her body to move faster with the turret of wind. Her scales glimmered with the sunlit beams, reflecting a dazzling awe from above. Smoke rose from the dust smeared ground, leaving nothing but death in the fire's wake. The dragon snarled, her lip rising over the teeth in a feral snarl. Putrid humans, have they no shame? her voice boomed through her riders' conscience. I would put them out of their misery if I could. Shaking her head violently, her rider sat on the spine of her back, embracing with his legs against her sides, and his arms gripping her thick, scaly neck. Wrenching her head to the side, the screams of men pierced the skies, altering her every movement and swift gliding. Her rider reigned on her neck, pulling her back to a light hover in the sky. Wings slapping against her flanks, her eyes darting all over down below, picking up the slightest movements below them. "Do you see anything?" he asked, searching below, watching as the city ahead burned with smoke rising from buildings and streets, cries of pain and suffering swarming the broken city. Only suffering, my child. Her voice was cold, deadly, and shallow, piercing to the conscience. "I can say the same," he replied, watching as creatures tore apart many men, taking some as captives for their hostile and grisly torture. Breaking people - especially the warriors and brave men who said they would never submit. Fear struck the eyes of the many people being inflicted and tortured, fleeing the city... but death was imminent. What fowl creatures, she snapped, clacking her jaws shut in a hiss, her chest reverberating from violent ruptures in her chest. "Like your species? Only, in the human eyes." Do not speak of my species in such a wretched way. You speak as if we are just as fowl as they are. "No, I speak the truth." Ah! she snarled, wrenching her head from side to side, releasing a roar the dwelled deep inside the pits of her throat. "Not now, we cannot bring attention to ourselves." Child, we cannot prevent that not from happening. Besides, our presence here has already brought us attention... Now we have to end it! A smile flickered in her eyes, the curves on her lips forced to curve in a vile smile. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" No, my boy. This is what happens when we deal with things not of our own. Come, my child. We have work to do! Snapping her wings at her flanks, she rose into the sky, tilting her body to a dive, allowing herself to drop. "Synile, no, we'll be murdered if we do this. Stand down now, before you get us into more trouble." We already are, what more can befall on us? she snapped. Thrusting her wings, she shot forward, slicing through the air. Quickly, Synile delved through the clouds, wings pinned against her flanks, allowing air to brush past with ease against her smooth body, her speed increasing, velocity and momentum picking up haste. Marcus gripped her neck, clasping one of the spikes that struck from her spine, fringed off her back. Preparing for the tug against his body, he embraced his body more against his dragon. Snarling, Synile pulled her body, unfurling her wings in a loud crack from the membranes, the wind breaking against the thin membrane, pulling from the dive. Marcus clung, feeling a hard budge against his body as she pulled from the death dive, gliding swiftly through the lands with ease, pulling in one wing to dodge an impending boulder or tree. Feeling as the wind whipped past his face and body, Marcus clung even tighter, holding on and preparing for the battle they closed in on. "This isn't even our fight, why interfere?" No answer. "Synile, answer me." Still, no answer. "Synile!" Marcus screamed. Synile roared back in protest, wrenching her body to the side as she veered out of the path of an incoming mortar. Marcus held his head close to her neck, peeking through the corners of his eyes, watching the reign of fire the mortars broke down upon the land. Lifting his head, he looked back forward, seeing as the city closed in on them. Be prepared, my child. For the worst is far yet to come. Marcus clenched the spike, holding the other on the hilt of his sword. "I am," he replied with reassurance. Time everything right, or everything will go wrong. "Nothing goes according to plan." I will make everything come to plan. Expect the unexpected you feeble-headed vermin's! Synile snarled, closing on a horde of Locust, her jaws and claws racking and knocking down the men, snapping her jaws over the head of one of the Locust, ripping his body to shreds. Marcus lashed his sword, severing the bodies, arms, heads, and all of his victims. "Who are they? What are they?" Marcus asked with a snarl in his voice. I am unsure, but whatever they are—they have to die! A roar escaped her jaws, holding the tune as she watched her enemies clench their ears, collapsing to the ground on their hands and knees. Yes, yes! Cripple while you can. Show me your suffering as you plead for mercy. Down the streets, the Gears stirred, hearing as her roar expanded throughout the entire city, screaming and screeching her pleasure and luster. Baird stood next to Cole, Dom by Marcus. "What was that?" Dom faced Baird as he asked, then glanced at Marcus whom was facing the origin of the roar. "I don't know. Lets hope it's not something the Locust have created. What ever it is, it sounds big." "If we can take down a Corpser, we can take down this." Baird replied, walking over to the conversing Dom and Marcus. "Ever trust your gut, Baird?" Marcus asked, whipping a glance back at him, waiting for his reply. "Yes, in fact I do. Why?" "Mine is telling me to stay here and guard. What does yours say?" "I cannot tell." A smile lifted on Marcus' face, clicking the comm link on his head. "Control, this is Delta. Do you read me? Where is that noise coming from?" "I roger you Delta. And from our screens we cannot tell. We know for sure it's nothing of the Locust. It's.... different. From the looks of it, GID readings say... it's in the city. Marcus, you have to clear the area. We're sending Ravens over to your position." "Do you know anything of this?" "Negative. Nothing what we had expected. I am sorry, Marcus. We're just as confused as you are." "Thanks Anya. Delta out." Severing the connection, Marcus turned to his squad, all three looking at him, ready and prepared. "What ever this thing is, we have to get rid of it. Come on Delta, lets go." "Woo, baby. It's Go Time! This is my kind of shit!" Cole shouted, exhilarated. "Let us hope we can kill it." Dom added, concern edging his voice. Marcus turned to face directly at Dom, nodding his head. Placing his hand on Dom's shoulder, he spoke softly. "Don't worry Dom, we can." "But Marcus, what if we can't?" "Dom, what have we faced so far we couldn't kill?" "He holds a point." Baird agreed. Turning his head, Dom glared, Marcus pulling his attention back to him. "All I can say, Dom, we have to kill it. No matter what." "This is suicide." "Yeah, so is this mission. But are we dead yet? Come on, lets move." Roaring, tail lashing against the ground, Synile stood upon her hind legs, swinging her front paws at incoming men who charged at her, snapping her jaws upon their heads, searing their bodies, dismembering them. Blood dripped from her jaws, the mass sanguined streaming from her lower jaw, pooling below her. Her scales glistened in the sanguinary massacre, the crimson globules and rivers shinning from the sunlit sky. Shaking her head, slowly coursing through her body, Synile snapped her jaws around a COG's arm, thrashing her head from side to side, throwing the COG's corpse to the ground, the severed arm in her jaws, the blood pooling into her lower cup, pouring out the cracks of her teeth. The Gears began to back away as she roared, shattering the sound barrier. Windows shattered, cracking and exploding from her mass sound. Marcus and the rest of Delta crouched to the ground, covering their heads, their Lancers nearly dropping to the ground. "What was that?" Dom asked, curious as like the others of the group. "How the hell am I supposed to know? If I knew I wouldn't be asking the same damn thing." Marcus hissed, his eyes scanning the streets and skies above. "It's not a Reaver." "Or a Corpser. It could never be. They can never produce a sound such as that." "Neither can the Brumak," Dom added after Baird spoke. Marcus growled to himself, his eyes searching for the origin of the roar. "C'mon, lets continue down this road." The rest of Delta trailed behind him, Dom walking along the side of him, Baird and Cole behind. Marcus snarled, holding Vor'roc in his grasp, slicing through Gears as they came near. "We're not supposed to be fighting them!" he hissed as he dodged a COG's pounding weapon, stabbing him through the back, piercing the spine. If they fight against us, then we fight back. We're evening the odds. "They're not the enemy." They are now. Marcus cursed to himself, shaking his head as he continued with his slaughter. Blood splattered all over his clothes and jacket, staining them with the enemies and Gears blood. It was a frenzy of blood and slaughter, Synile and Marcus the main points of origin for the massacre. His breathing became hoarse, his chest heaving, breath nearly limited from all the fighting, killing, slaughter, and blood shed. Synile hissed, lip rising over her teeth in a feral snarl, blood stained teeth exposed, small rivers streaming off her teeth, muzzle, jaws, chest, and body. Her claws were caked with the sanguine mess. Marcus murmured to himself, seeing as four more boarded the train of death. Sheathing his sword, he walked over to Synile when he herd a man's voice. "What's going on here?" the man demanded, standing out of the crowd, eyes locked on Marcus and Synile. Cole, Dom and Baird stood wide eyed, dropping their weapons. Synile bared her teeth, roaring as she flared her wings, the membranes straining against the wing fingers, a loud crack snapping as she unfurled them with force. Marcus stepped forward in front of Synile, Vor'roc in his hands, grasping the hilt. The man opposing Marcus stood, the Lancer in his hands, one under the opening above the chainsaw, the other on the trigger. He let go one of his hands, the one grasping through the hole and held it against his side, eyes locked on Marcus. Dom stepped forward, speaking into his ear. "Marcus, do you think—" "I don't know," he snapped, looking back at Marcus and Synile, placing the Lancer back into the grasp he had started with. "Who are you?" Marcus asked, his eyes piercing. Glaring, Marcus placed his hand against Synile's shoulder, feeling as her anger rose, her eyes shooting the colors of crimson-vermilion, wine-red orbs swimming in the bloody abyss of her eyes. Dom stepped back from Marcus, joining back with Cole and Baird. Baird stepped over to Dom and spoke: "What do you think that is?" "I couldn't say," he replied, eyes wide, staring at Synile. Synile snarled, eyes locked on Dom. She stepped forward, flaring her wings once more, a booming crack snapping as she unfurled them. Do you have no respect? she snapped, her voice cold and rasp, scattering throughout the crowd as she prodded at every one of the Gears' minds. They all stepped back in fear, holding their weapons out, ready to fire. Wretched maggots, you have no shame. Let alone even cruel to everything that walks on this planet. Lets say you? she hissed. Her voice rose amongst the men, standing aloud as she spoke her shallow, cold tone. The men shuddered with awe, a few in the crowd speaking amongst themselves. Synile expanded her jaws, releasing another clenching roar which made them hold their ears, cowering to the road. Answer me! she demanded once more. Marcus growled, looking up at Synile, watching her with a smile creeping on his face. Enjoy while you can, child. They won't stand down even as much force as we can befall upon them. "I am. It's an ambitious thing, but worthy." You have my vote. Marcus tole a glance up at her, his eyes mimicking hers. A smile flickered in her eyes, soon brewing on her own face, peeking on her corners of her lips. Aspiration falls now, slaughter calling your name. They strike, we strike last. Marcus nodded, waiting for the reply from one of the Gears. Marcus shook his head, picking up his Lancer, stepping forward. Synile bared her teeth in ambition, lowering her head as her neck bent, spikes along her spine and neck fringing. "Uh, Marcus, I wouldn't get too close," Baird informed him. Synile hissed, glancing at her rider, Marcus' head shooting up as he herd the sound of his name. Glaring he spoke. "Who?" Baird returned a glance over at Marcus, confusion striking his face, it showed clearly. Before Baird could speak, Marcus spoke for him. "What do you mean?" Marcus hissed, looking over at Fenix. "Which Marcus?" he countered, glancing over at the Gears. "Isn't there only one?" Dom asked, darting his eyes from one Marcus to the other. "No!" Marcus snapped, Synile nudging him in the back. "Then what is your name?" A smile gleamed on his face, his eyes reflecting the true colors of blood. "Marcus. Marcus Razen Jericho Lecter." Baird, Dom, Cole, and Marcus, and the rest of the Gears looked with confusion, not knowing him at all. "Where are you from? Are you a secret weapon of the Locust? Tell us?" a Gear shouted, stepping from the crowd of men. Synile snarled, her tail whipping past, hammering the road with blunt force, cracking it instantly. "Where are we from?" Marcus chuckled to himself, smiling grimly. "We're not from here, that's for sure." "Then where?" the Gear demanded. Marcus gave a faint glare, clenching his hands while gritting his teeth. Stealing a glance over at Synile, she dipped her head, averting her gaze at the army of men. "We're from Nyrvyria." The men spoke amongst themselves, unknown to the galaxy. "And where's that? It's never been herd of? How do we know you're not with them Locust? Or this is all just a lie?" We are no weapon or pawn of these fetid creatures you call... Locust. She snarled, replying for her rider. We are no toys they can play with and set fire to the world, causing mass genocide. We're not their toys. We are no weapon of their surprise, we are nothing to them. We know not of this complex world of birth place of you creatures. Offense was taken drastically amongst the men, shouting and roaring of the Gears uprising against Synile's comment. Hissing, her eyes flashed, slamming her tail against the ground, causing a rapid quake in the area, shaking the buildings, road, and all. Enough! she roared. Enough with your feckless talking! I speak nothing but truth and truth so it shall be. If you wish to die, then I shall gutter you like a fish and rip your throats out! Synile threatened, snapping her jaws once more. Sinking her claws into the cemented rock, Synile reared on her hind legs, unfurling her wings with a loud crack of the membrane, snapping them open, a roar being released from her maw, a burst of flames igniting within her throat, illuminating her mouth with dancing flames and colors of fire. The Gears drew their weapons, ready to break fire. "Stand down," Marcus ordered. "Hold your fire." The Gears withdrew their weapons, eyes locked on Synile and Marcus in front of them. Synile dropped to all fours, her paws slamming against the road, breaking the cemented rock from mere force of her weight colliding upon it. Marcus stepped away, soon to step back beside her, watching the Gears with close watch, scanning everyone of them with precise accuracy and vision. He wouldn't want one of them sneaking upon them and slaughter him, then again Synile would gutter them, dismembering and slaughtering the men who had done so. Not one would stand a chance against her. Not even their own firepower and weapons of mass destruction. She would just turn it all against them. They ever try to shoot you or kill you I would sever them with my jaws, scorching them with my flame. I will watch them burn and scream while I laugh in pleasurable desire. Marcus smiled from her words, wrenching his gaze as he watched one of the Gears step forward. It was the Sergent: Marcus Fenix. Marcus hissed, drawing his sword. Marcus motioned his hand in truce and peace, standing not but a foot away. Marcus withdrew his sword, sliding it in its sheath. Synile's tail lashed, but Marcus held up his hand with a glare. Synile hissed, standing down. A smile flicked on his face, returning his gaze back to Marcus. Marcus stared up the body of Synile as she stood broad and proud, her chest collapsing and expanding, her wings settled against her flanks, the membranes furled between the wing fingers. Marcus spoke first before Synile could reach out and slaughter him. "I give you my apologies for the mess and... ruckus we caused. If it means anything, we will do-" "No need," Marcus stopped him. "We're loosing men as it is. Everyday millions die to the battle of the Locust Horde." Synile rose her head as she listened in, pleased in a way. Marcus looked up at her, curiosity in his face. Synile looked back down at him and forced him a smile. Her voice broke in the conversation. If it means worthy of us and to pay back our shame, we will fight with you against this... Locust Horde. Me and mine rider. Marcus stared up at her as she pooled her thoughts into his conscience, seeing the puzzled look on his face. Synile shook her body, clearing the dust from her scales. Do you accept my offer or not? If not, we leave with our own fates and destroy those who attack—your men or Locust. Both are enemies if they shall aim our way. Marcus nodded, listening to her words. Her rider, Marcus, smiled, knowing what she was up to. Baird, Dom, and Cole stepped forward, joining Marcus as they discussed about her offer. I hope all goes well, Marcus replied to her. Synile shuffled her wings, looking down at him, a waving shimmer swimming across her eyes. I, too, my rider. I too. Marcus jerked once he herd them stop their discussion, glancing over at him and Synile. Synile lowered her head and murmured to him. Here it goes. Marcus nodded as she rose her head, towering over him. The first to step forward, of course, was Marcus, then Baird, following the rest. Marcus glanced over at Baird, then to Cole and Dom, they all nodded. "We accept your offer." Marcus narrowed his eyes, listening to his words, not showing any whooping and woots. He allowed the Sargent to speak. "Under one condition." "And what's that?" he asked, Synile arched her spine. "You will fight with the four of us, under my command and leadership." I knew they were going to speak such of rules, Synile snarled over to her rider. Wretched rodents, you can never trust them. None of them. Synile rose her head and spoke within their conscience. I serve my loyalty, but I serve no fealty upon your bodies. I only gave my loyalty and body, not handing my leadership over to you. Marcus hissed, gnawing his teeth, Baird and Dom glancing over at each other, Cole shaking his head and turning around. Synile hissed and she snapped. Don't you turn you back on me, large human! And never give me that or I swear by fault I will take my offer and decapitate you all with every ounce of breath of my flames and jaws. That's not a threat, that's a promise. I will never yield to a human being. Never. And if I ever do I will submit to death so by Punishment. I serve no man, only my loyalty and companionship, never my leadership and honor. You abuse that, I will personally kill you. I will decimate and execute your race, annihilating every one of your until your species is extinct for good. Marcus glared, the rest of Delta shuddered in fear, stepping away as her anger rose, her voice in unison. Take thy offer or take thy death wish? Marcus rolled his eyes, holding the Lancer against his side. "Fine, but a fair warning—" I need not of no warning, human. It is you who needs the warning. Get in my way, I snap your head off. With that, Marcus mounted his dragon, Synile unfurling her wings, brushing up against her flanks as they rose above her head. Crouching to the ground, she launched into the sky above the Gears horde, soaring above them, her tail smashing in between the mass crowd, nearly killing a few men. Her body disappeared behind a few buildings, leaving the area. Baird walked up behind Marcus and spoke in a harsh tone, "Do you think we can trust them? A creature like that and her rider? What's his name... Marcus?" "I don't know, Baird. We need all the help we can get. Trust or not, we need them. Especially that creature of his. Well, what ever it is." Marcus gritted his teeth, motioning his men. "C'mon, Delta. Lets move." Reminder: This is a fan-fic on Gears of War—my all time favorite video game—interacting with my two OCs, Marcus and Synile. This is set, as of now, before the Lambent Invasion and fifteen years after E-Day (Emergence Day). For those of you who have played the game, you'll understand the concept more, but if you haven't played the game, you are missing out! I mean it: you're missing out! But, I hold no judgement towards those whom have or haven't. I will do my best to loosen confusion between my OC Marcus and the main character Marcus Fenix. I am sorry if I do confuse you on both of the characters. I have been working on this for a while, over the years I've improved my writing compatibility, and yes, I have more chapters to post up, but I don't feel like double or even triple posting. |
![]() "Caring screws you up, man. Just switch it off. Life gets a lot easier then. " | |
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| Vaelyis | Jul 3 2010, 02:17 PM Post #2 |
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Echoes of Her Lullaby
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Gears of War: Return of the Omen The teaser of this all was the main voyage of Gears marching to their impending doom. As stated by Myrrah in her warning against all odds, "Humans of Sera continue to march blindly to their imminent doom; unaware, that their misguided attempts at retaliation were only leading them ever closer to extinction." She was right. The Gears were heading straight for the cliffs of Humanity's deception and fortitude. Inevitably, they marched on, ascending further into the Locust Horde and the branches of their colonization over the years. What good will it do for them? Leaving destruction in its wake? Or the years of survival against the monster of every child's nightmares? The valiants of their dreams are the men who are valor and bold enough to march into the horde, to save lives of Serian people. To even save Sera was a suicide mission. Saving the world? That was a death operation. Only can the strong hearts of many men and additional soldiers bring the Locust Horde to its knees. A drop in their leverage. But to destroy the hive of the Locust, you must destroy and conquer its weak point. The heart of the hive. The Queen may be all judgmental about the COG's and Gears oppression, but the one thing the Gears are suitable for is their formidable vigorous attempts to stabilize Sera, and to destroy the Locust. 15 years of long, brutal war between Humanity and the Locust, and none gain a grip on the war's handle. The leverage is slipping and so is Sera's instinct to survive. Holding the creations and birthing of the COG, Imulsion and every maiden weapon they had built, now rests in the hands of the men who deserved righteousness. The men who fought for their country, and those who died on Sera's land. It was the tip of the spear in Sera, only, the Gears gained the wrong end. The tip of it all and now struggle with to detain their passion. It was Humanity's fault for even allowing themselves to push further. To surpass the Locust. And what have they gotten for their wretched actions? A war and many men fallen. The revenge for the fallen isn't great for those who are in dire need of strength, but bringing upon fate in their own steps. They will fall again, and again, and again.... and again. Until the rest upon Sera's scorched lands with the many who delved into battle unwillingly, afraid, or too stubborn to see it in Death's eyes that this was not the answer. A war was a bleak way to start a fight. Battle was never an answer, but indeed in precious ways, violence was. The indulgence of blood, growing more strongly, delivering blows with weapons of mass destruction, machinery built to crush and destroy. What was the point of it all? To gain a mockery of their own fate and destruction? Or to prove worthy of their own pride and leadership? Or was it to shed blood of their enemies, kicking them down with the face of eager anger. A face too eager to allow the enemy to live. The fate was clear: death. Blood was their war paint. Death was their final conclusion. Now it was to face it and deliver the painful, scornful, malicious tactics born in every one of the Gears' blood. It etched into their flesh, embedded within their minds and bodies, corrupting the innocent and stubborn; the wretched, weak, strong, wise, uncanny and insubordinate. How was it that they could face this all without notion to feel pain and keep going rather than to breakdown and suffer? Isn't this what the Locust want? Or did they underestimate the Gears' own strengths and weaknesses? Confusing them with their own? It's not likely, but it never was said to be impossible. Their impression on the Queen defied her, obstruction taking place, offending the very sovereign of Locust breed. Her own justification of war is simple and acknowledgeable - to stand on their corpses and dominate the human era, expanding their own; to place death in its wake and place blind eyes with the full view of the war. Even to avow to her own jurisdictions, it would take years to have the humans to understand, but what did they know? They were blind to the threat right before their eyes. The scurrying and equivalence to the Locust was standard enough compared to the Gears' own deficiency to deploy and resist. They are humans, they only understand dominance and ownership. They are blind as they are, but not as much as the Locust had foretold. Their mission was only to do one thing: defeat the enemy. But instead, they destroyed their own homeland, and soon their entire planet. All because the human race wouldn't accept the Locust's mutual salvation, but instead, they fought back and denied their suggestion. Causing this great war on Emergence Day. The Locust wanted their own demand and the Gears are suffering from their costly mistake. The decision that was futile and ruthless. It was only a matter of time until the humans realize what they have done, what they have created and what they had deserved in their reckless decision on keeping the Locust at bay against the Gears' faulty mistake. It was clear that the Locust knew of the humans own desire, but was it clear of the Locust's? The humans cared less about their concerns and ideals. Instead, they wanted what was theirs and what they desired: Sera and Imulsion. Locust delved in, wanting parts of Sera for their own, but the humans denied their request, leaving a trail of war behind the sanguined foot-prints of fallen soldiers and arrogant men. Their arrogance offends them, the Locust have no choice but to advance forward, ascending from their hives. It was either now or never. The aspects to this war was at minimum. A manifested, traitorous divide. A multitude of severe consequences, alliances, and rivalries. They depended upon their friends and allies. But, in the end... their friends become the enemy, and what would that help in their survival? It only causes more hate and distrust in the human race. Who you know isn't who you once knew; who you hate isn't who you despised before. The rough, unexpected errors, the mindless men, and the inexorable truths become the unprecedented madness. War was a maddened man with a sword, severing the minds and hopes of those who supported and grieved. The strife unwillingly settling in, claiming its prize. The weak and daunted are those who suffer, the wise and bold are the ones who die in honor. Courtships were useless. Men scattered below as her large shadow floated above the roads and buildings, skewering the eyes from their own views onto her sailing above rooftops, buildings, and homes. River-ways blocked from the outside, railways closed due to catastrophic hording of the Locust or large rents in between the rail ways. Her mass body glided with ease with the help of two massive, built wings, staying aloft without effortless attempts to keep her own weight and body balanced. Her rider, the one known as the slaughterer of many men, rode upon her saddle laced to her spine, chest and underbelly. The smell of death and blood poured in the air, calling many creatures to the designated area. Bloodshed crossed swords with death, knowing its fate would bring more blood to the scenery. But, their anticipations on helping the Gears was low and useless. They could end this war now, stop all the suffering, stop the Gears from loosing more and stop the madness accumulating amongst the men and vermin called Locust. But what did she know? Synile was against their only hopes of survival and to save her own hide, she uses it all and gains simply trust or denial. Whichever they decided, she felt comfortable with. She didn't care if they hated, despised, or grudged against her. As long as she's living, she could careless if they waged a war on them afterwords - either species that is. Sailing with simplistic ease, Synile's eyes gradually darted from one area to the next, scanning the vast region of Sera - the infested land of both Locust and Humanity. "If we are to help," Marcus inquired, "then how are we? What are we to do? Lie and wait?" No, we act upon them and delve into the mess like flight and dismantle the Locust who cross paths between us. We know which is the enemy and which is the friend. Rivals we never confuse. Friends we never judge. Now... we place their demise into our own hands and let them decide their fate that which takes them. Am I clear? "Yes," Marcus replied solemnly. Synile looked back over to her rider, seeing the pleading sorrow in his eyes. What ails you? "This seems wrong. Everything. Fighting creatures who wanted what they haven't received in years. Going against men who fought valiantly. And blinded by rage, we fight for men who wronged their own decision and denied the Locust's. This isn't our war. We don't belong in this battle for survival. We have our own problems to assort, not make them worse." Your words are stinging, my child. And very true. Synile confessed. But that doesn't solve anything at the moment. Only makes this ordeal more bullshit material than what it has began with. Now, come my rider, we have only one thing to do. Only one mission and that's to defeat the enemy. Two things I learned from being in war and they are greater material. One is not to entangle yourself with the problem and meddle with your own or the wrong person's affairs. And two, don't let your emotions get in the way. Averting her wings, eyes set upon the helpless Gears below, Synile sighed contentedly, knowing her rider's concern was breaching. Don't meddle too far, child. I am afraid our words won't help in such a matter. We have our saying in this war, but we cannot help it any more than it could be. We will only make it worse upon them. And then what would we do? "Hide and die alone." Now you're being irrational. Synile retorted. But, no. We stand and fight, not cowering like weaklings and allow those maggots to overwhelm us. We are the valiants of their children's dreams. Those nightmares of every child's haunting memories will no longer pain them. We are what they call the infuriating monsters. If they want monsters, then we shall show them, Slaughter Monster. We shall show them that it isn't us who waged this war, but their own enemies. Marcus, we are not the enemy here. We are the helping hand of the enemy. Now, if you want to cower like a little boy, then do so. I am not standing up this this childish behavior. Are you in... or are you out? "I am with you, then." Cocking a one-sided smile, Synile expanded her jaws, the blood-stained teeth glimmering from the years of battle, releasing a ravenous, thundering roar that shattered the sound barrier. Clamping her jaws, she pooled forth her remaining energy until her entire body gave forth a booming valiant roar. The peculiar sound isolated many ears to her bringing roar, the cheers and cries of Gears accumulating for miles, whispering others to join the clashing, whooping and cries. Now I say child... lick them clean and lick them hard. Giving a warm smile will do nothing. Just boost their self esteem and will. We don't want that. We want to break them down. We will be the last ones standing and they? They will cripple and fall! Marcus' straight face gave a warm smile, his eyes set upon the men delivering cries and cheers of their approval and guidance, knowingly for their support. The precious cargo is now not but Imulsion, but greed. We have their honor, now lets use it. This is annex: now with execution rules. Giving a laid back smirk, Marcus rose his sword, hefting it above his head, the crimson-vermilion blade reflecting the rippling light off the blade, wavering lights shimmering in unison with beacons of light, rays beaming forth an dazzling awe. Vor'roc, an impressive sword, gave the true meaning of slaughter once wielded by its owner. The owner himself the slaughterer of many and the murderer of one's true demise. He himself brings the crime back to its true stated name, the cruel word reliving its future entail and carnage. Now it was time to put the word into use. His sword being the first to start the manifested massacre. Claws glimmering in the sun lit sky, pitch-black as black could be. Her scales were a different story. Delivering colors of an asphalt-black tinted with crimson-vermilion blotches, their own accord was with the sparkling light that reflected off each individual scale, the details etched into the scales vaguely seen from far distance. Rippling lights wave through her body, streaming access highlights of indigo-blues and amethyst. Head raked with horns, two large primary horns, secondary below, growing smaller down the base of her cheeks, ending at the rim of the lower jaw. Her scales were large, smooth and bristling. It was as if you could see your own reflection upon her glamorous body. Lights mimicking the northern lights reflected down below the ground, rays of sequential colors of the spectrum, like light shining through glass or a prism. Her eyes set to kill. Orbs dwindling in a bright crimson-vermilion sanguine, the abyss of slaughter obstructing a hallow-message of massacre and mass bloodshed. Her eyes were demeaning and well preserved, only to become the last to see once encountering her very presence. At the base of her tail, spikes rig along the top rim, small but decent. Nearing the middle, they grow at an extended rate, reaching the end with a mass club of spikes, a war hammer made to smash, break, crumble, shatter and crack bone, mail, rock, cement, bone, flesh and armor. The clubbed hammer of rigged spikes, growing nearly 6-8 inches long, piercing and volatile. Her appearance and basic body structure gave a fierce, vile and slaughter look, as of her own eyes. The ventricle side of the wings were a dark indigo-blue-amethyst (sometimes even to turn a wine-red), the dorsal a dark shade of asphalt-black. Each individual spike and scale glorified her body, broadening out her chest and head, muscles, the contour lines of the muscles visible, and even her legs built for muscular strength with massive power. Marcus admired her own self-beauty, knowing her own glamor was going to be splattered and sprayed with blood, ruining the shine of each scale. But the blood itself will liquefy a sheen over the scales, giving off the appearance of the old. The thought enthused him, empathy brought to Synile's twisted mind. Secured by their own trusting bond, they made it worthy for their opponents to suffer and crumble beneath them. They will melt from my molten flame, crumble beneath the weight of my body and break from my horrid words. None shall forget. Never forgive, never forget. See to it, child. It's only a matter of time until one strikes you down like a pillaged tree and slap you down as if you were nothing. These Locust show no fear. "Well, let's give it to them." Marcus eagerly pushed her intentions. Hostile in torture, she continued, they won't yield until they fight. We will show them the strength and power of a Syneath and Seethen. My Valyen, we will ensure our very survival that we are not to be trifled with. Oh no... we are not! Her eyes flashed the blemishing colors of pure fleshy sanguine, a distasteful and scornful smile breaching the corners of her lips, a feral smile induced a grim and dangerous, deadly grin. One that someone would never forget. |
![]() "Caring screws you up, man. Just switch it off. Life gets a lot easier then. " | |
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| Vaelyis | Jul 3 2010, 02:19 PM Post #3 |
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Echoes of Her Lullaby
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Gears of War: Rise of the Fallen Buildings crumbled, toppling over one another, creating the sort in the domino effect. The massacre between Locust and Gears was fought endlessly between the rival species, cutting down numbers one by one. Above, her body riveting with surprises, Synile's horrid screaming anger breached past the insanity lurking within her mind. Marcus, holding on with sheer hope and force, looked around below, watching the scurrying men and women saving their lives from the unexpected intrusion of the Locust Horde bombarding their home. Synile bared her teeth in a vile, feral snarl, the wretched, fowl smell of her rotten flesh and blood scorching the air. Wrenching her head to the side, a screaming shriek skewered the skies. One unheard of in Synile's case. Hovering in place, her wings keeping her body a loft and airborne in the sky, Synile attuned to the shriek that was forced from the creature's mouth. Marcus jolted, hearing the same sound as well. Narrowing his eyes, he couldn't see a thing. Nothing. Just ink above them in forms of clouds, concealing the sky and sun from below. Synile arched her neck, curiosity blooming in the mind. The creature's shrieking sound pierced the skies once more as it tossed the screeches over and over until soon they died away. It wasn't far. Synile's scales glimmered with agitation and defiance. Moving swiftly through the skies, the creature came into sight. Large enough to pick a fight and more decent for Synile's revenge to have something to feast on. Ink expunged from its rear as the large creature seared through the skies, two Locust upon its back: a gunner and driver. Large tentacle-like legs swayed with its body from the side and back, knowing those were to help with balance and leverage when standing upon ground as the creature landed to hoist its pointed ends at incoming Gears. Armor racked down from head to the very end of the body, covering some of the limbs. Its eyes illuminated the savage-red from its corruption. The driver Locust hurled the creature towards Synile and Marcus, advancing to their destination. Synile hissed, sighting the ravaged beast. "Is that a Locust?" Marcus asked, rage bordering his voice. Apart of the species, yes. "Do you know what it is?" I've herd the Gears below mention something of the Locust breeds from Reavers to Brumaks to Corpsers and the cunning wretched vermin called Wretches. There's more, but I didn't have the patience to stand and listen. "Brumaks cannot fly. They have rockets hoisted on their shoulders and arms. They're like an over sized Tyrannosaur. And it cannot be a Wretch—they're too small and hunt in packs, let alone unable to fly. A Reaver?" How did you learn so much from so little? "I listened in." Pity. The Reaver delved through the skies swiftly, moving from side to side in-between buildings, narrowing in on Synile and Marcus. Fine, let us give them a battle they cannot refuse. Just hold on and give it your all. "When do I not?" Don't retort to me boy. Just do as I ask. Marcus scowled, silently hissing after. Gripping his sword, Marcus sheathed the blade from his belt. Holding the hilt with secured, gripped hands, he sat in wait upon Synile's back. Flaring her wings, Synile screamed a shattering sound that surpassed the sound barrier, escalating in pitch. Tilting her body, she veered out of the way just in time as the Reaver headed dead on near her chest. Spikes ran along down the Reaver's spine as the armor connected with the bone, holding its own with the Reaver's body for more protection. Obviously they have never encountered a dragon, Synile muttered with a harsh tone. Marcus smirked, chuckling after. Synile didn't seem to have payed any sort of attention, recruiting her very eyes on the imposing Reaver. Twisting her body 360 degrees, her wings shuffled as they were pinned flat against her flanks, angling her body in the right degree. Her wings ruffled more, peeking out from her flanks to gain a leverage in her flight, balancing out the weight itself for more agility to her flight stimulation. The Reaver wasn't as well built as a dragon was in flight, but they seemed to manage their own grounds in aerial battle just as much as a dragon would. Synile soared above, climbing higher and higher until she was towering over the Reaver's body. Twisting her body in a half circle, Synile's head was just above the Reaver's. With one swift move she could dismember the head or even clamp her jaws over the base of the head, immobilizing the creature. But, she didn't want to kill it in such a rush. She liked to preserve her kill. "Just kill it!" Marcus snarled, watching with hate. Why waste a kill when you can have fun? Synile mused, seeing the insane, puzzled look in Marcus' eyes. "You're insane." No, I am just raving madness. "No, you're psychotic. This thing could easily kill you if it wanted to." Boy you speak as if I am just as futile and worthless. "No, I am speaking sense and fact." Wretched child. You speak false information and defiance. "I am not. I am just—" You know know bounds when it comes to something larger than you. Shut your trap and let me handle it. You just deal on your grounds and with the driving Locusts. "You're going to get us killed." Marcus countered, feeling the rage between them and against the Locust bloom violently with blundering colors of hate and sanguine. Oh, really? No, boy. This is showing arrogance in battle. "Synile, no. Just stop!" I am just as arrogant as they are, so why not? In your eyes, I am just as reckless. So why not be? "It's a common miss conception. You're over doing it." You proved wrong. "You're going to kill yourself if you do this. You're being insubordinate and arrogant right now. That will lead to your demise. Now, stop it, Synile before you get us both killed!" This is overkill, not arrogance. "You are trying to prove worthy. Back down now and handle it the right way." Or else what? "Just do it." No! Dammit child, you always contradict me. Like I am a fetid puppy. Get over yourself and see what is around you. There is no fighting the right or wrong way. It's either to kill or be killed. That is how life is here and you're going to have to get used it now or never. I am doing this for our own good, not for the luster. Get it in your head or I shall do it for you. "No." Don't you defy me, boy. I can arrange your death just as quickly as I can theirs. "No." Marcus! "Synile. You're going over board. You're tipping in the chair too far. Now get a hold of yourself and realize it." Fetid, child. I am doing what I can. But you are too goddamn dumb to realize that. Look around you, what do you see? Corruption. Death. Blood. Blindness. We see what they do: blinded by rage. We can only save our lives as we battle now. It doesn't matter how handle this. Just to save your hide and mine and keep it on. For all we know these Locust could kill us both and use our hide for something more. Now, do you want that taken away or do you want to stay on my back as we are alive? Make your choice. Growling under his breath, letting loose a small curse, Marcus looked down at her with dismay. "Fine. But I am asking you to just level it out for once." That was not apart of the accord. I am denying that. "Synile! Just wait, listen to me." I am done listening. I am tired of waiting. This ends now, no matter how much you plead. "Synile! Stop." Severing their connection, Synile plunged forward through the skies, hurling her body towards the ascending Reaver. Pinning both wings against her flanks, Synile descended with forcing velocity and momentum, barreling after in soon collision with the Reaver. As the two began to draw closer and closer, Synile cracked her jaws open, harvesting the fiery inferno inside her throat and jaws. As the fire seemed to gather, accumulating more and more, Synile mustered all she could gather. Snapping her wings open, propelling her body more through the air, her tail acting as a rudder to coordinate her body, wings searing through the sky and air like a speeding bullet leaving its weapon. The Reaver's eyes beamed with rays of ravaging red, pulsing its rage to a more lambent hue. Cocking a one-sided smile, deepening along the edges of her mouth, blooming a sinister, deadly grin, her blood-stained teeth exposed beneath the flap of skin that concealed the rows of teeth. Arching her neck, Synile unfurled her wings in unison, the membranes cracking from the forceful pressure pressing against the thin flesh of skin then held her body a loft. Wing broke against her wings which gave her body a violent jerk as she terminated her flight with on snap of her wings. The Reaver veered out of her way, flanking Synile from the right. Wrenching her head, Synile screeched, blaring her eyes and wings threateningly. She should have listened... The Reaver's long, sharp, serrated teeth pierced from its mouth, clamping down on her very wing, large rents scoring down through the membranes. Synile screeched as pain lanced through her wings, inducing the unbearable pain. Violently shaking her body, Synile tore her wing from the Reaver's mouth, prying away the rest of the wing along with. The Reaver screeched a high pitch sound, shaking Synile off her flight as she was too close to the Reaver's mouth. Being hazed by its screaming screech, Synile was set into a short trans, long enough for the Reaver to clash into her body, knocking her short off balance, hurling through the skies off course of her flight. Marcus held on, trying to gain leverage over their flight control, seeing as Synile was knocked out for the moment. Trying to gain their connection, Marcus screamed his pleading voice through her conscience, but there was nothing by emptiness. Her mind was hallow and corrupt with sheer darkness. There was nothing in her mind. Only mere nothingness. Marcus freaked, shrieking his concern, edging his mind more and more through hers. Trying his best to wake his very dragon before the plummeted to the ground; he did everything he could, but nothing seemed to work. The only form of life that gave away through her body was her soft, heaving breathing, her chest expanding and collapsing. Urging her to wake, Marcus pulled on her horns to keep them a loft or even try to control her body with his. Every effort was futile. The incoming Reaver barreled through the skies, descending after them, its piercing red eyes locked on both Synile and Marcus. It was all up to them... Now or never. As the Reaver cracked open its jaws, the long tentacle-like limbs shooting out as the Reaver drew near, Synile's body began to grow lambent. Rippling colors waved down her body, condensing the black that engulfed her body to a more lighter color as she gleamed beacons of light through the thick scaly hide of her body. Marcus watched with shock and awe, seeing as Synile was awake and enraged. Her eyes shot open to a flaming inferno of a sanguine-red, the burrowing sanguinary fusion boiling its turmoil. Bending her body in a half circle, her head curved from under her stomach, her tail and body being thrown over her head as she free fell with her back facing the ground. Wings pinned to her flanks, Synile arched her neck, seeing as the Reaver neared closer and closer. But that did not stop her. Lunging her head forward, the Reaver being not but a foot away, jaws expanded, Synile expunged a raging torrent of flame from her maw, engulfing the Reaver's face and body with a net of flames licking around its body, scorching the Locusts' face. Screaming and yelling out in pain, the Locust released its grip off the controls, losing grip on the Reaver, falling off its back. Synile smiled sinisterly, seeing as there was only one more to go: the Locust in the back. The Gunner. Marcus smiled, seeing as Synile had a lock on her victim. Her eyes ignited like fire to gasoline, spilling the sanguinary blood through the leaking, bleeding turmoil of foiling red hues and blackened luster. Flaring her wings, Marcus saw that her falling was merely only a trap for the Reaver. Smiling with a malice twist, he saw her plan right through the very bed of her eyes. Shrieking in pain, the fire scorching the exposed flesh, leaking through the cracks in the armor, the Reaver shied away, its eyes boiling in rage. Synile hissed, clamping her jaws shut with a shuddering clack, bone meeting bone. Blood slapped through her jaws, bleeding out through her teeth, dripping down off the lower jaw, caking her lower jaw with the sanguine-red. The Reaver roared its screaming fury, lunging after Synile. But, she was already ahead in the game. Veering out of the flight path of the raging Reaver, Synile swayed to the right, her jaws locking around the neck, her claws sinking into the flesh underneath its belly, her teeth ripping through the sheet of armor that protected its body. Marcus glared, narrowing his eyes on the Locust gunner. Take care of it, I have the Reaver. Synile roared in order. Nodding, Marcus leaped off her spine, landing upon the Reaver's back, sitting in the driver's seat. Thoughts obscured his mind, wondering what it would be like to drive one of the creatures. Synile roared, urging him to hurry. Shaking his head from the thought, Marcus attuned to the Locust gunner. Pulling out his sword, Marcus hopped over the driver's seat, landing swiftly on the back of the Reaver. The Locust bared its fowl yellow teeth, hopping over the troika. Marcus held the hilt of his sword, pulsing energy through the blade. Screaming in raging fury, Marcus ducked as the Locust swung his might fists, trying to land a punch to Marcus' head, killing him. But all was useless. Marcus was too fast for the stubby creature. Hefting his sword, Marcus shot up off the back of the Reaver, plunging the blade through the Locust's stomach, the blade at an angle, piercing through the back, red blood dripping off the blade's end, streaming down the shaft. Marcus smiled deviously with a peevish twist, watching as its eyes went white with death. Giving out is last breathe, the Locust dropped to its knees, falling over board off the Reaver's back. Marcus glanced over his shoulder at Synile, seeing as she still had her lock on its neck. Placing the sword back in its sheath, Marcus ran over to Synile, mounting her once more. "It's done." Marcus called down to his dragon. Synile's eyes averted up to him, a deadly smile blooming on her face. Ripping her jaws from its neck, Synile pushed her body off using her hind legs to dismount from the Reaver. Thrusting her wings with blunt force, buffeting the Reaver, Synile expanded her jaws with a edging pulsing screaming with a bordering shriek that escalated in pitch. The Reaver screamed back, shaking away the pain, advancing after Synile once again. "They just don't quit, do they?" Soon enough it will give in. Trust me! Synile hissed, cracking open her jaws as the two titans collided once again. |
![]() "Caring screws you up, man. Just switch it off. Life gets a lot easier then. " | |
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| Vaelyis | Apr 22 2012, 10:05 PM Post #4 |
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Echoes of Her Lullaby
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Gears of War: Unfortunate Rivalry The Reaver's jaws expanded, the three inch teeth beckoning all of the lives taken through its jaws. Synile had a mind of her own, but it would only cause their lives to be taken—in some terms. Marcus on the other hand—in his view—is only trying to convince Synile to terminate her dire needs to slaughter the beast, ending its misery with only blood on her jaws. The Reaver was only asking for it, heeding Synile to end its life and spill the blood over millions of Locust. Synile's wings pounded at her flanks, thrusting her body forward, propelling after the Reaver who pushed itself further to exterminate Synile and Marcus. Flaring her wings as she threw them above her head, they snapped parallel with her body, thrusting her body towards the descending Reaver. Twisting her body upside down, she zipped past under the Reaver's tentacle like legs, spiraling out from below, gliding above the Reaver with scorn filling her eyes. Marcus was unsure as to what she was doing as far as playing Cat and Dog with the Locust beast—but for whatever terms it was, he didn't agree with it. Propelling her body forward, her wings snapped open with gaping jaws, tackling the Reaver from the air, losing control and balance in her wings and weight. The Reaver shrieked, its jaws snapping as it tried to gain a locking hold on one of her wings, doing its best to tear Synile from its back, but no avail. Synile compressed all her weight onto the spine of the Reaver, their bodies free-falling through the air as they came hurling from the sky. Using her hind legs, she kicked the Reaver in the chest, doing her best to stay aloft in the sky above the Locust Horde and the dust-filled ground. The Reaver bared its teeth at Synile, no Locust to control the ravaged beast. Synile attuned her attention to the Reaver, her expectations higher than before, knowing in the end: one of them has to go down. And it wasn't going to be her. Marcus watched a small assembly horde below them, dots wandering remotely below them, seemingly taking form of large, scaly beasts that came to the terms of Locust. Pulling back in his spot, Marcus was redirected to a modern roaring beast several clicks away from them, the glowing lambent eyes piercing as it stood nearly taller than Synile, with a mounted rocket on its back near the head and two turrets upon the wrists of both arms. The rockets were mounted with chains and armor, to help provide support for the beast as it walked slowly through the streets, providing its suppressing work, allowing the Locust to move and breach through COG forces. Marcus took notice to the large beast, but Synile, however, was more concentrated on the Reaver that deemed a tease to her. The large creature stood obstructing the view from behind it, the large racked weapons deadly and powerful to those who wandered about in the line of fire, much less even close to the beast. The COG specialized weapons to take such creatures out, but in their case there were no COG affiliations near them, let alone a base to clear the Locust off the streets: it was just him and Synile with the savage Reaver that taunted Synile ambitiously. Marcus pulled back on Synile's neck to at least gain some attention to her, but all he got in return was a snort and a jerk from her head, signaling she wasn't in the mood for his lectures. She was unstable as it was, making it harder to command her in his power; she was dwindling down in the sovereigns of abyss, and the only way she knew how to get out of this situation was to kill everything or anything that lingered in her path. It was reckless and arrogant, but she had no other option amongst the parties of both the Locust and the COG. It was a battlefield, and like most: you had to fight to the death, winner takes all. "Synile, leave the Reaver, we have a bigger problem," he spoke brashly to her, cranking her neck towards the incoming onslaught just before them. The Brumak struck its way through the civilized areas, crashing and toppling houses and buildings over in order to manage a walkway for its walking distance amongst the Seran grounds. Synile bared her teeth in the aggravation, taking no threat to the manner on how much stress was building up in such little time. There is just no end to his. With a short buffet from her wings, she delved forward, evading the counterattack the Reaver had implied with haste. The Brumak roared its weary way through the crowded streets, its eyes focused on what's on the ground, not above. Synile and Marcus were in the clear, for now, until the Brumak spots them distinctly, doing what is in its best to eliminate them from its path. "Can you take it out?" Marcus asked, implying on obliterating the Brumak. Do you not see I have my hands tied? "Take a little care into this, not be a reckless ass and think you can manage all of this on your own." Look, I am doing my best here. What are you doing? "Saving your ass!" he pointed directly at the Brumak, redirecting to the encounter. Synile hissed between her closed jaws, her eyes wandering aimlessly below, watching as the Locust tore through the streets, weapons drawn and ready to release the next line of bullets into their opponents. The Brumak stood hesitant, its eyes wandering about, picking up anything in the area. Its main focus was what was on the ground, next to guarding the Locust support group below, not what was above in the air, much less the Reaver was supposed to make obsolete, but Synile quickly became determined that even the Locust weren't the ones bringing her down. Slightly evading the Reaver to a moderate distraction, Synile flapped her wings slightly to a buffet before landing firmly upon the rooftop of a building just above the Brumak and the small group of Locust troops. The lips curled over her gums, teeth exposed from beneath the flesh, her eyes flickering with the swirls of a sanguine-crimson bloodbath. Talons curling over the ledge, she watched as Marcus hovered over her head, trying to point out the main weak points within its extremities, and unlike Baird: Marcus wasn't as knowledgeable and experienced with the Locust species, thus leading the determination to be rather difficult and frustrating. Distraught registered on his face, his chin-lining and cheeks bulging from the tight clenching being enforced in his lower jaw, indicating the suppressed course of irritation overriding him. Synile took notice of his distress, trying her best to even out the odds with little course and knowledge she had with the Locust species. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. "That doesn't help with this occasion, Synile." Do your best. "All I know is go for the legs and the large tanks propped on its back. More than likely, we have to take out those turrets prompted on its arms. Those'll cause you more damage, if not terminate you and we don't need that." Anything else I need to know? "Yeah: we're gonna die!" Marcus... "Oh no, I am not being sarcastic. I mean it—we're gonna die." Are you doubting me? "No, I am doubting myself, the situation, and the fact that we don't know what we're doing. So, in other words: we're dead." Troublesome child. "Look, to make it clear: we're foreign and we don't know them as much as those... COG do. So, we improvise." A little taste of our world? "Close. I take the ground and you take the air. It helps to bring it down. I can aim for the legs while you take out those large canisters propped on its back, which—if I am correct—help fuel the rockets that are suited on the shoulders and head. Sound like a plan?" If you know me well, I would object to it, but seeing as it's our only option, then yes: it is a plan. But— she intruded within her speech mid-way, —don't get yourself killed. "I can say the same for you. Now, can you drop me off below?" Synile nodded her head in reply towards his question, her wings ruffling at her flanks before she tipped off to the side, her weight falling near the chest and head, allowing her to break off from the rooftop. Gliding along the walls of the building, Synile pulled out from the dive, wrenching her wings free from her sides, allowing her weight to counteract with the immersed momentum and velocity, trying her body ascending into the air, coming to a slow halt in her flight right before landing promptly on the ground to allow Marcus to dismount. "Keep it simple: I will signal you in when I am finished. If the Locust spot you, I will aid in distraction, giving you enough time to take down the Brumak. Clear?" Clear. "Alright." If only we were this more efficient at home—then we'd have nothing to worry about. "Well, that's our fault. Now get moving!" he sparred her, leaving her side while evading the eyes and sight of the Locust wandering about clueless. Using the walls and mantles as a form of evading mechanism, he proposed himself in the manner of secretively moving with caution, no intentions on making a disruption or noise to foolishly place him on the spot. He had no weapon besides Nyr'vasil, and his sword wasn't enough to bring the enemy down, so he had to improvise: use one of their weapons. He searched the streets, staying out of their away and senses while scavenging through the dead corpses he found of dead COG soldiers. He felt offended and feral for doing so, but it was all he had left in options. Running rampant through each body, his eyes glanced at an object clenched in a soldier's hand, one that being the main primary weapon used within the COG forces: the Lancer Assault Rifle. Heeding his way to the soldier his keen senses picked up a form of grumbling and steps being followed down through the alleyways between the buildings. Having no time to react Marcus quickly raised the dead soldier's body, hindering himself from the sign of the small Locust search group. Evading their sight quickly, Marcus held his weight to counter the soldier, using other objects such as trash cans and trash to hide the other areas of his body from their view. The Locust stepped forth at the foot of the intersection between the three-way alleyway, their eyes scanning between each one, picking nothing up. Insisting they proceeded forward, grumbling the short phrase, "For the Horde!" under their breath, their strides slow and brisk. Making an attempt to move the body, Marcus seized as one of them proceeded to stop, his head in the air, the bordering sound of a harsh sniff following the Locust Drone. Pulling the body back over him, Marcus cowered behind the deceased soldier, his eyes prompted and locked on the Locust search group, watching them carefully. The Locust proceeded sniffing the air before retaliating, realizing it was merely nothing to him, slowly regaining his walking pace with the other three that trailed with him. A short sign of relief followed from Marcus' mouth, removing the dead corpse off his own body, picking up the Lancer off the ground while prying the fingers away from the magazine and trigger. Doing the procedure with caution, making no notion to slip a finger and hit the trigger, Marcus managed to release the grip without causing a distraction or fabricating his position, the weapon freely pried from the soldier and in his own grasp. A smile delved on his face as he held the weapon, the chainsaw bayonet glimmering with the stains of blood from previous hacking of Locust that came his way. Flipping the Lancer verdantly, holding it properly: his left hand underneath the small crevice just below the barrel and atop of the chainsaw bayonet, whilst the other placed firmly near the trigger, the weapon embraced closely to his chest to ensure mobility and quick-action when drawing the weapon. Marcus admired the weapon, especially towards the assimilation and creativity brought into it, much less the added bonus of the attribute of the chainsaw bayonet. Nothing such as this weapon has ever crossed an interest to him, likewise making it a decent compliment to the creator of the Lancer. Quit your fiddling and get out there! Synile snarled as she watched him closely from above, awaiting his signal. "I am not fiddling, I am admiring!" he hissed in retort. Whatever you're doing: stop it! "Okay. Fine." Holding the weapon firmly in his grasp, Marcus looked through the alleys, peeking around the corners to search for more of the on-going search groups, taking the advantage of the least likelihood of being caught. Peering around the corner, Marcus spotted nothing to his view. The Locust had passed, making their route and ongoing to another location that was propped on their agenda. Slowly moving around the corner with haste, Marcus silently tip-toed in a fast moving pace down the alleyway, his eyes searching and darting from one place to another, mainly on the main highway used to transport the Horde throughout the city, which was the main road dead ahead of him—the same one that was supporting the Brumak. Slowly coming towards the end of the alley, his eyes retracted themselves towards the towering Brumak that stood at the foot of the road near a set of buildings that stood obstructing the view, standing parallel to the Brumak, giving it enough room to stand about, its eyes faced forward and on the Locust horde in front of it. Marcus made no rational attempt to get its attention, or even to make himself known. All he had to do was get a good shot at the back of the legs, remaining calm to at least weakening the beast from below, while Synile had the advantage above in the skies. Marcus withdrew the Lancer from the tucked position near his chest, one eye close while the other proceeded to look through the cross-hairs, aiming down the enemy with the small scope placed on the top edge of the weapon. Maintain his breath while keeping a short look-out from the Locust group that dismissed him, Marcus laid eyes on the Brumak, focusing his fire towards the back calves on the Brumak's legs. His right index finger placed firmly hovering over the trigger, Marcus took the chance and open fired on the Brumak. The brute sound coming from the weapon trigger a short, but firm alert amongst the Locust, causing the Brumak to stand upright, pulling is head back in the sheer shock of lancing pain triggered from the calves of its legs. A roar fled the beast, the amount of ammo taken into the Brumak evading from crippling it. Pulling his weapon down, Marcus cursed under his breath, a slight hiss trailing behind. Synile watched Marcus closely, her eyes darting from him to the Brumak, not taking his actions lightly, which seemingly caused the disruption that triggered the alert within them. Great, now what are you going to do? "I am going to keep firing. Now's your chance, Synile." He ordered towards her as he retreated from his spot, running down the alley to get a better outlook on the Brumak's legs, the condition not severe, but a start to bringing it down. Hauling his way down the alley, coming to close counters with the intersection he previously was at, he side-stepped quickly, skipping to a running start down the alley before coming to the foot of the road where Synile had dropped him off at. The Brumak roared in fury, the rockets swaying with its weight as it rocked from side to side to move between the buildings and into the clearing. Marcus drew his weapon once more, slowly walking with it trained on the Brumak's legs again, triggering the Lancer to fire at the flesh and calves. Dodging bullets that came from incoming Locust Hammerbursts, Marcus had little options as of now, needless to say he had an entire group on his hands, unable to take them out one at a time, for the Brumak was the main objective, not them. But seemingly the Locust group ahead of him made it harder for him to complete his job. "Anytime now, Syn!" Marcus roared in agitation, wondering where the hell his dragon had gone. Searching the skies he saw no speck or sign of her; he often now thought she had left, but what would lead her to that, he didn't know. Clenching his lower jaw as bullets bounced off and ricochet from the edges of the mantle, Marcus ducked down lower to the ground, avoiding contact with a stray bullet to the back of the head. The mantle sucked up a lot of their bullets, maintaining an advantage for him. It did wonders to know that a piece of concrete could inflict enough support for him, let alone the COG themselves. Smiling at the though as he sat back and watched them pull fire on him, Marcus laid his eyes on the onslaught to the side of him, training his weapon at the hips while firing on the set of Locust that evaded his sight to get a clip into him. The Lancer clicked once he slaughtered down the two Locusts, the ammo in the magazine empty. Snarling to himself, Marcus had no ammo on him, so he had to scavenge the dead bodies of the fallen Locust he had knocked down just previously. Sliding his way over to the right, maintaining a safe distance from the Locust whilst his body remained low to the ground, he slowly slid over to a protruding concrete wall that stood prompted above the ground, holding its own weight above the battlefield. Marcus slowly migrated from one place to another, ducking and rolling with ease to track down the two Locust he had shot and killed, searching their person for the weapons they had used, which was the primary instructed Hammerburst that was made and manufactured by them below in the Hallows. Like the COG, the Locust managed to have their own weapon system, government, tags, and communication. As impressive as it was, he had no time to deal with learning their ways and taking note of their behavior, let alone study their culture. He had to cut them down one at a time while not wasting any ammo by blind-firing over the mantles he used to provide for cover. Looking around the corners, he spotted at least ten Locust ahead of him, all in which were focused on him and him alone, for he was the only breathing 'human' wandering about their position and becoming a threat to their scouting and plans. Marcus drew a breath, slowly inhaling and exhaling, his chest heaving with applied tension. He was a rookie with occasions like this, never using such weapons before in his lifetime. Holding the Hammerburst in his hands, almost in the same fashion as the Lancer, he stood prompted against the mantle, his eyes still searching the skies will drawn to the attention on the surrounds around him. "Synile—any time would be nice! I am getting flanked here!" Stop your fussing! "I am being shot at!" Like you're the only one? she snarled towards him, ending the conversation to quickly maneuver through the skies, implying her main focus on the Brumak. Unlike the Lancer, the Hammerburst acquires no bayonet of any kind, let alone something that deems unique about it besides the engraved insignia of the Locust Horde, which seemed similar to the modern swastika, only outdated and improvised to a more unique factor that supports the party it symbolizes. In the center of the insignia was a slanted box, much less a diamond with all equal sides, parallel to its formation. Smaller 'diamonds' appear attached to each of the four corners, whilst the smaller diamonds only exposed three of the four corners, the other becoming obsolete and omitted. The symbol didn't take much to create, much less the Gears' symbol was a gear with a skull embedded in the middle, also known as the 'Crimson Omen'. Sometimes the skull is found slanted and/or propped accordingly straight and flat, the description fitting to the COG. The colors of a red, brown and black festooned the weapon, the engravings and contours of the metal noticeable. A small—yet larger—scope was propped atop on the rifle, holding the ability of optics as well. While the Lancer was made for close and mid-range, the Hammerburst's intent was to knock down those that in long-range distance, much less being a poor weapon at close or mid-range, unlike the Gnasher and Lancer themselves, both being COG operative weapons, just like the Snub and Boltok Pistol. "Meanwhile, Marcus is sitting back, getting shot at while his dragon is taking no time or effort to help him!" Marcus shouted as he placed emphasis near the ending of his rant, his eyes darting across the skies, watching and waiting for Synile to appear, but again: she was a no-show. "Goddammit! Syn, where are you?" Still there was no answer from her. "Synile?" Pausing for a moment, he still go nothing in return and usually she's always replying with some form of a remark. "Syn?" This time he became hesitant and worried, wondering where she had gone now. "Synile?" Muttering the phrase 'What the fuck?', the words soundless and quiet, his eyes darting all over: above and below, keeping his surroundings at bay while focusing on the Locust group ahead of him. Holding his effort at his position, Marcus sat crouched near to the ground, holding the Hammerburst securely on his person, his eyes closing as he took in a short breath of air, closing his mind while listening to his surroundings. His chest expanding and collapsing, eyes closed, his mouth opened slightly, only to mutter a short breath of words. "How far would you go, knowing you only had seconds to live?" This far! a voice prodded abruptly in his head, his eyes flashing open from the familiarity of the voice that announced within his conscience. A hurling sound of an high-pitched scream reverberated through the skies, the frequency bordering the scream maintaining a leveled pitch, indicating a creature was amongst the skies. The Brumak roared its anger, taking notice towards the creature barreling through the sky. Turning its back towards Marcus' directions, its eyes tearing from the group and upon the sky, the beast separated its legs, jerking its body slightly forward as another curling roar was emitted from its jaws and throat, the rockets sitting promptly on its shoulders and back producing an emission that was indicated that they were about to be fired. A black speck in the sky hurled closer to the Brumak, appearing abruptly out of nowhere before a another roaring scream cracked from the creature before emitting a hurling blue-ball at the Brumak, impacting near the neck and right rocket canister. The ball mixed with fire and electricity came from the very one that spoke in Marcus' mind, the dragon that dealt with him through thick and thin. Synile appeared out of thin air, breaking free from the mass onslaught before her, retracting to suppress her rider in the aid of his heeding call. Thought I left you? she spoke, a warm smile peeling on her face as she flew by, her wings parallel and expanded as she veered out of the Brumak's way, scaling over the faces of the buildings as she made her pass before ascending back into the sky. Expanding her jaws, a torrent of red, orange, and yellow flame expunged from the depths of her throat, engulfing the Locust entirely in the mixture of screaming sounds and dire pain, watching as they flailed and ran about before collapsing and falling to their demise. Terminated the flame, she withdrew herself back into the sky, attuning back to the Brumak that become the main objective as of now. Happy? Now you can move without being shot at! she sneered towards Marcus, a slight bit of mockery in her voice that was indicating towards him and his past ordeal with the small Locust group. "Ha-ha-ha, very funny." Pushing off the ground while still holding the weapon in hand, Marcus rolled out from his spot, heeding towards the Brumak, training the weapon on the hells and calves of the Brumak's legs. Synile veered left and right, avoiding all contact with the Brumak, especially with the mounted rockets and turrets. Pumping her wings slightly, she jerked her wings with a slight thrust, pulling her body back, her body and face directed towards the ground as she made another roundabout, closing in on the Brumak with another hurling blow to the canisters propped on its back. Expanding her jaws, she released another hurling ball of the fire and electricity mixture, causing the sudden impact to implode on the Brumak, one of the canisters bursting into mid-explosion. The Brumak roared in the angst of the fire-fight, the two working together in order to bring it down. Throwing its arms and clenched hands towards the ground, saving its weight from toppling over, the Brumak stood back up, roaring in response to Synile and her advancement. Thrusting her body forward she allowed Marcus to get a lick in the battle, giving her some form of control and weight to collapsing the Brumak. Aiming down on the legs, Marcus moved with course selection in his movements, side-stepping evenly while providing slight fire to the Brumak's legs, evading all cause of getting slammed with its rockets and/or turrets. The Brumak's attention was averted to Marcus, its eyes locked on him as he moved passively through the grounds and mantles, skipping here and there over fallen bodies of both the COG and Locust. Skidding over the ground, he quickly darted behind cover while the Brumak open-fired with its turrets, aiming at Marcus' location. Ducking behind the cover he was close to, he watched as bullets flew between the edges of his cover, knocking bits and pieces of the mantle away, limiting his cover space as the Brumak remained firing at him. The turrets abruptly overheated, giving Marcus enough time to fire back at its legs and face, giving Synile more time to quickly lash back with another counter-attack. "Now, Synile, now!" he shouted behind the wall, quickly evading the line of fire coming from the Brumak's weapons. Pinning her wings while in the midst of flight, Synile threw back her wings, curling to a mid 'C', making a slight completed back-flip, making her way towards the Brumak once more. Aiming down on the canisters, Synile fired another hurling ball, imploding the canister upon impact as she quickly veered to the right, avoiding the thrown arm directed at her to at least try and knock her out of the sky. Pulling in her left wing while extending out her right, she quickly made a U-turn, picking Marcus out easily from the crowd. Buffeting her wings, she delved to the ground, running at Marcus in the action of using her jaws to pluck him off the ground and throw her weight back into the air, pushing off with her hind legs. A few pumps from the wings she was back ascending into the sky, trailing higher and higher above the Brumak. Marcus held the Hammerburst in his hand while riding upon Synile's spine once again, his eyes locked on the canisters that settled on its spine. You have one shot: make it count. Nodding his head, Marcus took the opportunity. Focusing on the leaking canister as plumes of smoke and fire spurted from the cracked hole placed embedded in its surface, Marcus timed it all perfectly, waiting for Synile to glide evenly at an angle, turning to sufficiently make the next strike against the Brumak. Hammering the trigger on the gun, Marcus released a small fire upon the tanks, an eruption exploding on its back, mustering a powerful force that ruptured a massive explosion that decimated the Brumak whole, and the course of a few buildings that were neighboring the Brumak. Synile delved forward, evading the explosion with little time she had, veering from left to right between buildings. Thrusting her wings against her flanks, her body ascending vertically into the air, trailing above the rooftops that obscured the horizon. Hovering in place, her wings pumping and flapping to her command, Synile watched the demise of the Brumak, the pieces of red sanguine and gore rising in the air. A red mast engulfed the small area where the Brumak had taken its toll, falling freely like ash over the streets, windows, and ground. Marcus patted her side, implying she did a good job, knowing that she did most of the work compared to him firing at the creature. Pushing on her head forward, Marcus inclined on her weight, allowing her body to drop at an incline before proceeding at a downwards angle in a short dive. Synile's eyes spotted a short glimpse of a shimmering light, one in which light had reflected off a scope. Her eyes widened as she spotted a Locust Sniper not far from their position, the optics and scope itself advanced and trained on her. Marcus was oblivious to the sniper, knowing that his weapon was trained on him, not her. Jerking back her head, Synile made an attempt to delve forward, but the Locust had already fired the weapon, the bullet hurling through the air, meeting its end within Marcus' collar bone. Blood spurted instantly as the bullet made contact with his shoulder, a scream of pain announced from him, grumbling in a horrid tone as he took the bullet within close contact of nearly thirty feet from the origin it had rendered from. Synile bared her teeth, her wings pushing her body to a dive, evading another stray bullet from the Locust Sniper. Marcus instantaneously compressed his hand over the wound, doing in his best to stop the blood flow while sitting upright while Synile was still in flight. Marcus! "I'm alright," he snarled under his breath, wincing in pain as it lanced independently through his chest and collar-bone. The blood seeped through his fingers, trailing in thick rivers down his wrist and hand, the wound deep and thick to the core. Synile's bordering worry and concern didn't cease, for his pain became her own, and she felt it thickening in the center chest cavity. Her wings pounded in a symmetrical and parallel formation, allowing her body to propel further as she tried her best to find a landing spot to aid Marcus and his flesh wound, but there was nothing in her sight that was out of range. Wandering closer to the ground, she veered into the path of a small group of Locust that were aware of her presence, aiming up at her while she made her pass inadvertently, her eyes widening as the Locust aimed and fired at her shoulder blade and left wing bone, clipping the flesh and scale to a peak of crippling her. A shriek of pain loomed from her throat, her jaws opening to release the pure cry of pain and agony, a scream trailing right after. Marcus hissed at the abrupt jerking of her body, which caused one of her neck spikes to push back on his hand and into the open flesh wound where the bullet had entered. Constricting his jaws with a locking clench, he harbored the scream of pain in his conscience, remaining silent due to the increased pain. Synile's body staggered in flight, pulling out from the dive, driving away from the small group of Locusts that pried her out of the sky. The Locust Sniper watched intently, scoping her out with one more bullet in the chamber and that bullet was saved for her to bring the beast down and out of the sky. Marcus' eyes caught the same glimpse of the reflection of light bouncing off the glass upon the scope, his eyes widening once the sniper had caught them in his view. Kicking her side, Marcus made an indication to her, but it was already too late. The sniper pressed the trigger, apply enough pressure to subject the bullet from the barrel, driving its way into her shoulder cavity. The bullet managed to dig further towards the bone, applying immense pressure to her shoulder and wing bone, causing discomfort and pain once she moved or flapped her wings in order to escape. Throwing her head back slightly in a feral, shrieking scream, Synile was left limited in options. Plunging towards the ground, her head was the first to collapse and break her fall, the rest of her body trailing after. Marcus was thrown from her spine, landing on his back first before sliding over the dust-smeared ground, soon to finally come to a halt away from Synile. Her spine twisted and turned, almost snapping upon impact whilst her wings cracked and broke under the pressure of her fall. Her tail swung hammering to the ground with blunt force, her head springing up to meet with the surface of the ground, her body twisted and mangled from the crash she faced and endured with pain and misery lancing throughout her body. Her vision began to fade, dark black blotches stippling her view before everything entirely faded to complete darkness, her body lying on the ground limp and frozen, no life lingering on her scales or eyes. Marcus' eyes trailed to her body, having no form of energy or strength to get up and run to aid Synile. He was just in the same position, despondence and worry bordering his eyes, flooding with mere dismay and welling tears. His hands firmly grasped the dirt, the sounds of Locust near by their position, and both were in no shape to do anything. A flicker in his sight obscured his vision, slowing fading to a blackout, his eyes rolling back, closing to the world that appeared before him, leaving dimly due to the loss of immense blood and impairment to his body; cracked ribs and a shattered shoulder and collar bone, he wasn't able to mobilize himself, let alone fend and fight back. Both were weak and dead in their position, and Synile wasn't there to save their lives this time. |
![]() "Caring screws you up, man. Just switch it off. Life gets a lot easier then. " | |
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4:17 AM Jul 11