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Battles without honor and humility

Engel's picture
Submission type:

(had this story swimming in my mind for days so I found some time to put it out in raw form, I am sorry if it's still confusing to read but it's meant to provide an atmosphere  of my favorite "dungeon" in FE more than anything else) the son

“You see. No shock. No engulfment. No tearing asunder. What you feared would come like an explosion is like a whisper. What you thought was the end is the beginning.”

It was just north of Chemtown, across that strange lake, that the battle took place. In all that matters, it was a battle between life and death, good and evil. And the good guys won.

There is a small factory there, rusted, dead. But the basement of the factory has been ever expanded by hands not greedy but zealous, like miners looking for what can't be found or is long gone from this world. Still... they tried. 'Cause they were utterly insane, these miners. A dark heart of madness pumping under ground - it had to be stopped. 

They came in force, reason unimportant. They moved with typical clone unpredictability, attacking, dying, adapting or even not adapting. They knew they would prevail. 
They charged, they sniped, they rammed until the surface was clear. Then they followed underground.

Ladders, broken stairs and simple pits lead them down. And down there... the clones have met their match. Oh they tried, they stabbed, they sweated, they bled, toxic air filling with healing nanites and still they failed. Temporarily. They were clones after all, they always come back unless they are bored to death.
And again they jumped down that hole in an attempt to reclaim it in the name of what is good, and normal was always an epitome of good. They fell on the cultists, mutants, miners... the Unimportant ones, the Others, the Outcasts, Forgotten. They slashed, air producing that strange low sound as it escapes from pierced lungs, wet ripped out teeth hitting the dark hallways. The clones... they really did some damage and any enemy would surely falter and lose hope. But not these guys - they didn't care - they were hopeless - they were mad. Accidentally they have stumbled upon a Secret Madness, a new form which made them deadly and happy, deep down. The bottom of the deep underground factory started to fill with corpses and the dark asphalt was slippery. And another wave of clones was broken down. Now clones didn't retreat. They went all the way. Their backs broken, their heads pummeled... and still they had no thoughts about losing. They attacked again.

The battle was entering the last stage. Everybody knew who will win. The good guys always do. There were no qualms, no hatred, no need for this bloodshed... and still everybody committed to it.

And it was over. The madness of that little factory secluded and buried. Nobody fled, so nobody knows. And the clones don't care. It was done.

I was there... at least for the cleanup. The walls, every object, every broken bone, tool and weapon had a certain purpose in that place. Nothing was wrong. Something happened there and the carnage and confusion just fed it until it bloated and exploded.
And now it is no more.


Joe Spivey's picture

((This reads like a description of some demonic fight from Dante's Inferno. Nicely done.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Ray Hawkins's picture

((I haven't been in that dungeon, but damn I love the portrait you just painted.

I really like the way you portrait the clones and these mad miners, but it also makes a thought surface that's been nudging me for some time.
Clones are gods, at least the way we portrait them. Us roleplayers, I mean. They cannot die, many have super human strength and/or psychic abilities. But you portrait them as tools, somewhat mindless tools. I really like that.
Anyway, sorry for my rambling haha

Nice writing style and poignant story :)

Engel's picture

(( Robots are more resistant than humans, computers can analyze data much faster and clones have mutations and memory update to cheat death... all these creations are more powerful than humans - but still there is something missing to really call them superior. I think that little piece is the soul. It's a philosophical discussion I guess, but what I am really waiting for the clones to do is... something big. Something that they do on their own, and not because they are being told to. ))

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