5
[AS] Fiction Department
Mouj sweated. The Indian jungle had affected him badly. His head was heating up and his clothes were damp to the skin. The jungle had other affects, too. Fear of an animal attacking, or fear of an army attacking. The small automatic rifle Mouj held in his hand was little consolation.
He was in a squadron of foreigners, most of who had never met before, rustled into the Indonesian International Army and fighting against Romania in the ever-changing battles of the Indian and Chinese plains. In his group were a lot of Hungarians, some Brazilians, some Mexicans and a few French, whilst the squad leader was half-Indonesian, half-Hungarian. He had sent a small Frenchman into the forest to scout fifteen minutes ago, and no reply had came.
Suddenly, the French scout jumped out of the jungle, startling everyone. He had a look of feverish fear on his face and was covered in sweat. A Hungarians grabbed him and gave him water and cool towels. After a minute or so, the man, who had suffered one of the most horrible jobs in the army, rasped a single word: "Marines."
As if by cue, the jungle ripped open with a blast of gun fire. Out of the shredded leaves came the dreaded US Marines, second only to the mercenary elites who wandered the plains of Romania in small packs, killing entire platoons with their machine guns. Three of the IIA men went down straight away, and Mouj, still sweating like a pig, held up his gun and began to fire.
It was a terrible fight, and IIA was losing. Mouj felt a hot pain shoot up through his leg and he cried out. He saw out of the bottom of his eyes a man with a dirty great rifle pointing at his face as he dropped to the ground. He thought always was lost, and then waited for the warm lead to enter his body...
Chopper blades. Mouj could hear chopper blades! Three choppers were overhead, not American ones, and men were dropping from them. One dropped right onto the Marine that had the rifle pointed at him.
"Ben!" Mouj cried out. It was the DropBear Alpha Squadron, possibly the third toughest squadron of fighters in the Southern Hemisphere, the elite of Australia, and they had dropped right down on a bunch of US Marines.
Amidst the pain in his legs, Mouj saw an easy, clean win, and got up, Red Backs treating his wounds. His old friends had come to help, and boy had they helped.
That's what I like to see and that's what I'd like you to PM to me.
Yep, I'm going to be running an on-going fictional competition for my newspaper, to fill up some spaces. I'll publish between one and three a week, and if you're published, you'll get 20 AUD, or 20 AUD for every time I publish it or a segment of it. If you're not published, but entered a legitimate story, I'll give you 1 AUD.
Requirements: The story can be as long as you want, but based on a current event in eRepublik ie. a war, a political election, a conspiracy, a debate, a company, an argument, anything! Just fire ahead anything and you'll get 1 AUD, and possibly 20 AUD! I won't judge spelling or punctuation, just the skill of the writing and the general idea.
Post away, my friends,
Captain Mouj
He was in a squadron of foreigners, most of who had never met before, rustled into the Indonesian International Army and fighting against Romania in the ever-changing battles of the Indian and Chinese plains. In his group were a lot of Hungarians, some Brazilians, some Mexicans and a few French, whilst the squad leader was half-Indonesian, half-Hungarian. He had sent a small Frenchman into the forest to scout fifteen minutes ago, and no reply had came.
Suddenly, the French scout jumped out of the jungle, startling everyone. He had a look of feverish fear on his face and was covered in sweat. A Hungarians grabbed him and gave him water and cool towels. After a minute or so, the man, who had suffered one of the most horrible jobs in the army, rasped a single word: "Marines."
As if by cue, the jungle ripped open with a blast of gun fire. Out of the shredded leaves came the dreaded US Marines, second only to the mercenary elites who wandered the plains of Romania in small packs, killing entire platoons with their machine guns. Three of the IIA men went down straight away, and Mouj, still sweating like a pig, held up his gun and began to fire.
It was a terrible fight, and IIA was losing. Mouj felt a hot pain shoot up through his leg and he cried out. He saw out of the bottom of his eyes a man with a dirty great rifle pointing at his face as he dropped to the ground. He thought always was lost, and then waited for the warm lead to enter his body...
Chopper blades. Mouj could hear chopper blades! Three choppers were overhead, not American ones, and men were dropping from them. One dropped right onto the Marine that had the rifle pointed at him.
"Ben!" Mouj cried out. It was the DropBear Alpha Squadron, possibly the third toughest squadron of fighters in the Southern Hemisphere, the elite of Australia, and they had dropped right down on a bunch of US Marines.
Amidst the pain in his legs, Mouj saw an easy, clean win, and got up, Red Backs treating his wounds. His old friends had come to help, and boy had they helped.
That's what I like to see and that's what I'd like you to PM to me.
Yep, I'm going to be running an on-going fictional competition for my newspaper, to fill up some spaces. I'll publish between one and three a week, and if you're published, you'll get 20 AUD, or 20 AUD for every time I publish it or a segment of it. If you're not published, but entered a legitimate story, I'll give you 1 AUD.
Requirements: The story can be as long as you want, but based on a current event in eRepublik ie. a war, a political election, a conspiracy, a debate, a company, an argument, anything! Just fire ahead anything and you'll get 1 AUD, and possibly 20 AUD! I won't judge spelling or punctuation, just the skill of the writing and the general idea.
Post away, my friends,
Captain Mouj
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What about a historical event?
Well, that basically fits under the above categories.
cool free money