NationStates Jolt Archive

“Years have passed by since this island nation has had a strong, capable ruler to steer it towards the path of glory. For too long the fat bureaucrats in the capital have squabbled over trivial matters instead of fixing the many problems that our once great nation has been plagued with. Ever since the nation lost its last great leader, Cacifica, we have been stuck in a never ending cycle of corruption in our government offices. Our once great capital, one of the few beacons of light left in this bleak land has been tainted by the corruption of the government. For too long have we allowed the fat to get fatter, for too long have we sat idly by and waited for democracy to bring us into a time of prosperity, and for too long have we allowed the greedy politicians to purge our pockets of our hard earned gold while they line their pockets with it. I am tired of sitting and waiting for our grand constitution to be put fully into effect, for it has been five long years since democracy had been forced onto us, and what has it gained us? A voice in the government and a life of poverty that is what. I for one would rather have no voice in the government, but keep the money that we have worked for.

My fellow people, I cannot stand by and allow this to happen any longer, I say that we march into the capital and remove those who repress us once and for all. We will show them what the true will of the people is, and we shall watch them burn at our feet!”

Instantly a deafening roar filled the air around the park square just outside the walls of the capital city. Vulgar chants against the government soon drowned out the screaming of the thousand person mob as they began marching, unarmed, toward the thick steel gates that separated the capital from the outside world.

The four guards on duty shouted down at the mob but their efforts were in vain as the mob engulfed them, beating each of them until they were either dead or near dead. The guards stationed on top of the wall also shouted at the mob, but were soon faced by large stones and bottles that the now blood thirsty mob hurled into the air. The mob began pushing against the gates, causing them to sway to and fro, each time going back a little further as the locks began to give way. A short burst of gunfire fired into the air caused a momentary pause, but it lasted only seconds as no other shots were fired. Another burst of gunfire was ignored as the mob had nearly broken the locks on the door. More soldiers lined up against the wall, each with their weapons pointed into the crowd, each resting their fingers on the triggers, ready to fire if given the order. One last burst of gunfire came from along the wall, but again the mob ignored it, instead focusing their attention at busting through the gate and throwing whatever they could find at the soldiers stationed at the wall.

A bottle, thrown by a boy of seventeen hit one of the guards on the wall, causing him to squeeze the trigger of his gun, sending the bullets from his gun into the crowd below and into the air as he stumbled backwards. Thinking the order to shoot had been given, the rest of the soldiers fired their weapons, sending a hail of gunfire into the mob, causing them to scatter into the night, leaving the dead and the wounded lying at the guards’ feet.

Once the firing had stopped, the gates opened, allowing more soldiers and medics out to survey the carnage. It took nearly three hours for the soldiers to sort through the people lying on the ground in front of the gate, but once they had, the casualty numbers were astounding. Sixty-four people were killed with another one hundred and eighteen wounded, along with the four guards who perished at the mob’s hands.

As soon as the news of the massacre began to spread throughout the country, thousands of people, already unhappy with the conditions in which they had to live, became enraged. Riots broke out across the nation, spreading an already ill equipped military to the point of breaking. Marshall Law was soon declared nation wide, turning the island into a state on the brink of war. All it would take is one man to rise up to rally the people together, and that one man’s name was Vincent Pious.

OOC Edit: This is more or less open for everyone, but I retain the right to not allow certain nations the right to participate.

“Vincent Pious, you get back here right this minute and finish fixing this vacuum.”

“How could such an evil voice come out of such a beautiful body?” Vincent asked himself as he looked back at his wife of only two months. Vincent never stopped walking though; instead he turned around and walked towards the sunset, his assault rifle at his side. His duties as a husband would have to come second to his duties to his country.

[/i]“Vincent, if you don’t come back here right this moment I…I…I won’t be here when you get back.”

Vincent’s shoulders lowered a bit as he sighed and rolled his eyes. [i]“Why must she do this to me every time I have to watch the town? I suppose I’d better at least say something to her.”

Vincent stopped and turned around so that he was facing his wife. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed in the wind and her lightly tanned skin stood out against the white siding of their small house. She had thrown her hips to the side and rested her hand on them, trying to show Vincent that she was tired of waiting for him.

“You know I have to guard the town tonight sweetheart, it’s my turn,” Vincent said in a raised voice so that she could hear him.

“I do not care what you have to do Vince; you are not leaving tonight, I won’t allow it.”

Vincent smiled began walking away from his house again. “We’ll talk about it when I get back alright?”

“Ha, you mean if I’m even here when you get back,” his wife snarled, and then turned and walked back into the house.

“I love you too sweetie,” Vincent yelled, knowing that she would be there once his duties were finished.

Before long he was at the checkpoint in which he was stationed. After saying hello to the other three men he began to settle in for a long night, resting against a wall of sand bags, and before long he was asleep. He was woken by the shouts of one of the men stationed at the checkpoint, screaming into a radio. Turning his head he looked down the street and saw headlights with several silhouettes of men in the front. Immediately he knew that this was the enemy. He quickly awoke the other man on his side of the road and pointed towards the headlights while grabbing and cocking his M-16 and rested the muzzle on top of the sand bags, his finger resting lightly on the trigger, ready to fire when the order was given.

In the distance he could hear the wail of sirens, warning the town that the enemy was coming. Soon the town’s militia would be setup throughout the town, ready to make the drive through their town a bloody one. The headlights were closer now, and the soldiers in the front had taken up positions on the side of the road in the shallow drainage ditches. They had planted several anti-personnel mines in the ditches and Vincent knew that the soldiers were getting closer to the first few.

Before long a loud explosion filled the air, sending bits of dirt and shrapnel into the air and at the same time Vincent and the other four men in the checkpoint opened fire on the men in the ditches, sending hundreds of bullets towards the enemy soldiers. Tracers from the both sides flew through the air, and a flare flew into the air from somewhere in the attacking convoy. The sound of bullets lodging themselves into the sand bags and ricocheting off the pavement began coming closer, sending Vincent ducking behind the relative safety of the sand bags. “Let’s get out of here,” the man beside him yelled as he stood up and began running away from the emplacement. Vincent watched as the man ran away, and saw the tracer bullets coming from the convoy embed themselves into the man’s body, the momentum of the bullets sending him flying through the air and onto the grass behind him.

Another flare was shot into the air, illuminating the sky just enough for Vincent to see the both men on the other side of the road were dead, their lifeless bodies riddled with several holes, their blood staining the ground red. Not wanting to end up like the others, Vincent began crawling out from his position, towards a small stream that ran underneath the road. He would hide in the culvert there until he was sure it was safe for him to return to the town. But before he could climb out of the foxhole a mortar shell landed just in front of the emplacement, the force of the blast forcing Vincent back into the hole unable to move or feel his legs.

More mortars fell around him, covering him with dirt and sand bags that had been busted open until he could hear the footsteps of several soldiers coming to see if they had succeeded in their task. Vincent just lay there, hoping that they would take him for dead and leave him be. The soldiers surrounded Vincent’s position and shined their flashlights into the hole, seeing only the pale face of a dead man. Satisfied that Vincent was dead, they moved on, radioing to their vehicles that it was safe to continue towards the town.

In the distance Vincent could hear the familiar sounds of battle, knowing that his small town and their militia would not stand a chance against the professional soldiers attacking the town. He struggled to sit up, wanting to see how badly he was wounded, but instead all he could see was blood soaked dirt. He tried moving his legs, to remove some of the dirt, but when he tried moving his whole body filled with an excruciating pain. Wanting to get out of the shallow hole that was meant to protect him, he began to pull himself out of the hole with his arms until he was lying on the soft grass. Once again he sat up, resting his weight on his elbows and forearms. He looked down at where his legs were supposed to be, but all that was left were two mangled pieces of flesh and bone. One leg was almost completely torn off just below the knee, with a few muscles still remaining to hold the leg onto the rest. The other leg had been crushed, the bone broken in several places.

Knowing he could not stay where he was for long, he began pulling himself across the grass towards a house he had passed on his way to the check point. After crawling along the ground for nearly a half hour, Vincent noticed two headlights coming from the town. He knew almost immediately that it was not a military vehicle; it sat too low to the ground. As the vehicle came closer, he could see the outlines of a small pickup truck. As the truck neared Vince it slowed down, stopping several feet in front of him. Two men came exited the cab of the truck and picked Vincent up, placing him in the bed of the truck next to several other injured and dead bodies. He looked around and recognized several of the faces. There were several young boys that lay dead in the truck, Vincent made out the face of his neighbor’s sixteen year old son. The boy’s face and body were covered in blood from a bullet wound in his neck. He guessed that the bullet had hit the boy’s jugular vein, as the wound was extremely close to that part of his neck. The stench of the truck was almost unbearable, there were only five people in the back of the truck, but the smell of burnt flesh and death flooded his senses, making him vomit on the neighbor’s son.

When the truck stopped the next time they had come to a small hospital in a town that was far from the battle. Vincent was one of the first to be taken out and placed on a stretcher. The nurses and doctors quickly wheeled him into the operating room and placed him on a small table. One of the nurses placed a mask over his face, sending sleeping gas into his nostrils and mouth. As he became increasingly drowsy Vincent looked around the room one more time, and saw one of the doctors pick up a bone saw from the table.

OOC: Just in case you folks didnt realize this, this is an open rp, so you can pipe in your support for whomever you wish, but this is just a character rp, so no massive armies allowed.

IC: The sun was shining through Vincent’s window when he had woken up. He looked down at his legs but they had been removed, instead there were bloody bandages covering the end of what was left of his legs. He looked around and saw that there were two other men in the room with him, both were asleep. One man looked as though he had been shot in the shoulder; the man had been wounded in the buttocks. Suddenly Vincent began to panic. His head filled with thoughts of his wife and his friends. He had to find them. He began screaming for his wife, causing the other two men to wake up and a nurse to run into the room.

“What’s the matter?” The nurse asked when she had reached Vincent’s bed.

“I need to go home, I need to go home,” Vincent screamed.

The nurse looked at him with calming eyes and told him to relax. But he would not be getting out of the hospital for several months. Hearing this Vincent began to sob.

“But what about my wife? What happened to my wife?”

The nurse looked at him very calmly and said she was sure his wife was fine and that she would get a hold of her as soon as possible to tell her the he was alright.

This calmed Vincent considerably and the nurse handed him a newspaper. The front page had a picture of a town in flames with the headline, Town Razed after Attack by Government Forces. He began reading the article which stated what he had already known. The attack was last night, and the town was his, but it also had a list of people that had been killed in the fighting. He read through the list, seeing many names that he knew. He got halfway through the list when he saw his wife’s name. Immediately he threw the paper to the ground and began sobbing until he fell asleep once again.

The nurses continued bringing Vincent news of how the battle against the government forces were going and the news was grim. Even with the help of several military units who had defected, the battles were bloody and were almost exclusively won by the government forces. For nearly nine months Vincent was forced to stay in the hospital, stricken to his bed and a wheel chair. However he began working on his strength, teaching himself to raise himself into his bed and to climb into his chair.

Finally the day had come when he was allowed to leave the hospital. Waiting for him at the door were several men in street clothes and one in a black suit.

“Mr. Pious, it is good to meet you,” the man in the suit said.

“What’s going on?” Vincent asked as a man in khaki shorts and a blue tee-shirt with the name of a band Vincent didn’t recognize on the front.

“Well sir, it seems as though you and your town have become the rallying cry against the government forces. You see, the razing of your town has been declared a war crime by the international community, and several nations have declared their intent to assist us in whatever way possible. And seeing as how you the only person from the town that we know of that has not been killed or captured, you have become somewhat famous. So seeing how you are the most popular man among the people, you have been chosen to lead the nation once we win this damned war. And, for your own safety, we are sending you to a hidden bunker until the threat to your life has ended.”

“Umm… ok,” was all Vincent could say as he tried to absorb the news, and the large crowd of people chanting his name outside the hospital.

((OOC: HERE (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8823018&postcount=22) is Nyanko's (Darth Visas) bio. Here goes my first post. :D))

The hidden bunker was actually, pretty well hidden. Even standing within ten feet of the entrance, if Darth Visas didn't know where to look, she wouldn't have ever known it was there. Of course, through the Force, anything is possible. And, the strong presence she had felt though the Force was soon to be here. In fact, if her acute felne hearing wasn't mistaken, that was the motorcade rolling up right now.

Expertly hidden within the shadows, a mixture of subtle Force Manipulation and stealth techenquies learned from Sith Assassins hiding her perfectly from sight. The first truck rolled up to the gates. It was a decoy truck, just like the rest of the first three. The person whom's presence she had sensed was in the last truck.

One by one, she watched the trucks roll by, until the fourth and final truck passed the guard kisok.

The Sith Marauder steps from her hiding place and directly into the path of the final truck. The truck swurves to miss the lone black hooded, skidding to a stop some feet off the loose dirt path. Out of the back, miliamen quickly filed out, bringing their weapons to bear on the seemingly unarmed woman.

"Get down on your knees! Hands behind your head!" One barked at her. With a wave of her hand, she rips their weapons from the soldiers hands, mindlessly flinging them off to one side, and another wave of her hand forces them to their knees, most grunting with effort in a vain atempt to rise to their feet. She passes these soldiers, going to the rear of the troop transport. A gunshot rang out from within the covered bed, clipping the Sith's cheek, but not slowing her in the least. Raising her fist, she closes it as if she were seizing upon someone's throat, and the sounds of someone choking within is heard for a moment, then with a flick of her hand, a wet snap sound is heard, followed by silence.

She moves aside the flap, peering within it to see the now lone Vincent, his last-resort bodyguard dead, chest down and face up, his handgun laying a few inches from his hand.

The sight Vincent sees is one of a black cloaked, hooded figure slowly, methoditically entering the back of the transport with him. Her posture, her stance is one of calmed assured control. She knew she was in control of the situation 100%, and saw no reason to be rushy.

Her face was a creamy milk hue, an obvious sign of lack of sun exposure, as well as Dark Side corruption. A dark red slit bleed slowly on her left cheek, from where the bodyguard's gunshot had grazed her face. The fact that she didn't so much as wince when she recieved the wound suggested an absolute control of her own physical body.

No weapon was visible on her being, but that didn't mean she was unarmed. Under her black cloak, Vincent could see that she wore some sort of body armor, black and green in color. For some reason, he was fairly certain that if the armor was ran through many tests, more then 90% of the material used in it's construction would be 'Unknown.'

Her eyes were multi-colored. Yellow rimming red rimming pure pitch black feline pupils, in the shape of narrow slits.

"Worry not, Vincent." She says, her voice low, "Were I here to kill you, you'd have been dead hours ago." She speaks as she sits next to him on the bench. "I know of you. I felt you through the Force. I come not as an enemy, but as a supporter of your cause. Through the Force, your revolution will be realized. The current government will collaspe, and you, and you alone, will be hailed as a hero..." She sends him a mental suggestion, a telepathic image of him being hailed as a national hero, of the glory and fame awaiting him.

Then, she snatches it away, replacing it with a view of his own rotting bullet ridden corpse, dead as government controlled tanks and soldiers massacure the last of the failing resistance. "I have seen your destiny through the Force. This is what awaits you, should you decline my offer and fight without the aid of a Force User such as myself." Again, she sends him the first suggestion, "It is indeed rare that a person's destiny be split as such, yet not unheard of. The choice... Is yours. Fame, and the success of the resistance. Or death, and the fall of the resistance..." She smirks, fairly confident of his decision.

Only a fool would choice death...

Once the woman had finished speaking, all Vincent could think of was the scene of power that had suddenly filled his head, and just as suddenly disappeared. His thoughts turned to his town’s destruction at he hands of the government troops, and his wife’s death. A murderous rage soon engulfed Vincent as his hand brushed across his pistol, but he did not draw it. Here was his chance to get revenge, but what would it cost him? He knew that such assistance would not come without its price, but suddenly a vision enters his mind. He saw his wife, her clothes ripped and bloodied lying on the floor with several government soldiers standing around her laughing, boasting of how they had raped her. His wife grabbed a hold of one of the soldiers pant legs in a vain attempt to pull herself up. The soldier looked down at her, smiled and kicked her in the face, sending her sprawling across the floor. The soldier then pulled out his handgun, aimed at his wife’s head, and pulled the trigger.

Suddenly the vision was gone, and all that Vincent could see was the woman who had approached him. His forehead was drenched in sweat and he began breathing very heavily.

“What do I need to do?”

Nyanko smiled as she felt and revealed in the anger and rage billowing from Vincent.

"What do I need to do?" He asked.

Coolly, the Sith responds, casually, "All you need do is heed my advice, whenever I give it. Embrace your emotions. The teachings of the Jedi would have you forsake your emotions. But the Jedi are weak, and wrong. Your emotions give you power. The power to exact revenge, for..." She gives him a wide grin, "Well, you know whom you wish to get revenge for..."

She raises her head, her eyes closed. Abruptly, the militiamen began to file back into the trunk, a few moving to move the body of the dead bodyguard out of the way. One militiaman turns to Vincent and Darth Visas. "We'll be underway again soon. Sorry for the delay." He spoke directly to Vincent. Either the solder didn't notice Darth Visas, or did, but didn't think anything of it.

She whispers to Vincent, "Such is the weakness of those whose destiny isn't touched by the Force. Yours is." She leans back, relaxing...

The convoy finally pulled into the hidden bunker, allowing Vincent to breathe fresh air. A dense fog had settled over the complex, which looked like nothing more than an abandoned warehouse complex from the outside. The windows were tinted by what seemed to be a hundreds years worth of dirt and the walls were caked with a blue green mold and wild vines that crept up towards the sky. The air was saturated with the smell of the ocean and the sound of the water crashing on the rocky beach and piers in the area resonated throughout the complex. The sounds of the waves calmed Vincent slightly, but in the back of his mind were the visions that had, not long ago, filled him with an anger that he had never felt before then.

His thoughts then turned to the woman who had decimated his guards. Several things confused Vincent about what she had said, yet at the same time, he felt that he understood the magnitude of their agreement. One thing in particular plagued his thoughts. Exactly what did she mean when she had said that the Jedi are weak and wrong? He had never even heard of a Jedi before. Then his thoughts turned to the woman’s looks. Her skin was a pasty grey, almost as though she had been resurrected from the grave, and her eyes reminded him of a serpent’s.

He was sitting in an elevator now, his escorts surrounding him. He turned his head to see the back of the elevator, wondering if the woman was still following him, she was. She had raised the hood of her cloak so all that Vincent could make out were the edges of her face, and her bright serpent like eyes.

He turned back around and thought about the deal he had made with her. “Was it the right thing to do,” he wondered as the elevator doors opened into a large concrete hallway, illuminated only by a few sparsely placed florescent lights. “What is it that she wants in return?” Somehow Vincent knew that whatever it was she wanted, it would be something that would not be easily given by him.

When Vincent reached the end of the hallway a thick metal door opened to his left and he was pushed into what was supposed to be his quarters. He looked around the room, which was no more than a twelve by twelve foot square with a single florescent light in the middle of the ceiling. Inside there was a dirty cot with several layers of sheets and blankets, and on the other side there was a chest of drawers that held his clothes. Once the guards left him, Vincent wheeled himself to his cot, lifting himself onto it. He looked across the room at the woman, and with his eyes narrowed and his voice as steady as he could make it, began thinking of everything he wanted to ask her, but nothing he had thought of came from his lips. The only thing he could say was; “I am ready to do thy bidding my master.”

((OOC: Sorry about that, Nascent. RL events kept me from the internet. But, I'm back now, and here's an IC post, to boot.))


Underneath her hood, one corner of Nyanko's lip curled into a smirk. "Good. I could sense your thoughts on the way here. You question if you made the right choice. Rest assured, you have... Hmmm..."

She looks towards the door to his room. "A 'general' will enter soon," She used the word 'general' loosely, "presenting you with a plan for an up-coming battle against the Government forces. If that plan is followed through, the rebels will lose, terribly. The time table he presents is late by two hours, and the position for the soldiers appear solid, but are weak and once the frontline falls, the remaining will be slaughtered."

She inhales, appearing to go into a trance. "Instead, you must assert authority, do not let him talk you into accepting the attack plan he lays out. Make sure that your forces are solidified towards the rear, with a very light frontline, that buckles very quickly. Over confident, the government soldiers will pursue the rebels, moving too fast for the armor to keep pace. An ambush by the rear troops will desimate the enemy soldiers..."

She raises her head, "That general will be right about one thing. The government armor is the biggest threat. But, there IS a way to claim the tanks as your own. A bridge, where the tanks will be forced to cross in a line, is where they can be hi-jacked. He will suggest destroying the bridge while they are on it, but that is the perfect spot to steal them. However, two will remain at the start of the bridge, off to either side. Before the hi-jackings take place, those two must be destroyed by Anti-Tank weapons, or they will destroy the bridge once the first tank is stolen, and the effort would have been for naught." As she stops speaking, the door is opened...


((OOC: Hope that's okay, Nascent?))

OOC: That was good, but perhaps in the future make your predictions more vague so that I will have a little more freedom in plaing out the specifics of things. Also, this is only half the post, I will do the battle part when I can, which hopefully should be sometime soon.

IC:
Vincent looked up from his desk as the door opened, watching as one of his generals stepped into his dimly lit office. “General,” Vincent muttered as the general took a seat in front of his desk, “if you ever enter my chambers without knocking again, I will cut out your tongue and feed to you through a straw. Do you understand me General?”

The general, surprised by Vincent’s threat, looked up from his papers till his eyes met Vincent’s. The darkness of the room shrouded much of Vincent’s face except for the area around his eyes. Although it had been only a few hours, Vincent’s skin had grown pasty, and his eyes had become a light shade of yellow. Vincent’s new facial features were a far cry from his usual tan complexion and green eyes, but the general decided that it must be from the loss of blood from his legs.

“Is there something wrong General,” Vincent asked, aware that the general was staring at his face.

“No sir,” the general replied, quickly returning his gaze to his papers.

“Well then perhaps we can get to business?”

Nodding, the general began shuffling through his papers, finally stopping once he found the sheet he had been searching for. “Well sir, as you know the loyalist forces have been advancing through the countryside at a rather alarming rate. All attempts to halt their advance have been futile. But it seems as if we have hit a stroke of luck.”

"Yes? And how is that,” Vincent asked, rather annoyed by the general’s presentation.

“Well, it seems as though the loyalist’s past victories have made them fool hardy and over confident, and their overconfidence shall be their downfall.” The General laid out a large map of the country side of Nascent with a large circle painted on it, and then another with the area the circle encompassed printed on it. The detail on the second map was very precise, showing the bends in the stream and the positions of the houses that were scattered around the area. “Sir, the loyalists have sent a small force of mechanized infantry ahead in hopes of defeating the resistance all together in this sector. But their fool hardy commanders have sent them into an area perfect for an ambush. This bridge on the stream is the only way to cross the stream for miles, they will have to cross this if they are to continue their advance, and this is where I feel we will have the best chance of defeating them. If we send two companies there to engage them before they reach the bridge, it may help us in finding allies to aid us in our cause.”

Vincent looked at the map and then at the general and then back at the map again. “Tell me General, how exactly were you going to engage our enemies?”

“Well, with the limited supply of armor at our disposal, we cannot afford to use them in such a small battle. But I am confident that if we use the majority of our forces at the front and have them dug in, we can make them pay so dearly that they will lose all taste for battle.”

“Yes, I am sure you are right, but will this course of action not inflict heavy loses on our forces,” Vincent asked. “And what of their armor? Surely we cannot hope to stave off an attack that relies heavily on the use of armor.”

The general cleared his throat before speaking again, “Yes, you are correct in your logic sir, but this is the only way we can hope to halt the loyalists before they reach the bridge. And there is little we can do about the armor, but I will make sure that there are several units equipped with anti-armor capabilities.”

Vincent reached in his desk and drew out a wooden pointer stick. He looked at the general, and down at the map and with a quick flick of his wrist, Vincent swung the stick at the general, breaking it across his cheek. “You are a fool if you do not see any way to win this battle outside the route you have planned.”

The general rubbed his cheek, the shard sting of the narrow piece of wood still resonating across the left side of his face. “I-I am sorry sir, but I do not see any way to win this battle other than the way I just described to you.”

“That is because you are a fool General,” Vincent snarled. “I will tell you how we will win this battle, and you will either do it my way or you will die, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” the general replied.

“Very good. Instead of having a strong line of defense before the bridge, we will allow them to cross the bridge, using only a weak front line of defense to use the loyalist’s arrogance to our advantage. Our front line will engage the enemy and fall back across the bridge where they will meet up with the rest of our forces. Now, it is very possible that they will use their armor to spearhead their attack, but instead of destroying them, we will… “liberate” the machines from their previous owners and use them as our own. And I will expect that the force will be lighter than expected, so they will only have maybe four vehicles. And if these tanks follow proper procedure, only two will attempt to cross the bridge while the other two will remain behind to make sure that the bridge stays intact. Each of these tanks should provide little difficulty if we can hit them all at the same time. However if this fails, we will destroy the bridge. And, if all goes as planned, which I am sure it will, we shall win this battle, and we shall show those idiots in the capital that they shall not defeat us so easily.”

The cool morning air was a stark contrast to the usual humid mid-summer heat, but it was a welcome change to the men sitting in the fields waiting for an enemy they thought would never come. They had marched all night long to make it there before the loyalist forces arrived, but it seemed that they had arrived too early. A single platoon had been ordered to defend a bridge while the rest of the two companies dug in on the far side, waiting for the enemy infantry to fall into their trap. A single squad of twelve men had been given orders to sit at the base of the bridge and wait for whatever armor they would be sending at them to cross the bridge, the squad would then break into four groups of three and attempt to capture the vehicles. The plan was considered very high risk, but the generals were certain that the platoon on the other side of the bridge would draw the enemy into their trap. However if it did not work, they were to immediately destroy the bridge and fall back.

The men on the front lines of the battle were considerably nervous, each man peering through the dense fog, trying to see if anything was coming. Suddenly a patrol sent out earlier in the morning appeared in the distance. As soon as they reached the rest of the platoon they yelled out across the line that the loyalists were coming with four Bradley’s and approximately four hundred infantry.

All of the sudden the still of the morning was broken by men yelling and weapons being readied. The soft rumble of the vehicles could be heard in the distance and as the vehicles drew closer the men could make out the darkened outlines of the soldiers walking in front of the Bradley’s. The order to open fire was given shortly after, sending several of the loyalist soldiers sprawling to the ground while the rest had spread out and began running for any cover they could find. The armored vehicles suddenly opened up with their guns, sending a deadly hail of hot metal flying towards the men, killing several.

As soon as the armor opened fire, the platoon commander gave the order to fall back to the rest of their company. Believing that they had routed the enemy, the loyalists sent the infantry after the platoon, leaving the armor behind to guard the bridge. The squad underneath the bridge waited until the sound of tracks crossing the bridge had stopped before they made their move. Each group had made a makeshift bomb and placed it on the tracks of each vehicle, waiting until they heard the explosions before they made their move to capture the vehicles. The crews of the vehicles had no idea what hit them and were still trying to maneuver away from the bridge, thinking that it had been destroyed, when smoke grenades were thrown inside each vehicle, causing the crew to exit where they were captured by the squad, lined up, and then shot from point blank range. Each man in the squad had been given small amounts of training with the vehicles and knew the basics of their operation.

The soldiers who had followed the retreating platoon into their trap had faired even worse. As soon as they had reached a pre-designated position, every man in the companies opened fire. Mortars screamed down into the confused and densely grouped loyalist soldiers, decimating almost the entire force. Their situation was made even worse once two of the Bradley’s had closed off their only route of escape and began firing with their twenty-five millimeter chain guns. It wasn’t soon after this that the few remaining soldiers surrendered, ending the battle and giving the rebels their first major victory.

Almost as soon as the battle had ended a memo was sent to Vincent that read:

Sir,
Battle has gone perfectly, all four vehicles captured intact, approximately one hundred fifty enemy killed, two hundred fifty captured or wounded. With only thirty men killed and wounded on our side. Congratulations.

Vincent looked up from the sheet of paper and at the woman standing in front of his desk.

“Your wisdom has won the day for us my master.”

Darth Visas nods slowly, the outcome of the battle much as she foresaw. "Yes. Rest now, my child. The loyalists will stay their ground, for now. Yet... I sense a..." Darth Visas rose, frowning under her hood. My Senses are becoming clouded. Is there a Jedi trying to interfere? I must find this Interloper and deal with it. "Ah, it is of no concern."

She headed for the door, her hand brushing her Double-Sided Lightsaber hilt, stashed at her side...

((OOC: Well, I've opened a possible slot for a Jedi type character to come in. But, if no one wants in, I'll cover accordingly. :D))

00C"hi guys welcome this post may be a little dodgy as it takes me awhile to warm up to rps.if i post *action* "speech" just so you know

IC"
As the small boy roughly 14 carrying a rifle on his back walks along the medicle bay looking for his father he notices a very bloody bed.Next to the bed is the chain his father always used to wear on the bed side table.The scream is heard all around as the boy hugs his fathers body crying.His fathers corpse lies unmoving riddiled with bullets and burn marks.As the tears begin to flow he see's a women in his mind talking to a man he can roughly hear what they are saying "Yes. Rest now, my child. The loyalists will stay their ground, for now. Yet... I sense a..."

He stands and wounders whats going on why does he have to be the one to feel so much pain so many changes....

"AHHHHH why me .... barely able to talk the boy whispers to himself why me a mother and a father lost to this war....."

Objects in the room start to take flight and smash into walls and other patients although avoiding the boy he feels anger and pain running through his vains hatered is controling his mind....

It had been a battle in this boys mind and body over the last few years losing a mother to cancer his family not being able to aford very much and almost loseing his life several times.Although he was innocent to the world around he felt the need to destroy others and this was all he felt

00C"any good?

Vincent looked around at the large field of cotton that spread out before him, the white blooms dancing in the wind. He began walking along the edge of the field when he stopped suddenly and looked down. He had legs! He bent over and rolled up his pant legs, revealing muscular legs with dark brown hair spread sparingly over them. “How could this be,” he asked himself. A feeling of joy spread through him, a feeling he had not felt in over a year.

“Vincent Pious, what in God’s name do you think you are doing,” a familiar voice demanded from behind him.

Trembling, Vincent turned around so that he was facing the direction that the voice had come from. The strawberry blonde hair of a woman he once knew covered the face of a woman that resembled his wife. “I-It can’t be,” Vincent said. “You died almost a year ago, y-you can’t be back.”

The woman did nothing, leaving Vincent to stand in the silence for several moments before finally speaking again. “Your path will only lead you to more pain."

Suddenly the once bright blue sky was replaced with a blood red one, the white clouds turning a dark shade of grey and where his wife once stood now stood the shadowy figure of the woman who had been helping him to defeat the loyalists. A florescent bolt of lightning struck nearby and the ensuing clap of thunder shook the very ground Vincent stood on, and almost instantly the skies opened and it began raining. Vincent watched as the rain turned deep crimson in color and became extremely warm. Vincent stuck his toungue out to catch a drop, but when a drop landed on his tongue, the salty taste of human blood filled his mouth, causing him to dry heave. The fields of cotton had been stained red.

Vincent closed his eyes and opened them again, but was now surrounded by burning buildings of his home town. The bodies of the dead covered the streets, their blood running into the drains and into the sewers. In the middle of the street was a giant pillar with several disfigured bodies nailed onto it. Vincent walked towards the pillar and began looking at the bodies. Almost instantly he noticed the body of his wife hanging from a spike in her neck. Her naked body was covered with blood and the word “Whore” had been painted onto her chest.

“Arrgh!” Vincent yelled. He looked around, expecting to be surrounded by the gruesome scene he had witnessed, but was surprised when he found himself lying in his bed, covered with sweat. A man busted into the room and flipped the light switch on, flooding the room with a bright florescent light.

“Is everything ok Sir?”

Vincent looked at the man and then at his lap. He felt around his knees where his legs should have been but found nothing but his mattress. “Yes,” Vincent replied, “it was only a dream.” He would have to tell his master about his dream once she returned from her trip.

((OOC: Nascent... If you want, I can cut down on the Force some? A lot of people are kinda thinking this is a SW fluff type thing. It isn't, I know. >_> And, if you don't want me to mention the Force and all that anymore, I won't, mmkay?))

Darth Visas let the Force guide her movement, leaving Vincent's room, her feet moving, propelling her along a path decided by the Force.

Her path took her outside of the bunker, and through the Nascent terrain. It was daylight outside. Her black cloak absorbed much of the sun's heat, retaining it. However, if she was bothered by the heat, she made no sign of it, gliding along smoothly.

She eventually found herself on a road, travelling east. The road didn't split, it was a straight-forward shot.

Finally, she found herself in a bombed out city. One of the more recent Loyalist ambushes. She had forseen this assualt through the Force, but the town itself held no stratigic value. It being lost or held would have ultimately had no effect on the outcome of the war.

As she came to a field hospital, she was halted by a rebellion soldier. "I'm sorry ma'am, but you can't enter here."

Her blook hood hide her face well. She rose her head just enough to allow the bottom portion of her face to be visible. "Let me pass." She spoke. It was more of a suggestion then a command.

"Er... Of course. Pardon me. You may enter. Sorry for the inconvience."

Entering, she surveyed the scene. The dead and dying were all lined up neatly in rows. Nurses and doctors hurried from one body to another, trying to save who they could. She methodically approaches one doctor. "You are wasting your time here. All that can be saved have been saved. Your presense will be required elsewhere. Have all your staff leave."

However, the doctor's sense of duty wouldn't let him leave. "But, there are people here we can save."

"Are you really saving them? These people are limbless. They will be of no use to the rebellion. Only those of sound body will overthrow the loyalists. By 'saving' these individuals, all you are truely doing is condeming them to a short life of suffering, torment, and a slow death. Leave them."

The doctor reeled at first, but then, it was as if he understood what she had meant. "You're... You're right. For a strong new government, we need strong individuals."

"Exactly. Now, leave us." Nodding, the doctor called together his staff, and relayed their new orders to them. Amid some complaints, the doctor lead the others from the field hospital, leaving the few they could ahve saved to their death.

She approached a child, huddling over a dead body. She gazed down on him. "Child... Why do you mourn the passing of this one?" She motioned to the corpse.

*Looking up teary eye'd the boy just gazed into the darkness inside of the hood trying to make out the figures face the lighting didnt help either*

"Im mourning a man who faught for his life everyday.A man who gave into this rebellion *Beigining to shout* A man who tryed to save not only himself but all of you around.A man Who faught for what he thought was a right....This man was my father the last person left in my family aside from me...

*The boy enraged stood up and started getting staunch*

"Why do you interupt me what do you want?"
"You look like some military personal"

*Taking his rifle from his back and cocking it.Objects in the room started to viberate as the boy got louder and angrer*

"I will have no part in this war unless i am spilling blood"
"If your here to recruit me put me on the front line where no one will *hear*? me scream where bullets will be forced into my oponents"

Darth Visas smriked. The boy did have spunk, that much she had to admit. Much like herself, at a young age. She paid little mind to the rifle pointing at her. If need be, she could cut him down before he could bat an eyelash.

Her next words came dripping with venom. "And, what good would you do the rebellion there, hmmm? We need soldiers, not tempermental children. Child, your death will not even cost the loyalist two of their soldiers."

She was dimly aware of the floating objects in the room now, much as a giant was dimly aware of the insects buzzing around his food. She continued to speak, "You have much anger in you, child, much rage and resentment. Your body is frail, yet your mind has been sharpened by the pain and suffering. Yet lack of experiance has failed you the control to properly use that rage, that anger. Tell me boy, if you truely seek death on the battlefield, how many enemy soldiers do you want to take with you? A mere single soldier? Or do you wish to aim for two? I do believe that three would be beyond your ability."

She was deliberately agitating him, to see how much rage he truely had in him....


((OOC: Royale, please check your TGs, mmkay?))

*The boy was on the edge about to snap *pauluting*? his mind with hatered and anger it was easiest for him to do.What did he have to lose*

"I will take out more then that you underestimate me"
"I will send bullets flying tearing skin and limb apart ohh the fun i will have."
"I dont care how much pain i inflick as long as i give out more then what i recieve heck i hope i cause pain i hope i kill mothers and fathers ruin childrens lives it will all be worth it"

*The boy almost looked happy to be able to hate everyone and everything so much he deserved it as well.He was feeling difrent more powerfull everytime he thought about how much he hated who he was the world and everything in it.He was about to snap a boy on the edge.The objects that where floating now started to whizz around the room hitting walls beds and just missing him.He knew he was doing this but didnt care.He gave a menicing look and started to laugh*

"Yes, that's right. Give in to your anger, your hatred. Let it feed you, sustain you, give you POWER." Darth Visas hissed, a wide smirk on her face. "Child, I can teach you to control that rage in you. Make it work for you."

As she spoke, an ashtray came whirling towards her. With a flick of her wrist, the ashtray was deflected, slamming into the wall. "I am Sith, master of the Dark Side." She extended one hand to the child. "Take my hand, and I will train you to be a Sith."

The boy takeing the womens hand looking confused and angry.I would like to learn how to kill nothing more nothing less.Never forget i will only learn if you teach me how to kill how to unleash pain and how to strike down those that are weak.My fuel is pain from here on.My fuel is power.My fuel is anger.My fuel is hatered.My fuel is......Suffering

The objects which where whirling around started to fall to the to the ground he body buckled from the amount of stress it had on it tonight.His eyes started to look into the back of his head.He colapsed falling to the ground.Most of the objects which hit the ground exploded or smashed rather violently

Darth Visas sighed, kneeling to scoop up the boy's body, running one hand across his forehead. "Worry not, child. Suffering and pain will be yours." In taking her hand, she had forseen the boy's destiny, and it became clear to her what the Force had in store for him. "For now... Sleep."

With that, she lays his body on a bed, turning back to survey the empty field hospital, save for the assorted corpses and the soon to be dead. "War breeds the best hatred... The best weapons..."

The boy *lying*? on the stretcher started to sweet and get hotter.He had done damage to his body but would soon recover.In his dreams he saw his mother *lying*? on a hospital bed crying knowing her family could not aford her treatment flashes ocurd then he was in the trenches with his father again handing him ammo and looking naiev trying to help a pointless cause next thing he saw amazed and scared him he saw himself *lying*? in a crater holes all around him coverd in blood with a smile on his face buildings on fire and colapsing around him.He had learned so much about himself today it was no wounder why he was haveing these dreams

OOC: Do not bump threads that do not belong to you. Especially when I am trying to keep the ooc junk out. Please delete your last post and do not let this happen again.

00C:come on guys.....