9/12/2007 12:07:06 PM PermalinkDid you steal this from War of the Servers you GMod person you?? lol
9/12/2007 7:26:01 AM PermalinkA 7.62mm round cleaved through a Weasalian’s eye, shattering his skull and splattering his brain. The soldiers next to him looked over at the slumping corpse, scared stiff. They were obviously fresh out of basic and couldn’t comprehend that anything could still live here. I took another shot at a shock trooper who had spun around to face my position in response to the noise generated by my sniper rifle. The bullet impacted into his eye through his gas mask’s right lens. His corpse spun a bit from the impact, then flopped to the floor, still clutching his rifle. The rest of the soldiers scurried for cover, but all of it was sorely exposed, as they most likely thought they were being attacked from a different angle. I took advantage of this and quickly brought down three more shock troopers, being sure that they were peeking above their cover to continue the illusion that my position was in the direction they were facing. I swapped my magazine for a new one, keeping an eye on my targets while exchanging magazines. I didn’t have enough time to get off another round, for a shock trooper had already spotted my position and ordered a rush on my hiding spot. Fortunately for me, I recognized Weasalian hand signals and knew they were on their way. I finished loading my rifle, stood up, and pulled out my magnum. Then the rush broke through the rooftop stairway. A Weasalian infantryman, filled with anger and vengeful instincts, charged at me with his rifle’s bayonet, screaming for my blood. He must’ve been a good friend of one of those whom I’d brought down, as even the most inexperienced rookie would’ve known to shoot first and stab later. He was brought down from a .44 round to his chest, punching through his body armor with pure blunt force and crushing his heart with the same brute power. I was lucky to have this position, as the hospital’s lone rooftop stairway was the only way up and the only way to me. It was a funnel to help me kill at my leisure. But the infantryman who charged me was the only one to move through the doorway. I had seen others behind him when he opened the door, but no one dared to follow after him. The tank round that broke through the roof behind me answered why. I heard a yell to my right and brought my magnum up again, ready to fire. The voice was familiar, though, so I ran to the small ventilation shaft that it came from behind. “Where the Hell have you been, Insano?!?” shouted the person next to me. “Oh, nowhere, just watching my home burn to the ground, you idiot!” I yelled back. I finally recognized the person; it was Jonathan Squohnson. Jonny was a tall squirrel standing just above my height by about three or four inches, his massive tail even taller than that. He came from a poor background in Squirrelisica and had eventually enlisted in the country’s armed forces. He made it to the rank of squad sergeant after many skirmishes with Weasaliastanica during the Great War, but was discharged after the war ended, leaving him jobless and poor. He eventually moved to Badgederstan, hoping his few Squirrelisican S-notes and international I-notes would be worth more in the smaller, less economically powerful nation. He was fortunately right and made his way to the upper middle class, taking a successful job as the hospital’s security chief. Jonathan shoved a new clip into the back of his BIPDW, more commonly known as the Badger SMG, and spit out a wad of chewing tobacco to his right. “And why weren’t you doing anything? I’ve been fighting these guys all night and I haven’t seen you anywhere!” yelled Squohnson. “All night? They just got here!” I yelled back. Squohnson pulled back the blue sleeve of his security officer’s uniform on his right arm to reveal a scorched slice across his shoulder. “Bastards brought in covert ops. I’ve got a dozen or so more of those marks from one of ‘em who got too close.” he said, “Brought the guy down with a surgeon’s knife across his throat.” “Wait, why’s your arm burned like that?” I asked. “They had these newfangled laser knives or something, burning instead of cutting.” he replied, “Good thing those things were easy to spot or else I never would’ve gotten through the night!” “Now, why weren’t you fighting these guys? You some kind of spy or somethin’?” “In case you didn’t notice, I just picked off about five of the jackasses with my Widowmaker.” I responded, “And then there was that guy who came through the door like a bat out of Hell…” “Whatever, I’ve already called for a bit of help, should be arriving any minute now if the weasel bastards didn’t bring in a SAM battery.” He said. “Help? From who?” I asked, “How many people can you honestly say give a monkey’s ass about Badgederstan?” “Well, since this is Weasaliastanica who’s invading, the squirrels will certainly have something to say here.” He replied, “You know how much we hate eachother!” “No -blam!-, but good to hear! We need something if we’re going to take out these tanks!” I replied, my voice now filled with hope. “Tanks? I called for evac, Insano.” He replied, “We’re getting out of here. The squirrels don’t have any heavy units anywhere near here and you know how f—ked up their deployment rate is.” “But we can win this one!” I yelled, enthusiastic about taking back my home, yet drained of hope from Jonathan’s reply, “If we just get some anti-armor troops in here, we can kick these guys out of here! Just you, me, and a couple of rocket jockeys, we can do it!” “Not a chance in Hell, Insano. Look at how many damned vehicles they’ve got running around!” he replied, “There’s no way on Sentia that we can kill all of these with just us!” As if on cue, the evac chopper showed up just next to the hospital, waiting right next to us. Its model was the usual Fartost Mule, a dual-prop, open-sided, multi-role helo with two side-mounted SMG-134 minigun turrets for infantry support. “GET IN AND LET’S GO!” yelled the gunner facing us, waving over at us. “Come on, Insano, we’ve got to get out of here before one of their rocket jockeys spots us!” yelled Jonny over the helicopter’s propeller noise. “But…we can win!” I said, my voice beginning to crack. “Stay or come with us, Insano.” Replied Jonathan, “We don’t want to stick around for the cruise missile.” I sighed and boarded the helo after Jonny, then held onto one of the ceiling supports. The helicopter took off, the gunners brought down a few Weasalians in the open, and I felt defeated. I could have done something more, but I didn’t get the chance. The helicopter continued over the mountains decorating the East of the city as we saw the cruise missile Jonny had mentioned earlier streak into the decimated city. The anti-matter warhead it carried destroyed the area with the same force that a tactical nuke might have brought. And that was the end. But it was also a beginning. It was the beginning of the Rodent Era Of Suffering. WTFUX comments now.
Your mission in the Destiny Beta is complete. Your next adventure begins on September 9th, with the official launch of Destiny.
Sure, you won't know what's going on, but it's something to read. Just enjoy and post your "WTFUX?" comments I know that'll occur. A little (Not a wall of text) background before you read: Badgederstan is a recently-founded, multi-cultural country comprised of one city and a small amount of military forces. The military is incredibly small, numbering in at only two hundred personnel, all of them pulling multiple jobs in their duty. The military is mostly in guard towers and other fortifications lining the city, but some are stationed at a Rodentia-owned airfield with a few fighters and interceptors nearby. [b][u]The Fall Of Badgederstan[/b][/u] A story of the Era Of Rodent Suffering. It was another marvelous day in Badgederstan, people were selling food, running offices, buying stock, and even a few MingeBags were being chased out of the city by some Admins who had stopped by for the weekend. But all I could hear were the bombers. The Weasalian 39th Incursion Wing had flown in under the cover of night, loaded to the brim with all sorts of anti-industry ordinance; incendiary munitions designed to spread fire and chaos throughout civilian areas to slow down a country’s industry. Although the rest of the city was carefree and unaware of this approaching tornado of death, I alone had spotted them. Our nation had boasted to have the greatest radar installations in the world, but we had far too many blind spots. This would prove to be our downfall. It was a normal Monday when I had woken up at my usual time of 5:00AM; it was dark, the sun hadn’t come up completely, and, for the most part, it was quiet. But a faint droning had made itself known to me at about 5:15. I ignored it at first, thinking it was merely the sound of the city’s massive hydroelectric power plant nearby. But the sound kept following me everywhere I went, hounding me like a hunter slowly and obviously following its badly injured prey. Wherever I went, the sound was there, inside buildings, underground in the subways, and even at my office which was usually a rush of activity and quite noisy. The sound was impossible to shake, which alerted me to what it could only be; A Weasalian WP-B-10 “Graboid” heavy bomber. Named after a beast of unholy endurance in stalking their prey, the Graboid was very capable of holding its position over a target area for incredible periods of time. The main downside of this lumbering beast was its slow speed, poor maneuverability, and unshakeable sound. The payload for this war machine was enough to justify its slow speed, which satisfied the Weasalian generals enough to put it into active service. I was horrified by this revelation. Why would the Weasalians want to bomb Badgederstan? We had done nothing wrong, nor contributed to any wars! We didn’t even have a large amount land or resources for them to conquer! Why? They didn’t need a reason why. I was one of the few who claimed that we were about to be attacked and that interceptors needed to be deployed, but no one listened. No one cared. They all thought I was merely spouting insanity. My reputation as the living embodiment of insanity had apparently preceded me too far and thus prevented me from getting the warning out, but there were others. Unfortunately, most of them were people I knew, and as such, the warning was impossible to spread as people feared that I may have driven them to insanity as well. Even those I did not know were deemed as crazy and given the same respect one would give the homeless person who cries of the apocalypse being nigh and that we should all say good bye to our loved ones. But we weren’t crazy. They were too trusting. The air raid siren began to blare at about 4:03PM. Only a few besides those who tried to warn the populace knew what was going on. In the skies, the bombers could be seen making a slow spiral towards their drop height. Most people hoped that this was simply another threat run, a usual tactic employed by the Weasalians on many of the smaller countries to bully them into political support or potential annexation, but they were wrong. Invisible to us, the bombardiers were sighting up structures, primarily civilian housing, and grinning with sinister glee. Most Weasalians loved to see things burn and would often start fires just to see something smolder to ashes, which turned the horrible act of slaughtering civilians into a fun event filled with lots of burning things to them. Most of those who knew what was about to happen had already gathered up their belongings and fled town, but most people were simply staring up at the bombers. Waiting. Waiting for them to either pass on or drop their loads. Then all Hell broke loose. [b][u]April 20th, 1956 - 4:03PM[b][u] About twenty divisions of Weasalian shock troops rolled into the city with five heavy tank brigades. The defenses for the city were crushed into rubble in a matter of mere moments, letting anyone and anything come at us. That was the end for Badgederstan, as its only standing military forces were those in the guard towers and trenches surrounding its capitol. But it was over when Weasaliastanica eyed our country hungrily for apparently no reason. Not a single nation on Sentianarodentalus could ever hope to compete with the juggernaut that is the Weasalian military and come out with a favorable result. Weasaliastanica had the numbers, training, technology, and luck to pull off anything they wanted to. They could even take on most of the world at once and come through with a substantial victory. Even the just and mighty Squirrelisica would fail in a one-on-one with this titanic war machine without using their political savvy to save themselves from annihilation. First went the offices. The tanks and shock troops tore down every office building they came across, either raiding it with infantry, then crumbling it with tanks, or simply pounding the building into dust with a coordinated artillery strike from the 239mm cannons more than forty miles away. They killed any civilians they came across in the buildings, slaughtering helpless rodents without caring that they might have families, relatives, or loved ones. They just killed anyone they found without mercy and without remorse. The streets were a bloodbath of civilians trying to flee, only to be crushed under the treads of an armored vehicle or gunned down by a shock trooper’s WAR-12. Death came swiftly to those caught in the open, but I was smart enough to have found a spot on top of the hospital. I brought with myself an R27 Widowmaker sniper rifle to cause as many casualties to the invaders as possible. I had also brought my classic .44 Magnum Mega Class A1 in case anyone tried to sneak up behind me. But for now, I was merely observing, numbed by the atrocities and too horrified to concentrate on a target. Weasalians darted in every direction, hunting for civilians to eliminate. But, strangely, they all departed almost as quickly as they had came. Tanks reversed out of the city, soldiers ran every which way to the city limits, and then it came to me; the bombers still hadn’t dropped their payload and still were circling above us. I looked up in curiosity just in time to see the bombers break out of their ominous spiral and into standard bombing patterns. And then Hell got hotter. The bombers began to drop their payloads onto all of the civilian neighborhoods, apartment buildings, hotels, and other residential areas. Nothing that a person could call home was excepted from the flames as the incendiary munitions dropped in through their roofs and set everything ablaze. The sky was soon filled with smoke and flames could be seen all around. Practically nothing was left unscathed. My hospital hideout, the demolished office buildings, and a few industrial and mining complexes staved off the flames with their concrete or steel composition, but everything else burned. Despite the horror of the situation, my Weasalian past left me smiling at the flames with a psychotic bit of glee. Even I admit that, even had I not grown up in Weasaliastanica, I would have enjoyed the flames and the heat they produced throughout the city. But my insane satisfaction was not enough to stave off the sheer terror that filled my mind as I watched what had been my home for the past two years burn to the ground amidst the bullet-ridden corpses of who I had called friends. Some of the corpses caught fire, their fur turning them ablaze and smoking quickly, which only added to the heat and thick smoke. It was a standard complete takeover in Weasalian military tactics. The show was over for Badgederstan. The curtain had fallen and the actors had already been fired. But I was still on-stage and wasn’t leaving without performing. I waited patiently for the weasels to come back to the city. It was about two days before the fires burned out and the smoke cleared, but I was determined to make them pay for their transgressions. Eventually, when the skies had shifted from their deathly red and black to a less fearful light gray, the Weasalians returned. Shock troops and standard infantry alike slowly made their way through the ashes of the once-proud city. Tanks, APCs, and jeeps patrolled the streets, making sure that no Badgederstanian was left alive. They had already made a sweep of the hospital, but never checked the roof. This would be [i]their[/i] downfall. (Next part coming soon, just need to post it. Character limit caused a cliffhanger.)