Chapter Three: Confusion game
Sarah Cold
[Year: 2018]
[Day: September 8th]
[Time: 16:20]
[Location: Earth; Britain; England; London]
Of course this would happen now, while she was on vacation, the first vacation she had since she finished training, but what else could she expect joining the military. She sighed her grandfather warned her of this, he’d said exactly what would happen to her if she became a soldier. Still she didn’t expect to be called in to duty so quickly, to be armed like this for purposes not yet described to her.
‘What’s going on?’ that was the common complaint, hushed and whispered beneath baited breath, almost two thousand people had been gathered in the mess hall either standing or sitting, all military personnel whether they were pilots or foot soldiers all had been called and armed, even the mechanics. Each and every one of them would have been on leave, resting in their time away from whatever hell hole they’d just escaped from and were now facing the prospect of fighting another bloody battle in the city of London. Needless to say no one was optimistic about their prospects.
“How long are we going to have to wait?” Sarah began to mutter to herself her foot tapping against the leg of her chair with an ever increasing speed.
“Ah It’s been ten minutes so far, a lot of people started coming here after the shake. Apparently it’s something big, have you seen the news?” A woman gave reply, she was petite with strawberry-blonde hair. Sarah nodded slowly looking down at her watch, she’d seen the news, enough of it to know they were keeping the facts to themselves.
“I’m sure they’re keeping things secret to stop the public from panicking, it can’t be good if they’re arming us before an explanation, whatever it is we’ll need to react quickly if we don’t want everything to fall to hell.” She muttered “I was planning on relaxing before I went out into active service too.”
“huh, ‘sthat so?” a voice brimming with sarcasm and mocking undertones approached through the crowd his footsteps light as air. “If I were to make my guess; we probably have a large number of foreign forces in the city, they don’t know much about it otherwise they’d probably use armed police so they’re going in with all guns blazing. They’re trying to protect the people and more importantly for them, the civilians won’t start complaining when this mess is over. The top brass are just trying to cover their’ arses.” The man speaking was tall and thin. He had a haggard face and the complexion of a corpse. This man had seen combat without a doubt.
“Isn’t that a bit cynical?” The woman besides her questioned glaring at the man arms crossed over her chest. The man chuckled taking a seat next to her. Sarah sighed, it kind of reminded her of how she and her brother used to argue, not that they’d seen each other in years. She should probably pay him a visit at some point before her vacation was over.
“We’re not paid for optimism, besides you’ll probably lose that innocent side after your first kill.” The duo continued to argue around her their conversation growing in intensity.
“I’m just a field mechanic.” She yelled slamming her hands down in front of them.
Their’ conversation was put on hold, the rooms atmosphere becoming stiff as a door was thrown aside a group of men and women in uniform stepped forwards to take centre stage. The huddles of soldiers dispersing in a heartbeat, those standing taking a rigid posture, those sitting perfecting their’ impression of statues.
Of the six individuals that now stood at the front of the hall, four had taken a step back to allow the briefing to begin. The first was clearly military; a man in his early forties, short cut brown hair beginning to grey, his face wizened his jaw running with thin scrapes and scars pale against heavily tanned skin, his uniform was immaculate and his movements stiff. The second however was far more casual, she was a young woman carrying a clip-board and dressed in black office attire, she couldn’t be much over thirty years old and exuded a had gentle aura. Though she didn’t even seem to notice that the others taken a step back to let the man speak.
“For those not aware at ten-minutes-past-four today a state of emergency was declared covering England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland. The reason: a geological phenomenon that resulted in a single massive jolt of the earth followed by dramatic topographical change. This event was accompanied by a bright light which current reports say extended past the borders of Britain in many directions. Of course this would not be a concern of the military, however following this event Two forces were immediately identified, our current information on them is hazy at best, we believe them to be masked, or wearing some kind of costume. Despite this they are dangerous, armed with various melee weapons. Currently there are no reported casualties. Miss Janice Bodkin will give a report on what we can currently confirm about the enemies size and numbers.” The finished his long winded explanation and handed over to the woman that had stood by his side. Miss Bodkin, the woman in question had in fact realised what had been going on halfway through the speech and stepped in line with the others, and now stepped forwards to take a position at the front, the man stepping back to let her speak.
The woman cleared her throat looking down at her clipboard a heavy sweat slowly appearing across her forehead. “Ah I am Janice Bodkin, I work for M.I.5 as a clerical assistant and was requested to give you a briefing due to the lack of available staff. I... I w-will.” The woman paused, the pressure clearly getting to her “I will be giving you the current confirmed and suspected statistics.” She was speaking properly now, but even so she was clearly reading off the board her finger tracing the lines before her. “We can currently confirm fifteen small groups of around five or six armed men, in the first faction whom we call group A, they possess no armour and simple melee weapons. There also happen to be four larger groups of up to thirty individuals among them, there was a fifth but it was destroyed after engaging with Group B. Group B consists of eight medium sized forces, in historical armour and carrying weapons such as spears, and swords. They also possess a number of men armed with shields that are likely bullet proof, and a small portion also carry bows. Both factions A and B are located in London’s northwest.” The woman paused take a long breath before continuing, “finally we discovered a third force a couple of minutes ago, these men are well armed and armour with spears, swords and bows, they also happen to be using cavalry, uh horses... Oh yeah and they were sighted by the river.” The woman finished placing the clipboard by her side and waiting for something to happen.
The man besides her shook his head stepping forwards and patting her on the shoulder. “You will be divided into five men squads and sent to either the northwest or the Thames. If you encounter any of these groups do not attack unless they show direct hostility, give them a chance to surrender. If they show direct hostility you have permission to shoot. That is all.” The man finished moving towards the exit the young woman following behind hanging her head.
Sarah looked up the sound of laughing ringing in her ears as she turned to see the man besides her chuckling. “Well that was god damned cute. So you two, my names Harris Foil, nice to meet ya, I guess we’ll be working together.”
“My name’s Sarah Cold.” She responded with a nod looking back to the petite woman on her other side.
“I'm Issabelle Olham, and I really don’t like you.” She declared jabbing a finger at Harris.
“Fair enough, let’s go get this over with.” Harris laughed rising from his position a weary grin on his face.
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Sampson Cold
[Time: 16:23]
[Location: Earth; Britain; England; London; en-route to St Andrew’s COE School]
London, a grey city, formed from concrete, cement and asphalt. In England most days were gloomy to say the least, it was wet and cold and in the cities it was worst, crowded and cramped. So that left a question. One question that lingered at the back of his mind, one that forced him to grapple with the idea of the ‘impossible’. The question; ‘just why in the hell was there a forest in the middle of London?’
A small laugh escaped his lips. He’d rushed through alleys and byways to get there, taking every shortcut he knew to gain that extra second, all to reach this road leading from the suburbs into the heart of the city. But now, standing there he stood dead in his tracks. It was pure confusion. It was the reasonable reaction to this unreasonable situation, to the forest that had sprouted from the concrete, It wasn’t just a forest either, the trees grew far and wide in some places even sprouted out of buildings and windows, beyond the woods were hills rising high in the distance peppered with high rises making for a rather abnormal scene. Not even the roads remained, but he was lucky, he was lucky that the fragments of asphalt remained creating a pathway for him to follow. He took a deep breath, in some attempt to steady his heart, staring down in the dark boles of the woods.
It seemed peaceful enough at first blush but said peace just set him further on edge. Trying to slow his breathing from the hasty rush through the alleys he stepped into the sea of the trees. He moved as quietly as possible, keeping his breathing low and raising his feet high to avoid ploughing through wildly overgrown undergrowth.
Still the bushes and roots scratched at his exposed feet, as he trekked deeper through the primeval wilderness, he really shouldn’t be wearing sandals in the current situation. He tried to remain calm his heart rate rising the longer he stayed within the confines of the trees, where any monstrosity could go unseen.
Who was to say he would be fighting orcs anyway, he could be facing ogres or trolls, or giants or dragons, or something he couldn’t even imagine. He was beginning to shake the weapon held in his hands quivering the weight enough to bend his back. He probably should have just taken a knife from the shop or something, there was no way he’d be able to lug this all the way to the school. He was feeling sick his task growing ever more daunting, his stomach spinning.
He could always turn back, that was an option.
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No he had to keep going, knowing Silvia she was probably right in the thick of it. He had to help, there was no choice in the matter, else he would never have a peaceful night again. He had to hurry
Of course it was as that thought crossed his mind he heard it. It rang through the deep woods clanging steel and a high pitched cry, a pig like squeal that rent through the air stopping him in place.
Sampson froze his blood running cold as he turned in the direction of the sound. He couldn’t see anything beyond the gentle shift of the leaves in the breeze, he couldn’t feel anything but the sun; warm against his skin. He couldn’t describe it; the fear that wormed its way into his heart as he stood there waiting. Waiting to see if the source of that noise had noticed him and hoping that if it had it wouldn’t care enough to seek him out. He stood there, still as statuary, only his eyes moving, darting away with each sound; the imagined footfall of a foe. But there was nothing not a peep or squeal or clash, he could just leave, he should just leave. Not that fate would let him
A chorus of squeals rose from the forest followed by heavy foot falls in the far distance accompanied by shouts in some foreign tongue. Sampson peered through the foliage to see it. A distant glade sparse of trees and shrubbery two young women running through the wood a small child led by the arm a group of armed men following up the rear. But they carried no guns, instead they were equipped with swords, axes and bows each and everyone leagues above in quality, when compared to the cleaver he was holding in arms to weak to carry the weapon. Sampson sighed, there was no need for him to get involved in the fight, people who were so well armed obviously knew what they were doing.
Still a sense of foreboding hung over him, driving him onwards by the dictates of his conscience.
Then it happened, a wave of squealing cries ripped through the air fixing him in place crouched beneath the bushes. One of the young women leading the charge began to shout her voice piercing through the woods, the language was strange almost lyrical in its composition but edged with a harsh roughness and blunt accent. Sampson was edging closer his body reacting to the situation before his brain could. The distance between him and the scene closed rapidly as he caught a better look at the battles participants
The gigantic soldiers had formed a wall around the women and the child, shield bearers took the front, while men armed with spears stood behind them and mixed in were groups of archers. The leader of the soldiers stood tall behind them his skin was tanned like old leather, his eyes an emerald green, his figure bulky and standing over seven feet in height, his mouth a grim line a pair of tusks erupting from the corners of his mouth. And it made Sampson realise these people weren’t human. Their faces were blunt and at first glance human enough, even with their broad features and heavy complexions. But from the bottom of their jaws erupted fangs, many of which were etched with black symbols swirling across an ivory surface. The closer he looked the more he could spot the differences between the individual members. Those carrying the large tower-shields1* were broad and slightly shorter than the rest armed with hatchets at their sides. Those wielding spears were the most non-descript, they were tall and thin appearing weaker, clearly possessing a speed the others lacked. But it was the archers that seemed most fearsome, tall and muscular clad in boiled leather with steel guards on their arms and legs each carried a composite recurve bow2* crafted from a mix of wood and what was most likely spring steel. Their leader stood stalwart at the rear behind the women and child, barking out orders the defence tightening and shifting in seconds of its formation. The man nodded at least unsheathing a claymore3* to be held in his right hand and grasping a round-shield4* in his left. He shouted out commands in that foreign tongue his men tensing waiting for the attack. The shield wall locked in tight, the spearmen taking a steady stance, the archers with arrows knocked to their bows.
And then they came like the wind, passing through the woods. They moved without formation charging with abandon, wielding crude weapons; clubs, axes, swords and knives roughly worn from lack of care and overuse. They howled down through the boles of the wood screeching in that high pitch tone that shook his bones, even though he knew he wasn’t their target. It was around that point he realised, even as the orcs noticed the shield wall and the amassed death waiting for them, they did not hesitate, a living barrage.
They hit against the shield wall at least five of the monstrosities impaled on the spears which shattered under the weight, their wielders drawing short-swords from their hips, in a vain attempt to beat back the horde. The leader was shouting out orders his words tinged with panic and anger, as a wave of arrows mowed the beasts down. The speed that the orcs had moved at was frightening, the archers hadn’t had time to fire a pre-emptive volley, but as they released their arrows now they span through the air cutting down over a dozen orcs in the process, but it was too late. The creatures had pressed down on the shields with utter disregard for their lives the former spearmen hacking at them with their swords, the shield bearers joining the fight as they tried to support themselves and overturn the scrambling orcs. But they were overrun in moments, trampled underfoot as an assortment of brutality rained down on their heads. The archers fell next, an assortment of crude weapons lashing out towards them. The dozen soldiers being whittled down to a single man.
The last line of defence between the beasts and the innocents he protected
Their leader stood proud, for all the bloody carnage that surrounded him. Even now he did not waver fending off an orc with his shield and disarming another with his blade. He fought with a bloody grace, moving and responding to each attack, blocking with his shield, countering with his sword and butchering each foe that crossed him. His face showed no hesitation, no fear, just rage and furry as he roared what had to be curses upon his foe.
The young women stood in place, they had tried to flee when the battle turned south but the young boy wouldn’t let them he had grasped hold of a mass of brambles and held on for dear life. Even now as the last soldier fought.
Then it stopped for a brief moment it was over. The last of the orcs fell his stomach open letting out the contents onto the forest floor, bloody viscera staining the woods. The large man was panting now, his eyes turning to his fallen comrades.
Sampson stared on, what he’d just seen... It belonged in a nightmare, the bloodshed and bitter fighting, death after death, it made him sick to his core. If he’d seen it on a screen perhaps he’d be able to stomach it, but standing there as the corpses cooled, the scent of blood heavy in the air. He’d already wretched out the contents of his stomach as the fight began and again now that it was over, he just felt cold, his body covered in a chill sense of danger.
A crunch rang through the air, drawing his attention away from his musings to see the last soldier standing in the glade facing down the women and child. He muttered some strange words a trickle of blood escaping his lips. The boy released his death grasp the two women turning to flee into the woods. As they left disappearing into the woods, at last the soldier fell, his palm grasping at a knife buried up to the hilt in its chest. And as he lay face turned skywards, rising from its crouched position a deformed orc was revealed. Half of its head had been caved in by blunt force a wicked smile staining its face none the less. Sampson stood in horror as he watched it kick the corpse of the man stamping down hard on his wrist grabbing the fallen sword, to replace the dagger he’d buried in foe’s chest. Sampson held his breath his heart straining as he watched the creature run into the woods following after the women.
He rose from where he crouched within the bushes and approached his footsteps heavy in his ears as he passed through the field of the dead. No this wasn’t a game, most of the people there weren’t dead at all, but injured to the point they would bleed out in moments, many having already succumbed to shock.
He looked down towards the leader, the only one who currently maintained a truly conscious state. Their eyes met, and he knew he could do nothing for the man. A wave of sorrow burning in his chest at his own worthlessness. The knife had probably punctured the creature’s lung he would die soon, at least if he didn’t get to a hospital. Sampson looked out with teary eyes as the man stared up at him eyes clear as sunlight, his teeth grit against the pain. He spoke then his voice mumbled and harsh, flecks of blood escaping with his breath. “Ahos, aln ahos vier, ahos vier.”
His words made no sense, none at all. But the meaning was clear as day held in such a sorrowful gaze. Sampson nodded hefting the cleaver onto his shoulder and running in the direction that the orc had taken.
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Silvia Faun
[Time: 16:23]
She didn’t know what was going on, she just couldn’t understand it. She’d left school to meet up with her mother in town and pick up groceries, but now this had happened, she didn’t understand it at all. Everything began to shake and there had been a blast of colour, and now she was lost somewhere in the middle of London. She’d tried to find the bakery her mother owned but had gotten lost when she reached the Thames and started walking up hill.
Though there shouldn’t have been hills there in the first place, she really didn’t understand what was going on.
It made no sense, she was in the middle of London, she could see the palace of Westminster, and Big Ben in the distance (even if they were lopsided right now). But there she was standing on the top of a grassy hill, one that reminded her of the countryside, except for the strange people in costumes running towards her.
She stood there staring outwards watching the weird people on horseback approaching, they were wearing armour, like the kind knights wore, except it looked really baggy and most of it was cloth except for the helmets. They were carrying spears and swords, all of which they swiftly pointed to her.
Silvia stood in awe as they rushed past her, quickly forming a circle their spears pointed inwards aiming at her chest along with the arrows of the mounted archers. The man leading them removed his helmet bright eyes glaring down at her, he had a severe face running with small scars his eyes a strange shade of brown that appeared orange in the light. But as soon as he had removed his helm he began to shout. He was talking in a strange language, one directed at her, one she couldn’t understand. Not that she was paying attention to what he was saying anyway. Her attention was focused instead on the man himself, mainly the fact that from the top of his head a pair of cat ears poked out from close cropped hair coloured a dirty orange with dark highlights. She stood transfixed for a long time before a sharp chime rang through the air a pale image appearing before her. Like the screen of one of Sampson’s games
[Congratulations: New skill available]
Common Language (spoken): Lv1
The ability to understand the common language and those speaking it at the most basic level, and well as providing the user the ability to speak it as well.
Requirements:
Intelligence: 5+
Skill points: 1
(Accept/Decline)
Silvia blinked staring at the screen in front of her. The man that was yelling at her growing louder with each passing second. “Accept?” She wondered aloud to herself before a secondary chime rang through her head. The cat eared man’s voice cutting through.
“That’s it, you’re coming with us!”