Young Writers Society

This sounds really cool. I'm totally in!

Name: Crys

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Race: Human

Branch: Marine Corps Shock Troop Division. Also in the Black Ops.

Rank: Sergeant

Abilities: Trained in silent kills and a an excellent sniper. Has medium first aid skills.

Looks: Tall, muscular. Brown hair just past his ears and has a few bangs.

Equipment: "Hammer" Anti-Material sniper rifle
9mm pistol
DMPS
Digital target tracking in his helmet
Shock Troop armor outfitted and custom made to fit into the Black Ops role
MA7S Assault rifle- 60 round clip, Semi-Auto to Full Auto
Six inch combat knife

Personality: Tough, loves to joke. Can make the most depressing situation happy. Cares about who is on his team.

Bio: Crys was on the on the MCV with Lance. He was one of the three snipers that was thought to be killed. Not much else is known about Crys.

Crys awoke and had a splitting headache. He tried to stand up but fell when a sharp pain filled his side. He looked down saw that he had taken a shot of some sort and it was bleeding steadily. He heard a rustling nearby and picked up his pistol and aimed when a man with blue eyes came through the bushes.
"Whoa! Watch where your aiming that thing." the man said. Crys rolled back over on his back and looked at the sky. It was starting to get dark. The man rushed away. Crys passed out again.

"Alright lift him easy. He's pretty bad. We can't stabalize him here. We have to get him to the Medivac. Let's go. Easy now boys." Crys awoke to the sounds of people and the tugging at his body. He brought his hands to his face but someone caught him.
"Don't move. You may start the bleeding again." Crys looked up and and saw a woman holding his arm down. Then the pain and shock of what happened to him earlier hit him. He screamed.

Alicia *Edited*

It was supposed to be an easy mission and so I was sent along to get a little training. I was at the back of a small group of Arcanites, preparing a few spells but I did not think I would actually have to get involved. The Blood Dogs came from nowhere with uncanny strength, magical powers and an agility that surpised me. I threw two mediocre ice bolts, knocked a few down with an explosion of fire and then suddenly the ground around me erupted and I was thrown from my feet.

I lay, stunned, upon the rocky ground and when I managed to order my head, I found that the Blood Dogs had gone and bodies were strewn in all directions. The other eleven Arcanites were all dead. I checked them first and then forced myself to move on. It took me three minutes to find my first patient. A deeply tanned arm protruded from beneath a Gaelk steam tank. I dropped to my knees and peered under to see two deep, brown eyes peering at me. From what I could see, the man was of Gaelk origin with several minor wounds and a shallow gash to the head.

"Can you hear me? I'm going to get help. I'll find someone who can move this," I spoke in a clear, gentle tone and then hurried to my feet. I surveyed the scene around me, my stomach writhing and threatening to empty its' contents. Then I saw a man wandering from body to body.
"I need some help," I called, running to him. He turned and observed me with sky blue eyes and I knew that he would follow when I turned away and hurried back to the tank. The man eyed the tank from a crouched position and then turned to me.
"Find a few more people who can help me move it," He ordered, his voice thick with concern for the trapped man. I nodded and hurried away. It took a while to find two or three others who were well enough to help and, by that time, most people who could be saved had been moved to a make-shift sick bay. I led the people back to the blue eyed human and the one of Gaelk origin.

Lyaim – 8:42 pm

Lyaim’s first thought was of the darkness, a mean oppressive darkness that clung thickly to him as he lay on the ground. He tried to open his eyes but found they already were and he grunted at the strange feeling of complete night on him.

He then felt the weight.

It was vast. The relentless load on his body left him pinned to the floor, unable to get up. Lyaim’s wandering mind came to the conclusion that something was on top of him. And, it was something bloody big.

“―H―” he began. All that he could manage was a throttled croak, hardly a whisper. The heavy presence on his barrel chest gave him little room to draw breath, so he paused for a moment and tried again.

“―Heh―” he coughed, the confined space was not ideal for the chest heaving groans that escaped him. Lyaim waited again to catch his breath.

And then the idea came to him. He would try to shift himself along a bit. Starting slowly, Lyaim inched his legs across one by one. As he then moved his body he heard a grating noise. The weight increased.

“―Ugh―” The air whooshed from Lyaim’s lungs before he could stop it and the object on top of him quickly tipped down on him. His small eyes bulged as he struggled to re-inflate his lungs and as he strained he felt a small crack inside his chest. It was a rib.

Lyaim abandoned trying to get free and resigned himself to his fate, he was to be crushed beneath a monstrous load and he didn’t even know what it was. He closed his eyes and, through the different darkness of his mind, a single word floated and looked for something to fuse with. It found something.

Steam Tank. The word brought flashes of memories thundering through his head:

He’d been there, standing with all the others from the three races. He’d stood and fought― but, something.

The memory continued:

A huge explosion, earth and grit everywhere, he was lifted from his feet. And thud. Tossed into a crater, he looked up at the sky― but, something. There was no sky. Only a Steam Tank suspended in the air above him, smoke gushing from its once proud engine. He cowered behind raised arms. Then, darkness.

Lyaim winced as light poured into his eyes. He’d turned his head and was looking out at the horizon. A deep scarlet sky. Lyaim only began to consider how fitting it was when he heard a voice.

“Can you hear me?” Panic was barely audible beneath its calm tone, but it was there. Lyaim said nothing.

“I’m going to get help. I’ll find someone who can move this.” And with that the woman was gone. Lyaim lay and considered her voice. It was light, gentle and told of hope, an Arcanite for sure. Lyaim grimaced absently, he didn’t mind Arcanites.

Listening to her footsteps as she ran for help, Lyaim shook his head and the smile left his face. Things were not at all well on the Southern Front.

i tried to move the Steam tank on my own, but no luck. The small man, most likely a Gaelk, let out a groan telling me to stop, or at least that's what I thought it meant.

A few moments later the Arcanite returned with the man from before. "Hello Lance."

He just looked at me.

"Well, lets get it off him."

"Alright," said Lance putting his hands under the tank.

"Miss, um."

"Alicia."

"Alicia, when lance and i lift up the Tank I need you to pull him out. Can you do that."

She nodded her head and bent down.

I took a deep breath,"One, two, three, lift."

Lance and i were able to lift the tank just enough for Alicia to pull the Gaelk out.

HUNTER'S NOTE: Disregard this post. Edited below

"He's going into shock! Someone grab his arms and legs! Keep them still!" Crys was laying in the Medical bay. He heard the screaming and the shouting of the nurses and doctors. They were working on the man in the bed next to him. He had been hit by the fireballs that those Dogs were using. Crys looked down at his side. He had been stablized and was ready for combat. He took the IV out of his arm and grabbed his gear. He needed to see his Commanding Officer. A nurse grabbed him by the arm.
"Sir, stay here. We don't know if your wound will open again," she pleaded.
"I can't. I have to see my CO right now." Crys replied, shaking her arm off. He opened the doors to the bay and took one last look and the grayish blue walls and blood stained floor of the bay and strode out. He looked at the battle field and saw smoldering craters, burning wreckage, and bodies. He walked to his CO's tent and heard him screaming on the side at a Private. He walked in and saluted.
"Yes! What do you want Sergeant?" he commanded.
"Sir, I want to request that I retire from the Black Ops. I feel more at home in the Shock Troop Division," Crys said.
"Fine, fine. I'll put in the forms tommorow," the Officer said. Crys walked out of the tent.
"That went better than I thought. He must not have cared." Crys said to himself. He left his sniper rifle outside the tent. He needed to go help some survivors.

off topic, and im not joining in, but everytime i see a new post for this, i think of "The Plague Dogs". most distracting, tiz.

*This is going to be my revised and edited post for my last two posts*


Crys didn't know what happened. Last thing he remembered was a red flash of light, an explosion, and dirt flying at his face. Then it went black. Crys stood up and felt a sharp pain flood through his side. He looked down and saw a hole through his armor. No bigger than a quarter, but it was bleeding a little. He looked around for his sniper rifle but only found a half slagged piece of metal that used to be the rifle.
"Oh well. That thing was crap anyway," Crys sighed. He found his assault rifle. He checked it and loaded it. He heard creaking and metal grinding but didn't know what it was. He raised his rifle and walked towards the sound. When he got closer he make out a few people trying lift a steam tank out of a ditch.

"Forgive the question, but shouldn't the Arcanite be doing the heavy lifting? She could probably lift a good five times as much as us combined with that magic of hers. 'Less of course she's a rookie. Then we're screwed."

My DMPS blipped in my ear, as signaling motion nearby.

"Sarge, we got movement," I hissed to Sgt. Cole. He's identified himself by his first name, but his rank insignia said that I should call him otherwise. "One click Southeast, closing, closing slowly. I don't know if it's friendly or enemy. If it's friendly, his beacon's damaged."

"Roger that," the Sarge whispered back.

"Alicia--can you lift this junker?" he asked, turning to the Arcanite, who was reaching under the tank to try to get to the Gaelk that was trapped beneath it.

"I--I do not know...I will try." Her eyes closed a moment and she grunted, but suddenly the burden of the tank was off my shoulders. I heaved more, helping her as much as I could with my comparatively weak scouting power suit.

"Get 'im outta there," I said through slenched teeth.

The Sarge reached in and grabbewd hold og the Gaelk, who pushed himself as best as he could with his legs. Eventually they were out, the Sarge ina defensive crouch with his rifle raised and pointed Southeast, the Gaelk on the groun on his back, his chest heaving. The rocky skin of his right leg was cracked and the stuff that passed for Gaelk blood was oozing out--it looked like tree sap, to me.

With the two men free, I released my hold on the Steam Tank and spun around, raising Emergence to my shoulder and looking through the thermal scope to acquire my target.

"Where are you...?" I whispered, sparing a glance at my DPMS to note the approximate location of the blip.

piepiemann and Hunter's posts conflict.... I suppose I'll try and combine the two.

Alicia

"One, two, three, lift," The blue eyed man instructed and together, he and the one he refered to as Lance hoisted the steam tank onto their backs. As they did so, I knelt down and reached underneath to take a firm hold on the Gaelk.
"Forgive the question, but shouldn't the Arcanite be doing the heavy lifting? She could probably lift a good five times as much as us combined with that magic of hers. 'Less of course she's a rookie. Then we're screwed," Lance stated, groaning under the weight. Then he tilted his head as if listening to something.

"Sarge, we got movement. One click Southeast, closing, closing slowly. I don't know if it's friendly or enemy. If it's friendly, his beacon's damaged."
"Roger that. Alicia--can you lift this junker?" The Sargeant asked.
"I--I do not know...I will try," I replied. I released my hold on the trapped man and backed up a few steps. Then I closed my eyes and concentrated hard on lifting the steam tank into the air.
"Get 'im outta there," Lance said through clenched teeth, still helping to lift the huge vehicle.

I opened my eyes to watch the Sargeant lift the Graelk out and then waited for Lance to get clear before easing the weight to the ground.
"Where are you...?" Lance whispered as the Sarge crouched beside him, rifle ready. They seemed to have the situation covered so I hurried over to the Gaelk and examined his right leg.

I lifted my rifle and stood next to Lance. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sargent?"

"You see, you shouldn't call me that. My rank is tainted. You the first person to call me that."

"You're that recruit. I see."

Unfortunently we couldn't finish the conversation, because the object came into view.

"What, no, I'm not an enamy."

I sighed and lowered my rifle. "What's your name?"

"Crys. It's nice to see I'm not alone."

I looked at Lance as he sighed. "Don't worry, i wanted to kill something too."

Crys walked up to the group. He was tired and relieved that he had found some survivors.
"Does anyone have a small bandage that could use? I ran out during the fight," Crys asked. Lance tossed him a wrapped one.
"Thanks," Crys said. He bandaged his side.
"What were you with he heard someone ask.
"Me? I WAS in the Shock Troop Division. It's not there anymore. But my boys did take a few of the bastards with them so it wasn't total loss." Crys said as he sat down on the ground. He took his DMPS and laid it on the ground. He then pressed a button on the side and a digital map of the region sprang up from the holo-projector. Sgt. Cole whistled at the sattelite image of the carnage. Crys switched to the map and found the route in which the assault force had come from.
"The thing that is bothering me the most is, how did the enemy find out that we were coming and how did they get this organized? They knew when, where, and how to hit us," Crys said with disgust.

"Probably because they are smarter than the morons back at base that analyze our intel. We overestimated them, and this is what we get," I said.

I eyed the Sergeant's Chevrons on Crys' sleeve.

"What do we do now, sir? You're our CO until further notice."

He looked at me like I was an idiot.

"The Captain's dead," I said pointing at the smoldering remains of the MCV. "The four LTs that were on the APCs are dead, and you two--" I jabbed Crys and Cole each in the chest. "--Are the only surviving officers. Best get to it."

For a moment no one said anything.

"Sir, maybe we should check for survivors, sir," I said quietly.

Alicia

"I think that's a good idea," The stranger agreed and I nodded my approval but then turned away again when my eye caught a flicker of movement. The Graelk was attempting to sit up. Gently I layed a hand upon his shoulder.
"You might want to stay down," I soothed gently but he shook his head and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Glad to see you're feeling better. What's your name soldier?" Sargeant Cole asked.
"Greld...Greldan," The Graelk wheezed, leaning forward and panting slightly.
"I think he took some damage to his chest. Perhaps his lungs too, sir," I noted.
"You don't happen to have any skill in healing do you?" Lance asked.
"If you mean your medicines and such then no but I have some herbal knowledge and a few mediocre spells," I answered.

Dathan's head was spinning. She'd been in with the engineers in the steam engine when the attack threw it aside like a toy train; the abnormally tall Gaelk vaguely remembered being tossed to one side of the cab and hitting her head on something, and then nothing until now, as she groaned and dizzily opened her eyes. She was staring at the crumpled wall of the engine above her, like a convoluted ceiling. She blinked a few times, realizing that she was concussed, and carefully (and painfully) set about extracting herself from the mess.

The two engineers were both dead, their stone-smooth skin cold to the touch. Dathan winced and straightened, biting the comparatively soft flesh of her lower lip hard as she did so; taking account of her injuries was disconcertingly difficult. A concussion, and a pulled muscle in her back, maybe a broken rib--her wrist hurt and there were gashes and bruises springing up on her hard skin, porcelain pale and with a slight sheen even in the dim, smoky cab's interior.

There were voices outside, she registered a few moments later. A few clumsy motions assured her that her pistols and long knife were still where they belonged, and the purse of stones around her neck was still present. She took a deep breath, felt her lungs expand, and began the painful trek (for so it seemed) outside. Once she was in contact with the earth again maybe she could summon enough power to at least begin to heal the worst of her injuries.

As she stumbled out of the wreckage, she saw bodies littered everywhere--and there, nearby and further down along the ruined steam engine (she touched its once smooth metal mournfully), a clump of humans and what looked like at least one Arcanite--and yes, there, another Gaelk. Lyaim, yes? She didn't know him well. He seemed a decent enough fellow.

"Rub some--" she paused to cough convulsively, pounding her own chest and shaking her head like an irritated mare. "Rub some earth on his chest," she rasped finally, sprawling out on the earth beside him and sucking in the ground's strength. It was an oldwives' tale, the dirt remedy, but it had always made her and her many siblings feel better, whether or not it worked well. "Y' all right, Lyaim?"