Chaplain Fordo
Friday, February 8, 2008, 11:07 AM
This is an ongoing project that I've decided to start, and I have a LOAD of ideas. :) I'd like to hear some of yours, your views on my writing, and suggestions/tips. And btw - bear in mind that I'm only 13! :shock:
I began considering the concept for the Fan Fiction Competition, and since I love Canary Wharf + the surrounding area and have insider knowledge of its workings, I wanted to expand the idea. I was disappointed that the area wasn't actually featured in-game, but I expect that it's too big - but I thought the idea for using it as a Exopector docking port was quite cool. Heres the first episode, enjoy!:
PART 1
Falcon Squad picked their way over the rubble of a destroyed building. The roof had been blown away some time ago, and the wooden frame of the house had set alight. Gradually the ashen supports had collapsed, and the bricks had been spread across the pavement outside. It was exactly the same story for all the other houses in the street. The area had, until recently, been the home of a Hellgate; a gateway between Earth and Hell, through which demons entered the world and began to manifest.
Then, when the future looked bleak for the survivors of London, a young recruit had risen his way up through the ranks of men, fighting his way through the mass of demon flesh that lay between the Alliance - an organisation of zealots, spell-casters and stealth hunters - and freedom. He had successfully defeated some of the greatest demonic threats known to exist, before assisting a Cabalist in the assassination of Sydonei, the demonic General.
Now the stealth squads of the Demon Hunters were tasked with ‘clearing up’ the dregs the Burn had left behind, while the Templar chased the elite Primus Caste of demon leaders out of the city. Marcus Flint was a member of one such Hunter squad. They had been tasked with sabotaging the demons’ remaining escape routes - thus why they were scrambling through the demolished street, slowly making their way towards West India Quay. They had left Poplar station several hours ago, and gradually moved across London in the now-relatively safe daylight.
The clouds that had blocked out the sun for the past eighteen years were slowly dissipating, and the first rays of light London had seen in almost two decades were breaking through. Marcus paused in what was once the doorway of a house, and peered up. The sight made his heart suddenly lift, as if the end of the current Dark Age was near. His squad mates paused to as they left the rubble, and for a moment of silence, they were filled with a joy that they hadn’t felt since before the invasion.
Then the sun was covered once again by a blanket of foul gases, and the men turned back to the task in hand. They crossed the street at a run, for fear of the remaining demons that had been left to serve as sentries, and one by one, climbed through a hole in a nearby wall on the opposite side of the road.
They entered some kind of basement car park, situated beneath a block of flats. The cars inside had been flipped over, crumpled, or thrown brashly against a wall by some powerful force. Every so often, a pile of charcoal and ash soiled the concrete floor of a parking space; the remains of a burnt out car. As the squad passed on through the complex, Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if someone had been inside the car at the time. He hoped not.
A row of grated windows lined one side of the car park. There were large gaps in the metal bars, where something or someone had burst through, and at one end, it looked as if a car had been thrown through the wall and out into the dock beyond. A thick smell of long-rotten fish hit Marcus, and he realised that they had reached West India Quay.
A few shots from the squad leader’s Arclight Rifle opened a way through the car park wall, and the team climbed onto the dockside walkway above. Behind them towered a long row of flats, which had presumably once been luxurious and expensive. The quay was lined with the remains of expensive, privately owned boats, littered across the dry muddy surface of the canal bed, and even on the bridge that spanned the length of the canal some way in the distance, there lay an upturned and abandoned barge, looking quite out of place on the tarmac. And then Marcus saw it;
Great towers reaching into the sky, above each one, a swirling red maelstrom. Gigantic Exospector ships circling them, docking occasionally onto organic suction cups that dotted the skyscrapers - scorched pits of burning orange that gave the area the image of being aflame, the harsh colours reflecting on the visors of the squad members’ helmets.
They had finally reached their destination; the fiery remains of Canary Wharf.
I've already completed the next instalment, and have just begun on the third, which will be posted in due course - I'd say a week or so. Thankyou for reading guys! :D
I began considering the concept for the Fan Fiction Competition, and since I love Canary Wharf + the surrounding area and have insider knowledge of its workings, I wanted to expand the idea. I was disappointed that the area wasn't actually featured in-game, but I expect that it's too big - but I thought the idea for using it as a Exopector docking port was quite cool. Heres the first episode, enjoy!:
PART 1
Falcon Squad picked their way over the rubble of a destroyed building. The roof had been blown away some time ago, and the wooden frame of the house had set alight. Gradually the ashen supports had collapsed, and the bricks had been spread across the pavement outside. It was exactly the same story for all the other houses in the street. The area had, until recently, been the home of a Hellgate; a gateway between Earth and Hell, through which demons entered the world and began to manifest.
Then, when the future looked bleak for the survivors of London, a young recruit had risen his way up through the ranks of men, fighting his way through the mass of demon flesh that lay between the Alliance - an organisation of zealots, spell-casters and stealth hunters - and freedom. He had successfully defeated some of the greatest demonic threats known to exist, before assisting a Cabalist in the assassination of Sydonei, the demonic General.
Now the stealth squads of the Demon Hunters were tasked with ‘clearing up’ the dregs the Burn had left behind, while the Templar chased the elite Primus Caste of demon leaders out of the city. Marcus Flint was a member of one such Hunter squad. They had been tasked with sabotaging the demons’ remaining escape routes - thus why they were scrambling through the demolished street, slowly making their way towards West India Quay. They had left Poplar station several hours ago, and gradually moved across London in the now-relatively safe daylight.
The clouds that had blocked out the sun for the past eighteen years were slowly dissipating, and the first rays of light London had seen in almost two decades were breaking through. Marcus paused in what was once the doorway of a house, and peered up. The sight made his heart suddenly lift, as if the end of the current Dark Age was near. His squad mates paused to as they left the rubble, and for a moment of silence, they were filled with a joy that they hadn’t felt since before the invasion.
Then the sun was covered once again by a blanket of foul gases, and the men turned back to the task in hand. They crossed the street at a run, for fear of the remaining demons that had been left to serve as sentries, and one by one, climbed through a hole in a nearby wall on the opposite side of the road.
They entered some kind of basement car park, situated beneath a block of flats. The cars inside had been flipped over, crumpled, or thrown brashly against a wall by some powerful force. Every so often, a pile of charcoal and ash soiled the concrete floor of a parking space; the remains of a burnt out car. As the squad passed on through the complex, Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if someone had been inside the car at the time. He hoped not.
A row of grated windows lined one side of the car park. There were large gaps in the metal bars, where something or someone had burst through, and at one end, it looked as if a car had been thrown through the wall and out into the dock beyond. A thick smell of long-rotten fish hit Marcus, and he realised that they had reached West India Quay.
A few shots from the squad leader’s Arclight Rifle opened a way through the car park wall, and the team climbed onto the dockside walkway above. Behind them towered a long row of flats, which had presumably once been luxurious and expensive. The quay was lined with the remains of expensive, privately owned boats, littered across the dry muddy surface of the canal bed, and even on the bridge that spanned the length of the canal some way in the distance, there lay an upturned and abandoned barge, looking quite out of place on the tarmac. And then Marcus saw it;
Great towers reaching into the sky, above each one, a swirling red maelstrom. Gigantic Exospector ships circling them, docking occasionally onto organic suction cups that dotted the skyscrapers - scorched pits of burning orange that gave the area the image of being aflame, the harsh colours reflecting on the visors of the squad members’ helmets.
They had finally reached their destination; the fiery remains of Canary Wharf.
I've already completed the next instalment, and have just begun on the third, which will be posted in due course - I'd say a week or so. Thankyou for reading guys! :D