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| Photo Story: The Battle of Facing Worlds | |
| Posted By: Hawaiian Pig | Date: 4/13/09 1:23 a.m. |
The Battle of Facing WorldsThe year is twenty five fifty something, and the struggle between two warring factions has reached a pinnacle of turmoil and mayhem. High above the sky on a floating platform, known to its warring inhabitants as "Facing Worlds," a group much larger than usual has its final showdown. A fortification of modest size, the Facing Worlds platform often entertains parties of only eight, yet this group was adamant on wreaking havoc upon its surface with perhaps more than it could handle. Nonetheless, this stage is known for its truly intense skirmishes, and has seen many enduring battles. Tonight was no different. The game? Capture the flag. The score? 2 - 2. About an hour and twenty minutes into the match, the end was in sight... Our story begins in the Blue Base, where our hero, Hawaiian Pig has effectively infiltrated the Blue Spawn. As any good soldier, HP looks down and inspects his objective before entering.
The Blue duo of Devin and Goatrope appeared to be using unorthodox means of protecting their base, as they have managed to load up in a Warthog indoors.
Our hero was having none of that... In a flash, he drops a Power Drainer and dispatches of the two in a barrage of BR55 ownage.
With the duo dispatched, our hero grabs the objective and heads for the base entrance.
As our hero rounds the corner of the Blue Base ramp, he is certain that he is in the clear. Only a man-lift and a few feet would stand between him and certain victory. However, perhaps an omen of terrible things to come, we see a Blue Elessar scouting the thief from above.
"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY" HP screams. Delaying the escape by a few moments that prove to be critical, the rookie teammate Banshee105, stares down the wall.
The sign of a successful capture, our hero hits the lift and is propelled ever closer to victory and the end of a conflict nearing its second hour. In the background however, trouble is afoot, as the Blue team rallies together. Staring defeat and utter humiliation in the eye, these vile creatures do something extraodinary... co-ordinate.
A result of perhaps feral instincts, the abhorrent beasts of the Blue team fire off a few choice rounds and our hero is fallen.
Red soldier after Red soldier falls as they attempt to inch the flag ever closer to the capture point.
Fractions of seconds pass as each member meets their demise to at the hands of the Blue abominations.
With literally a few feet to go, our only hope lies upon the last man standing: retsamolah.
A truly brave soul, rets grabs the war-torn flag and makes for the capture point as a volatile storm of death begins to rain inward toward him.
Outside, the now organized horde can be seen quickly approaching the consecrated grounds of the Red Base; prepared to defile it with their very presence. The base is peppered with bullets, brute shot rounds, and more. Rockets are deflected and the bodies of fallen heroes can be seen along the path to victory.
And in a fleeting instant, a shot is fired and hearts sink. retsamolah is murdered and the flag stands inches away from the capture point. All appears to be lost...
But what's this?! Our hero, risen from the dead, descends upon his fallen comrade and makes for the flag in one final push.
Within his grasp, he gazes upon the sight of victory. He's saturated by it. Time stands still and he imagines a deep baritone voice beckoning... "Flag Captured. Game Over."
* ! * ...."Flag Returned"
In a cold snap back to reality, all is lost. The flag is has been returned from right underneath him and the Blue team readies a death blow.
Our hero and his teammates are stunned. Resounding exasperated groans were said to be heard deep in the hollow of the crypt that day. And in a state of shock, our hero is dealt a final blow by the wiley goatrope.
With no regard for their own kind, karmic Brute Shot rounds are fired from far behind. Betrayed, goatrope is slain by his own team.
Truly, there is no happy ending here. As with any tale of tragedy, no life is spared, and the dead souls on the battlefield warn others of what transpired here far above the sands.
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