Hey people, here is a long overdue monthly mission I haven't gotten around to finishing yet. I'm posting what I have so far and I will gradually add more whenever time allows. I hope the rpg group this was for starts up again, but in he meantime, enjoy...
About this creation
Narrator: War has begun. Armies mobilize. The thick smell of anger and fear is in the air. No one feels safe. This island has become a prison. Fires billow from skyscrapers as explosions rake and rip the land to shreds. The sound of gunfire and screams are never separate. He was coming. Staring down from the mountain of rubble on which he stood. He kept repeating the same thing over and over.
Mystyrious figure: Are you ready, Lakkawn? Today, you will die. Are you ready? I am going to kill you. You will regret everything you have done. Are you ready to die, Lakkawn? Lakkawn? Lakkawn! Lakk...
Narrator: Lakkawn awoke from the nightmare to the voice of his friend and assistant Phylo.
Phylo: Hey, wake up ye bonehead! We're mobilizing and you're over here takin a nap!
Narrator: Lakkawn got up and stretched, unaffected by his friend's tease. He had met Phylo when he had first joined the military. He was an exceptional pilot and an expert in weapons mechanics. Granted, he was not an ace like Manu, but he could definitely give him a run for his money. He was one of the few he truly trusted, and had helped him out of many close scrapes in the past.
Lakkawn: I apologize. Are the other pilots ready?
Phylo: They are. And the machines are fueled, loaded, and ready for takeoff!
Lakkawn: Good! Let's not waste time then! We only have an hour before the General arrives at the border. His fear-tactic plan won't work without us there.
Phylo: Well this whole thing wouldn't exist without you, anyway!
Lakkawn: Don't give me so much credit! You and the rest of the team did all the dirty work.
Phylo: You better believe we did, and we did a bloody good job of it too!
Narrator: Lakkawn looked at the long row of black helicopter-like machines, flocked by mechanics and personnel. He had dubbed the vehicle as the Niazesk BT-1, after the now extinct insect Rahi, due to the buzzing noise its twin jet turbines made when in flight. It had taken months to train pilots to fly it, and many prototypes were crashed, save Phylo's, since he had mastered the machine with only two successful test flights. Only five others remained functional now. Lakkawn didn't worry. The south had almost no access to technology, and the little they did have would be no match for the north. According to Commander Rotu's plan, the south would see the might of the northern military at full force and have no choice but to concede or face death. Lakkawn only hoped that the southerners would choose wisely. Lakkawn began to walk down the line of Niazesks.
Lakkawn: Look alive, boys! Let's go show 'em what northerners are capable of!
Narrator: As a resounding cheer arose, He approached Phylo's craft and seated himself on the transport bench, since the cockpit only had room for the pilot.
Lakkawn: Execute Operation Jungle Fever! And may Mata Nui help us all!
Narrator: One by one, the Niazesks each took flight, and headed in the direction of the ground forces, and to hopefully, a peaceful resolution.
Narrator: The jungle shook and the ground trembled. A rumbling noise echoed through the entire region of Le Nambu. An army, the likes of which had never been seen before, was marching through the forest. 1000 armed matoran marched in tandem, fresh from a good night's rest and a hearty meal of local Rahi. Rotu had recruited them from Keldar, since he did not want to march his own Eldimorian troops over the Karzahni mountains. This was not an issue, since Keldar was a major military post for the north anyway. He wanted to be sure that the northern presence would intimidate, but also was well trained if the need to fight arose. This was the south's final chance. He would leave the decision to them. Either surrender and unite the island again, or be executed for treason. Just then a scout approached from the jungle ahead. He approached Rotu's hover platform, which he used for long distance travel.
Scout: Commander! The southern edge of the forest is dead ahead. They are waiting for us on the plain beyond it.
Rotu: How many are they?
Scout: Almost 500. Clustered without any sort of formation.
Rotu: Good. Tell the other officers to have their troops form ranks and spread out to the perimeter of the jungle, just like we planned.