1.6 : Into the Fray
Day 2,056, 21:35
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Published in USA 
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by
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by Ludonarr
Where Ludo breaks free and searches for a good fight
The wind is what woke me.
Having for days awoken to the shouts and kicks of my captors, initially it was the lack of these things that drew my attention. Then higher brain function took over and I bolted upright, searching for the source of this new breeze.
The walls appeared intact, barren and cold, pressing in around me. Near the door however, where there used to be only dark, I could now see slivers of light. Pulling my bruised and beaten frame to the door I looked out and was shocked to see blue sky, smoke, and flames.
It appeared an explosion had ripped through the facility, exposing a gaping hole in the north face of the building. Battling the physical and mental exhaustion of captivity, I had rode it out in sweet slumber.
Peering around, my eyes adjusting to the light, I could see guards both on their feet and lying dead. As I watched, a particularly brutal RoC guard was spun around and fell to the ground. Suddenly, things went still and I took my chance, yelling for help.
Those who saved me were from the resistance, scattered remains of various units that had been cut off when the states began to fall like dominoes.
A bit behind the times, I asked for answers, I didn't like what they gave me. With nowhere to go, the call had been sent out to head to Texas. If it was a fight the enemy wanted, Texas was as good a place as any to get down and dirty.
With a broken down ride, we were forced to hoof it the last 50 miles. Arriving in the midst of the battle, nothing seemed clear. That we had inflicted quite a bit of damage was evident. That the Serbs were making us bleed for it was no surprise.
I saw a wave of men charge the Serbian lines, disappearing in clouds of smoke and dust. They never returned. We reached the lines just as a Serb advance hit our position. Rockets screamed past and bullets landed among us as we took aim and fired, praying to Dio that our shots found their mark.
It would be easy to claim heroics on this day. I wish I could say that I blew up a Serb tank or captured some high ranking officer. The truth is I was no hero. I stood my ground and did my duty. Quickly I grew numb to the sensations, the violence. It became like clicking a button on my computer. Aim, fire, reload. Aim, fire, reload, Aim, fire, click, click, click.
Thankfully the enemy ran out before my clip did. I was found dry-firing my rifle into the quiet battlefield in front of me. Broken from my stupor, I looked up and was greeted by a sight that I will never forget.
The war rages on, and we will be victorious.
The wind is what woke me.
Having for days awoken to the shouts and kicks of my captors, initially it was the lack of these things that drew my attention. Then higher brain function took over and I bolted upright, searching for the source of this new breeze.
The walls appeared intact, barren and cold, pressing in around me. Near the door however, where there used to be only dark, I could now see slivers of light. Pulling my bruised and beaten frame to the door I looked out and was shocked to see blue sky, smoke, and flames.
It appeared an explosion had ripped through the facility, exposing a gaping hole in the north face of the building. Battling the physical and mental exhaustion of captivity, I had rode it out in sweet slumber.
Peering around, my eyes adjusting to the light, I could see guards both on their feet and lying dead. As I watched, a particularly brutal RoC guard was spun around and fell to the ground. Suddenly, things went still and I took my chance, yelling for help.
Those who saved me were from the resistance, scattered remains of various units that had been cut off when the states began to fall like dominoes.
A bit behind the times, I asked for answers, I didn't like what they gave me. With nowhere to go, the call had been sent out to head to Texas. If it was a fight the enemy wanted, Texas was as good a place as any to get down and dirty.
With a broken down ride, we were forced to hoof it the last 50 miles. Arriving in the midst of the battle, nothing seemed clear. That we had inflicted quite a bit of damage was evident. That the Serbs were making us bleed for it was no surprise.
I saw a wave of men charge the Serbian lines, disappearing in clouds of smoke and dust. They never returned. We reached the lines just as a Serb advance hit our position. Rockets screamed past and bullets landed among us as we took aim and fired, praying to Dio that our shots found their mark.
It would be easy to claim heroics on this day. I wish I could say that I blew up a Serb tank or captured some high ranking officer. The truth is I was no hero. I stood my ground and did my duty. Quickly I grew numb to the sensations, the violence. It became like clicking a button on my computer. Aim, fire, reload. Aim, fire, reload, Aim, fire, click, click, click.
Thankfully the enemy ran out before my clip did. I was found dry-firing my rifle into the quiet battlefield in front of me. Broken from my stupor, I looked up and was greeted by a sight that I will never forget.
The war rages on, and we will be victorious.
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Comments
Amazing Article, I need to shout this.
Voted o7
Voted
voted
voted
Aim High!
sub
dark times indeed, when Dioists take up arms against one another
only the Swede profits
Sweet roleplay article. Might try one myself. Voted