T, if i told you that the story would loose its entire sense of cliche (and anyway, we hardly know each other *giggle*).
More coming sooner or later!
(wow, 2 totally irrelevent posts in one hour on the same thread!)
The following chapter goes here, where I'm putting it now, in the run of things. I've posted it before but the forums seem to have deleted it so I'm editing it into this post. It's confusing but this is in the right place now so there you go. Ignore all this.
Chapter 15, Battle on the Plain of Gopemi
Outside the factory, a vast army of all kinds of sligs, slogs and various other nasty creatures was gathering outside the factory. Ranks of heavily armoured mugs, hoards of sligs and big-bro-sligs, rows of flying sligs all refuelling, eating or loading weapons, ready for a long battle.
Many miles to the Southeast a solitary mudokon jogged determinedly onward, a small green metallic ball clutched in his hand, a small bottle of nerve gas and a "long distance cattle prod" stuffed in his loincloth with a compass clutched in the other hand. He had been jogging all day but possessed the endurance of his species and knew he could comfortably go the rest of the night and most of the next day at his current speed. He smiled confidently to himself: There was no way they could find him now.
The plain of Gopemi was a large empty stretch of grass. Nothing lived there, no trees were dotted over the plain, no animals stirred the fresh green grass. People knew Gopemi was a word from the ancient Glukkon language but no one remembered what it meant; there was a myth that a terrible battle had taken place there and death had sunk into the soil, scaring away any plants or animals that went near it. The business-crazed glukkons scoffed at this, saying it was all rubbish. There had been no move to build there, despite the perfect conditions for it.
To the north, east and west were sparsely wooded slopes of grass covered in short red bushes that seeped poison when touched. To the south a massive forest spread out over the earth like a green blanket.
It was the day following Aaron’s escape and it was drawing into late afternoon. Fatigue was finally starting to seep into Aaron’s muscles as he slowly picked his way down a light slope, covered in stunted red bushes. He’d learnt, rather late, that the red pus they emitted when touched was pretty painful. He was less than eager to touch one again.
He was quite away down when he came to a sudden ridge where he stopped and gazed down below him. At the bottom of the slope he was on was a wide unnaturally empty plain that stretched out for miles in all directions. But beyond that was a vast forest that disappeared over the horizon many miles to the south. His heart leapt: he was nearly there!
He looked back over his shoulder up the slope he had just climbed. For a second he stopped to think about Bill and that old Mud who’d helped him so much. He hoped they were ok.
Suddenly he spotted a speck appear over the top of the ridge. He squinted at it as several more appeared around it. They were floating in the air above the grass. They were too big for birds… A familiar whirring sound reached his ears and he swore loudly: flying sligs! He turned and ran as fast as he could down the slope, ignoring the stings as those red plants sprayed poison over him… Moments later the rest of the sligs army came pouring over the hill.
"Scouts say they’ve seen him sir."
"Where?"
"About 2 thirds of the way down the hill sir."
"Let’s get him then. Hurry up the army, we’ve gotta catch him before he reaches the forest.
"Yes sir."
"GOTCHA!!!" Aaron spun round and squeezed the nozzle down. The flying slig screamed and swung away as a large dose of nerve gas was blasted into his face. That slig had broken forward from the rest, Aaron was still ahead of the army and just reaching the bottom of the slope; that plain looked a lot bigger from down here. He gritted his teeth and forced his aching muscles and heavily stung legs to carry him forward.
"What’s going on?"
"There’s no way I’m setting one foot onto that plain man, you know what they say about it.
The B-B grunted, shot the guy in the head and turned to the rest of his squadron, "Any one else got any objections?" No one spoke; the B-B turned and ran across the grass, steadily catching up with Aaron.
Aaron yelped as a bullet narrowly missed his hand. He spun round and sprayed a load of gas into the face of a B-B-Slig who yelled and dropped to his metal knees, clutching at his eyes. Aaron froze, staring in horror at the massive army pouring down the slope and across the plain towards him. He stared down at the small green ball in his hand. A huddle of sligs firing at him made him jump; he spun round again and ran onwards.
He drained away the rest of the nerve gas on some more flying sligs. But now the meetles had made it down onto the flat stretch of grass. He spun round and ran as fast as he could, throwing the empty bottle over his shoulder. He wasn’t watching when it hit the head of a slig on the back of a meetle who collapsed over unconscious, dragging his ride over with him. The meetle spun round and crashed into the one next to it. The two locked together and the slig riding the second one panicked, smacking desperately at the riderless meetle. He accidentally hit the weapon’s trigger and it fired, hitting his owns weapon, which exploded. A crater suddenly appeared in the plains where several meetles and a lot of sligs had been a second earlier.
The cattle prod evidently wasn’t intended for long-term use because the energy gauge was hovering near zero and it was no longer frying attackers, just stunning them for a few seconds. Aaron had maybe another 5000 metres to run but his muscles were failing him. Bullets were whizzing past his face, grenades making small craters in the grass around him and he was about to loose his second weapon.
Aaron yelled in pain and dropped the gun: his luck had finally run out and a bullet had struck him in the shoulder. Clutching the Orb tightly, he forced his screaming limbs to carry him faster.
Another bullet hit him in the back, sinking through flesh. A grenade narrowly missed him, the heat singing the skin of his leg. He stumbled onwards, gasping with pain and exhaustion.
He was bleeding heavily, the left side of his body was badly burnt and his limbs seemed to be made of lead. A bullet flew past his right ankle, scraping the skin off the bone.
He was so close now. But his right ear seemed to have been shot off; blood was spurting from the wound. Leaking down his limp arm from his shoulder, running out of a wound on his back, trailing around his blistered feet. He was so close to the trees now. He closed his eyes. And suddenly he felt a shadow cast over his back. Darkness rested on his eyelids. He opened them.
"Sir, he got in!"
"What?"
"He’s dissapeared, none of our men will go into those trees. You know what they say about what’s in there!"
"…"
"He was half dead when he got in though sir, blood everywhere. They shot him up well before he got in."
"Well, that’s something. Have messengers sent to the other side of the forest, tell them to look out for anyone they don’t recognise, have em searched. We’ve got to get that thing back!"
"Yes sir."
Aaron stumbled forward through the trees. It was so quiet in there, so cool. So relaxing…
But the Orb was still glowing in his hand and until it was safe…
Aaron caught site of a small wooden hut though the trees. He stumbled towards it and as he approached the door, a tall mudokon slowly swung it open. He spotted Aaron and ushered him through the door, stepping back into the hut. Aaron dragged his bloody body afterwards.
He felt soft wood and dry grass beneath his feet. He slipped over and landed on his knees. Slowly he turned his head up to the mudokon before him. With a rather weak grin he raised his good hand and pressed the Orb into that of the guy in front of him, who took the Orb and grabbed Aaron’s hand, "Well done my friend, you have done what no other mudokon could. You have brought our people freedom."
Aaron smiled again and then choked; he flopped to his hands and knees, hacking up blood and mucus and vomit. After several seconds he stopped and said quietly: "They used to tell me… death was… only the beginning."
He collapsed forward into the rapidly widening puddle of his own blood on the floor and never breathed again.
So ends Aarons part in things. "The Quest for the Orb" will continue in part 3: The Naturalist.
Last edited by Splat; 12-23-2004 at 01:26 PM..
: Screw up with the forums
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I typed this one up just now, hope all you like it! I think this ones quite good myself at least. I probably won't be able to write anything else for the next 2 weeks with exams and a steadily growing mountain of coursework (and if I do you must all be very nasty and tell me to stop wasting my time and go and revise!) Enjoy!
Go splat! 
I've just finished my exams this morning! Still, as long as I'm on my holidays I don't mind 
