Post by Kwihll on Mar 21, 2010 2:05:43 GMT -5
So, I've finally gotten around to completing the first chapter of "War" (which is a pretty unoriginal title, come to think). I dropped a hint in a new version army discussion thread a few weeks back, I think, and there's my signature flaunting it about, so...enjoy! Constructive criticism is accepted (hell, I'm begging for it)...
I'm not sure if I should use other people's armies in this story without their permission, so I'll PM them and/or you to see if I want it in. Or, if you like, you could give me the green light here.
And before anyone asks, the various pikmin colors represent various ethnicities...see if you can guess which, though its not that hard.
Chapter 1:
Forcing another foot up the snowy hillock, the Brown pikmin gritted his teeth against the cold, head down and leaf flapping like some kind of lame sail in the chilly wind. It had started to snow again, and visibility had fallen to near zero. Scout am I?, the pikmin thought bitterly, lifting another foot and stamping it into the snow. Who ever heard of a Brown being a scout?
Who ever heard of a Brown being a bad digger?, the pikmin thought, but angrily, he pushed the thought away. He scooped out a handful of snow and threw the snowball into the blizzard. There's at least a hundred Cyans just sitting on their well-trained behinds, waiting to be sent into the field, but of course they schedule me for scout duty on blizzard day, just because Splinters can't dig a decent tunnel.
Viciously, he attacked the snow, burrowing out a small hole with his large hands, trademark of the Brown pikmin. I'll show them. Splinters thought. I'll dig a tunnel all the way to the Wistful Wild if I have to!
He stopped, chest heaving in exertion. A few bits of snow fell from his hands onto the ground with small plops. One plop seemed louder than the rest...in fact, it was more like a continuous, tinny whistling.
And then the huge boulder came sailing out of the snow and fell right on top of Splinters.
"Don't you think that was a little bit...overboard, sir?"
"Overboard?! We were under fire from frozen projectiles! The assailant must be dealt with extreme prejudice!"
"...It was a snowball, sir."
"A snowball that hit me!"
A troop of Red pikmin, in perfect formation, marched through the snow, with the motley duo pulling what appeared to be a catapult bringing up the rear. "Is the target dead?" barked a particularly pointy-nosed Pikmin wearing a pressed uniform, complete with shiny brass buttons and the two green stars, indicating a low-ranking commander.
More Pikmin were appearing out of the snow. One broke rank and ran up to the commander. This ones buttons were even shinier and he had on his lapel three bronze stars. "Second Lieutenant Torrez! What the hell did you just fire one of our rocks for?"
The second lieutenant saluted smartly, and his companion did likewise. "Colonel Gonzales! We were under fire!"
Gonzales leered at them down his pointed nose. "From what?" he spat.
Torrez's subordinate mumbled something, and Gonzales tapped him sharply on the head. "Speak up, man! I can't hear you!"
Second Lieutenant Torrez stepped in front of his officer, who was rubbing his head, not so much because of the blow to his body as the blow to his pride. "It was a snowball, sir. Probably one of the private's idea of joke, sir."
Gonzales took a step closer, almost nose to nose (although that was still a respectable distance for Red pikmin) with Torrez. "And you wasted ammunition because you over reacted to...a joke?"
Torrez met him squarely in the eye. "Yes, sir."
Gonzales barked, a derisive, sneering kind of laugh. Casually, he pushed Torrez into his subordinate, causing both of them to tumble into the snow. "You disgust me, Torrez. That's why we don't let you handle the real weaponry, Torrez, because you're skittish," and at this point he kicked Torrez in the side, "a wastrel," another kick, "and a complete idiot who lies on top of his own soldiers, too lazy to do any real work. Or maybe you're just plain stupid. Its a wonder you made it to Second Lieutenant at all..."
And in a flash, Torrez was at Gonzales's throat. "Say that again." he hissed. "Say it to my face!"
Gonzales did not say anything. Instead, he delivered a punch that sent Torrez flying. Wiping snow off of his uniform, he advanced. Well, he made the intent to advance, but never actually got to the actual advancing because at that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder.
Brigadier General Chou was foreigner. He said he came from the east, farther east than even the famed Eastern Desert Storm and their great sultans, which was very far east. His skin was completely white, his build abnormally thin- but what really scared those under his command were the eyes. Totally red, without pupils, so that it was very hard to tell if he was looking at you or looking at you.
"What's all this? Fighting amongst brothers?" he drawled, rolling out his "l"s and giving the vowels strange, fluctuating sounds. He cast his red eyes on Gonzales, then Torrez, who was once again on the snow. Both looked away rather quickly. If Chou had had a mouth, he would have been smiling both malevolently and pleasantly. He scrutinized the, for several seconds. "Get back in line, both of you." he said mildly, almost affably, but those eyes were screaming bloody murder...
There was no more arguing. Neither commander spoke as they hurried back into formation, leaving the quaking soldier on the ground. Chou stretched out a hand to the terrified pikmin, and gradually, he took it. The moment their hands touched, the brigadier general tightened his grip. The Red screamed, trying desperately to break his vice-like hold, but Chou was too far gone. His fingers punctured the Red pikmin's skin, and the soldier collapsed onto the snow, eyes rolling and pores foaming. Chou turned and said, casually, "Let that be a warning to anyone else who wishes to quarrel with his brother." He didn't even look back at the fallen soldier's body.
And long after the troops were gone and the pikmin's body was almost buried by the snow, Splinters crawled out from under the boulder's wreckage, thanking his lucky stars that he was a Brown and Torrez wasn't allowed to use explosives. He looked at the Red and then quickly looked away. The snow would cover him soon, and maybe Splinters would forget that terrified scream...
Yeah, right.
---
Well, this is certainly a motley crew.
Chou surveyed the mass of Cyan and Brown pikmin, and those strange ones, the Glowstem pikmin. Ancient relics from a forgotten age, as far as he was concerned. And, with a large amount of distaste, the herd of Woolly Cannon Beetles and Arctic Breadbugs. A couple Icemites and Snow Blossoms were also hiding beneath the snow, thinking he could not see them. He snorted. White pikmin are very proud of their eyes.
Line upon line of stoic faced Red pikmin in perfect formation behind him, he announced in a voice that cut the eternal, winter air, "All pikmin have a choice. Make yours."
Chou noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that a group of Glowstem pikmin were talking in hushed voices. Apparently, they had some kind of bureaucratic council leading them...
His attention was quickly diverted when a Cyan, brazen in a traditional kilt and wielding his shovel like a weapon, shouted, "And whit if we dinna want ta join yer wee sissie dress-up party?" The Cyan turned to his fellows, raising his shovel like a beacon. "Nae king! Nae quin! We willna bow to any pikmein!"
Cheers rose from the other Cyans, and a few Browns joined in as well. The non-pikmin soldiers added their vocal contributions, too, and Chou sighed. "I grow weary of your rustic ways. Let me speak with your leader." He eyed the council again. "Your leaders."
One of them, who was especially tall and wiry (at least, for the Glowstems) stepped forward. "I am the Fifth Sage, the Voice of the Council. Speak."
"As far as I can tell, you have only two choices. Join us or not. And may I remind you that since the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then the friend of my enemy is my enemy." Chou looked at the Council and every single member looked him straight back in those pitiless eyes. "I, for one, am quite sure what will happen to my enemies."
The Fifth Sage shrugged. "Join or leave. That is not my choice. As far as I can tell, mister Chou, the choice belongs to the one making it."
Murmurs rippled around the army of Absolute Zero. No one moved, for a moment, then one Brown stepped forward. "I don't know...I don't want to be making any enemies. And I'm sick of winter! I want to go with these guys to summer..."
A couple other Browns and one Cyan nodded their heads, too, and joined the first into the opposing army's ranks. Chou looked at the pitifully small amount of new recruits, and sighed. "That all?"
The brave Cyan replied, defiantly, "Nae king. We are free pikmein."
Chou sighed. "Pity." He turned around to his troops, who at once cocked their rifles. "As long as you live, my friend, you will never be free...so, allow me to free you, friend of my enemy."
---
Private Hernandez woke up, a rather strange feat considering he had never fallen asleep. He looked around at his surroundings- he was standing in the middle of a long, winding, dirt path, and at the end was a huge mountain. Flanked on both sides was endless desert. He walked ahead a little bit, and picked up a skull, bleached white in the sun. He recognized it as a Bull-borb's former cranium- the matadors back home would decorate their flags with them.
When he set it back down into the sand and straightened up, there was a cloaked figure in front of him. Hernandez could not see his face beneath the hood, but the figure was holding a scythe in a skeletal hand and it didn't take a genius to figure it out. "You're Death, aren't you?"
Yes., said Death.
Hernandez nodded. He was feeling strangely calm. "Ma used to read me stories, after Pa died. She said that you had to cross a desert in the end, and at the desert Blax'll pass judgment."
If that is what you believe., said Death.
The former private continued nodding. He was definitely feeling better than before...he was no longer a nameless, unknown lackee whose only purpose was to be cruelly executed. He had a purpose, a very real and definite purpose. "Well...I guess I better go and meet my old man, then."
Death stepped aside. Say hello to him for me. He moved on nicely.
Hernandez walked on. "Yeah. I will." He walked about ten paces before he heard that strange, soundless voice behind him.
You are the first of many, aren't you?
The deceased pikmin paused, and then said, quietly, "Yes. A couple of my army buddies will be dropping by soon." He began walking again, but then paused. "Oh, and if you ever meet a guy called Chou..."
Death metaphorically raised an eyebrow. Not many people made requests of him. Yes?
"Give him a good kick in the ass for me, will you?"
I'm not sure if I should use other people's armies in this story without their permission, so I'll PM them and/or you to see if I want it in. Or, if you like, you could give me the green light here.
And before anyone asks, the various pikmin colors represent various ethnicities...see if you can guess which, though its not that hard.
War
Chapter 1:
Forcing another foot up the snowy hillock, the Brown pikmin gritted his teeth against the cold, head down and leaf flapping like some kind of lame sail in the chilly wind. It had started to snow again, and visibility had fallen to near zero. Scout am I?, the pikmin thought bitterly, lifting another foot and stamping it into the snow. Who ever heard of a Brown being a scout?
Who ever heard of a Brown being a bad digger?, the pikmin thought, but angrily, he pushed the thought away. He scooped out a handful of snow and threw the snowball into the blizzard. There's at least a hundred Cyans just sitting on their well-trained behinds, waiting to be sent into the field, but of course they schedule me for scout duty on blizzard day, just because Splinters can't dig a decent tunnel.
Viciously, he attacked the snow, burrowing out a small hole with his large hands, trademark of the Brown pikmin. I'll show them. Splinters thought. I'll dig a tunnel all the way to the Wistful Wild if I have to!
He stopped, chest heaving in exertion. A few bits of snow fell from his hands onto the ground with small plops. One plop seemed louder than the rest...in fact, it was more like a continuous, tinny whistling.
And then the huge boulder came sailing out of the snow and fell right on top of Splinters.
"Don't you think that was a little bit...overboard, sir?"
"Overboard?! We were under fire from frozen projectiles! The assailant must be dealt with extreme prejudice!"
"...It was a snowball, sir."
"A snowball that hit me!"
A troop of Red pikmin, in perfect formation, marched through the snow, with the motley duo pulling what appeared to be a catapult bringing up the rear. "Is the target dead?" barked a particularly pointy-nosed Pikmin wearing a pressed uniform, complete with shiny brass buttons and the two green stars, indicating a low-ranking commander.
More Pikmin were appearing out of the snow. One broke rank and ran up to the commander. This ones buttons were even shinier and he had on his lapel three bronze stars. "Second Lieutenant Torrez! What the hell did you just fire one of our rocks for?"
The second lieutenant saluted smartly, and his companion did likewise. "Colonel Gonzales! We were under fire!"
Gonzales leered at them down his pointed nose. "From what?" he spat.
Torrez's subordinate mumbled something, and Gonzales tapped him sharply on the head. "Speak up, man! I can't hear you!"
Second Lieutenant Torrez stepped in front of his officer, who was rubbing his head, not so much because of the blow to his body as the blow to his pride. "It was a snowball, sir. Probably one of the private's idea of joke, sir."
Gonzales took a step closer, almost nose to nose (although that was still a respectable distance for Red pikmin) with Torrez. "And you wasted ammunition because you over reacted to...a joke?"
Torrez met him squarely in the eye. "Yes, sir."
Gonzales barked, a derisive, sneering kind of laugh. Casually, he pushed Torrez into his subordinate, causing both of them to tumble into the snow. "You disgust me, Torrez. That's why we don't let you handle the real weaponry, Torrez, because you're skittish," and at this point he kicked Torrez in the side, "a wastrel," another kick, "and a complete idiot who lies on top of his own soldiers, too lazy to do any real work. Or maybe you're just plain stupid. Its a wonder you made it to Second Lieutenant at all..."
And in a flash, Torrez was at Gonzales's throat. "Say that again." he hissed. "Say it to my face!"
Gonzales did not say anything. Instead, he delivered a punch that sent Torrez flying. Wiping snow off of his uniform, he advanced. Well, he made the intent to advance, but never actually got to the actual advancing because at that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder.
Brigadier General Chou was foreigner. He said he came from the east, farther east than even the famed Eastern Desert Storm and their great sultans, which was very far east. His skin was completely white, his build abnormally thin- but what really scared those under his command were the eyes. Totally red, without pupils, so that it was very hard to tell if he was looking at you or looking at you.
"What's all this? Fighting amongst brothers?" he drawled, rolling out his "l"s and giving the vowels strange, fluctuating sounds. He cast his red eyes on Gonzales, then Torrez, who was once again on the snow. Both looked away rather quickly. If Chou had had a mouth, he would have been smiling both malevolently and pleasantly. He scrutinized the, for several seconds. "Get back in line, both of you." he said mildly, almost affably, but those eyes were screaming bloody murder...
There was no more arguing. Neither commander spoke as they hurried back into formation, leaving the quaking soldier on the ground. Chou stretched out a hand to the terrified pikmin, and gradually, he took it. The moment their hands touched, the brigadier general tightened his grip. The Red screamed, trying desperately to break his vice-like hold, but Chou was too far gone. His fingers punctured the Red pikmin's skin, and the soldier collapsed onto the snow, eyes rolling and pores foaming. Chou turned and said, casually, "Let that be a warning to anyone else who wishes to quarrel with his brother." He didn't even look back at the fallen soldier's body.
And long after the troops were gone and the pikmin's body was almost buried by the snow, Splinters crawled out from under the boulder's wreckage, thanking his lucky stars that he was a Brown and Torrez wasn't allowed to use explosives. He looked at the Red and then quickly looked away. The snow would cover him soon, and maybe Splinters would forget that terrified scream...
Yeah, right.
---
Well, this is certainly a motley crew.
Chou surveyed the mass of Cyan and Brown pikmin, and those strange ones, the Glowstem pikmin. Ancient relics from a forgotten age, as far as he was concerned. And, with a large amount of distaste, the herd of Woolly Cannon Beetles and Arctic Breadbugs. A couple Icemites and Snow Blossoms were also hiding beneath the snow, thinking he could not see them. He snorted. White pikmin are very proud of their eyes.
Line upon line of stoic faced Red pikmin in perfect formation behind him, he announced in a voice that cut the eternal, winter air, "All pikmin have a choice. Make yours."
Chou noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that a group of Glowstem pikmin were talking in hushed voices. Apparently, they had some kind of bureaucratic council leading them...
His attention was quickly diverted when a Cyan, brazen in a traditional kilt and wielding his shovel like a weapon, shouted, "And whit if we dinna want ta join yer wee sissie dress-up party?" The Cyan turned to his fellows, raising his shovel like a beacon. "Nae king! Nae quin! We willna bow to any pikmein!"
Cheers rose from the other Cyans, and a few Browns joined in as well. The non-pikmin soldiers added their vocal contributions, too, and Chou sighed. "I grow weary of your rustic ways. Let me speak with your leader." He eyed the council again. "Your leaders."
One of them, who was especially tall and wiry (at least, for the Glowstems) stepped forward. "I am the Fifth Sage, the Voice of the Council. Speak."
"As far as I can tell, you have only two choices. Join us or not. And may I remind you that since the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then the friend of my enemy is my enemy." Chou looked at the Council and every single member looked him straight back in those pitiless eyes. "I, for one, am quite sure what will happen to my enemies."
The Fifth Sage shrugged. "Join or leave. That is not my choice. As far as I can tell, mister Chou, the choice belongs to the one making it."
Murmurs rippled around the army of Absolute Zero. No one moved, for a moment, then one Brown stepped forward. "I don't know...I don't want to be making any enemies. And I'm sick of winter! I want to go with these guys to summer..."
A couple other Browns and one Cyan nodded their heads, too, and joined the first into the opposing army's ranks. Chou looked at the pitifully small amount of new recruits, and sighed. "That all?"
The brave Cyan replied, defiantly, "Nae king. We are free pikmein."
Chou sighed. "Pity." He turned around to his troops, who at once cocked their rifles. "As long as you live, my friend, you will never be free...so, allow me to free you, friend of my enemy."
---
Private Hernandez woke up, a rather strange feat considering he had never fallen asleep. He looked around at his surroundings- he was standing in the middle of a long, winding, dirt path, and at the end was a huge mountain. Flanked on both sides was endless desert. He walked ahead a little bit, and picked up a skull, bleached white in the sun. He recognized it as a Bull-borb's former cranium- the matadors back home would decorate their flags with them.
When he set it back down into the sand and straightened up, there was a cloaked figure in front of him. Hernandez could not see his face beneath the hood, but the figure was holding a scythe in a skeletal hand and it didn't take a genius to figure it out. "You're Death, aren't you?"
Yes., said Death.
Hernandez nodded. He was feeling strangely calm. "Ma used to read me stories, after Pa died. She said that you had to cross a desert in the end, and at the desert Blax'll pass judgment."
If that is what you believe., said Death.
The former private continued nodding. He was definitely feeling better than before...he was no longer a nameless, unknown lackee whose only purpose was to be cruelly executed. He had a purpose, a very real and definite purpose. "Well...I guess I better go and meet my old man, then."
Death stepped aside. Say hello to him for me. He moved on nicely.
Hernandez walked on. "Yeah. I will." He walked about ten paces before he heard that strange, soundless voice behind him.
You are the first of many, aren't you?
The deceased pikmin paused, and then said, quietly, "Yes. A couple of my army buddies will be dropping by soon." He began walking again, but then paused. "Oh, and if you ever meet a guy called Chou..."
Death metaphorically raised an eyebrow. Not many people made requests of him. Yes?
"Give him a good kick in the ass for me, will you?"
