Nations - intro
#1 of Nations
Hey folks! I thought I would try and break back into writing after years of dabbling without any real purpose. This is just an introduction scene more than anything, so don't worry about the confusion of what's going on and why- that'll all come clear as time goes on. I just thought I'd grab some attention first. -_^ Read, enjoy, and of course comment!
- * * * * * "Varil! They're coming around for another pass!" Spiritrunner's wings tucked tight as he rolled desperately through the air. Muzzle flairs flashed all around him from the ground, moments of illumination in the night that revealed the feral shouts and yelled orders between man and kin as they fought. In the air, Spiritrunner and Vale desperately weaved through the sky to occupy the helicopter . They were the only fliers in the camp, and thoroughly outmatched. It was only their agility in the air that has kept them alive so far. Varil's gryphon wings beat hard as the streak of a rocket buzzed just below his belly, leaving a streamer of white smoke and singes to his fur as he rolled the same way Spiritrunner had done a moment before. The rocket turned and spun, making for another explosive pass of its own while tracer fire danced around Spirit's scaled body. Men were leaning out of the helicopter's side panel, trying to get a bead on the half-dragon with a variety of automatic weapons. Spirit roared out and dove, his body twisting through the air with his arms and legs held along torso and tail. His whole body went into the motion as it nearly folded on itself completely. He formed a neat, falling corkscrew before his wings snapped out again and the added speed catapaulted him into a new angle. The blades of the helicopter roared over his head, the downthrust of the machine dislodging feathers and forcing him to lose altitude as he passed underneath. In the corner of his mind he saw the flash of a small explosion on the ground. The rocket that had been pursuing Varil finally quit its fuel and fell to earth. But not without splintering rocks and felled trees the kin were using for cover. Shouts of anger and pain still crisscrossed the forest below. In the brief respite as the helo crew changed positions, both of them wingbeat themselves as high as they could. They were panting from the effort of staying one step ahead. "Varil get the chains again! I'll keep this Kou-na bird busy!" Varil was faster than him, and his four limbs could more easily carry the weight they had tried to throw into the helo's propellers. Second time lucky he hoped. Nodding, the gryphon's birdlike wings tucked in and his beak aimed earthward. Spirit winged in the opposite direction, summoning what breath he had and expelling it into a feral roar as he charged the front of the helicopter. It was an old design, similar to the apache but longer to allow for passengers, sacrificing the nose gun (And accompanying ammunition) to lower weight. The half-dragon was barreling straight towards the thick-glassed canopy. He was close enough to see the determined grimace of the pilot, and the twisting head of his co-pilot as the figure searched for their second target. Light from the pilot's panels revealed the sudden upturn of his mouth, which made Spirit suddenly backwing into a shocked hover. The rocket pods had autoloaded, and a full salvo burst in a cloud of smoke and fire from six tubes arrayed on either side of the bird. The pilot seemed tired of the game. He had let out every last rocket the helo had. Black-tipped grey tubes with fin and fire weaved around eachother drunkenly. Lungs burning, Spirit pumped his wings and shot straight up then down again. His back and chest ached of overtaxed muscles. His tail flicked in spirals as he fell freely to earth. The rockets followed, snub-nosed death slow in following his course changes as they had trouble tracking his cooler, scale-covered body. A pair burst past him and turned from the overshot. In the process they collided and transformed into a flare of fire and metal that blinded spirit. His eyes shut tight, his nostrils closing to the smoke and sulphur smell as scales singed. Then he was on the other side of the small explosion. He could feel the sting of a piece of hot steel that wedged itself against his ribs. Another had grazed his belly opening a long angry red line. He thanked the maker though as the explosive heat also confused the rockets still trailing behind. One dove for the explosion and added to the conflagration. A second was knocked wild by the concussion and fell spinning uselessly to the ground where another burst of fire lit the trees from below. Spirit himself tumbled in a loose-winged summersault. In his daze he heard someone call his name. Wings snapped open backwards to his motion, and instincts set him into a roll to regain control of his flight while the fog of pain and ear-ringing faded. Something hit his back. Hard. He folded around the curve of the explosion's force just as the final rocket slid past his side and outstretched arm. Varil fell smoking past Spirit, drops of blood left to hover in the air to mark his trail. The world froze around the sight of a single wingfeather- Varil's pride in beauty- floated past and burned. The gryphon had seen Spirit's predicament and made himself into a shield of sinew and bone. Now what was left broke on the trees and ground beneath. The sight turned to a red haze, as if his eyes had swallowed the light of the burnt feather until it was his own. Wheeling, adrenaline-fed muscled pumped and stretched as he rose straight at the helicopter. It had turned, the passengers leaning their guns to the forest floor in a cadence of white flashes. The co-pilot must have seen him for something was shouted, and those firing their guns turned their muzzles out and tracer fire once again danced around Spirit's form. They panicked in his reckless fury. Bullets blew feathers from Spirit's wings and scored grazes along limb and chest and back. But by the grace of his vengeful cry none truly hit home- and he barreled full speed into the helicopter's belly. Bodies exploded out the open door on the far side. Talons raked and tore and flashed darkly stained in crimson drops. The blades roared outside, he roared inside, and in seconds the rear compartment was empty save a panting and bloodied half-dragon. The pilot's section was separate, divided by a layer of steel he wouldn't be able to tear through. Oh how he wanted to feel their necks open in his jaws! Instead, he took up a fallen weapon in each hand. He pointed them first up- then at the back of the cockpit as his fingers pulled on the triggers. The engine whined and sputtered, then alarms and hoots sounded all around. Of the cockpit all he knew was the riddled holes in the steel and slumped bodies. He dropped the guns and dove from the now falling bird. It spun on its side, drifting away and down as the death knell of broken machinery ended with the explosion of impact and ruptured fuel tanks. A cheer rose ragged from below, and gained strength as the attackers saw the loss of advantage and began to flee. Spent, Spirit landed and searched out the body of his long time friend. What he found could hardly be recognized as such. The body lay on its back in a heap. A full third was missing revealing bone and blood and organs all smoking and torn. The wings were bent at odd angles and a rear limb was missing entirely. But the gryphon's proud head and face were oddly untouched. Sightless eyes fixed into the distance as if still soaring, unmarred save for a line of red leaking from its beaked nostril. Spirit swallowed the urge to retch, reaching out and closing his friend's eyes.