12-18-2006, 06:52 AM
?You're with me, here,? and a rifle was shoved into his embrace, fresh from the cold grip of a soldier?one who?d given his fall to Dante?s cause long before he touched the grounds of the fortress that they hailed. ?Lets go!?
There was no virtuous leap in his bound, his fingers groping round the edges of this stronghold with as much hoist as when he began his rise to lead Dante?s forefront to provide the first groove of a foothold for their cause. Instead there was a cold clamor and he was left to review the organize mob that spread their roots throughout the structure and the surrounding lands. They were the forefathers themselves, coming back to protect what eradication they?d left behind to be reclaimed by the unrelentless proceed that the was the law and order of Dante. As though there was some sort of moral obligatory cause?aside from the banner that he himself had hoisted and followed?he nodded to affirm himself and took sight at the approaching sea of faces.
Shots came randomly into the mob, penetrating with complete disregard for marksmanship or mark. It was more to give the medics an overwhelming number to tend to, and with the wave of marchers it was kinda retarded to miss. Disgruntled bursts of fire from the surrounding allies had muffled the call of one of his brothers in arms, though Colder?s attentiveness was seized regardless.
?Cold, we?re moving in. We?ve got to start a downward sweep of the fort, and keep them contained them below.? With a hesitant grunt he added, ?Grab any spare guns you can find up here and be prepared to fall below the surface.?
?For Daantaay!? lord Colder loved the cry of a supreme body, impeccably placed between himself and a hard place. It served its many purposes, and rallying a small band of troops was just one of them. It did its piece, in place of an eloquent speech, on the just outskirts of war within a battle.
Slinking through the threshold and past the occupying forces, the chill of a wintry night was exchanged for the sultry warmth. There was no word from the lieutenant, the boy who'd taken from among their numbers and retreated into the backdrop on night. Or was it one afternoon? His memory had failed him there, though muzzle flashes had found him within the lower levels of Hyperton grew familiar and fond in his eyes. Then the dull reflection of light against stainless steel came into his eyes, forcing the changeling?s hands upward using the guide of recoil without its consent and putting ki?infused rounds through his enemy.
?Outcasts!? his scream was a message back that all was not well before them, with him scuttling beneath the unwatchful cover granted by the walls. This was to work, for Cold had left his trust with their commanders words and had taken their words with a pronounced abandoning of the margins for error.
Such an error had announced its presence, leaving the distraught changeling emperor trapped beneath the presence of shells. His breath escaped in harsh whispers, his heart pumping to allow oxygen where it was needed most and his trigger finger itched whenever he flailed his rifle about from behind his cover.
?Covering fire!? If you didn't scream, nor shout?in war?you were unheard. What's not to say it wasn't so out of war, or that every breathing moment was a moment of war? But then if every breathing moment was one of warfare, conscious or not, then there would be nothing of peace of mind or tranquility. There would only be the calm before the storm.. Then the drumroll of thunder would come once more.
With a dashing leap Cold relieved himself of his predicament, his enemies forced onto the defensive by Dante for the moment. Just for the moment.
?This seems a liable way in. I?m not one to turn away offerings, out of the frustrations that they don?t lead directly to the spoils.? Cold mused with gunfire in his ears and the rumbling of Fort Hyperton beneath his feet.
There was no virtuous leap in his bound, his fingers groping round the edges of this stronghold with as much hoist as when he began his rise to lead Dante?s forefront to provide the first groove of a foothold for their cause. Instead there was a cold clamor and he was left to review the organize mob that spread their roots throughout the structure and the surrounding lands. They were the forefathers themselves, coming back to protect what eradication they?d left behind to be reclaimed by the unrelentless proceed that the was the law and order of Dante. As though there was some sort of moral obligatory cause?aside from the banner that he himself had hoisted and followed?he nodded to affirm himself and took sight at the approaching sea of faces.
Shots came randomly into the mob, penetrating with complete disregard for marksmanship or mark. It was more to give the medics an overwhelming number to tend to, and with the wave of marchers it was kinda retarded to miss. Disgruntled bursts of fire from the surrounding allies had muffled the call of one of his brothers in arms, though Colder?s attentiveness was seized regardless.
?Cold, we?re moving in. We?ve got to start a downward sweep of the fort, and keep them contained them below.? With a hesitant grunt he added, ?Grab any spare guns you can find up here and be prepared to fall below the surface.?
?For Daantaay!? lord Colder loved the cry of a supreme body, impeccably placed between himself and a hard place. It served its many purposes, and rallying a small band of troops was just one of them. It did its piece, in place of an eloquent speech, on the just outskirts of war within a battle.
Slinking through the threshold and past the occupying forces, the chill of a wintry night was exchanged for the sultry warmth. There was no word from the lieutenant, the boy who'd taken from among their numbers and retreated into the backdrop on night. Or was it one afternoon? His memory had failed him there, though muzzle flashes had found him within the lower levels of Hyperton grew familiar and fond in his eyes. Then the dull reflection of light against stainless steel came into his eyes, forcing the changeling?s hands upward using the guide of recoil without its consent and putting ki?infused rounds through his enemy.
?Outcasts!? his scream was a message back that all was not well before them, with him scuttling beneath the unwatchful cover granted by the walls. This was to work, for Cold had left his trust with their commanders words and had taken their words with a pronounced abandoning of the margins for error.
Such an error had announced its presence, leaving the distraught changeling emperor trapped beneath the presence of shells. His breath escaped in harsh whispers, his heart pumping to allow oxygen where it was needed most and his trigger finger itched whenever he flailed his rifle about from behind his cover.
?Covering fire!? If you didn't scream, nor shout?in war?you were unheard. What's not to say it wasn't so out of war, or that every breathing moment was a moment of war? But then if every breathing moment was one of warfare, conscious or not, then there would be nothing of peace of mind or tranquility. There would only be the calm before the storm.. Then the drumroll of thunder would come once more.
With a dashing leap Cold relieved himself of his predicament, his enemies forced onto the defensive by Dante for the moment. Just for the moment.
?This seems a liable way in. I?m not one to turn away offerings, out of the frustrations that they don?t lead directly to the spoils.? Cold mused with gunfire in his ears and the rumbling of Fort Hyperton beneath his feet.