this is the first time in a while that i'm posting something.
this is the TOTTALY new version of Eon. i've been through it many times and ihope you find it pleasing. if you find problems, please tell me! i really want to improve this story!
Vince
EON: Everything or nothing
Lucius Cain, a soldier in the glorious army of the Warfront, had fought many battles and wore the wounds that covered his body as proof. The newest addition to his collection was a scar that slithered over his left eye, went down next to his nose and ended above his upper lip. He was proud to say that no wounds were to be found on his back so as to show that he had never turned from the battlefield.
Cain believed in a simple saying: EON, which meant “everything or nothing”. To the Warfront, something worth dying for was everything, and something worth killing was nothing.
He lived in a time where it was neither past nor present nor future. It was a time where mechanical giants fought alongside the men of the Warfront, but steam and gunpowder had just been discovered.
Long ago, before he was born, the speed at which the earth revolved around the sun decreased. This caused permanent day on one half of the planet, and night on the other. Many inventions were created to cause artificial eclipses, and electricity was invented. But world war broke out to claim better lands, especially those who lived in dusk and dawn. A lack of heat created an ice age in the night-side that decreased the survival rate, and increased war over warmer areas. This is when the Warfront was created, a civilization that fights for survival and is located on day-side. Its soldiers know that the Warfront is everything, and anyone who opposes it is nothing.
Chapter One
A patrol performs
Cain and nineteen other men were patrolling the road that wound through the great forest. They had not fought for weeks and were becoming suspicious, since they would usually fight continuously and the enemy always had groups of soldiers scouting the area.
The soldiers of the Warfront wore dark red scarves that covered their nose, ears and mouth, and had helmets with plumes made out of sharp needles or blades. They were armed mostly with ranged war-powder rifles and long spears. Their immense silver armor was decorated with inspirational pages and engravings portraying battles, and was often scarred and told what death the previous wearer had endured. The rare breaches in the canopy of the autumn forest created auras of light that gave it an almost magical effect.
The trees were fixed into the ground that had no rocks or plants covering it, only the leaves that spiraled down from above. The forest seemed never-ending. Bright yellow and orange leaves created a thin layer that covered most of the forest floor and caused the road to fade away. Animals, even though they are rarely seen, lived happily in this forest since battles rarely took place in the vicinity because of the large trees and will usually be fought in some open plain. None of the soldiers dared to take notice, rather paying attention to any movement. The enemy could easily surround them if they make use of the cover the forest offered them.
Cain stopped and his glare narrowed. Dry leaves were crushed under the weight of some person or animal. None of the Warfronts soldiers could have made such a clumsy mistake. All of the men stopped and strained their ears listening. The man who had stepped on the leaves was a Vancan, one of the Warfronts most hated enemies. He had got split up from his fellow soldiers and was standing behind a large oak, clenching his teeth and trying not to breath, knowing he would be caught and if he was lucky they might take him as a prisoner. He let out a slight whimper before realizing the mistake he had made, for twenty pairs of feet were running towards the tree that had made the sound. The Vancan closed his eyes and only dared to open them when the sound had stopped, only to find himself encircled by Warfront soldiers.
“Mercy! I’m unarmed!” he yelled.
A doughty soldier that bore many scars and suited in heavy armor was talking to what looked like a captain. He had a close shaved beard and had no hair. They were whispering so that the soldier did not hear what they were saying. He could only hear a few words like “…prisoner” and “spy” which narrowed down the options he had: he would either be executed as an enemy and a spy, or taken prisoner. He had made a wise decision on throwing away his weapons and hiding it under a pile of leaves when he saw the oncoming patrol because he was outnumbered they might now even give him a chance to live. A sudden and horrible thought entered his mind: “what if they just handed me one of their swords?” since the Vancan usually did this to their enemy prisoners. As these thoughts were sprinting through his mind the captain nodded to one of his soldiers who quickly approached the Vancan and used the butt of his rife to knock him out.
***
When the soldier awoke he found himself being carried on someone’s shoulder. He still felt lightheaded and had a tremendous pain at the back of his head. His thoughts were scrambled in the maze that was his mind. He looked up slightly and noticed that he was staring into the face of the scarred one and then quickly dropped his head as if he had lost consciousness once more. He felt the scarred one’s gaze burn into his skull and suddenly had the urge to look into his eyes but when he eventually lifted his head he saw that the he had walked to another soldier and was talking, lifting his massive sword and pointing it at him from time to time. the Vancan rubbed his head and tapped the warrior’s back in a attempt to be put on his feet and as if a reply was dropped to the ground landing on the soft forest floor. He quickly stood-up and saw that no one was paying attention to him, except for a few men with war-powder rifles who kept eyeballing him. ‘They’ll shoot me if I run’ He thought and walked up to one of the swordsmen and asked where they were going. The reply was simple, and given through a mouth that oozed of hatred.
“Our camp.”
I know you as a narrator knows how many there are; the character however, doesn't, and it sounds really odd written like that.
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