Eternal Bounding Pilot

Here is my opening chapter to my project Eternal Bounding

Eternal Bounding

I: Metal and bloodlust


The Southern Metallic Fields of the Big-foots homelands’ shined in the lowering sun. These large fields surrounded the vast City of Brekvahnah-the biggest industrial city (in fact the only industrial city) in the world. The huge steaming maps of building after building, oil ridden and shabby was the world biggest manufactures of metals, weaponry and of course the latest mobiles-the big foots.
The buildings were crammed close together which had made living on the ground nearly impossible, so instead all the waste was thrown to the floor and people lived high in their buildings, with all the towers linked by bridges-simple metal ones with banisters to stop people falling. Of course there were patrol mobiles flying around, making sure that everything was ok, but these were rarely seen on the lower levels, and many people would disappear from a slight ‘accident’ near the edge of the bridges. The towers weren’t just for living, if you managed to walk up and across for around a day or so and stuck to the middle of the city and not near the armour plated walls, you would soon come to a stretch of factories; you could tell the difference by the way smoke poured out the top of the factories and not the houses-if you could call simple blocks of metal stretching upwards for miles housing. Outside however, it was a different world. The gigantic smooth plains stretched for miles on end, but the first couple of miles were overrun by scorch marks made in battle. The hard metal surface wouldn’t break, but it would scar. These plains were not man made and no-one knows how they came into existence, but no wildlife could grow there, it was metal and that was simple; these plains could be seen from miles as they were completely flat, so any attack attempt would be seen in advance.
Beyond these fields were light villages with neighbouring forests. The people in these small villages lived peacefully enough in their small houses and tranquil life styles. But every now and again they would be caught up in the cross fire of a battle, and this would destroy the village and everyone in it. Innocent families would gather their belongings and the men would put on their armour, grab their swords and spikes and go out to defend the villages. Of course they wee no match for the attackers in their mobiles or their huge armour, which stopped any attack they received, and so of course everyone was killed.
That was the simple and brutal reality of life on this world. On a normal day a not so normal event occurred. The boomer tribe from the West invaded the South. A platoon of at least a thousand strong. All were equipped in standard issue heavy armour and knights’ helmets. The Leaders had golden armour, which shined menacingly in the pale light of the sun. On their way to Brekvahna they encountered a small village of around a 150 population. They could have ignored and marched through with the villagers safely locked inside. Not so safely however, they tore the village apart, simply for being Southerners; the men ran round their flaming village, brandishing spears, and without remorse were shot down by the Boomer mobiles-the soldiers didn’t even get off their mobiles to engage in hand to hand combat. Throughout the mist of destruction, the dark clouds menacingly approached, growling in the late afternoon like a wounded animal. The fighting continued, all were dead save a few and the lush green forests burned around the small village of wooden huts. The ground was stained with the blood of the innocent The platoon marched on as if nothing had happened, the air returned to normal stench, the clouds dispersed and even the birds started chirping again, as if the world had forgotten the slaughter that had just occurred. In the midst of confusion and death, 1 soldier stood, gathering some weapons he could perhaps salvage. His boomer left to the side, the soldier stiffened, he was aware that he was not alone but he couldn’t quite place who was there. He turned his neck slightly to view his enemy. His brain registered what his eyes had seen and quickly weighed the morals over what he was going to do. He quickly span around, his sword unsheathed to stare into the eyes of a small boy. The boy was of Oriental race, but which one couldn’t be determined from the amount of dirt and blood on his face. His clothes were ripped, a short T-shirt and trousers. His jet-black hair was ruffled and untidy. He could have been no older than nine. The boy stared into the man’s eyes, as if scanning him. The soldier shifted to one side, he didn’t like this child standing in the destruction of his village and saying or doing nothing. The soldier licked his lips and decided he couldn’t kill an innocent child-this was a decision that would cost the lives of thousands of men. The soldier turned to leave. Why have you done this?’ the child spoke slowly and high-pitched, which hinted of malice not fear. The soldier whipped round like he had been slapped. ‘You do not need to know’ he replied, smiled and walked off. What happened next the solder did not quite understand, what he did realise however, was that there was a fairly long samurai sword protruding from his stomach, with blood slowly running down and dripping to the floor with a sickening splash. The soldier made a small gurgling sound and collapsed. The child withdrew his sword and cleaned it on the surrounding grass. The cold blue eyes were merciless, they showed signs of things that shouldn’t be seen by someone his age and the child turned and looked down the path the soldiers had taken. The child turned and had a final look at the remains of his village, picked up his bag and walked down the path. He didn’t look back but a single tear slithered down his face and landed on the floor. It evaporated instantly. The child’s name was unknown, but later he would be known as Gaz. Gaz the unmerciful.