Greetings and welcome to my GoW fanfic. Please be advised that this Fanfic is rated M for strong language, adult themes and situations, sexual humor and contact, violent acts and gore.
Although Snowblind is complete, I am in the process of doing some major editing to improve the grammar context of the story, so any feedback (preferably constructive) that you may leave will be greatly appreciated to help improve the story for future readers, and my skills as a writer.
If the rating is an issue, you can read the edited version, rated T, (this site also contains illustrations) at the following website: Epic Games Forums, Story and Characters threads
You can also read the original Snowblind, with illustrations, at the following website: Gears of War Fanon wikia
Disclaimer Please note that this is a fanfic and that I do not preside over the existing characters that are implied in this story, nor the GoW elements and it's franchise. Any detail, titles, names that may be similar to that of other fiction or fanfiction, (unless cited) is strictly coincidental.
Background Synopsis
Attempting to relocate Jacinto's remnant from Port Farrall to the island of Vectus, the Frost starts to take a toll on an array of insurgent camps surrounding Port Farrall. Several "groups" or clans of Stranded begin to clash amongst themselves over food and supplies, pockets of Locust begin to pick at Port Farrell's defenses, while amidst the chaos, a nomadic faction of mostly females, known as the "Feral," come into conflict with their new neighbors.
Just within a few weeks, deployed squads begin to discover the brutal repercussions of the clashes between the Feral and the Stranded, however, as the hostilities between the factions start to spread to the outskirts of Port Farrall, dispatched squads, investigating attacks on their outposts are being ambushed and decimated. This forces the COG to fight on several fronts while trying to protect what is left of Jacinto's citizens and their own armories.
Fate, however, gives the COG the upper hand as they manage to somewhat find allies within a neighboring Feral faction. The Feral have taken some major blows in the past year as a result of Locust attacks, losing a quarter of their clans, although, remnants of those clans were later found by dispatched squads. They were given sanctuary in exchange for assistance of their insight into the terrain and location of the Stranded insurgencies. Though the Feral seldom ally with anyone, the renegade Feral agreed in hopes that this alliance will protect what is left of their clans by destroying the remaining Locusts.
To quash the hostilities on land around Port Farall, the COG enlist the assistance from the renegade Feral to guide deployed Gears through the "badlands" of Glacier Valley since their extensive knowledge of the land is crucial to locating the insurgent camps and Locust outposts as well as avoid potential hostilities with the other Feral clans. With the Frost becoming more unforgiving, the COG must quickly relocate the rest of Jacinto's last remnant to the Vectus Naval Base, before the other factions and the harsh winter obliterate them.
During this time frame, the COG outpost north of Port Farrall, known as Fort Block, becomes a central outpost for squad placement, drafting, conscription, and supplies. It is here where all the squads gather to receive reinforcements and intel. To get ahead on the offensive, Colonel Hoffman makes the decision to send out ten squads into the mountain areas surrounding Glacier Valley, northwest of Farrall to eliminate Locust outposts, and locate the Stranded insurgents gathering in the area. With the squads mostly consisting of new recruits while the more "experienced" Gears are running thin, Hoffman decides to reform Sigma One, employing veteran Gears Corporal Damon Baird and Private Augustus Cole.
With the winter conditions becoming more problematic for the infantry, the Gears must now rely on the navigational wits of the renegade Feral. The squads, including the newly reformed Sigma One are dispatched in King Ravens to be dropped several miles outside of Fort Block. Among the members of Sigma squad are veteran Gears Augustus Cole and Damon Baird, the rookie, Sven Dunrich, Lieutenant Barker Milane, and their Feral guide, Raven McNight, a.k.a. Feral.
Along the way, they encounter almost calamity after calamity of unseen events that force the group of to rely on each other to stay alive and keep to the mission at hand. This story entails their little venture through the thick and thin of the hostile environment around them and their clashing personalities as humility and hilarity ensue.
Conflicting Factions:
Stranded are the remnants of civilians left after the COG deployed their weapon of mass destruction, an orbital laser, better known as The Hammer of Dawn Offensive, in a last ditch effort to destroy the Locust horde. Scattered throughout the land, the Stranded have adapted to their new surroundings while others formed organized groups and factions. As a result of the attack, friction between the Gears and the Stranded has been escalating, all the while the Stranded have often clashed among themselves over resources and territory, and have come under hostilities with the Feral and remnant Locusts.
The Feral are a rouge faction, made up of mostly women in response to the sad circumstances that are all too often, common with war. After so many years of exploitation, starvation, rape, and murder, a group of women with some military background formed the faction, later nicknamed as the "Feral." Little is know about the Feral since the faction typically keep to themselves, with exception to breeding "seasons." What is know is that they are extremely organized and self-sufficient, amassing in numbers by recruiting survivors of destroyed settlements and COG breeding facilities.
With their strict ethos and vigorous training, the Feral have developed techniques of guerrilla warfare that have enabled them to survive the COG, the UIR, and even the Locust on E-Day. The Feral are nomadic and do not settle in a place for too long to avoid being detected and hiding their numbers. This strategy has worked for years, however, after the attack from the Hammer of Dawn and the Lightmass offensive, it is speculated that the Feral began to run out places to hide and started their offense against pockets of Stranded, Locust, and even Gears.
Locusts are also without home and refuge after the COG flooded the Hollow when they sunk their only refuge, Jacinto. Since then, the remaining Locust forces are now divided, scattered and without contact. To survive the harsh frost, like the Stranded and Feral, they attack isolated colonies and COG outposts for food and armaments.
Snowblind
In a violent world where deceptions free
Things I can't control taking over me
Did they try to take my identity
So what the hell have they done to me
I will take your thoughts away
And I'll ignite your fear today
Well I can take you far away
With my mind.
~Cold~
Preface
The cold, thin air felt like breathing a sodden robe as a lone Gear struggled to keep a steady pace, running through a dense conifer forest like a deer being followed by a pack of hungry wolves.
He is what is left of Theta Four, sent to investigate a disturbance at an outpost located north on the border of Port Farrall. Since the incidents on the Vectus Naval Base a few weeks earlier, the outposts all around Farrall have been assaulted, struck down one at a time to test their defenses. By whom, they didn't know, until recently.
Locust attacks have been few in between, but the others were most likely staged by Stranded insurgencies that were still gathering on the outskirts of Port Farrall. With the cold climate coming down hard in the area, fuel, food, anything and everything from fresh, potable water to toilet paper was in great demand. Any storage facility within a few clicks from the COG base was a prime target, but the men of theta Four didn't anticipate an ambush.
As he ran, he could feel the collection of moister in his helmet, beading and then sweating down the side of his face and neck. He meandered the trees, kicking up snow on the ground with only a pistol still in his holster as his only means of defense. His shotgun was dropped a ways back after he tripped, falling forward down a slope, only to quickly roll back up again and not look back as the falling snow, mixed with the fading afterglow of the setting sun made visibility difficult. He wasn't just being pursued; he was being hunted.
They took out his squad strategically one at a time. His squad fired their weapons in vain before Theta realized they were already ensnared in their trap. It was apparent that someone was expecting them, but before they realized what had just happened, it was too late.
He cautiously galloped down an incline when suddenly, a shot rang out in the dense forest, whistling through the trees. He instantly sensed a sharp pain burst into the back of his thigh like a blade piercing into his flesh. As his leg buckled from underneath him, he came crashing down. Tumbling down the rest of the incline, he bumped into trees and brush along the way until he came to a stop, landing on his back. His body was shaking from the sudden adrenaline rush that had been pumping through his body. The palpitations in his heart thudded faster, which forced him to pant for more oxygen, causing his hands to tremble vigorously and his eyes dilate.
The area was instantly silent. He looked around frantically, trying to stable himself despite the pain in his leg, but he couldn't move. Suddenly, he heard the footsteps of his pursuer, walking slowly with care. A dark figure could be faintly seen, moving around the trees along the incline, and then disappeared. The Gear immediately reached for his pistol still strapped in his holster to pull it out, but the pistol wouldn't budge. The frost made the moister on the metal adhere to the leather on the holster, like glue; damn.
Slowly, the footsteps were coming closer as the sound of crushed snow under someone's boots became clearer, and the dark figure emerged from the shadows of the forest to face him. It stood there glaring at him, although he couldn't readily tell what it was; a Locust perhaps, but its demeanor suggested otherwise. It took a few steps closer to him and then carefully knelt down in front of him. Immediately, the Gear could tell it had a Lancer in hand, glaring at the metal teeth glistening in the dim light before his eyes meandered to the hooded figure, noticing the warm air seeping from the dark, cloaked figure's breathing. He was petrified the moment it spoke with perfect clarity,
"So…tell me Gear…what has Chairman Prescott done for you?" the figure asked in a low, grinding voice that could almost resemble human. He could see the warm steam coming from it as it spoke, slowly moving and seeping into the air before it dissipated. The figure then cocked its' head, and then turned to look to the side as the sound of more footsteps was closing in.
Oh, no.
Other dark figures surfaced from the shadows of the trees before coming to a standstill in place, watching for the one whom was knelt down in front of him, waiting for the next move. Looking over its' shoulder, it stood up before it roared out, revving the chainsaw mechanism on the Lancer as the phantom bellowed,
"I…have…responsibilities, to my fellow citizens…I…shall…be loyal to them…" reciting the words of the Octus Canon; founding document of the Coalition of Ordered Governments, first recited by its founders, the Allfathers.
"I…shall…remain…vigilant and unyielding, in my pursuit of the enemies of the Coalition…." the dark figure resumed reciting the oath, but in a more vile tone; an oath the Gear instantly recognized, but could only feel the callous tenor in the phantom's pitch spear into his ears.
"I…am…a…Gear!"
The crowd behind him shouted and ranted, raising their weapons into the air as the figure slowly peered back at his rowdy pack. The crowd abruptly simmered down, and the hooded figure slowly redirected his attention to the fallen, wounded Gear. Revving the chainsaw bayonet of his Lancer once again, the dark figure was splitting the silence with its' fierce noise. The Gear could see its teeth bristling through the smoke that was rising from the drum.
"Here is the message we will send to the enemy of the Coalition," the figure ranted, gripping the handle on the Lancer before raising it over the defenseless Gear to ram it into his helmet. The Gear let out a blood, curdling scream that echoed throughout the woods. The noise of the saw, cutting through armor, pulp and bone can be heard outside the thicket shortly after hideous shriek went mute, and then the woods went silent. As night fell over the crimson sky, snow started to fall, concealing the blood that drenched the ground beneath it.
Chapter 1: The Shit Starts Here
FORT BLOCK, Recruitment Staging Area…
…a sign frozen to the utility post hangs high, scouting over makeshift buildings and garages, looming with fuel heaters and generators as the scent of exhaust mixed with the winter aroma filled the air with bliss and promise of food, shelter, and possibly a warm shower for a group of grimy grunts just stepping out from their APC's after a long ride.
In the distance, King Ravens could be seen landing in an open, snowy yard just outside of the camp. Their clamor could be heard all across the fort as the pilots resumed their routine maintenance inspection before later deployment. Fuel trucks camped along the makeshift roads as civilian volunteers shoveled snow and ice to make way for the gravel truck to expand their parking lot.
More APC's began to pull into the fort, carrying reinforcements as they slowly drive over the grimy, icy roads. Coming to a halt, the Gears exited the vehicles to march their way to the fort mess hall where Colonel Hoffman awaited for everyone to enter the mass for debriefing.
As Gears resume finding a seat in one of the array of scattered metal chairs, the air in the vicinity took a turn as several, unfamiliar women in leather, battle fatigues entered the mess hall. The odd-looking women branded armor that resembled Locust armaments, made of Reaver hide and other, unknown leather materials that were light, but hardy. Three of them wore what appeared to be black war-paint, possibly used to help them blend in with their environment; an alternative camouflage. The other two wore similar attire but their faces were clean of cover, not that it was any less overawing. As the five, wild women, lined up behind Hoffman, the Gears could sense the Colonel was awkward within the presence of the rogue faction, only known to the COG as the Feral.
As the group stood at the front of the makeshift tented mess hall, Colonel Hoffman made his way on top of a table that he intended to use as his podium. He looked around his fellow Gears as the crisp air around them set the atmosphere of apprehension. He could see the battle scarred demeanor of his mentally exhausted men, shrouding their self-assurance. The fact that they lost their last place of refuge only made the men even more hardened to the bleak future that awaited them, but nevertheless, the fight for survival still ran deep in their blood as if they were hardwired to wage war so they could exist. Colonel Hoffman had seen these faces before, more times than he would want to admit, though he himself was an old, ornery warhorse, still bucking against the odds as the barbwire drove him closer to insolence. Like them, he still had some fight in him yet.
"Men…listen up," he began as the cold air around him hung onto him like a wet napkin,
"…it has been confirmed that we have a new menace. Despite recent events at Vectus, we are still under threat, here on the apparent home front of some other Stranded insurgents that are rumored to be located in the mountains. We also have reports of Locust outposts, scattered all over the terrain outside of Ferrall, that are going to have to be dealt with if we are to protect the remaining citizens, here. Therefore, we have orders to deploy squads out into the uncharted territory to search for, and eliminate the Locust outposts, and locate Stranded settlements."
Hoffman took a few seconds to collect his thoughts before looking over his shoulder to glance at the five women standing behind him, and then redirected his gaze back to his men.
"To accomplish this objective, we have allied ourselves with the Feral clans. They have volunteered to help guide the squads through the terrain since they have extensive knowledge of the territory. With the Frost coming down hard on our asses, we must rely on their insight if this mission is to be successful."
Hoffman took a deep breath before continuing,
"Men, we are going to deploy the Ravens to the drop point in thirteen, hundred hours. Use this time wisely. Dismissed."
Hoffman slowly stepped off of the "platform" before he turned his gaze to the five women standing before him. Reluctantly, he went ahead and decided to finally break the ice,
"Ok…which one of you can understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?"
They glared at him with startling eyes, peering through their war paint as they turned to each other and then glanced over to the smallest of them.
"That…would be me, Colonel," the Feral on the far right spoke out, stepping forward to make her presence known. She appeared somewhat apprehensive as the crowd of Gears moved around them, keeping a comfortable distance between the two groups.
Though she was a little shorter than the others, she appeared just as foreboding. Her brow hung heavily over her cold blue eyes, coming to meet Hoffman's war-hardened gaze.
"So what do I call you, Feral?" Hoffman directed his attention to her.
"My birth name is Raven McNight, Colonel."
"McNight, huh," Hoffman responded in astonishment, recalling several officers he once knew that went by that name, wondering if there was a correlation between the two, but dismissed it for the time being to address the immediate task at hand.
He sighed, "Let's just keep it simple…how bout we just call you Feral?" said Hoffman.
"Whatever will make you comfortable, Colonel."
"It has nothing to do with comfort, ma'am."
"Did you…need me for some reason?" she asked in provocation. Her blue-eyed icy stare irked Hoffman, but he had dealt with worse; this little wench is no different than that ornery bastard, Drill Sergeant I had back in basic!
"As a matter of fact, yes I do…Control," Hoffman demanded, speaking into his com.
"Yes Colonel?" a female voice replied over the com.
"Have Sergeant Fenix report to me please…ASAP!"
"Affirmative Colonel, control out."