Hi,
Are you able to write a cinematic experience about a glorious GCW battle? Are you able to exemplify a father's death to his son? If so, I NEED YOU!
For those of you that can remember, I wanted to have a Siege of Fort Praxis event. But, due to events outside of my control, it was canceled. I wanted to type it out in story-form. Unfortunately, I'm don't possess the creative 'knack' of an author. If you choose to accept this commission, you would write:
- Build up of the Siege itself
- Battle itself
- Death of Colonel Brigg Hune
- Arev's reaction when he receives the news
- (May also include a flashback to when Col. Hune was in Fort Keen)
NTX-01-B, codenamed "Praxis", was the younger sister of Fort Keen on Anaxes. However, the Mid Rim world grew tired of their Imperial overlords and persuaded the Rebels to assist in raiding the area. Colonel Brigg Hune, the Fort Commander, sent requests for assistance but High Command believed he was merely fighting "peasant farmers". In a last ditch effort, he traveled to Fort Keen, Talus, where his protege and pupil was Commander. Hune even helped Major Arev Basten acquire the position as Commander there. However, due to Rebel raids on the Fort, the Talusian Commander could not afford to give him aid. The last words he said to Hune were, "Good luck - you're gonna need it."
The time had come for the Siege of Fort Praxis. Rebels, now supplied with TB-2 tanks, moved into position and prepared to attack the now depleted garrison. They approached under the cover of darkness, bombarding the Fort. Stormtroopers and Imperial personnel fought building-to-building in Rebel-esque guerrilla tactics. But the combined strength of the determined rustics with the Rebel supplies was too much. Wounded, the Rebel commander found the old man lying on the ground by his Command Center. The Rebel commander asked him to how he should pay for the atrocities he committed, to which Hune replied, "Strike me down, and you'll be hunted to Hell and back." With that, the Rebel brandished his blaster and swiftly executed the officer.
The next morning on Talus the communique of the Siege was received. Basten was distraught and sought revenge of the Rebels whom do this.
Basically, your job is to expand on this. The due date for the completed story is March 2, 2010.
Commission will be ONE (1) TCG Loot Card (I have several good ones, a few worth 20M+) OR 10M Credits. Thanks!
Looking for an Author
Moderator:Lexx Yovel
Here it is, Arev
“Get to it, men! We need a defensive perimeter by morning, so start digging,” shouted Captain Aril Herford, as Stormtroopers and Army personnel bustled past him. It was late afternoon on Anaxes, and the sun was beginning to set in the distance, casting an orange glow over the rolling countryside. Though only a few hundred kilometers from Pols Anaxes, the capital city, Fort Praxis was thoroughly secluded, with only a few scattered farm houses nearby. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was on Dantooine, or an Outer-Rim world,” Herford thought to himself. When the he had heard the company was being assigned to Anaxes, the Defender of the Core, over three years before, Herford had rejoiced. A move out of the Colonies to an “urbanized” world like Anaxes had seemed like a godsend, until the Captain discovered exactly where on the planet they were being assigned…. “Captain?” a young lieutenant questioned, rousing Herford from his reverie. “Yes, what is it?” “Colonel Hune wishes to see you in his office, immediately.” Herford nodded in acknowledgement, straightened his ruffled and soiled tunic, and quickly made his way across the central square to the Command Center.
The building was in a state of complete disarray, with staffers and low ranking officers scurrying about every which way. The news of the rebel attack had come a week and a half before, but with the news that Command could spare no reinforcements, the base had been roused into a frenzy of activity. Herford made his way to the Colonel’s office, and was quickly waved in by Hune. “Come in, come in, Captain. I just got off the transport from Talus, and I have some bad news.” Herford felt his heart sink. Fort Keen, a small Imperial post on the Talusian Azaki Plains, and its commander, Major Arev Basten, had been Praxis’ last hope for aid. “I spoke to Major Basten, and it seems we won’t be getting any help from Talus. They’re just as stretched as we are. We’ll have to make do with what we have.” Herford heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and turned to see Major Gage, Hune’s executive officer. “That two-faced…” began Gage, but Hune cut him off: “If they could have helped they would have,” the old man said, slowly, as if searching for words. He sank back into his seat and let out a sigh. The old Colonel was past retirement age, long passed it, and it had begun to show. Herford had the strange feeling that time had run out for the man, followed by the much more disturbing thought that it had run out for all of the base’s 600 troops and personnel. After a moment, Hune spoke again, cutting painfully into the silence that had fallen over the room: “Captain, I want you to tighten the perimeter, and see that we have a decent barricade constructed by tonight. Major, coordinate with Sergeant Bex and start drawing up a battle plan. We have no assurance that the rebels will attack tomorrow, like Command indicated, so get those defenses up ASAP.” Herford and Gage sprang to attention, saluted the Colonel, and left the office, almost sprinting down the hallway. Hune relaxed, and a shadow passed over his face. His friend from the academy, General Ziering, had perished on Maridun a year before, outgunned and surrounded by Amanin warriors. He hoped Fort Praxis would not suffer a similar fate.
****
It was past midnight, but every man at the newly constructed barricade was awake, alert and waiting. Gage had ordered the men to kill the spotlights that usually illuminated the base at night, and Fort Praxis was silhouetted in the darkness by the light of Anaxes’ lone moon. Herford stood, straight and determined next to the Major, not wanting his subordinates to feel the sense of dread that had overcome his soul. “Maybe they won’t be coming,” he thought, briefly looking towards Gage. “Stay alert, Captain,” the Major responded, knowing what was on Herford’s mind. “We’re not out of th---“Without warning, an explosion rocked the compound. Several large shapes had appeared on the low hills that carpeted the countryside, as dozens of silhouetted figures advanced on the base. “T4-B tanks, they’re shelling the compound,” screamed Hune, who had joined the defensive line only a few minutes before. The base was thrown into a flurry of activity as artillery blast after artillery blast shook the improvised defenses. The shadowy figures slowly came into range of the bases’ now illuminated watchtowers, and the saw that their enemies were their neighbors, local Anaxi farmers, albeit armed and aided by rebel line troops. Herford, instinctively remembering his Academy training, took command of a small portion of the line, as Gage and Hune rushed off to other parts of the fortifications. Remembering his old instructor’s words, he yelled “When faced with a superior force…offense may carry the day! Fire! Open Fire! Over the wall, Men!” The Stormtroopers immediately complied, vaulting over the barricades and meeting the oncoming rebels face to face. The charge proved to be a mistake, however, as they were quickly driven back and overwhelmed. A stray blaster shot caught Herford in the chest, felling the officer.
With the demise of Herford’s portion of the line, the rebels quickly broke through the barricades, fanning out into the streets. Seeing the utter chaos, Hune ordered the remaining men to break formation and fight building to building. The defenders held out for what seemed like hours, until the advancing rebel tank battalion finished off the last remnants of the fortifications, and entered the base. A blast exploded near Hune, knocking him instantly unconscious.
****
It was morning, and as Hune opened his eyes, he saw that most of the smoke from the night’s battle had been dispelled, revealing the utter devastation of the base. He groaned as he tried to rollover, feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen. On the edge of his field of vision, a pair of boots stomped next to him. “Get up,” came a slow voice, quiet, but determined. Hune lifted his head and turned to face his addresser, a young human wearing the emblem of the War Phoenix. “So, the great Colonel Hune. You’ve given us quite some trouble over the years. What should we do with you? What should we do to redress all the wrong you’ve done?” The man sneered, anger spilling into his voice. “If you strike me down, they’ll hunt you. They’ll hunt you to Hell and back, you terrorist dog,” Hune whispered, unable to fully speak. The Rebel nodded, “So be it, old man.” And a single blaster shot rang out through the plains.
2 Days Later, FORT KEEN, AZAKI, TALUS
Major Arev Basten straightened at his desk as the door chime rang, jerking him out of his reverie. “Its Colonel Ketten, we’ve received a communiqué from Command that I think you’ll be interested in,” came the familiar voice of Ramd Ketten, one of the battalion’s senior officers. “Come in, “ Basten mumbled, still staring with unfocused eyes into the door frame. The other officer entered, depositing a small datapad on the Major’s desk, and then straightening. “We’ve received word that Fort Praxis has been destroyed. Somehow the rebels were able to smuggle a raiding party onto the planet, including some light artillery. No survivors.” Basten froze, stunned by the news, staring into the pad as if transfixed by the words. After a few moments, he stammed, “Thank you, Colonel, you’re…you’re dismissed.” With that, the man gave a curt, but respectful nod, spun on his heel, and left the office. Ketten didn’t care for ISB, Basten knew, but right now he was distracted. He would deal with the Army officer’s squabbles later. “So,” Basten thought, “Brig Hune is dead. The man I looked to as a father. Murdered by terrorists. Alone and unaided.” A single tear fell down his cheek, landing on the pad. He stood. “Those terrorists will pay, and they’ll pay with blood. Hune will be avenged, if I have to, I’ll hunt them to Hell and back.” A new determination swept over Basten, and he walked to his office window, proudly assessing the parade drills taking place on the main thoroughfare. Revenge could wait, for now, but he would get it, and the rebels would pay.
“Get to it, men! We need a defensive perimeter by morning, so start digging,” shouted Captain Aril Herford, as Stormtroopers and Army personnel bustled past him. It was late afternoon on Anaxes, and the sun was beginning to set in the distance, casting an orange glow over the rolling countryside. Though only a few hundred kilometers from Pols Anaxes, the capital city, Fort Praxis was thoroughly secluded, with only a few scattered farm houses nearby. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was on Dantooine, or an Outer-Rim world,” Herford thought to himself. When the he had heard the company was being assigned to Anaxes, the Defender of the Core, over three years before, Herford had rejoiced. A move out of the Colonies to an “urbanized” world like Anaxes had seemed like a godsend, until the Captain discovered exactly where on the planet they were being assigned…. “Captain?” a young lieutenant questioned, rousing Herford from his reverie. “Yes, what is it?” “Colonel Hune wishes to see you in his office, immediately.” Herford nodded in acknowledgement, straightened his ruffled and soiled tunic, and quickly made his way across the central square to the Command Center.
The building was in a state of complete disarray, with staffers and low ranking officers scurrying about every which way. The news of the rebel attack had come a week and a half before, but with the news that Command could spare no reinforcements, the base had been roused into a frenzy of activity. Herford made his way to the Colonel’s office, and was quickly waved in by Hune. “Come in, come in, Captain. I just got off the transport from Talus, and I have some bad news.” Herford felt his heart sink. Fort Keen, a small Imperial post on the Talusian Azaki Plains, and its commander, Major Arev Basten, had been Praxis’ last hope for aid. “I spoke to Major Basten, and it seems we won’t be getting any help from Talus. They’re just as stretched as we are. We’ll have to make do with what we have.” Herford heard a sharp intake of breath behind him, and turned to see Major Gage, Hune’s executive officer. “That two-faced…” began Gage, but Hune cut him off: “If they could have helped they would have,” the old man said, slowly, as if searching for words. He sank back into his seat and let out a sigh. The old Colonel was past retirement age, long passed it, and it had begun to show. Herford had the strange feeling that time had run out for the man, followed by the much more disturbing thought that it had run out for all of the base’s 600 troops and personnel. After a moment, Hune spoke again, cutting painfully into the silence that had fallen over the room: “Captain, I want you to tighten the perimeter, and see that we have a decent barricade constructed by tonight. Major, coordinate with Sergeant Bex and start drawing up a battle plan. We have no assurance that the rebels will attack tomorrow, like Command indicated, so get those defenses up ASAP.” Herford and Gage sprang to attention, saluted the Colonel, and left the office, almost sprinting down the hallway. Hune relaxed, and a shadow passed over his face. His friend from the academy, General Ziering, had perished on Maridun a year before, outgunned and surrounded by Amanin warriors. He hoped Fort Praxis would not suffer a similar fate.
****
It was past midnight, but every man at the newly constructed barricade was awake, alert and waiting. Gage had ordered the men to kill the spotlights that usually illuminated the base at night, and Fort Praxis was silhouetted in the darkness by the light of Anaxes’ lone moon. Herford stood, straight and determined next to the Major, not wanting his subordinates to feel the sense of dread that had overcome his soul. “Maybe they won’t be coming,” he thought, briefly looking towards Gage. “Stay alert, Captain,” the Major responded, knowing what was on Herford’s mind. “We’re not out of th---“Without warning, an explosion rocked the compound. Several large shapes had appeared on the low hills that carpeted the countryside, as dozens of silhouetted figures advanced on the base. “T4-B tanks, they’re shelling the compound,” screamed Hune, who had joined the defensive line only a few minutes before. The base was thrown into a flurry of activity as artillery blast after artillery blast shook the improvised defenses. The shadowy figures slowly came into range of the bases’ now illuminated watchtowers, and the saw that their enemies were their neighbors, local Anaxi farmers, albeit armed and aided by rebel line troops. Herford, instinctively remembering his Academy training, took command of a small portion of the line, as Gage and Hune rushed off to other parts of the fortifications. Remembering his old instructor’s words, he yelled “When faced with a superior force…offense may carry the day! Fire! Open Fire! Over the wall, Men!” The Stormtroopers immediately complied, vaulting over the barricades and meeting the oncoming rebels face to face. The charge proved to be a mistake, however, as they were quickly driven back and overwhelmed. A stray blaster shot caught Herford in the chest, felling the officer.
With the demise of Herford’s portion of the line, the rebels quickly broke through the barricades, fanning out into the streets. Seeing the utter chaos, Hune ordered the remaining men to break formation and fight building to building. The defenders held out for what seemed like hours, until the advancing rebel tank battalion finished off the last remnants of the fortifications, and entered the base. A blast exploded near Hune, knocking him instantly unconscious.
****
It was morning, and as Hune opened his eyes, he saw that most of the smoke from the night’s battle had been dispelled, revealing the utter devastation of the base. He groaned as he tried to rollover, feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen. On the edge of his field of vision, a pair of boots stomped next to him. “Get up,” came a slow voice, quiet, but determined. Hune lifted his head and turned to face his addresser, a young human wearing the emblem of the War Phoenix. “So, the great Colonel Hune. You’ve given us quite some trouble over the years. What should we do with you? What should we do to redress all the wrong you’ve done?” The man sneered, anger spilling into his voice. “If you strike me down, they’ll hunt you. They’ll hunt you to Hell and back, you terrorist dog,” Hune whispered, unable to fully speak. The Rebel nodded, “So be it, old man.” And a single blaster shot rang out through the plains.
2 Days Later, FORT KEEN, AZAKI, TALUS
Major Arev Basten straightened at his desk as the door chime rang, jerking him out of his reverie. “Its Colonel Ketten, we’ve received a communiqué from Command that I think you’ll be interested in,” came the familiar voice of Ramd Ketten, one of the battalion’s senior officers. “Come in, “ Basten mumbled, still staring with unfocused eyes into the door frame. The other officer entered, depositing a small datapad on the Major’s desk, and then straightening. “We’ve received word that Fort Praxis has been destroyed. Somehow the rebels were able to smuggle a raiding party onto the planet, including some light artillery. No survivors.” Basten froze, stunned by the news, staring into the pad as if transfixed by the words. After a few moments, he stammed, “Thank you, Colonel, you’re…you’re dismissed.” With that, the man gave a curt, but respectful nod, spun on his heel, and left the office. Ketten didn’t care for ISB, Basten knew, but right now he was distracted. He would deal with the Army officer’s squabbles later. “So,” Basten thought, “Brig Hune is dead. The man I looked to as a father. Murdered by terrorists. Alone and unaided.” A single tear fell down his cheek, landing on the pad. He stood. “Those terrorists will pay, and they’ll pay with blood. Hune will be avenged, if I have to, I’ll hunt them to Hell and back.” A new determination swept over Basten, and he walked to his office window, proudly assessing the parade drills taking place on the main thoroughfare. Revenge could wait, for now, but he would get it, and the rebels would pay.