Writing samples - It's time for adventure!
James Mako smiled to himself as he walked through the massive cavern, the small circle of light cast from his flashlight making shadows dance whenever it moved. Ever since the initial scans from the survey vessel, he had been wanting to come down here and take a look for himself. Endless tracts of tunnels that snaked just under the entire surface of the planet-it had raised a lot of questions for him like; "Why are they there? Did something make them? Can I go check them out?"
He set the flashlight down for a second, looking at the small flickering display attached to his envirosuit as the wrist. All the readings looked good so far, both atmospheric and internal numbers were within normal range, though he only had enough air for about another two hours. With a sigh, his hands moved to his belt where he retrieved a small metal testing kit, and proceeded to take samples of the various fungi that were growing around him. Whenever he scraped some of the thick green carpet away, he was always surprised to find strange little insects underneath , that skittered away from opening as if it were a breach leading to vacuum. He had never seen any of them above the fungal layer, and wondered what the relationship was.
James continued to walk along, the soft green rug underneath shifting with each step. With his audio recorder he took notes on the various phenomenon down here, the large striations on the wall suggesting something had moved through here and carved away some of the stone, the unique chemical composition of the air down here, the lack of any other wild life... The ground suddenly shook with a violence, causing James to stumble to his hands and knees, flashlight bouncing off the ground and down the large sloping rock we was on.
The communication suite in his helmet turned on. "James-We just picked up a high energy tectonic movement. You okay down there?" Officer Jenna asked, her voice calm but concerned. "Yeah Jenna I'm fi-"
He stopped speaking, actually he stopped breathing, as something gigantic burst through the stone high above him-sending a shower of rocks down below. A huge worm like creature crested through the subterranean sky, its thick plated body rotating slowly in the air like an ancient cement drum. James watched in awe as the angular head of the thing slammed into the opposite wall, it's whole body shuddering and quaking, but never ceasing it's rotation. Slowly but surely, it bore into the rock, it's body somehow flinging the refuse away at high speeds. Like some kind of terrifying alien rainbow, the thing was an arch high above, until all several hundred feet of it had tunneled through on the other side.
"James... James!" Jenna had been shouting at him. "Yeah-I'm going to need an extract shuttle Jen." James said far more calmly than he felt as he stood up.
Barthal sat atop of his rugged steed, a Mindovian Stormstep, one of the finest there was. His eyes were locked on the scene of carnage down below, the vibrant orange flames engulfing the houses and licking at the air above. “The Bandits are getting more bold my friend.” He said solemnly to his companion, who was riding up atop of his own, slimmer horse. The old man urged his mount forward with a click of his tongue and tap of his heels, coming to a stop before speaking. “Yes, with Lord Aladrins’ men required to serve the crown in the Crusade, the brigandy are more active than ever.” He said with a sigh, frowning a little as a hand moved to cradle an old injured hip. The Mindovian horse, Bolt, shuffled anxiously, the tackle around its head jingling. Barthal gave the horse a staying pat on the side of the neck before continuing. “Did he not think to leave some men behind to protect the villages?”
The older man chuckled softly, shaking his head from side to side. “You really should read up on your legislation, Barthal.” He muttered, gnarled fingers scratching at a peppery-grey beard. “The Royal Mandate requires a certain amount of troops, depending on the size of the land of the lord. Our dear friend Aladrin wasn’t much for the draft. Thought he was doing them all a favor, but look how it’s ended up.” He continued thoughtfully.
Barthal raised his hand up asking for silence, sitting straight up in his saddle as he looked over the edge of the plateau. “Groon, you see that?” he asks, pointing two fingers towards a small line of torches making their way away from the city. “That’s them-That’s the brigands. They’ve got some of the villagers too.” He continued, eyes now glowing with a soft grey aura as his magic burned, magically enhancing his sight.
Groon shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as he knew what was about to happen. “You want to go get them, I suppose?” he said, dragging out the words and rolling his eyes.
“Yes, give me a boost will you?” Barthal said quickly, not looking away from the bandits and villagers as he drew his sword frim his scabbard.
Groon let out another sigh. He was getting too old for this. Still, he raised his hands, arcane energy beginning to crackle between his fingertips, the tiny violet lightning bolts arcing in the space between fingers, as he began chanting the language with no words. After a quick minute, a small blue bolt shot towards Barthal, disappearing quickly. Barthal’s sword roared to life with the sound of static electricity, same phenomenon that was on the Wizards fingers now more violent and rippling over the surface of the sword.
“Good man!” Barthal shouted, before urging his steed over the edge of the plateau, heart racing as the thrill of prospective battle washed over him.
Orion looked over her shoulder at the massive lumbering creature about 100 feet behind her, and then down at the lines of troops walking around it-all of them giving it a wide berth. The chains rattled as it took it’s earth rumbling steps, a web of them stretching out from its body, connected at a series of crude iron rings. She chewed the inside of her lower lip nervously as she glanced down at the quiver in her hands, counting the arrows again-a nervous habit of hers.
“You alright?” the captain of the platoon called over to her in his rough southern accent. “Yeah… Yeah I guess. Why the hell does the Wizard want this thing?” She asked him, fetching a small piece of Jerky out of a leg-pouch and taking a bite.
“Part of some kind of ritual I hear. Needs to stab it through the heart with some sword fresh from the forge.”
Orion let’s out a sigh before she catches the captain glancing down at her chest. Raising a brow, she glances down herself, noticing a small bit of jerky caught between the crease of her chest. Dusting it off, she turned back to the captain, who had turned away-his neck reddening with a bit of a blush. She smirked, her angular lips coming to a small peak at the corner. “Well what’s the point of this ritual?” Orion asked, turning her eyes back to the trail.
“Makes the sword magic or something. They don’t pay us to know about these things.” He grumbled.
Some commotion started behind them, the rattling of the chains becoming more violent.
“What the hell…” Orion muttered, slinging her quiver over her shoulder and spinning around.
The beast reeled back into the air, men and horses that were holding onto the chains flung into the air as it let out a bestial roar.
In a blaze of movement, she had her longbow drawn and an arrow nocked, not to mention one already in the air. The arrow soared forward and hit the beast between a few of its stony plates, lost in the armored shell of the thing. It roared again, its anger and fury rich in the sound, before slamming a gargantuan fist down into the ground-earth and men alike sent flying from the awesome blow.
Rick Sanchova checked the power conduit leading towards his other half, the HUD on his suit visor indicating that there was some loss of power flow between this line and the towering Mecha standing in front of him. When he found the culprit, a small nick disrupting the integrity of the energy matrix, he pulled a small spray canister from his belt and coated the cut with a thick black goo. Within a few seconds of being exposed to the air, the black goo creaked and groaned as it shrank, hardening to form a tight electrically neutral seal on the line. With a smile, Rick dropped the line and went to stand in front of his machine.
Given the alphanumerical designation KB100 based on its development cycle, but commonly referred to as “KillBot-100” by the Mech Monkeys that piloted it, the hulking metal machine was one of the most dangerous weapons available to the United Nations. Near the shoulders two sets of twin linked guns, one pair of high volume six barreled slug throwers for tearing a man (or unarmored vehicle) in half, and one pair of low volume high velocity triple barreled “tank poppers” for dealing with medium vehicular threats, sat ready to kill. For enemy naval capacity, fast strike aircraft, or heavy vehicles, an X24 Gauss cannon was available, capable of punching hole through almost any piece of conceivable armor. Unfortunately it required the Mecha to be stationary, and the hydraulic stability clamps in its legs to be active to fire, limiting its tactical usage-recoil was a bitch. Always available however was the pneumatic grenade launcher tucked away quietly underneath, capable of slinging a variety of specialized munitions over 300 meters away. Anything unfortunate to get close could easily be torn apart by the massive metal claws powered by the large network of coordinated servos lining the metal body. The sleek black “Tartarus Shell”, some kind of magic ceramic developed off world in secret government labs, provided state of the art protection against ballistic, explosive, and energy based weapons. They didn’t quite have force fields…. Yet. All of this would be useless if it wasn’t for a top of the line sensory and computational suite, the two components working together to provide a stream of important information to the pilot, allowing for incredible target aim assist and evasive actions when necessary.
Rick sighed contentedly as he went over the mental checklist of badassery that stood before him. His eyes eventually found the exposed fusion core, and his heart jumped just the smallest amount at the dull blue glow. It was still strange seeing the reaction in front of him, atomic nuclei smashing together, forming something new, and shooting radiation off. The only reason he could watch the reaction was because of the way the containment field interacted with the radioactive decay. To think if that ever failed, he’d be a piece of barbecue in microseconds. It did have the added benefit of “Going Nuclear”, and making it very difficult to capture one of these. Due to the chance of a small nuclear explosion on an operation, Kill Bot operators were lone wolves, one man armies with a death wish.
There was no designated way to get into the cockpit, you simply had to climb up wherever you could. This lead to some interested movements to actually get inside the thing, and contributed to the “Mech Monkey” namesake. Rick climbed his way up, feet finding purchase on a few armor plates, and nestled himself into the cockpit personally fitted to his body. After wiring in, a push of a button resulted in a hiss of hydraulic pressure as the front of the Mecha hooked into the second, sealing him in. It was pitch black for a few seconds, until a multitude of video feeds and lights sprang into life.
“I wonder if I’ll day today…” Rick thought casually, the words more of a statement than a question, as after so many repetitions they had lost much of their weight.