Battle Of Castamere--Sveden War
Jan 29, 2016 5:36:31 GMT
Amon, Lasair Landevier Lupen, and 1 more like this
Post by Wern on Jan 29, 2016 5:36:31 GMT
Screeching of rails, fluttering of feathers, gunshots, explosions over and over. Wern crumbled to the ground, bracing himself as a train ran by them, filled with people, hopefully. And he glanced up in time to see a walker, a giant, fade in and out of sight. Oh cogs. Amon. Amon ordered them to move. To get up. And Wern staggered up, almost crawling across the ground. He could barely move, his task completed, but without that task, without that objective to ease his mind, he was useless. Train, yes, he was going to get on the train. But then, a screech. The ripping of metal. Wern turned back. One steambot- it was destroying, killing the others. It’s claw, digging into the chest, pulling out, crushing their hearts. Wern watched the destruction, understood, but this devastation, and Amon, Amon standing in the midst of it. Watching over, understanding, acting. There was no room, and to risk the other side getting his equipment- Amon destroyed them. How sad, how tragic. The destruction of countless hours of work, of blood and tears. But there was other blood that had to be saved.
“A-Amon.” Wern began, but the man, he had already ran away with his steambot, joining the fray. Wern looked around. H-he couldn’t let him go on alone. No. But, what could he offer? What could he possibly do? He didn’t have any weapons, nor could he fight. Not up close. But maybe, maybe. Wern looked around. Searched for anything that could help. Even just a slight inclination, a slight push, into the right direction. And well, that push proved to be a gun? No. A sword? There was a fallen solider due to— explosion it seemed. It was tragic. The rubble and the metal-half of their body was…broken. Deformed. Part of Wern was grateful for the lack of view, for the covered body. But…. It was a sword? But with chains? Wern picked it up, letting out a light squeak at the weight. And, oh, there was a button on the handle? Best to avoid it, but at least… at least it was an object.
But it was a plan not well executed. Not as Wern could not handle it, and grabbing it from both ends- well. That was not the best thing to do. A glove, he needed a glove. Or something to grasp the thing. Wern searched the vicinity, looked for something, until — the dead body. Oh cogs.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.” He cringed, looking away slightly as he removed the armored gauntlet from the other, unfastening the restraints, slightly grateful that only one side was wounded. Still, when the hand slipped out, flesh was visible from beneath the steel mask; Wern couldn’t help but nearly gag. Why was he doing this? To help. Right. Okay.
“Oh god.” He cried, holding a hand up to his nose. There was no smell of death- no, far too early, but the thought. “Oh bless me.” He whimpered, putting the glove on- and lorde, it was heavy. He could barely hold it up, let alone the blade. Wheezing, he half carried half dragged himself and the blade to the group, staring at the whole battle. Um, what was he expected to do? Give it to… Amon? Wern couldn’t wield it, but well, Amon did have a robotic arm. Perhaps he could.
“A-Amon, sir!” Wern called, in an attempt to get the man’s attention but instead, a different attention was given. A solider, who noticed him and was quickly approaching. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Tottering away, Wern fled from the other, looking back every now and then to make sure the stranger wasn’t close, but oh goodness. They were gaining. But then, Edelweiss, and someone with a pipe. Against, not a pipe. A weapon like his own. He squeaked, fleeing ever more so, unsure of whether the soldier was still following, for at this point Wern was just making sure he was not going to trip over the rubble, but maybe, maybe she, she could wield it. Wern didn’t have time to ponder about the practicality of it— if she could even lift the blade. His thought process was too much on “get rid of the blade get rid of the blade” but far too timid to drop it.
“M-ma’am!” mLooking at the ground still as he neared, he extended out the blade — but the sudden weight distribution, he wasn’t prepared for it. Not with the rubble underfoot. Staggering forward, the man tripped, turning and landing harshly on his back—luckily still holding onto the blade. But the impact, especially on the rocky ground made him wince, made him hiss out in pain, a mixture between a yelp and gasp escaping his lips as he held onto the sword, greatly regretting going back into the midst of battle. He should of just gone back to the train. Cogs, he should have just gone back to the train.
“A-Amon.” Wern began, but the man, he had already ran away with his steambot, joining the fray. Wern looked around. H-he couldn’t let him go on alone. No. But, what could he offer? What could he possibly do? He didn’t have any weapons, nor could he fight. Not up close. But maybe, maybe. Wern looked around. Searched for anything that could help. Even just a slight inclination, a slight push, into the right direction. And well, that push proved to be a gun? No. A sword? There was a fallen solider due to— explosion it seemed. It was tragic. The rubble and the metal-half of their body was…broken. Deformed. Part of Wern was grateful for the lack of view, for the covered body. But…. It was a sword? But with chains? Wern picked it up, letting out a light squeak at the weight. And, oh, there was a button on the handle? Best to avoid it, but at least… at least it was an object.
But it was a plan not well executed. Not as Wern could not handle it, and grabbing it from both ends- well. That was not the best thing to do. A glove, he needed a glove. Or something to grasp the thing. Wern searched the vicinity, looked for something, until — the dead body. Oh cogs.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.” He cringed, looking away slightly as he removed the armored gauntlet from the other, unfastening the restraints, slightly grateful that only one side was wounded. Still, when the hand slipped out, flesh was visible from beneath the steel mask; Wern couldn’t help but nearly gag. Why was he doing this? To help. Right. Okay.
“Oh god.” He cried, holding a hand up to his nose. There was no smell of death- no, far too early, but the thought. “Oh bless me.” He whimpered, putting the glove on- and lorde, it was heavy. He could barely hold it up, let alone the blade. Wheezing, he half carried half dragged himself and the blade to the group, staring at the whole battle. Um, what was he expected to do? Give it to… Amon? Wern couldn’t wield it, but well, Amon did have a robotic arm. Perhaps he could.
“A-Amon, sir!” Wern called, in an attempt to get the man’s attention but instead, a different attention was given. A solider, who noticed him and was quickly approaching. Oh dear oh dear oh dear. Tottering away, Wern fled from the other, looking back every now and then to make sure the stranger wasn’t close, but oh goodness. They were gaining. But then, Edelweiss, and someone with a pipe. Against, not a pipe. A weapon like his own. He squeaked, fleeing ever more so, unsure of whether the soldier was still following, for at this point Wern was just making sure he was not going to trip over the rubble, but maybe, maybe she, she could wield it. Wern didn’t have time to ponder about the practicality of it— if she could even lift the blade. His thought process was too much on “get rid of the blade get rid of the blade” but far too timid to drop it.
“M-ma’am!” mLooking at the ground still as he neared, he extended out the blade — but the sudden weight distribution, he wasn’t prepared for it. Not with the rubble underfoot. Staggering forward, the man tripped, turning and landing harshly on his back—luckily still holding onto the blade. But the impact, especially on the rocky ground made him wince, made him hiss out in pain, a mixture between a yelp and gasp escaping his lips as he held onto the sword, greatly regretting going back into the midst of battle. He should of just gone back to the train. Cogs, he should have just gone back to the train.