Author Topic: GESB: History Book  (Read 3983 times)

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Offline Myitt

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GESB: History Book
« on: February 01, 2011, 02:02:01 PM »
Hi everyone!  Since Estelore had such a great idea with character backstory, dreams and visions, I think it'd be fun if we got to see a bit more of our characters' pasts.  It'll be a great character development tool, and it'll help us build on our characters' storylines and rationales for doing what they do today in the Galaxy's Edge Space Bar.

To start off, I've provided little insights into events from the lives of three of my characters.

Yeah, most of it is pretty angsty, but hey.  It's been a rough road.  And I started out with something a bit more lighthearted.

---


It was warm.

Sun beat down on my back, my face.  I aimed my Dracon very carefully. 

“Clear!” I called, gesturing to the Hork-Bajir on the other side of the gigantic nawin tree. 

The Dracon burned hot in my calloused hands, its cells worked to near full capacity.

CRRRRAAACKKK!  The ear-splitting noise just barely made it through the waxy substance that protected my host’s hearing.  It was louder than the Dracon blast that had melted the tree at the base, evaporating wood and boiling through hundreds of gallons of sap. 

I hopped back on big reptilian feet, watching the massive living thing, over one hundred standard feet in circumference, teeter dangerously.  It listed to the left for a moment, but I had done this before.  The calculations wouldn’t fail me.

I watched as the gigantic tree fell and fell, taking branches of adjacent trees with it.

I could feel the ground rumble, nearly knocking me off my feet, as it hit the ground.  I was standing almost eighty meters away, and still I had to settle myself with my tail. 

A few hoots and calls of a successful tree-felling echoed through the vast woods, and I waved back to my people on the other end as they took to searing off half of the tree trunk.

A muffled voice from behind me.  I peel out the ear protectors and arch my neck toward the sound.

“I said, ‘You’re getting better at it’,” repeats the male Hork-Bajir, standing behind me.  His Hork-Bajir mouth is bared in a grin.

“Corliss Three-Eight-Two,” I reply, grinning back.  “May the Kandrona ever shine and strengthen you, brother.”

“And you,” Corliss replies, turning to survey the destruction.  “You may as well face the inevitable truth, however.  You will never be as good a shot as me.”

“Is that so?” I say, stepping closer to him.  His male Hork-Bajir host is a bit smaller than my female, just enough that I can glower down at him if I stand on the tips of my toes. 

“Yes, it is,” Corliss replies nonchalantly, trying to match my height.  “It isn’t all that difficult to shoot a gigantic tree, even at this distance.”

“I’d like to see you try it,” I challenge.  This was an old game, one we had played even on the homeworld, barely out of grubhood. 

Corliss tilts his head side to side in the manner of his Hork-Bajir’s tribe.  An indication of boldness. 

“All right, I will,” he says, drawing his Dracon from his shoulder strap and aiming it at a tree. 

“Corliss!” I hiss.  “You can’t be serious, if my commander finds out who--“

“Be quiet,” my brother snaps.  “You’re breaking my concentration.”

My hearts feel like they’re hammering away in my neck as I watch him squint at the tree.

Corliss’ finger tightens on the Dracon trigger.

TSSEEEEEEEEEEEEWWW!

FWUMPH!

Something falls, dead and smoking, sixty meters away.  A dead chadoo, only a few feet long, feathers still sizzling. 

Corliss looks back at me with a look that can only be triumphant.

“Your turn,” he says with a smile.

---

Someone was screaming. 

Tara sighed and plopped down on the couch.  Another of her sister’s tantrums.  She was nine, Cattie was four.  There was medicine for the seizures, but not for the tantrums.

The doctors had told mom and dad that Cattie was lucky to be alive.  Tara LaFauci was glad, because it could have been a lot worse. 

“Honey, calm down,” said mom, in that voice that seemed to be the only thing that could break through the little girl.  “It’s just bedtime.  Do you want mommy to sleep with you?”

Screaming again.  Wailing and kicking and crying.  Tonight the voice wasn’t working.

Tara rubbed at her eyes and picked up the remote control, clicking on the television.  Cartoons made everything better, right?

“Stay tuned, we’ll be back to the show after these messages!”

“Commercials,” Tara muttered, rolling her eyes.  None of the commercials were good this late at night.  They all asked for your credit card, and you had to be ‘18 years or older to order’.  The only reason cartoons were on this late was because they were airing a new show.  Trying to get a new demographic.  Tara had learned that word in social studies.  She wondered who at the cartoon studio thought any kid in their right mind would be up this late, without parents to usher them to bed?

Or without a little sister, crying and screaming in the other room, and dad out late at the office. 

That was okay.  Just get lost in the excitement of a new cartoon show.  Maybe it would be as good as Ren and Stimpy.  She smiled to herself, tapping her fingers together like an old TV villain.  It was fun to pretend like that, to be the villain who really everybody liked, better than the hero. 

Screaming.

“Oh, the popcorn!” Tara cries, bolting off the couch toward the kitchen.  She coughs on the acrid smell of burnt popcorn, waving her hand in front of the white plastic microwave.  She punches the door button and the waving becomes more vigorous, as she plucks the charred bag from the glass plate and tosses it onto the white kitchen counter. 

“Ow,” she whispers, shaking her hand back and forth and sticking a finger in her mouth.

Something was still burning.  Now there was the smell of burning meat, like on the barbecue over at grandpa’s. 

She was going to miss the cartoons…

---

Myitt’s eyes snapped open as the memory flickered away.  White walls.  The powerful smell of antiseptic. 

Her throat hurt.  Something wet and warm was plastered on her neck.  Her ear…not responding.  More pain there, too.

She gasped for breath, her eyes rolling left to right in dry sockets. 

Struggling, she tried to pull herself free from the restraints at her arms and legs.  Nevermind the humiliation of opaque white tubes digging into her host’s veins.  She was vaguely aware of how long she had been here, because of how many tubes were sticking in places she didn’t even want to think about.  Had it been a week?  Two weeks?  Yes, certainly more than a week. 

And they had kept her alive.  Feeding her with a refined current.  Not letting her slip away into blissful death. 

What had she told them?  What hadn’t she told them?

Pressure, under her chin.  At her forehead.  At the back of her skull. 

The thing that was attached to her head.  Yes, it was causing this pain.  The starvation, that was its own little deadly spike in her sluglike body.  This thing…with its slimy wires in her head…it was what was making her scream in agony.

Why?  Why don’t they just kill me? she wondered desperately. 

<I want to go home,> Tara sobbed.  <Oh, God, I don’t want to die like this!>

The room turned bright orange, the floor rumbled up through the table. 

Good, another dreamlike vision.  Sink back into her host’s mind. 

That was all right.

The last thing she heard through the ear that still functioned was the sound of voices shouting.  Something loud, an explosion, nearby. 

Warmth, baking down on her emaciated human body.  It was so nice to be warm.


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Offline Chad32

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #1 on: February 01, 2011, 02:31:28 PM »
Claxter was a young Aristh in the military academy. The Yeerk war had been going on for decades, but the news was always optimistic. The Andalites would win. It was only a matter of time. Calxter's days were filled with training. Simulation after simulation. Obstacle course. His Prince Foosal Yelling at him. No matter how well he did Foosal always yelled at him.

<I think I did well today, prince Foosal.> He would say after a near perfect success.

<Who cares what you think? You're just a Arish. I'll tell you what to think. Run it again!>

Why did he have to get assigned to such a harsh prince? But finally the day came. It seemed to come out of nowhere.

<Claxter. I'm promoting you to Warrior. Today will be your first battle>

He was so happy. Finally a promotion! He galloped behind his Prince in anticipation, and looked with his stalk eyes to the other Princes and warriors there. Why did they looked worried? Shouldn't they be happy for him? One of the nicer princes pulled him aside.

<Claxter. Be careful out there. Personally I think this may be a little too much for you, but we don't really have the choice. Wear your new rank proudly.>

<I will sir.>

--------------------------------------------

Noises. Noises everywhere. lasers firing in every direction. Blood. So much blood. His friends were dead. He saw them die beside him, or run off and not come back. He had been fighting for...how long? How many Hork-Bajir had he seen? How many bugfighters or Andalite fighters had he seen fly over head or crash into the ground? Where was his Prince? Where was anyone!?

They were coming for him. Hork-Bajir looking to hack him to pieces like they had done so many times before. He ran. He had to find safety. He found an open hatch for a fighter, and ordered it closed. They tried to get in. Blasting the door with their dracons. He had to get away. He fired the ship up, and headed for atmosphere. It still wasn't safe, though. Bugfighters were everywhere. The only safety was Z-Space.


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Offline KitsuneMarie

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #2 on: February 01, 2011, 02:54:22 PM »
“I’m home,” I called into the entryway.

There was no response, something that struck me as strange—which immediately struck me as strange that it should seem strange. Even though my father had been practically waiting at the door for me to come home from school every day since November, it was impossible to forget how apathetic he had been during the first thirteen years of my life.

As I emerged into the living room, my father came hurrying towards me from his bedroom, radiating enthusiasm. “Hey, honey! I didn’t hear you come in!” He gave a big smile.

“I made as much racket as usual,” I shrugged and flopped onto the couch, turning on the television and flicking through the channels.

He eased into a nearby chair. I could feel his eyes on me. “Good last day of school?”

“Yup." Teenager monosyllabism.

He shifted. “I have some exciting news, Elayne.”

“Yeah?” He had my attention now. I turned to face him and muted the television, only dimly noting that it had landed on NBC.

“I’ve been offered a job in California.” Only in the past few months had he really started to care about his bioengineering career. I supposed the feverish pace at which he was speaking was just a physical manifestation of a new level of enthusiasm. “It’s a big advancement,” he continued, gesturing vaguely. “Enough that we could live very comfortably, even considering how expensive it is out there. But I didn’t want to accept the offer until I’d talked with you, to make sure you’d be okay with it.”

California, I had to admit, sounded... nice. Everyone said it was a nice place to live with nice weather and nice, multicultural cities. Besides, I did not feel any particular affection for the Colorado countryside in which I lived.

Still, the weird, nagging feeling I had been getting since November was tickling the back of my mind.

In an attempt to shove it away, I looked aside to collect my thoughts. My eyes darted reflexively to the television as the Friends rerun was interrupted by Tom Brokaw’s somber face.

Frowning at the untimely broadcast, I hit the mute button again, and words began to accompany his moving mouth. “—fatal disaster has struck the U.S.S. George Washington. Located several hours off the West Coast, the aircraft carrier suffered heavy damage; although no estimates have been made as to the death toll, it is almost certain that the lives of military personnel have been lost. These video segments have just been released to the media.”

His image was replaced with an aerial shot of the smoking carrier, which looked like it had been thoroughly scorched and bombed. The usually orderly lines of jets were in total disarray, and the tiny forms of men and women in uniform could be seen fighting their way through the wreckage to regroup and assist the prostrate bodies lying around them.

As the camera slowly zoomed in on the horrific scene, my eyes were caught by something odd—almost like a lizard, only huge—crushed by a toppled jet.

Abruptly, the screen went black.

“Dad, what—?”

“I can’t watch that. I’m sorry, Elayne,” he said in a gruff voice that would have reminded me of how he always used to speak, except now it was full of emotion. He must have picked up the remote control after I hit the mute button, because it was in his hand now. I caught a glimpse of moisture in his eyes as he stood and walked out of the room, setting the remote on a side table on his way.

He had fought in Vietnam. Depictions of war, particularly of American soldiers being killed, always bothered him. Still, I'd never seen him cry over it.

I stared at his back until he turned the corner. My sensitivity towards his grief was overshadowed by my interest in the horrible news story, so I turned the television back on with the sound muted.

Whatever strange image I had seen was no longer in the shot. I had probably imagined it, anyway.
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Offline Stephquiem

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #3 on: February 01, 2011, 04:04:22 PM »
((For the record: The "I" in the first one is the spirit, and "Fiona" in the second is the host. Yes, the spirit's part is meant to be that disjointed. XD))

The first thing I remember: Darkness. Heavy, suffocating darkness.

And the noise. God, the noise. Couldn't block it out. When I tried, instead of being muffled it became louder, somehow, until it reverbrated through my entire being. No. No. No, no, no!

And then...

Light. Shapes. Movement. Get away, get away, get away.

Move. Did I move? Must have. Panic, propelling me forward, away from the noise. I grab hold of something. Warmth! I cling to it, willing the noise back, away, and finally it fades.

Then... a new noise. Different. Loud. I push against it. It pushes back. I push again, harder this time. It yields, and after one more push it's silent. At last. For good. I'm alone.

--

He's doing it again.

Fiona peeks over her textbook. Sure enough, there he is, pretending not be looking her way. She's caught him quickly looking down at his own book at least three times now.

She smiles. He's cute, she thinks. She wishes he'd just come over and talk to her. This was starting to get silly.

Fiona goes back to reading. After a moment, though, she glances up again, and this time catches his eye. She smiles. He returns it, sheepishly, before finally gathering up his books and crossing the lawn that separates them.

He sets his books down on her table. "Hi," he says. Up close now, Fiona can see the tops of his ears turning bright red. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Sure." She moves aside her textbooks to make room for him. "I'm Fiona." She sticks out her hand.

He shakes it, smiling. "Adam. Nice to meet you."

--

((Side note? Adam's... umm... "friend" needs a name. -_- So badly.))
« Last Edit: February 01, 2011, 08:44:44 PM by Stephquiem »

Offline Chad32

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #4 on: February 01, 2011, 04:19:40 PM »
Sub-Visser 12, known to some as Temrash 946, came out of the ship onto the battleground. He barked orders, and his plans were followed. They were attempting to secure a spot on a mountain for their prime ground base, and the Andalite battalion was attempting to intercept them.

<Sub-Visser 12! We meet at last!> An Andalite said as he approached.

"So, someone sneaked by my defenses."

<With your death, the forces will scatter, and I will have my revenge.>

"What is it with you people and revenge. Why is it that for every Andalite I kill, three more have to show up shouting for revenge? It's getting annoying."

The Andalite charged, and they fought. The rocky area was more suitable for Hork-Bajir, which was a big reason he chose this location. The Andalite fought hard, screaming for blood for his brother. However he slipped on the rocks, and fell.

"I never cared to remember the name of your brother. When another of your relatives or friends show up, I will have forgotten you as well." He said as he pushed the Andalite down the mountain. Three controllers came running up.

"Apologies Sub-Visser. We were coming to your aide as fast as we could."

"Go back to your post. If I need help I'll ask for it."


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Offline RAFrukh

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #5 on: February 01, 2011, 08:32:08 PM »
((This is perfect for Theta-Pi! How should I do this?))
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Offline Myitt

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #6 on: February 01, 2011, 08:33:28 PM »
((Just write a history, or a memory, or a vision he's had.  It's easy!))


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Offline Chad32

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #7 on: February 01, 2011, 08:37:03 PM »
(There isn't a whole lot to say about Claxter because his stroy has barely begun, but I'll try to think of some stuff for Temrash. Does anyone remember the three things he once said when he was trying to explain how good he was? I might need to make up the names again.)


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Offline Myitt

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #8 on: February 01, 2011, 08:43:46 PM »
((Nope...sorry.  He's your character.  You might need to re-mold him. As I've been doing with Myitt for the last 12 years x3))


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Offline Terenia

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #9 on: February 01, 2011, 08:45:22 PM »
"...5...6...7...8-9-10," an impatient Teresa counted off the last few numbers at record speed. As soon as she hit 'ten' she spun around, turning away from the dark corner that she had been facing.

"Hmm..." she said, peering around at the seemingly empty living room. She began to methodically search through the usual hiding spots. There were plenty of places for a girl of about nine to hide. Under the couch, beneath the pile of dirty laundry. Behind the wastebasket, overflowing with empty beer cans and pizza boxes. Teresa went through each spot, but they were all empty. A small frown forming on her lips she moved into the next room.

The kitchen was in even more of a state of disarray. Pots and pans were strewn about the counter, leftover food still clinging to their surfaces. The pantry was nearly empty - a perfect hiding spot, really - and the cupboards held only the smell of mold.

"Tammy, where are you!?" Teresa cried, feeling a wave of frustration as she finished her search of the kitchen. Two rooms and no Tamora. Determined to win, Teresa moved into the main hallway, entering the first bedroom. It was clearly a boys room. The walls were painted blue and adorned with posters of Metallica and Rage Against the Machine. The bed was wrinkled and had not been made in some time. Teresa checked under the bed first - but there were only old crumpled school papers and forgotten bits of laundry. She moved to the closet which was, again, empty of her target. Teresa was beginning to get annoyed with this game. It was no fun if you weren't winning. The hairs on the back of her neck tickled, and she felt as though her sister must be watching her - laughing at her defeat.

"Tamora Elizabeth Rerin!" Teresa cried, trying to sound as much like her mother as possible, "Come out NOW!" She kicked the nearby dresser to punctuate her point and a sharp pain made her yelp in surprise.

"Ow!" she wails, falling onto her rear end on the carpeting. She holds her injured foot, tears springing into her eyes. "Look what you did!"

The door to the bedroom burst open at Teresa's cry, revealing a pale faced Tamora. The two girls were identical, with straw colored hair, blue eyes and a smattering of freckles. Tamora's hair was pulled back into neat pigtails, while Teresa's fell in knotted tangles down her back.

"Are you okay?" Tamora asked, her voice much softer than her sister's.

"I'm fine," Teresa says, sniffling loudly and rubbing her eyes with a sleeve before Tamora can see her tears. "Where were you?"

"I'm not telling," Tamora says, "I'm not giving up my hiding spot!"

"That's not fair," Teresa retorts, "I told you mine."

"So?" Tamora sticks her tongue out at her sister. Teresa is about to respond when a second figure appears in the doorway, behind Tamora.

"What are you doing in my room?" He is quite a bit taller than the two girls, with darker hair and eyes that narrow as they inspect his bedroom for signs of foulplay.

"Danny!" Teresa cries, "We were playing hide and seek and Tammy cheated!"

"I did not!" Tamora says, looking horrified at the accusation.

"Did so! And she made me hurt my foot!"

"Hey!" Danny snaps, "I don't care what happened with your stupid game. You know you aren't allowed to play in here. Go on, get back in your own room."

"But-"

"No buts!"

Abashed, Teresa trudges to the door, which Danny holds open just wide enough for her to slide by. She is about to follow her sister, already halfway down the hall, when a distant sound makes her stop. From the other side of the house a door slams and heavy footsteps can be heard making their way into the living room.

"Why the hell is it always such a mess in this damned house!?" A gruff voice shouts at no one in particular. Danny looks at his younger sisters, both frozen in place, mirror looks of terror on their faces.

"Come on," Danny whispers in a much gentler tone, urging them forward. "You can stay in my room for a little while. Just this once, though."

On tiptoes first Teresa and then Tamora re-enter their older brother's room. Danny peers down the hallway for a second, a look of consternation on his face, before firmly shutting and locking the door.
« Last Edit: February 01, 2011, 08:47:08 PM by Terenia [Teach] »

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Offline Myitt

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #10 on: February 01, 2011, 09:29:05 PM »
Blood, dripping down her chin.

Please...let it end, whispers a desperate voice.

Nothing but pain.  Pain and heat.  Heat and explosion. 




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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #11 on: February 01, 2011, 10:44:45 PM »
Her name was Dafla 212. Temrash knew she liked him, but wasn't sure why. Was it just because he was her superior? Was she just sucking up to him? He kind of liked her too, and his host liked her host. His host had been spending time with her. He found himself going over the host's memories when he was bored.

<<Host body. It seems you are attracted to Dafla's host.>>

His body didn't answer. His will had been broken long ago, and Temrash had been ordered not to initiate speech with it. But paperwork had been so boring. Sure they tell you how exciting it is to command troops, but they gloss over the boring stuff. The host body had heard him, but was afraid to speak.

<<I made a statement, host body. You aren't ignoring me in there, are you?>>

<<N..no...I...not ignore. Y-you are ma...master. I...like her. Is that...ok?>>

<<You have my permission to continue spending time with her. By the Kandrona this is boring. I'd rather be fighting Andalites.>>

<<Me too. Want...um...>>

<<Revenge for your people? I can feel it. If it isn't one person, it's another. Why do people care so much about others that they'd obsess over stuff like that? Beats me.>>

<<I not...have answer. I...just care much.>>

Temrash felt he was starting to care for some people too. He wasn't sure if he should, though. So many people run off to battle and never return.


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Offline Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #12 on: February 02, 2011, 12:13:03 AM »
Smoke filled the bridge as Ossanlin scanned the nav-screen and tactical displays.  They were on patrol in the Shiren-kal sector as one of their outpost monitoring stations had reported a Blade Ship passing through.  Their intentions and objectives had been unknown, and the signal had been weak even for a monitoring station.  The Galaxy Tree had been dispatched to investigate.  What hadn’t been anticipated was a Blade Ship accompanied by a squadron of fighters and two destroyer-class capital ships.

The Yeerks hadn’t been expecting company, so the ‘ Tree had been able to take out one of the destroyers without a fight.  The Tree had launched all of her fighters to combat the enemy squadron of Bugs, but the Tree was an older, smaller Dome Ship.  Her complement of fighters was somewhat lacking compared to the newer models.  Prince Sivuul, the ship’s first officer, had even taken his personal modified fighter out to attack.  Sivuul had downed at least five bugs himself, in fact all of the Bugs had been downed, but so had Sivuul.  The Tree had only two functional fighters left…make that one.  It was trying to harry the Blade Ship, unfortunately the beast wasn’t taking the bait.  Again and again the Dracons lanced through space, searing into the Tree’s aging hull.

The second destroyer exploded in a plume of flame and finally it was Dome Ship against Blade Ship.  Unfortunately the Dome Ship was injured rather badly.  <Prince-Lieutenant Ossanlin, what is the Blade Ship’s status?>  War-Prince Caseel, the Tree’s Captain stood impressively.

Ossanlin had only just taken the TO position on the Tree a few standard months back.  It was rare that someone so young and fresh out of the Academy (he had all but skipped the rank of aristh) be given such a high-ranking and sought-after position, but Ossanlin had been one of the most-promising students at the Academy, and it wasn’t as if the Tree was the fleet’s flagship.  Ossanlin had earned his position, even if others thought he hadn’t…he was rather intelligent, even for a member of his species, he was one of the best tail-fighters at the academy, he was a good pilot, and he had shown a true mastery of strategy, not to mention his dedication.  <The Blade Ship has only sustained superficial damage sir, we have lost 50 – 75% of our hull plating over 30% of the Tree.  We have also lost z-space capabilities.>  Ossanlin did his best to keep his voice calm, but things did not look good for the Tree, or anyone onboard for that matter.

<Very well, helm, set mark for 2.3 by …..>  Crash…BANG!  A huge explosion rocked the ship as one of the engine nacelles imploded and then exploded, throwing everyone on the bridge to their knees, smoke billowing more voluminously from damaged consoles.  Ossanlin struggled to right himself and managed to climb back to his hooves.  He scanned the bridge and saw Prince Caseel lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.  Even from his position near the TO console, he could see the blood dripping from Caseel’s breathing slits and pooling beneath his ear.  The bridge was in a state of near-total dis-array.  Ossanlin ran to Prince Caseel’s side, kneeling.  <Sir, you are wounded…we need to get you to the medical bay.>

<O…Ossanlin…there isn’t…time…  I can…not…command…anymore.  You…you must…take…command.  I…believe…in…you.>  The Captain’s breathing slowed and then stopped altogether.  Ossanlin knelt stunned for several seconds before standing again.  Him…command?  He quickly ran back to the TO console, the flickering images difficult to read.  <Warriors to your posts!  Warriors, to your posts!>  Ossanlin scanned the TO console and wracked his brain trying to think of an option that wouldn’t lead to hundreds of Andalite deaths…

Perhaps…perhaps it would work.  <Computer, this is acting Captain Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel, transfer all command protocols to code GT1985.>  [Command transfer complete.]  Ossanlin uses his new command protocols to dial up a ship-wide comms announcement.  [<All personnel, this is acting Captain Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel, begin dome evacuation procedures and prepare to separate, this is not a drill.  I repeat, evacuate the dome immediately!>]  The computer gave a sickly chime as Ossanlin closed the comm.

<Helm, move to bearing 259 by 107.3 with as much engine power as we can muster.  Get us to the other side of that moon.  Weapons officer, continue to return fire with the aft batteries, focus on their exhaust core, try to get rid of the shielding around it.>  The andalites in question did not flinch at his commands, or even hesitate, they did as he said and the Tree began lumbering its way toward the small moon.

More explosions rocked the ship in the seconds that it took to reach the moon.  The Tree began a close orbit.  <Sir, the Blade's exhaust core shielding has been destroyed.>
Ossanlin nodded.  <Good.  And the dome has been evacuated.>  Finally the explosions ceased as the Dome Ship put the moon between herself and the Yeekrs.  <Helm, I want you to lay in a course for the dome to continue the standard path of orbit, I suspect that they will expect us to use the moon’s gravity to slingshot our ship to attempt escape or as a last-ditch to ram them.  Set the dome to run on auto after it separates.>  The helm officer nodded in return and began programming the route.  Ossanlin looked at the weapons officer next.  <Weapons, start hyper-charging the main shredder.  Pull power from anything you can…shut down life-support on unnecessary decks, get as much charge into that cannon as you can.  When we round the bottom of the moon, we should have a straight shot at the belly of the Blade Ship.  Target the exhaust core, hopefully we can hyper-charge the plasma and overload their engine cores.>  The weapons officer raised his eyebrows but didn’t question the orders…this truly was a last-ditch hurrah.  If it didn’t work, the Tree and her crew would not be returning home.

<Helm, separate the dome.>  Loud ‘thunks’ echoed through the ship as the sizable and most-likely damaged locking clamps released their charge.  A small burst and the dome was free.  It powered its thrusters up and continued to slingshot around the moon.  <Helm, core section all-stop.>  The lower section of the ship came to a halt on the far side of the moon.  <Wait for it…>

<Sir, we’ve pulled as much power into the main Shredder as we can spare, but we can’t hold it long…the coils are starting to over-heat.>   Ossanlin nodded in response to the weapons officer.  <Helm, full reverse now!  Take us back around the underside of the moon, try to stay in the moon's umbra as long as possible.>  The Tree reversed her course and shuddered back along the underside of the small moon…if the Blade Ship had given chase, and Ossanlin hoped against hope that it had, the position and timing should be about right.

Ossanlin watched the TO screen as the dome-section rounded the top side of the moon, sudden heat signatures registered as high-power, over-charged Dracon shots melted through the dome and shattered it like paper-thin crystal.  At the same moment, the core section of the Tree emerged underneath the Blade Ship, lined up perfectly with the exhaust core coils.  <Weapons, FIRE!>

A blue beam so bright it appeared as searing-white lanced from the Tree’s main cannon, piercing directly into the exhaust coils.  After a short delay, burning plasma burst from the exhaust core, the Blade Ship shuddering before shockwaves announced the energetic and complete destruction of the Blade Ship’s engine nacelles.  After a few more seconds, the explosions spread to the rest of the Blade Ship before a burning white image burned its way into Ossanlin’s retinas as the Blade Ship’s reactor core breached and nova’d, ripping the Yeerk vessel and its crew into pieces.

<YES!>  Ossanlin struck the air with his tail in jubilation as the shockwave slammed into the beleaguered half-ship that was the Galaxy Tree, knocking him to his knees again.  Even as he stood, he saw from the TO console that the Tree, or what was left of her, was adrift.

<Sir, helm is unresponsive.>  <The main Shredder is compromised sir, the emitter coils are completely burned out.>  Alarm claxons continued to ring through the ship, but Ossanlin’s relief was not dampened.  They had won…they were alive.
« Last Edit: November 11, 2013, 12:13:18 AM by Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin) »
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Offline Chad32

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #13 on: February 02, 2011, 12:41:30 AM »
She had been promoted to a similar rank than him. They were equals, and there wasn't any reason for her to be sucking up to him anymore. Yet she still came by every day. Temrash knew then that she really did like him. He liked her too. Sometimes they would go for walks together and talk about topics that didn't revolve around the war. It was nice, and they were never bored around each other. She was the first real friend he had, since most of his superiors had always told him there wasn't any point in making close friends.

Then it happened. What he feared the most. She was killed while defending the base. Some andalite Prince known for his own viciousness in battle ended both their lives. Was this what it felt like to want revenge? Was this why so many Andalites went hunting after Yeerks who killed their friends and family. Temrash was filled with hatred when he saw the Andalite. He gloated that Dafla's lat words were that the "great" Sub-Visser would kill him. He was unafraid.

The battle raged on for a good hour. A crowd of andalites and Yeerks stood on either side, afraid to get into the fray but calling for blood. The Andalite struck a terrible blow to his chest, running his blade right through Temrash's heart. Some part of temrash knew he had been wounded, but he still fought. He hacked the Andalite's tail right off as it was caught in his host's chest.

The Prince saw fear for the first time in the battle, but Temrash wasn't done. Most of his battles ended quickly because he memorized where the Andalite's vitals were. this time he purposefully avoided the vitals. The Andalite would suffer long and hard as Temrash beat him to a bloody pulp. He didn't know exactly when the Prince died, but he just kept hitting until finally Temrash lost consciousness.

------------------------------------------------------

He woke up in the medbay, practically covered in bandages. He was inconsolable. His host was down too. They both spent a couple of days lying in bed, and in their sorrow they began having full conversation. Temrash saw through his host's memories that his parents named him Jagill, so he started calling his host by name. It was just between them.

After feeding he took another host. No reason for a Sub-Visser to remain inside a weakened host. He returned to Jagill after he got better. They were friends now. They would always be together for each other.


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Offline Shenmue654

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Re: GESB: History Book
« Reply #14 on: February 02, 2011, 10:41:34 AM »
((Alright, my turn. :P  To clarify: Joanne herself probably didn't even use cocaine, but she did sell it. Joanne was most likely after alcohol and opiates, being depressants. But she could probably tell what was good and what wasn't. ))

Joanne heard the first shots farther down the street than she had expected. For now, she had managed to dodge her pursuers. Joanne pushed herself against the back of a wall, breathing heavily. She slid down its base and clutched the bag of cocaine she had risked her life to get. She sniffed it carefully, smiling. Yeah, this is good. We can sell this for some great profit. Joanne clutched her heart uncomfortably. She was going to need a drink soon, and she couldn't risk running again.

The whole plan had been insane from the start. Her set hadn't been getting the money they needed because another gang had been encroaching on their turf. Damn bastards thought they owned the freaking town. The official word from the boss was that they'd kill one of their number in a week or so, right when they thought they were safe. But Joanne had had a better idea. Better to steal the good stuff, take what should have been theirs. .....the boss was going to beat her up.

Joanne then dashed across the street and slid up against a car. The bullets ricocheted off the front of the pickup truck just in time. Joanne grinned at her good fortune, but a sharp pain abruptly flew across her arm. Joanne clutched it in pain, wincing. "****, ****, ****," she muttered. "Not going to make it." Joanne ran almost blindly down an alleyway and away from the party sent to catch her, hoping that they'd get confused and turn the other way. Which, thank heaven, they did.

Joanne ran slowly and quietly away from them, trying not to be noticed by any stragglers until she made it to the corner. Every day, every day was one more challenge. One more fight. One more broken kneecap or lost profit. She didn't ask for this, but she didn't have a choice. If she didn't get a share of the good stuff, she'd go mad like anyone else. Her little...trick had earned her some respect despite her gender, but she knew it wasn't much. At any moment, they could decide she was a freak and get rid of her.

She had vague snatches of memory between the highs and lows, old hints of the life she'd left behind. But hurting them just wasn't an option anymore. They were good, straight. And they'd left her anyway. Maybe there'd be something in the future. It was a stupid hope. Or maybe it would simply be more of the same.
« Last Edit: February 04, 2011, 12:45:26 AM by Shenmue654 »