Poetry & Prose

Bring it. *Goes to fetch two stories*

Number One, Written for Fate of Nations:

Daynerys kicked the corpse of a Kre'En warrior off his blade in a spray of gore and surveyed the scene of battle around him.

The Ravensguard in their full black armour and cloaks had held the massive charge from the savages, and were standing up in the ensuing melee combat as well.

Damn these Savages he thought bitterly, What will it take to break their resolve?

A Ravensguard Officer took an arrow to the neck just ahead of him, and suddenly Daynerys was alone facing three Kre'En warriors, who pointed their spears at him.

Beneath his Black-and-gold lacquered Winged helm. Emperor Daynerys II smiled knowingly.

The Kre'En moved like lightning, reaching The Emperor so fast he barely had time to raise Iben'Darl to a guard position. The First warrior stabbed at Daynerys, a clumsy blow that the Emperor dodged easily, before exploding into a dance of death

He spun, flicking the blade upwards and feeling the resistance of the first Kre'En warriors Jawbone give way effortlessly under the blow from the Black Obsidian blade. He ducked down under a clumsy spear thrust, reversed the blade and ended the next wretches life with a sweeping cut to the neck, a thick rest mist signifying the success of his blow.

The Final Kre'En raised his spear defiantely, ready to fight to the last. Daynerys parried a stab from his spear, and fufilled the Warriors deathwish with a double-handed thrust to his stomach.

As Daynerys watched the last Kre'En of the three crumple, blood spilling from his stomach and dribbling from his mouth in thick rivulets, he became aware of a gap that had opened in the battle around him, and looked around to find the source of the stoppage in fighting around him.

As he looked around, his eyes caught a Kre'En warrior covered from head to toe in deep battle scars and other wounds - none fresh - stalking towards him holding a massive, ornate greatsword that the diminutive warrior should not have been able to lift, let alone wield. As Daynerys caught the warriors eye, the Kre'En smiled, and gestured for his bodyguards to back away.

Daynerys hefted Iben'Darl and assumed a guard position,
"Come, short warrior of Kraska" he called through his visor "Let us see how tough they make your leaders"

The Kre'En merely smiled again, and also assumed a guard position with his massive Greatsword.

The Emperor slowed his breathing and composed himself.... then charged the short Kre'En, bringing Iben'Darl down in a killing Arc...

...The Obsidian blade clanged off the Kre'En's Greatsword, and Daynerys stepped back, countering the riposte with a hurried parry across his body. Whirling, he flung an two-handed slice across the Kre'En's chest, only to find that met with the clash of the Crystal blade meeting his opponants Steel.

Daynerys stepped out of attack range so the short Warrior could not counter his blow. Thats the way of things is it? he thought Thats no Ordinary steel if Obsidian doesnt break it...

The Emperor's respite was brief as the Kre'En rushed at him, blade whirling.

Daynerys barely held back the tirade of blows, taking a deep wound to his arm and several gashes in his Black-and-gold Lacquered armour. The Emperor cursed as he barely parried another furious slash and had his riposte turned away effortlessly.

The Kre'En smiled confidentely and slashed again, this time having his attack narrowly dodged by Daynerys. The Warriors smile disappeared however when he realised, in his desire to end the Ranami Emperors life, how far he had overstreched.

As the Kre'En attempted to regain his balance, Daynerys struck downwards, carving a deep gouge from the Warriors shoulder, and attempted to push his advantage for all it was worth.

The Emperor rained blows upon the Kre'En, Iben'Darl singing in his hands once more, despite the burning pain of the slah on his arm. Daynerys pushed his attack, dealing the Kre'En a dozen minor wounds as he swept the blade around the Warriors guard. Beads of sweat had appeared on the Kre'En's forehead as eveidence of his exertion at keeping The Emperor of Raname from taking his head.

Daynerys forced the Kre'En into a total defence, and finally gained a suitable advantage to smash the Kre'En warrior from his feet with a massive double handed sweep from Iben'Darl, knocking the Kre'Ens Greatsword away to land a good 5 paces from the Warrior.

Daynerys closed slowly on the broken form of the Kre'En Warrior, and stood over him clutching his Obsidian Bastard Sword in a gunatleted fist, and cluthing his wounded arm with the other.

"You fought well, for a Savage" He said, wincing at the pain from his wound.
"And you, for a Shadow Hunter" The dying Kre'En croaked with a pained smile.

Daynerys nodded grimly as he brought his blade down upon the Warriors neck.

Number Two, Written for English Coursework:

((This isnt as good... overly descriptive, as English coursework has to be))

Inquisitor Horst walked into the barren, cold interrogation chamber; not that it was an interrogation, more of a debriefing. Apparently. His long red cloak flapped behind him in a phantom wind and his bionic eye whirred as it adjusted to the gloom. He walked slowly to a chair and sat facing the person in the other seat.
“Good morning captain” Horst spoke, in a voice that seemed to cut the atmosphere
S...sir” the captain replied hurriedly. Horst felt sorry for the man, a Captain James Forrester barely Twenty-four huddled there in that seat, his green uniform tattered and hanging limply off him in the choking atmosphere of the small, grey room. Horst activated a small black box - a recording device and sat back in his chair
“so captain, care to tell me what happened?” He said, almost whispering
“OK” said Forrester, he swallowed hard before continuing “It was a routine fire sweep of the lower levels of the hive, green sector...”
*****

Forester removed his helmet and slowly wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. He was dripping with sweat from the oppressive heat of the underhive and his combat fatigues were soaked through. He looked around in the gloom at the area they were in - green sector a little used industrial sector crammed with lifeless plascrete structures and the buzz of low power fusion generators - the source of the heat and smog. He slowly returned his helmet to his head and picked up his lasgun from off the ground.
“OK men, times up”, he shouted back to his squad, a good ten metres behind him
“Yeah, yeah we’re coming”, Shouted back Sergei Kovelevski, his second in command as he walked out of the smog and heat haze blocking line of sight back towards red sector. Kovelevski, sergeant first class, was a brute of a man, easily six foot six and built solidly. The rest of the squad were behind him, Woods, Marksmith, Hammerson, Goodson and....
“Where’s Kilns?” Asked Forrester
“Hmmm? He was with Marksmith”, replied Hammerson, nonchalantly smoothing his crumpled green uniform, and checking the clip in his lasgun. Hammerson was short - only five foot six and weakly built - but he was deceptively strong. Marksmith looked around at the mention of his name. Marksmith never wore his helmet, preferring to let his short black hair show, Kovelevski always told him it would get him killed one day.
“I haven’t seen him”, replied Marksmith, “He went to check the perimeter.”
“ALONE!?” Kovelevski screamed, “That damn fool!” Kovelevski ran back into the smog and Forrester followed him.
“Come on!” He shouted back to the squad and they all ran after him, their heavy footsteps echoing around the lifeless streets...
*****

“Did you suspect anything?” Asked Horst sitting back, obviously comfortable.
“Uh.... No sir, we just thought we’d find him” Forrester replied.
“Of course.... Continue Captain....”
*****

Forrester caught up with Kovelevski and caught his breath, Kovelevski unslung his autogun and rose it to his eye, scanning the streets for movement in the gloom.
“Can you see anything?” Breathed Forrester
“Wait.... Wait...” Whispered the sergeant. He was looking for something... but what? The rest of the squad caught up with them and looked around in the thick smog, almost choking on the vile air.
“Weapons!” Shouted Forrester and as one the rest of the squad unslung there weapons and brought them up to their eyes.
“THERE!” Screamed Kovelevski as he opened fire, his autogun bucking madly in his arms as he squeezed the trigger and let off a burst. A smattering of lasbolts followed the shots and smashed into a wall, bright orange flecks of melted plascrete flying off from it like little fireworks.
“What was it?” Asked Marksmith lowering his weapon
“I don’t know” replied Forrester walking over to the wall, “But whatever it was, we didn’t hit it”. Forrester collapsed to the floor and sat against the wall “Hammerson, radio in, we need backup”.
“Sir, the radio won’t work here”, replied Goodson still on his guard “too much interference
“OK, Kovelevski, secure this area, Marksmith come with me, everybody else is with the sarge” Commanded Forrester, there was a drone of ‘yes sir’s then everyone fanned out to secure the area.
“where are we going sir?” Asked Marksmith.
“Over there”, Replied Forrester, pointing towards the area they had stopped for a break earlier...
*****

“At this point you had realised Private Kilns was dead?” Asked Horst coldly
“Yeah” moaned Forrester quietly. There was a long, uneasy pause and Forrester took stock of his bleak surroundings for the first time. The grey, metal table, grey chairs, grey walls and grey door with a frosted window.
“Did you suspect Alien or... other involvement?” Said Horst, there was another pause as Forrester looked at him blankly “Never mind, continue please...”
*****

Marksmith looked around. He couldn’t see anything in this smog, thick smoke from the constantly buzzing generators mixing with the heat haze those same generators caused. The buildings became almost impossible to see with the two combining. He was sweating profusely - not from the heat though - it was the disgusting, cloying cold sweat of fear dripping off his forehead like a leaky tap. Forrester walked up to him and put his clammy hand on his right shoulder
“anything?” He asked
“...No sir” Marksmith replied, shaking visibly
“OK come on th...” said Forrester before being cut off by a horrific scream from behind him. Forrester snapped around to face in the direction it came from as the scream cut off suddenly.
“the others!” shouted Marksmith as he turned as well
“Come on!” Forrester screamed as he began to run.
*****

Sergeant Sergei Kovelevski cursed as his autogun jammed again, Private Woods was down, his stiff body lying face down in the open barely ten metres away from Kovelevski, rent in a dozen places. The sergeant thought of times he had survived engagements worse than this, slowed his breathing and cleared the chamber of his weapon. He leaned around the corner of the pillar he was crouched behind. He couldn’t see the beast that had attacked and took a step out of cover. He heard something behind him and span, stopping as he saw what had made the noise. He looked up along an alien figure, covered in chitinous armour plates and looked into the multiple eyes on its face.
An eternity of hatred stared back.
*****

As Forrester approached the end of the street he saw Woods’ bloodied body and stopped. He motioned to Marksmith to get into cover and did so himself, from his position he looked around. He saw the obvious evidence of a firefight and decided to take a closer look.
“private, move off to the right, I’ll go left”, he said softly. Marksmith nodded his face a mask of pure terror and started to walk off in a crouch. Forrester swallowed hard, the acrid stench of fusion reactions filled his nostrils and his eyes watered in the dusty atmosphere
Why am I here? He thought as he crouch-walked around the building he was leaning on, the cold plascrete chilling his sweat soaked skin. He was scared, very scared, the buildings leered at him as he looked up. Then he looked down and Woods’ corpse lay there like a stone, unmoving, undisturbed
I should be gathering crops, or owning a corner shop or... something!
He continued along and he looked left as he turned the corner of the building, to see exactly what he was dreading. It was Kovelevski lying on the ground, Forrester stood and ran over to him, stopping jus in front of him.
“My god...Sergei! What happened?” Stuttered Forrester, stumbling on the words as he looked at his old friends broken body. There was a pair of puncture wounds - obviously caused by large blades -in his chest and a great gash across his stomach which the sergeant was holding together with his right arm.
“It was...I...a.......” Kovelevski managed, a pained expression on his face “my...family... look after them”, he whispered before he went limp.
“No! You can’t die!” Screamed Forrester, he knelt for a second before standing, his face full of fury; he span to see Marksmith standing in the middle of the open ground, next to woods’ body
“Marksmith you damn fool! Get back into cover!” He bellowed at the private
“I’m sorry but I...” Marksmith was cut off as his expression turned to one of pain and two chitinous blades punched through his chest and lifted him off his feet, before the owner of the blades hurled him a good fifteen metres to smash head-first into a wall. Forrester stood dumbstruck as he got his first look at the being that had destroyed his squad - an obviously alien creature standing no less than six foot ten tall with a muscular body covered in chitinous armour plates. Two long, spindly arms seemed tacked on to its powerful body, the arms culminating in two huge, wickedly serrated, bony scythe-like blades. It hissed viciously as it advanced towards Forrester slowly. Forrester raised his lasgun to his eye and fired, the shots impacting harmlessly on the bests armour, it hissed viciously and stopped, before moving its weight onto one of its legs, paused for a second and leapt.
*****

Horst stood up, obviously surprised by what he was hearing
“you don’t remember anything else?” He asked.
“Not until you found me, no”, Forrester replied after a short pause. Horst turned around and walked to the door, he paused a moment, a look of puzzlement upon his face as he tried to piece together the information relayed to him by Forrester. His look of puzzlement turned to a look of horror as he turned to face the young Captain, his scarred and pitted face twisted into a frown.
“Sir?” Forrester asked, Horst looked at him intently for a minute or so then span back to face the door.
“Send them in!” He bellowed, directing his voice outside the room, a few seconds later the door swung inwards and three large, armoured men stomped in, their black powered armour whirring and buzzing as they walked. The men were frankly massive - a minimum of seven foot and VERY solidly built - this was clear even underneath the thick armour plates, but displayed on their right shoulders of the newcomers that scared Forrester to the core - the symbol of the Deathwatch, the renowned alien hunters, famed and feared in equal measure for destroying alien incursions, their methods of acquiring information from people who have come into contact with aliens and their frightful ‘purges’ - their ways of removing alien contaminated people and material from the worlds they operate on. Forrester’s heart raced, pounding like a jackhammer inside his chest as he spoke
“But I... NO! You can’t!” Forrester shrieked as they walked in and Horst turned to leave
“Uncover the information by ANY means necessary then purge him”, he said walking from the room; he then stopped and turned back to Forrester “I suggest you make your peace with the world, goodbye captain” he walked out of the room
“But I don‘t! I Haven’t!” Stuttered Forrester. The interrogation chamber fell into darkness, as the door slammed shut. In the dark confines of the interrogation chamber, Captain James Forrester screamed.