The Lightning Star
22-12-2004, 06:56
OOC: Note, This ISN'T a real diary (duh!). It's about a soldier fightning during the Lightning Starian Slave Revolt (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=353076&page=1). So shut up and sit down, foo'! Mistah T COMANDS it!
IC:
Saturday, November 16th, 460 K.V.(Kostari Vimpiari)
City of Jariki, East Washibar
I am Stephan Ukari Makino and this is my diary given to me by my father. My writing skills aren’t that great (you should see my high-school grades), but my father gave it to me the day I went down to the recruiter. He seemed so proud that his son was taking up arms like he did. “I used this when I was in the Army. I hope it makes you feel better having a place to write your thoughts. I know it made me better.” My dad served in the Christian Revolt of ’42, lost his right foot that way. That reminds me, I haven’t told you why I signed up.
It all started last Friday. My friends and I were going to the theatre to watch movies when all of a sudden we heard a shrill shriek Seconds later, an explosion rocked the theatre in front of us, and flames leapt out of the building and windows. Over one hundred people ran outside, some horribly burned. The smell of rotting flesh hung in the air, and as we (my 3 friends and I) went to go help I heard a loud bang and my life-long best friend, Thomas, fell to the ground; his head blasted into pieces. My other friends, Ronald and Erik, began to panic and ran home. Unfortunately for them, armed men with AK-Z’s saw them and they were gunned down before they reached the corner. I decided to take a back passage I had discovered as a little boy.
As I ran down the dark, narrow passage I heard rocket and small-arm’s fire. The ground shook as if an earthquake had hit, and I stumbled for a moment. After a minute, I re-gained by balance and ran off full speed down the corridor. Finally, I reached the outside, only to find dead men littering the ground and the buildings around me in flames. Sensing enemies (who I soon afterwards learned were slave-rebels) nearby, I quickly sprinted across the street into some back alleys. From there, I sped my way back home.
Since that day I have never forgiven myself for running away. While the rebels were eventually pushed back, I had done nothing to help but watch my friends die. I decided that the only way I could re-deem myself was to join the army, so I did. I’m shipping off to boot camp tomorrow, wish me luck.
Sunday, November 17th, 460K.V.
Imperial Army Training Camp 18493, East Washibar
Mom was crying when I boarded the truck, but I could see that both she and dad were proud. Once the other 24 recruits and I boarded the truck, an angry looking drill-sergeant stepped out. When I say angry, I mean angry. His face was always beet red, and he looked like he wanted to stab each and every person he saw. He was a five foot eleven inches tall man, although he had so many muscles on him he looked like he could take down a seven foot monster. You couldn’t see his hair because of his dark black helmet, but I was pretty sure he was bald (which I later found out to be correct).
Anyhow, when he spoke (yelled would be a better word, actually,) all the men sprung to attention. “Listen here, boyo’s! You are about to start training to fight back the tide of evil rebel’s which have revolted in this very province! You have witnessed the evil of this tide first hand, and you know what will happen if you fail! So listen up soldiers! Train hard, work hard, and learn hard, or else these rebels will crush you first hand!” He then sat down and started the truck. Half an hour later we arrived at the base. As we were about to get off, the sergeant said but one thing. “Welcome to hell.”
IC:
Saturday, November 16th, 460 K.V.(Kostari Vimpiari)
City of Jariki, East Washibar
I am Stephan Ukari Makino and this is my diary given to me by my father. My writing skills aren’t that great (you should see my high-school grades), but my father gave it to me the day I went down to the recruiter. He seemed so proud that his son was taking up arms like he did. “I used this when I was in the Army. I hope it makes you feel better having a place to write your thoughts. I know it made me better.” My dad served in the Christian Revolt of ’42, lost his right foot that way. That reminds me, I haven’t told you why I signed up.
It all started last Friday. My friends and I were going to the theatre to watch movies when all of a sudden we heard a shrill shriek Seconds later, an explosion rocked the theatre in front of us, and flames leapt out of the building and windows. Over one hundred people ran outside, some horribly burned. The smell of rotting flesh hung in the air, and as we (my 3 friends and I) went to go help I heard a loud bang and my life-long best friend, Thomas, fell to the ground; his head blasted into pieces. My other friends, Ronald and Erik, began to panic and ran home. Unfortunately for them, armed men with AK-Z’s saw them and they were gunned down before they reached the corner. I decided to take a back passage I had discovered as a little boy.
As I ran down the dark, narrow passage I heard rocket and small-arm’s fire. The ground shook as if an earthquake had hit, and I stumbled for a moment. After a minute, I re-gained by balance and ran off full speed down the corridor. Finally, I reached the outside, only to find dead men littering the ground and the buildings around me in flames. Sensing enemies (who I soon afterwards learned were slave-rebels) nearby, I quickly sprinted across the street into some back alleys. From there, I sped my way back home.
Since that day I have never forgiven myself for running away. While the rebels were eventually pushed back, I had done nothing to help but watch my friends die. I decided that the only way I could re-deem myself was to join the army, so I did. I’m shipping off to boot camp tomorrow, wish me luck.
Sunday, November 17th, 460K.V.
Imperial Army Training Camp 18493, East Washibar
Mom was crying when I boarded the truck, but I could see that both she and dad were proud. Once the other 24 recruits and I boarded the truck, an angry looking drill-sergeant stepped out. When I say angry, I mean angry. His face was always beet red, and he looked like he wanted to stab each and every person he saw. He was a five foot eleven inches tall man, although he had so many muscles on him he looked like he could take down a seven foot monster. You couldn’t see his hair because of his dark black helmet, but I was pretty sure he was bald (which I later found out to be correct).
Anyhow, when he spoke (yelled would be a better word, actually,) all the men sprung to attention. “Listen here, boyo’s! You are about to start training to fight back the tide of evil rebel’s which have revolted in this very province! You have witnessed the evil of this tide first hand, and you know what will happen if you fail! So listen up soldiers! Train hard, work hard, and learn hard, or else these rebels will crush you first hand!” He then sat down and started the truck. Half an hour later we arrived at the base. As we were about to get off, the sergeant said but one thing. “Welcome to hell.”