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The Second Motherland War *Revived*



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Sat Jun 01, 2013 10:33 pm
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CowLogic says...



Welcome to the brand new, Genre-Bending "Storybook," created by your friends CowLogic and Omniyus.

This story, fueled by waffles, intense brainstorming sessions, and excellent writers will change everything you ever knew about this type of thread, and you will experience joy, laughter, and tears as you read and write this epic account of bondage, rebellion, and rebirth. We hope you will all join us in this monumental attempt to create the best Storybook ever. It will be a great time had by all.
Spoiler! :
Other side-affects of this story may be, but are not limited to: end to world hunger, world peace, vomiting, end to poverty, the cure for cancer, the cure for polio, the invention of time travel (we know that this part will work, because polio already has a cure, you see?), mild indigestion, explosive laughing fits, increased charisma and good looks, and even cash being dumped into custom stitched pockets by dump trucks. Please inform your doctor if you have thoughts of suicide, even if it is not caused by this forum. This storybook is not for everyone, so ask your doctor before joining. Just kidding, this storybook is for everyone.

Without, further ado, here is our story outline, in which we have invested a lot of planning:

The Plot:

History:
Spoiler! :
On the year of 2015, the Sentients arrived to Earth. They descended from the heavens at a quick speed, hurtling towards the ground in a large rocket, landing in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, yet slowing down enough that it did not cause major damage to any coastline. Instantly recognizing that the massive satellite was not our own, Japan and the United States both raced to the ship with fleets of ships and airplanes. The US got there first, but it mattered not. The rocket was inhabited, by a human-like people, who were most definitely not human.

They claimed to have come from a planet in a completely different galaxy, and said that they came in peace. We welcomed them into society, calling them Sentients, because of their intense knowledge, that matched, and even in some cases exceeded our own. Although there were at first issues of spec-ism and prejudice, eventually humans and Sentients were able to live in harmony and a period of prosperity followed known as the Era or Prosper or the Second Pax Period.

During this period, the Sentients and humans worked together to create a very prosperous and peaceful world, using our combined knowledge and resources to advance technology to a previously unheard-of degree. The Sentients had increased knowledge of energy use and storage, the reason they were able to travel here, yet we had superior skills in mechanical engineering and elemental physics and chemistry, and together we created technology and other advancements that skyrocketed wealth and society to a whole new level. We lived in peace and well-being for more than 100 years, however, sometime all good things must come to an end.

Eventually the Sentients began to evolve. They became slowly and surely less human-resembling, showing abilities to transform their bodies by increased or decreased transfer of energy to various points. They became stronger than us, and smarter than us, showing obvious dominance in most areas. As their physical attributes increased, their egos ascended, and they began to be greedy of things that we had never fought over before. The Sentients took advantage of us as less superior beings by taking over our operations, our governments, our lives, through snide influence and threats. They assumed a higher status than humans, and eventually became king-like, trying to control us to the point of reducing our lives as favor to their own.

The last straw occurred when Sentients in Egypt began to shoot humans who showed "disrespect." We declared our protection in the "Second Rights of Man" document, and confronted the Sentient leaders in a massive protest in front of the massive UN Building in New York City, which had became the World Capital City during the Era of Prosper. In response, they gunned us down in the streets. War was immediate.

The early stages of the war were known as the Terror Campaign. During this time, Sentients went ballistic, murdering and torturing humans in a small genocide. We eventually lost our delusions of peace and began to mobilize our armies. The battle did not utilize Nuclear Weapons because the Humans and Sentients were so intermingled and integrated that there were no true targets. The war of Man vs. Alien lasted for over a decade, the first 6 years being the most bloody, the last being the humans who refused to surrender being wiped out. It was named the Motherland War or the Great War. In an early victory, we had stormed NYC and taken control of the UN building.

As time wore on, the humans hit a massive road-block. The Sentients were changing still, and in a bad way. They were evolving to be more destructive, more physically superior. And sometimes they transformed. They could, at will, turn into something so mysterious and horrifying that it is impossible to describe except for the words cold and dark. In this form, the Sentients could inspire much fear and destruction among their human enemies, and this caused the humans to lose ground, being defeated again and again, and losing more soldiers every second. Soon our weaponry was gone, our ammunition was gone, and for most of us, our pride was gone.

The final battle of the war was in 2151. All of the human army had accepted defeat and surrendered to the Sentients except for the battalion that was still in the heavily fortified NYC. We staged our final stand there, fighting back to the death against an onslaught of heavily armed Sentients. We fought long and hard, but eventually they made it to the UN Building, where we eventually were taken by force. No prisoners were taken. Every human who was caught inside the city died. This massacre encompassed more than 200,000 men, women, and children. Because of this final stand, it was known as the Battle of the Alamo, and that title eventually spread to refer to the whole war: The Alamo War. (This is an important rallying point for your humans in the story.)

The humans became demoralized in defeat and were subject to a mostly non-lethal genocide by the Sentients, who now overpowered them entirely. After the terror had subsided, the human race was enslaved by the Sentients. Humans now catered to the Sentients hand and foot, performing all tasks for them and doing all work for them. They worked in mines and on plantations, letting the Sentients reap the benefits of the raw goods, and worked in factories to manufacture products that the humans could not use. A large portion also became personal servants to the Sentients, who now lived in extreme wealth, while giving their slaves horrible living conditions. As the days wore on, more and more humans became agitated. However, in the early days of the enslavement, any form of rebellion was squashed.

The humans were beaten and trampled upon for the next 2 decades, and a new generation of humans began to take over the slave positions as many of their seniors died from disease and starvation. These young men and women were strong from work and very, very angry. Tensions built as they grew more and more hatred towards the Sentients, now entirely inhuman, looking more like flesh-like birds than people, growing steadily overweight, and the humans increasingly wanted, needed, a change in the status quo. There seemed to be a familiar trend rising out of the darkness. That of war.

The story starts:
Spoiler! :
The year is now 2176. After being enslaved since the Battle of the Alamo during the humans final stand in New York, the humans are now servants and workers, who can barely survive in addition to being treated brutally and cruelly by their Alien masters. The Sentients are becoming a little too comfortable in their positions of power though. Below them, the people are stirring, and stirring very hard. There are many tensions, and unbeknownst to the Sentients, the humans want retribution for their ancestors and parents lost in the Motherland War.

Meanwhile, the Sentient government grew corrupt and bureaucratic, and lazy along with it. Their most powerful base of operations was in the UN Building, which was now converted into a Sentient stronghold. In it lay the governing body of the alien race, and one of the largest battalions of Sentients anyone has ever seen. This will become the main objective for the human uprising, the target which mean the most, both practically and emotionally.

Your story will follow the humans as they grow from small uprisings into a huge rebellion, which will eventually turn into the Second Motherland War. Good luck and play fair. But not too fair. It's time to take back what's ours.

What has occurred thus far
Spoiler! :
When the story dawned, we saw different ways in which the Sentients have been torturing and depriving the poor humans from executions to working persecution in the mines to domestic and sexual abuse. Several people have already decided to not deal with it anymore and have begun running away and fighting back.

Louis Defarge (CowLogic), after finding out that his wife's and Patrick Jamison's (ShadowVyper) brutal sentient slave master Drin has been conspiring against his fellow aliens to upset the status quo and wants Defarge to lead the rebellion, takes advantage of a sudden earthquake in the mines to kill his guards. He and Patrick were last seen meeting a strange Mudman who had been living in an underground bunker.

The 16 year old Marietta Leroy (AriaAdams) has been leading small children and runaway humans to their deaths and much worse for the benefit of her horrid master for a long time. She represents the "Uncle Tom" figure in the story. She has recently kidnapped Gulfie (janika), who is now under control of the brutal Yaksha.

Peter Sebastian Cloud (Alvarin) and his mentor, Gandalf's weird uncle Gregory (VeerenVKS) have been living life in the metaphircal fast lane, avoiding found by the Sentients and scrounging for food. Its a very cute little relationship.

Nya Rey (Starleene) has been living in the woods for the longest time, a runaway slave who is convinced that the dying words of her father were true, that there is a safe place out there called the "Haven." Unfortunately she has not found it yet, but after she met up with Robert Shay Tenet (BlackNether12) who had recently lost his sister in deadly combat with Sentients, his brother Jacob slaying them and going off to the woods, who wanted to send him to the mines, they did find a strange beast in the woods, known only as Experiment, a poor Sentient experimented on by the others.

Meanwhile, in the halls of the converted UN Building in NYC, a group of Mudmen, encased in a statue substance have been plotting a breakdown of the Sentients as well. Ao Mark'Zuul, primarily, has devised a method in which his Scientist (an almost mythical race now) skills can help upset the status quo.

All the while more and more tremors are occurring as some mystery force is pushing up through the ground. And with the device that Defarge is soon to find in the possession of the strange beast he meets underground seeming to be the answer to everything, we will see how the revolution rises up.

Playable Species:
Spoiler! :
Humans: You are a part of a dying race. After fighting multiple wars and losing most all of them, you are now enslaved. The willpower of you and your people have been diminished down to almost nothing. Working in the Mines of Algorath in Colorado, or the factories in what was Newark, NJ, and Detroit, MI, or serving the Sentients in their magnificent homes, your people are working away physically, mentally, and emotionally down to nothing. You shall be one of these people.
You are one of the only people left that have hope. It is your job to inspire that hope among your human brethren and to take up arms against the Sentients.

Note: We suggest that most of you pick humans. Just because they are not solid crystal statues for most of Season 1.

Note: Your person can have some kind of adaptations. It is recommended. Nothing too big, like a third arm, but something is wanted. (Always keep in mind that the main rallying point you work around is your humanity, which is adverse to the inhumanity of the Sentients. Therefore, your whole character should not be based around his or her "adaptation.")

Mudmen: You were the pride of the Sentients, called the Scientists, who were the most excelled in wisdom and knowledge. Some could even use complex math and science skill to use nature to harness energy in ways that some humans might call ''magic." Now you are the Mudmen.

Now, though, you are the pride and glory of the UN building. You are a crystal statue residing in the halls of the converted UN building. You cannot move, but you can think and feel. The only possible good thing about being a Mudman is that the crystal can and is storing vast amounts of energy, from both the environment and a bit from you.

Note: Please PM Omniyus if you want more information on this character. Omniyus will message if you pick this character.

Other (non-playable) Species:
Spoiler! :
Sentients: They now look much different than the humanoids that had once landed on earth with a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

The Sentients are now pale, fleshy, and birdlike. Although they are gaining weight, you can see through their skin somewhat and there are many varicose veins and arteries. They are very frightening to the human eye, especially when they transform into the Dark, their fear-inspiring state. They are bigger than humans, most standing at a lanky excess of 8 or more feet, and they have very long arms and fingers. They are crudely intelligent, yet speak in weird, horse, voices.

You cannot play these characters, but it is important to know what they look like in order to paint an accurate picture of your characters enslavement, display.

Available Positions:
Spoiler! :
Humans:
1. Reserved for @CowLogic
2. Reserved for @Starleene
3. Reserved for @Alvarin
4. Reserved for @BlackNether12
5. Reserved for @VeerenVKS
6. Reserved for @AriaAdams
7. Reserved for @ShadowVyper
8. Reserved for @Paracosm
9. Reserved for @Janika
10.+
Mudmen: (I think we have enough. Shino still has the option though.)
1. Reserved for @Aquestioning
2. Reserved for @CowLogic
3. Reserved for @Starleene
4. Reserved for @BlackNether12
5. Reserved for @AriaAdams

Character Template: (please put in spoiler to make thread more organized)
Code: Select all
[spoiler][b]Name:[/b]
 [b]Species:[/b]
 [b]Age:[/b]
 [b]Appearance:[/b]
 [b]Personality:[/b]
 [b]History:[/b]
 [b]Other:  (Anything you might want to add that I did not mention)[/b][/spoiler]
 

Rules:
Spoiler! :
Usual YWS rules, including:

1.) Violence is not only plausible, it is inevitable. And it can get quite gory.

4.) Use your discretion for things such as sex and language.

7.) Try to make posts pretty good (grammar and length-wise).

10.) Please read the history and descriptions to make your posts well-informed. I know it's long, but... yeah.

23.) We won't be super strict, but no making your characters super-powered, no messing with others' characters unjustly, and no being a mean person.

45.) Omniyus and I have complete control over you in this SB. And rebellion is not an option.

Only chapters may be posted here. Issues such as spot reservation questions and concerns should be posted on the Discussion Thread, or DT, located here: viewtopic.php?t=98029

Now, YWS users, will you join us to take back what is ours? It is time for a change of scenery in this great and revolutionary year of 2176!
The course skin of a thousand elephants sewn together to make one leather wallet.





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Wed Jul 10, 2013 6:36 pm
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CowLogic says...



Spoiler! :
Okay, so I was sitting on this for a while, because I was splitting up the first post into two different parts, but I decided since you all hate me for not posting this yet, I'll give you the first part for now and post the finished second part later. You can post. Except Slim Shady. Unless you talk to me first.

The Monk

This time there was an etching of epic proportions in the works, and I could feel it. This was going to be my masterpiece. I lifted the wooden strip, filed down to the finest point on the end, and dipped it into the murky waters of my homemade ink.

The sharp tip of my makeshift quill hovered over a tiny, white portion of my left stomach, directly below my large, curvaceous inscription of Psalm 62:5. I would tattoo it to the left of my third eye, and to the right of my ink ear.

It was going to be a peacock. Not the bird, but its plume. I would use several of my finest, darkest colors to concoct the beast that would lie upon my belly. It would be a symbol of beauty, but of a beauty that stands alone, through tough times, yet retains everything.

I lowered the pen down to my pale, Sun-deprived flesh, and breathed easy, because there isn’t anything that better heightens the promise of pain than a grimace, a brace of oneself. The point quivered just above where I would make my first mark, and then my world shook.

The jolt sent my hand into a vibrating fury, and the pen entered my body, off-point and too deep. I let out a vocalization and confusedly stared at the splinter, which casually hung, half in my stomach, half out, shaking in the tremors.

It was another Shake: the third one this week. I could see that from the calendar that I kept on the North wall. When you are a Scientist, you internalize time, you internalize cardinal direction.

The concrete walls of the bunker literally vibrated as if they were Jell-O being shaken. The maps that hung on them by tape did as well, pulling further and further away from the surface that restrained them and creaking an almost imperceptible high pitched squeak. The weaponry on the wall shook as well and the ground beneath me shivered.

Shakes give birth to the weirdest feelings in your stomach.

And speaking of. I quickly and precisely navigated the small wooden tattoo stake out of my stomach and it sickeningly widened the hole with every millimeter it was extracted. When it was out and I once again allowed my hand to succumb to the earthquake around me. A thin line of blood oozed from the fresh flesh failure.

Then all at once the luminous renewable crystal powered lights stopped their frantic swinging above me. The wall or firearms ceased the metallic-concrete clacking. The tremors quieted and I breathed an elderly sigh of relief, my sickly white shoulders tanned by swirling tattoos sinking.

Now to get back to this image, this plumage. It was my fortieth anniversary underground. It calls for some major celebration, even for a monk. I extracted a new tool from my jar that sat on the clear space of stone beside me. The room was large, even though it was only one room, and it provided ample pace for murals upon murals of artwork that I painted over and over.

I often contemplated how much further up the floor supported me under layers of paint than it had when I first started living in this underground monastery.

Forty years? I shivered. How have I survived so long in this six sided prison? I calmed myself. This was a blessing in existence, that I may live to protect the box. To protect the people it represented. My responsibility is of the utmost holiness. I could see that sacrifice bred holiness in every one of the many extensive religious and literary texts that I had read and reread over the last forty years to the day.

But, as I was dipping this new machine of primitive body artistry into one of my palettes of blood-based paint, the colors splashed up and the little container spilled on the ground. Another shake.

This one was more violent and long than the last. I pushed myself away from the loose objects in this Cooler, as a POW would call it, that had a risk of falling on my. I dragged my feet up and gripped my flexible, yet skinny legs in an embrace of life, my elbow-pits fitting over my knees.

I put my guard up, essentially, and I didn’t have to look to see that I had begun to resemble more and more of a human. My forehead creased, and my skin took up more of a nuanced pallor.

This Shake was different. It bashed and battered the stone that encased this bunker like never before. I could feel inexplicable crumbling from beyond the walls. It was frightening, yet my shock left something to be desired after forty years of mental solitude and depreciation.

Then the worst thing imaginable happened. The wall right in front of me blew out.

The concrete shattered like glass and it revealed a dark emptiness behind it, and impossible cavern in this area of solid rock and clay. Feeling the surge of a powerful disturbance, the breakers immediately shut off the lights and left me in pitch black.

Surrounded by uncomfortable darkness, the hole in the wall was illuminated by comparison. It exuded a psychological substance that communicated a complete lack of safety.

My pulse quickened and a cold shiver ran up and down my bony, protruding spine. A full set of thoughts ran through my mind as if a rock band just heard the gun for the race to start.

It was okay. This area had been scanned and scanned again to ensure that there was no way it could be found. It was much too far from any of the current mining outlets of when this sanctuary was built. Forty years was a long time, but short of all out slavery, there didn’t seem to be any possible way for the lazy Sentients to compel the human laborers to mine to the extent of even coming close to this hiding place. Even the vibrating that I continued to sense for the past month couldn’t have lent itself to this.

But then again, I, over anyone else, must know that there are worse, more powerful, more deadly things under the surface than Sentients. Things that provide not only a physical, but a chemical threat to the Box.

But then my thoughts were cut short, disrupted in mid-cognizance. And the cause of this interruption lay in my eardrums. The pitter-patter of feet was barely audible, but it was there. I couldn’t discern what type of threat was on its way, but that didn’t discount the threat. Quite the opposite. I invoked as many prayers as I could and scrambled to one side, utilizing sturdy, yet aged triceps, knocking over another palette.

I groped for and grasped the Box and slid it behind me towards the enormous food pantry. The footsteps that my hypersensitive ears picked up were now gone and replaced with heavy, gruff breathing. Of extremely close proximity.

Then there was a grunt, a boost, and feet were heard gripping the edge of the hole in my once secure, forty year old wall. Looking up, I could see, superimposed on the lighter part of my existence, dark figures blocking the hole in the wall. I dived forward, sliding across the slick, mural stricken surface of the floor until I collided with the Goliath of a machine gun lying on the concrete, one that I had cleaned and polished only hours earlier.

I twisted it towards the light and righted the position of its belt. My pointy right index finger felt for the trigger as my left hand went up and found the light cord. The breakers would have righted themselves automatically by this point.

Now there were two familiar figures that had climbed inside my monastery, one much larger than the other. I could trace one’s arm as it reached towards its belt, and I knew what that meant, there was a pistol coming out.

I quickly popped the cord down, and my eyes burned for a second as the lights went on. The two beasts before me were the last animals I expected to witness.

They were humans. And as I could tell from the getup of the larger, dark skinned human, they were human miners. Where there were human miners, there were Sentient corporations. And now they had found the box. And now, there was nothing I could do about it, machine gun or not.

I smoothly brought my rear end off the ground with leg strength in disbelief, still clutching the destructive weapon in my right hand. “Who are you?” I croaked, vaguely wondering as to the last time I spoke aloud.

The large black one surveyed me with obvious surprise, although his posture remained upright and he held on to every dignity. The younger white one had his mouth open in shock. Neither said a word, but the fact that they both held on to Sentient-doled carbine rifles spoke at a high decibel level.

After forty years of waiting. Forty years of sitting in this box, exercising, reading, painting, tattooing myself, relapsing into insanity, recovering from it. Forty years of solitary confinement, self-wrought games when in doubt. This was my reward, for sitting on the most powerful egg of all time for 14600 days.

I had been found because of an earthquake.

That made me lose it. I collapsed into a chair that was right behind me. I knew it was there. Spend forty years in one room, and you may memorize exactly where furniture is too. “Oh no,” I wailed. “They already found us.” I was crying. One thing I never stopped doing was crying. I had cried every birthday, every holiday. I cried when I thought about my dear departed Mel’af; I cried when I thought about my kids.

And now I cried because the world was over. If the Sentients now had the box, they had the key to destruction, they had the key to domination of a destructive denomination.

Tears, blood, and tattoo ink now spattered the murals on the floor. To someone looking at the image objectively, it was a masterpiece, an etching of epic proportions.

The plumage of a sad peacock.
The course skin of a thousand elephants sewn together to make one leather wallet.





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Wed Jul 31, 2013 10:25 pm
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StoneHeart says...



|Izar Etrekee|


Izar, hold on. Izar stirred slightly. His breath came in ragged gasps, pain filled his body. He tried to open his eyes, but it made no difference, all he saw was pitch black darkness. Nothingness. He tried to think, to reach out with his mind, but the pain in his chest simply intensified and made him almost black out.

The pain did not dull. Indeed, it only intensified. Every now and then he drifted into unconsciousness, making him lose track of time. . . .

Here and there a few comforting words would reach him, muffled and fuzzy. He knew that he knew the voice, but he couldn't concentrate enough to pin it down. Crushing pain consumed him.

Suddenly it stopped.

Blinding light flashed in his eyes, burning him. He screamed in pain, the concentrations of sunlight too great for him to bear after his long years underground.

Slowly his vision cleared, and blurred shapes flashed about in front of him. Suddenly he realized he wasn't being crushed. He could breath. He was alive. Then he remembered the roof caving in on him.

Who had gotten him out? He tried to look at who it was that was moving him out of the deep hole in the earth, but he only saw vague blurs. His felt drained.

How are you feeling? Came a distant, whispering voice.

Couldn't terrify a grub, he replied, feeling himself begin to lose consciousness once again.

Hold on, you'll be fine! Were the last words her heard before he blacked out once more.


It was Vehn. Izar's vision cleared, become lucid and brilliant in a single moment. I'M GOING TO KILL YOU! Shadows tinged with fire flickered at the edges of his vision, every bit of his being focused on the thing standing in front of him. That thing that he had concentrated on destroying for every moment of his ages in prison. Every moment!

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” came the traitor's soft, silky voice.

Izar instantly froze. Vehn was a disgusting maggot, but he didn't do bluffs. Why?

A pair of pale blue eyes stared up at him from a sickly grey face. “Look around you . . .”

Hesitantly Izar reached out with his mind, quenching his anger, and instantly he felt the silent presences of Saihi and Ao. He hated Vehn a lot, but not enough to destroy those who had NOT betrayed him.

I will kill you. He said, calming himself, the images of his brother's dead, bloody face flashing before his eyes.

Vehn smiled fiendishly, “really? I just saved your life! You should be thanking me!”

You could save my life a million times, but that wouldn't change my mind! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!

Vehn turned and began to pace away, another pair of Sentients falling in behind him, “so you've said, old friend. So you've said.”

Once he was gone, Izar slowly let his eyes drift to his surroundings. He was still in crystals, and stood in some kind of room. It was a human building, littered with rubble and dust . . . but unmistakeable.

He was glad that Saihi and Ao knew better than to contact him now. He was too angry. But deep inside he felt a hint of relief, and almost of hope. He WANTED to do something besides kill Vehn for once in a long time.

Suddenly he shifted slightly . . . and noticed something. His crystals were cracking. He frowned. Time to break out?


Spoiler! :
Saihi and Ao can talk to him if you want. Obviously he doesn't get away, but gives a noble try. He kind of wants to talk right now . . . bad enough to quell his anger.
For I who am poor have only my dreams
I spread my dreams under your feet . . .

. . . tread softly for you tread on my dreams.


We are masters of our silences, and slaves of our words








A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it.
— Roald Dahl