This is a rewrite of a fic I was previously working on. It was a great big mess, so I decided to start over and try again. This is a OC centric story, in case some people aren't interested in such works, but it will feature the game's characters often as possible. It isn't intended to be a 100% authentic military fic either. In the style of Erin Hunter and Harry Turtledove, there are brief bios at the end of the chapter to help you gain a picture of the main cast of original characters.
Update (August 2014): This prologue, as well as Chapters One and Two, have been modified, improved, and reposted as part of a broad effort to improve the quality of the story's earlier chapters.
X A forest in the wooded mountains of eastern Lazuria, date unknown. X
The Lazurian Federation had long been considered one of the super powers of the modern world, and had been influential even five hundred years ago while it was still a monarchy. Located in the northern hemisphere, the country was generally cold all year long, and more than half its land seemed to be always covered in snow. The land was rugged and heavily forested, with dozens of mountain ranges stretching hundreds of miles across the land. In the country's far west, the land broke up into hundreds of little islands, the waters between them usually frozen. Despite this rugged terrain, a country had been founded and flourished.
Agricultural seasons were short, but the country's population of half a billion was entirely self-sustaining, partly due to a massive fishing industry. It drew its wealth and influence from the large amount of oil deposits in its frozen north, and from mineral deposits in its many mountains, as well as its position bordering a channel that connected two seas and two halves of the world together. Billions of dollars' worth of trade goods came by and stopped at its ports, bringing to the country wealth and prosperity. Ironically, this very advantage had brought the country to war several centuries ago, and most recently just a year before.
Now, the country was little more than a dead, pitiful husk of what it had been. Its cities and ports were decayed, collapsed, and abandoned, slowly being reclaimed by Nature. Its agricultural land was dead. Entire mountains had collapsed, and even after a year large swaths of forest remained in ashes. These were not the effects of war, but of Nature. Just a year ago, meteors had fallen upon the Earth and threw humanity to near extinction.
Unfortunately, even near extinction couldn't alter human character, and war had soon engulfed this part of the world, destroying much of what little Mother Nature had spared in her wrath. The fighting had been fierce at first, with men and machines pitted against one another, only to decrease into smaller clashes between men who no longer had machines to use. The war had reached its climax a few days earlier, and many of the survivors had thought—many had hoped—that it would be the end. But that was not the case. The war continued on.
It found itself confined to a small point in Lazuria, a massive mountain range 100 miles north of the coast and 150 miles west of its eastern borders. A massive military base had been built into four connected valleys. That was where one of the combatants had retreated, and that was where their enemies were heading as well.
The dense fog covering the mountains did little to inhibit the force moving through it. Large, modern tanks cruised along a decaying road, with the tank commanders standing in the cupolas to see where they were going. Other armored vehicles—APCs, Humvees, and anti-air vehicles—cruised beside or behind the tanks. And far behind them came several companies of infantrymen, their senses on the edge. There was a slight eager bound in their step, like an animal hunting for wounded prey. In fact, that was exactly what they were doing. They were hunting a wounded enemy: newly-minted traitors and life-long enemies.
Several soldiers shivered from the cold that was commonly associated with Lazuria, though some shivered for other reasons. Most of the men cast weary looks to the dark peaks around them, and several tanks pointed their cannons at clusters of trees as they passed. The woods and the mountains gave off a tense atmosphere, and more than one soldier could swear that they were being watched. Indeed, they were being watched, watched by the battlefield's native inhabitants. And like them, the inhabitants were hell-bent on revenge.
X A mountain valley in eastern Lazuria. X
In the furthest corner of the southwestern most valley sat a military command center. Tired men in red uniforms stood alertly outside, their eyes straining to see more than a few feet in front of them in this hostile environment. The rustling of the cold wind was the only sound around them.
Inside the building was a different noise; it was one of pure chaos. The situation seemed to be confined so far inside the building's communication room. Men were yelling, shouting, and shoving each other while trying to compile and gather information. Others were trying to give orders only to be challenged in return. Most of the men were military officers in red combat uniforms, but there were other officers in blue uniforms who had imposed themselves among the tangle, loudly and forcefully trying to accomplish the same tasks. In particular, one red-haired woman in blue had to be held back to stop her from strangling an officer clad in red.
Other men in blue hung near the edge of the room, unsure of their place. Among them was a calm and collected-looking man with blue hair who observed the fighting with disapproval, but it was obvious in his pose that he wasn't quite ready to interfere yet. Instead, he kept his hands firmly on the sniper rifle he was carrying. If it came to more than blows being exchanged, he would decisively interfere and bring calm to the situation so something could actually be accomplished. Tasha is just being herself, after all. She'll come around.
Outside the room, two sentries peered in nervously, unsure if they should intervene. As a thin shadow passed through them, they both snapped to attention. "Lieutenant Lin!" Both saluted the black-haired woman as she stood before them in her red uniform. Her impassive face looked right past the pair as she stalked into the communications room and walked straight into the fray.
Many of the officers clad in red were of equal rank as she was, and only a few outranked her as captains. The blue-clad officers included not only lieutenants and captains, but several majors and a colonel as well. Even the calm-faced man with a sniper rifle wore the stars of a general on his uniform. Upon seeing Lin enter, the officers stopped arguing at once.
"I wasn't aware that the officers of the Rubinelle Armed Forces were so unprofessional," she said as she looked coldly at her fellow officers in red, and then she turned to face the officers in blue. "Neither did I expect the officers of the Lazurian Armed Forces to be the same as well." Many of them bristled at what they perceived was an insult from a person of inferior rank, although they kept their silence. The officers now expressed their hostility towards each other through glares and quiet snarls.
"Anyone who refuses to cooperate contributes directly to our defeat," Lieutenant Lin continued, her words further tearing down the anger both sides had felt. "We've... lost a lot in the past few hours." Her stoic image faltered for a split second that no noticed. "But we are in a spot where we need to cooperate. The enemy is here."
"But who will lead our forces?" One of the officers in blue—a Lazurian major of tank troops—heatedly asked. "This is our land!"
"We have more men! One of us should lead! Only we can save the Rodina!" Another shouted in agreement. And again the room descended back into chaos. Lieutenant Lin watched them argue while trying to rein in her temper. The blue-haired man left his spot by the wall and approached her.
"General Gage, isn't it?" Lieutenant Lin asked. He nodded.
"What's the situation?" Lin knew that the only news that had been spread was that the enemy had found them, and not much else.
"We left a platoon of infantry as a covering force in the northern valley, but we lost all transmissions from them shortly after they began reporting a possible enemy contact. The enemy is less than ten miles from us."
"Strength?" Gage asked emotionlessly.
"Nearly a full brigade. They don't have air support, but they do have armor and artillery. I'm pretty sure that the attack on the northern valley is merely a probing maneuver; they'll try to take us out through a pincer move, but they haven't studied the terrain— it is practically impassable to armor," Lin said in reply, "but if they break through the pass in the valley east of us, we're done for," She could not have said it more bluntly.
"We have a small store of equipment here," Gage informed her," and we could use it." This was originally a fall back position from Fort Lazruria… "But there remains the issue of command. He didn't make it, correct?" There was nearly a half a minute pause where both officers stared impassively at each other.
"That's right," Lin nodded, "but both of our naval forces managed to escape together. We don't know if we'll ever be able to meet up with them again, although we did have enough time to get here. It'll work as a good defensive position as long as we cooperate." Both officers paused to look at their subordinates, who were still arguing heatedly among themselves. "If not, both the 12th Battalion and Lazuria will cease to exist tomorrow."
X A forest in the northern valley. X
I wasn't sure where the blow had come from that woke me. I wasn't even immediately sure where I was, or even who I was. I struggled weakly against the blackness threatening to drown me. My head felt heavy and the salty taste of blood filled my mouth. I tried to move, but couldn't.
"Wakey, wakey," a voice taunted. Rough hands shook my head. My eyes jerked open and I found myself staring into the cold, hard eyes of a bearded man in a heavy uniform compared to my own, which had became ragged and torn from the recent fighting. "Welcome back," the man jeered. One look at the patch on his shoulder instantly brought my mind back to reality.
I was Sergeant James Coleman of the 18th Heliborne Brigade of the Rubinelle Army. The old Rubinelle Army. And I had just been captured by the enemy and tied up. I felt my blood boil as the memories from the last few months of my life and the knowledge of who these animals were came back into my mind.
"Fuck you," I snarled as I stared into the bastard's eyes without flinching. There was no escaping to the sanctuary of unconsciousness; we were all in our enemy's hands. But I hadn't caved up to this point, and I wasn't going to now, especially to these people. They'd captured us, and they wanted to play with us. Tough luck for them.
"Pfft, big words for the man tied to the tree," the soldier remarked, prodding me with his M9 pistol. I kept glaring at him. He had a point; there was nothing we could do from our position. But I'd never folded, and I wouldn't now either.
A soldier doesn't give in. It was the first coherent thought I'd formed since regaining consciousness. The pounding in my head made it hard to form any other thoughts.
"Your mom liked being tied down while she was taking it up the ass. Hahaha!" A familiar voice taunted from somewhere I couldn't see. Whoever it was, he reminded me that I wasn't alone. I couldn't help grinning.
"Shut the fuck up!" Another soldier ordered. There was a scream, which was followed by the sound of bones being broken. I was worried for a moment, but then relaxed when the voice continued.
"Your sister liked it too! Just kept begging and begging…" It was the same voice, just slightly disoriented. There was another growl, which was accentuated by a punch from the mercenary. I laughed in approval.
"Good one, man, good one," I laughed weakly. Even in the face of absolute death while being tied to a tree, Sam was always able to crack a morbid joke. And for once it was appropriate. He tried to say something, but it all came out in a jumble of sounds. His entire face must've been broken by now. After the last three months, we all were broken to some degree.
"Both of you shut up," the lead soldier demanded. He turned back to me. "You know what? I don't like you. If it wasn't for you bastards, I could be getting wasted in a bar right now. Or getting laid. But no, we got to grab our boots and chase after you. Why'd you do it? What was going through your tiny little heads when you decided to grab the prisoners and run? It was almost over. We'd finally won!" So, that was why they'd captured us instead of killing us outright? They wanted answers? Well, tough luck, asshole.
"Orders are orders. It was the right thing to do, but you wouldn't know that, seeing as you're just an opportunist bastard," I retorted. He laughed.
"Hey, it beats the alternative." He laughed again before sinking his fist into my gut. I coughed violently and sunk down. The chains keeping me against the tree dug painfully into my wrist. I pushed myself back up though.
"If you think I'm going to beg," I said as I tried to avoid coughing, "forget it. I've done my duty. We've seen everything, and we know everything: the massacres, the war crimes, everything. You're in the wrong here." He snorted in reply.
"Like we give a damn. It was necessary. We did what we did for the better good, traitor." The soldier spit on me before walking off to another tree where another familiar-looking soldier was bound. He looked ragged under the uniform, but I could still recognize him. I felt a slight pang of worry.
"Don't let him get to you, Peter!" I called out wearily. My brother slowly looked up.
"I'll be fine, James." He was as calm and collected as he had always been. That was my younger brother all right...
"Quiet!" The soldier punctuated his order with a hard punch on the side of the head. He stared at him for a few moments, breathing heavily out his nose. "I remember you: you were that field medic, and you led that raiding party that stole all that medical supplies. A lot of our people died because of that." That was funny; they pretended to care about their comrades.
"I don't regret it either," Peter said firmly. "It went to people actually worth saving. You didn't deserve it." The soldier paced in front of him. After the fifth time, he turned and grabbed Peter's neck violently. He leaned in.
"You little shit; I should kill you right now!" He put his pistol under Peter's chin as he said it. Then he backed up and paced around for a moment longer. He looked at all his other men, who were gathered around the small clearing. "We've wasted enough time with these pricks; the rest of the brigade is going to leave us behind." He turned to another soldier. "Go grab the gasoline from the Humvee; we're going to torch these bastards." He turned to us with a savage grin.
I guess they decided we weren't worth the hassle anymore. So, this was how I was going to die... Somehow, the thought didn't cause any panic. Maybe I was just too tired to care or to find a reason to fight, or maybe I was far too used to the idea by now. I managed to raise my head. Peter didn't seem the least bit phased by the news, either. A medic keeps a cool head to the end. Sam seemed too far out of reality, or maybe he had finally found enough courage to be quiet and accept things as they are.
I'm sure the rest of our depleted unit were out there, brave to the end. Maybe some were glad they'd be reunited with their perished comrades. There were certainly many of them now, waiting for us in the afterlife.
"I don't regret anything!" I spat at the mercenary. He recoiled and growled. "I've lived a good life." And what matters is that the others will stay safe. They were literally across an ocean, and they didn't know we were here. That was fine to me, even though I'd told them I'd come back. I guess promises really are meant to broken.
The Soldier's Creed: I will protect, even if it costs my life. Even after all that happened, I could still say I was a solider...
X A military campsite in the southern valley. X
I sighed and put my hands in the face. What the fuck had happened? We were in deep shit, real deep. What were we going to do now? Life had been so much simpler to this point…well, simpler than it was now. And things had looked promising... All that effort... All that expectation... just up in smoke. And for the first time in my life I'd been optimistic. Goes to show how much THAT counted for. Hope? Pfft. He was a good guy, but he sure got that wrong.
The tent flap opened and someone stepped inside. I glanced over her as she stopped to look at me, expecting me to say something. I felt some of the stress drop off my shoulders. The world was always easier with someone to share the suffering. Misery does love its company.
"So, Sarah," I addressed my girlfriend, "how are the others? The ones who are left, anyway." Even though she hated it when I was a pessimist, she didn't comment. At least I was thinking about our fellow pilots.
"Well, Tim, they're cold, scared, restless, and they think they just helped install a dictator. No thanks to us, of course." I shrugged. We'd been the bearers of that particularly bad news. We were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Well, we all kinda did," I shrugged. I tapped the edge of my cot nervously. Should I apologize? Even now I didn't get this morality stuff.
"Yeah, but now their nerves are shot. Even Stone is having trouble rallying them," she admitted. If that hard old bastard couldn't get it done, things were really bad; the Old Man had held everyone together since things went to hell.
"They've toughened up so much, and now it's like Day One. Wonderful," I muttered. "This fucking fog just makes things worse. Who the hell is going to go up in this weather besides us?" We barely had anyone left now; nearly the whole Air Wing had been blown to hell. It was just a miracle we were still here! It's always us.
"The Lazurians brought some of their helicopters along. I saw them earlier. And I think I heard they had something stashed in this place." Sarah leaned up against the side of the tent, a hint of a frown on her face. Oh right, the blue bastards. It felt weird talking about people we'd recently spent our time trying to kill. But the whole point of the last few months of our lives had been spent forgetting our own personal problems recently, so why not let bygones be bygones? I wasn't ready to make friends with them, though.
"Let's just let them duke it out first; it is their fight," I pointed out. "Haven't we done enough fighting?"
"We have a moral obligation to fix what we caused." Counter point. That concept still was new to me, no matter how much she insisted on it.
"Is that what you want to do?"
"What do you want to do?" Like she had to ask; she always knew what I was thinking.
"Whatever it is you do," I said as I stood up and stretched. "We've been together for over twenty years now, and we've agreed to stay together until the end. We've lived together, suffered together, fought together. If so be it, we can die fighting together—even if it means an end to our ambitions." I saw her falter on that last bit. She'd planned for a lot when this war was over, and suddenly it was in full swing again. She recovered her composure quickly.
"Since when have you been one for poetry?"
"Since when have you always had a halo over your head?" I retorted. She laughed.
"I'll be completely honest: I have no idea what to do or where to go now. Usually, we've had at least a semi-clear direction and we knew what was waiting for us. But our last plan is entirely ruined now... I have no idea what's out there except for those bastards and their prick of a leader."
"I have no idea either…" I said as I rubbed my face. "That Greyfield guy is nuts. After that last stunt, he'll probably have us killed." What the hell was it about people going crazy in this world?
"Or Waylon will have us captured," she shuddered, which was a rare enough display, even for me. I couldn't blame her; that guy was nuts in his own way. And he already knew us; it was personal. Hell, everything in the goddamn world worked against us!
There was a brushing sound behind us as a soldier poked his head into the tent. His helmet was gone, replaced by a bloody bandage over his right eye. He turned his head inside the tent with a searching look on his face. I could see the relief on his face when he saw that we were still here. A lot of people had gotten the hell out of dodge after the prison break. Truthfully, I could sympathize with some of them. But why are we still here?
I glanced at Sarah and nodded, urging her on. She looked at the soldier. "We'll be along in a minute." The soldier nodded breathlessly and darted back outside. She turned to me and said, "Can we really leave them? They did help us out. Where would we be if we hadn't found them?" I knew the answer to that question wasn't good. And she was right, the soldiers in the battalion had helped us.
"It's not them that I have a problem with; it's the people in charge, whoever the hell it is now. I mean: what the fuck kind of logic is that? We're saving the people we've been killing for the past two years? Seriously, what the fuck? We could've been home celebrating right now!" I threw my arms up.
"I don't like it either, but what other options do we have?" She sighed. "We don't have to like them; we could just help our own guys." She had me right there. Choice was an illusion; Life always steered us somewhere. And this place was one of the worst yet.
"And how many of them are left?" I asked. Our guys had taken a hell of a beating defeating those people. It was all pretty damn pointless though, since they just saved their asses afterwards.
"I think about three hundred," she said as shook her head, "and nine hundred Lazurians." Outnumbered, just like always.
"Why don't we just let them get themselves killed and then step in?" I suggested. Our obligations to each other were the most important things in our lives, and they always had. If we had to go against the world for each other's sake, we would. I'd feel bad later, but I'd still do it.
"We personally witnessed what happened to their leader," she reminded me. A flashback of a defenseless old man being shot in the guts played in my mind.
Bang!
"Yeah…" I said uneasily. Damn, I guess we had contributed to that occurrence. Still, it wasn't like we'd intended for that to happen. We were victims, just as much as that Forsythe guy had been. "What obligations do we have to these people anymore? We shouldn't have any! We'd given enough of our lives to the military." Over a goddamn decade, in fact, and they still wanted to keep us.
"It still just doesn't seem right, Sarah." I shrugged. "We've been through some heavy shit in our life, but this is something entirely new. Even newer than the other thing." Outside there was an explosion, followed by screaming and orders being flung left and right, which mercifully saved us from having to reflect on it.
"Well, they're here. We need to decide now. Kill, or be killed," I muttered.
How was it that we tried to do the right thing and ended up here instead? Weren't the good guys supposed to win? Reality was a bitch.
XX Character Bios for Advance Wars: Days of Ruin XX
Private James H. Coleman
Height: 5 foot 11
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Black
Age: 22
Bio: Born and raised in southern Rubinelle, he was encouraged to enlist when he realized how much security and hope soldiers provide to the people. He is currently a rifleman in the 18th Heliborne Brigade of the Rubinelle Army.
Personality: He is normally a very warm person. He tends to swear under stress or in the presence of someone he does not respect. He looks down heavily upon the uncivilized or arrogant. He also cares deeply for his brother.
Private Peter B Coleman
Height: 5 foot 9
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Black
Age: 21
Bio: Like his older brother, he was raised in southern Rubinelle with the same influences and same resolve. He is currently a medic in the 18th Heliborne Brigade of the Rubinelle Army.
Personality: Peter is much calmer then his brother, as dictated by his role. He rarely, if ever, curses. He is often considered the smarter one. He is known to occasionally taunt those who he sees as weak or acts inappropriately. He is especially close to his older brother.
Private Samuel H Garcia
Height: 5 foot 10
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Copper
Age: 20
Bio: His past is largely unknown, mostly from the fact he never mentions it. It is known that he lived near the coast at some point. His motivations for joining are a mystery that has plagued many for years, though many believe it has some relation to his xenophobia of Lazurians.
Personality: He is carefree and very talkative, even at the most inappropriate times. He is not afraid to speak his mind, often pointing out the obvious and the stupidity of most situations. While he may not seem serious, he is skilled in the art of combat and can be an ideal and focused soldier when needed.
Sergeant Jack K Anderson
Height: 6 foot 6
Eye Color: Blue
Hair color: Brown, but quickly turning gray.
Age: 43
Bio: Once an energetic young man more than willing to fight, his role as a heavy weapons expert in the Great War changed him as much as it changed everyone else. He along with his friend Riley participated in the final battle of the war and consequently saw the defeat of Rubinelle. He since has become an instructor, sharing his valuable experience with a new generation of soldiers.
Personality: While serious in training, sometimes to an extreme, he is much more relaxed and casual to those he deems worthy. He is still energetic about his job, and often reminisces the old days. He often gets along well with and understands recruits and younger soldiers, having figured them out after years of shaping them.
Sergeant Riley A Anson
Height: 6 feet
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Black, but quickly growing gray.
Age: 42
Bio: His past is something unknown to all of the soldiers he trains; it was once stated that he had been using sniper rifles since he was 11. Like his friend Jack, he took part in the Great War, up until the final battle. Having survived, he now trains the next generation of front line soldiers.
Personality: He is famous around the installation for his apparent lack of human emotion. The only emotion he ever shows is annoyance, usually with unruly recruits. He shows extreme disapproval for incompetence; he once shot a teammate for desertion. He demands the best and nothing less from the men he trains, although on rare occasions he shows sympathy to those he sees as good soldiers.
Timothy Haskett
Height: 5 foot 11
Eye color: Hazel
Hair color: Brown
Age: 30
Bio: His past before the orphanage is known to himself alone. What is known is that his adolescent years were plagued by anti-social behavior, authority problems, truancy, and minor criminal behavior. Shortly after becoming an adult, he and his soul mate joined the Air Force. After completing his training, he has become an attack helicopter pilot, waiting for the moment when war erupts.
Personality: As noted by doctors and counselors when he was young, he still maintains a mostly anti-social personality, shunning the prospect of socializing even with fellow pilots. He exaggerates this quality, as he regardless has gotten on good terms with some people, even though he doesn't care to admit it. He tries, sometimes in vain, to retain a 'tough as nails' persona. He shows an unhealthy acceptance of violence, likely a result of his upbringing. He is very close and loyal to his soul mate, Sarah.
Sarah
Height: 5 foot 8.
Eye color: Green
Hair color: Brown with hints of blond
Age: 29
Bio: Similar to her soul mate, only she knows her past. It is common knowledge, however, that there was a horrible incident that still has side effects on her today. She was a constant victim of bullying at the orphanage, something that would shape her for life. Her younger years were plagued with many health and behavioral problems. She followed the career of an attack helicopter co-pilot. She has spent half of the last decade stationed at a base waiting for war. Her last name is unknown, as she began to use Tim's sometime after meeting him.
Personality: While much less social and cheerful then when she was a little girl, she still retains a somewhat outgoing, although rough, personality to the few people she gets along with. She is a tomboy to a fault, showing next to no feminine qualities. She can be very temperamental and violent if upset, sometimes to levels that can be very dangerous to others.
Master Sergeant Rodney 'Stone' Plate
Height: 6 feet
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: gray
Age: 48
Bio: He joined the air force during the Great War, amazing both sides with his skill in air-to-air combat. He was credited with shooting down nearly a hundred aircraft. When the war ended, and as the military struggled to rebuild itself, he passed his experience on in order to help speed up to process. For the past twenty years, he has been the flight lead of a second-in-line squadron.
Personality: He is very wise, often passing on advice of various natures to younger pilots. He will look after the lives of pilots under his command, taking whatever action necessary, even if it endangers his own life. He treats everyone with respect and calm, although this sometimes portrays him as weak.
Airwoman Kim L Hymes
Height: 5 foot 9
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Blond
Age: 18
Bio: Raised in a happy and encouraging (though sheltered) life, she received some of the best education one could receive. Graduating fairly early, she went on to become an Air Force pilot. She had recently been stationed near the coast as a pilot of a second-in-line squadron. Her exact motivation for enlisting is her grandfather, though she chooses not to elaborate on this point.
Personality: She is bright, cheery, and upbeat at every hour of the day. Should a dangerous situation arise, she can be tough, resourceful, and commanding. She is deeply devoted to her friends and worries about them often. Due to her sheltered rising, she comes off as very naïve in many cases, which sometimes causes problems.
Eddie Hodder
Height: 5 foot 7
Eye color: Brown
Hair color: Blond
Age: 17
Bio: His past is a subject of great debate among the other pilots, though these theories are often incredulous. No one knows why he enlisted. He currently serves as an A1 Sky Raider pilot in Reserve Squadron No. 241.
Personality: He is shy, recessive, and anti-social to an extreme nature. These traits placed him on the absolute bottom of the 'food chain', so to speak. He shows an unusually pacifistic nature, though he will do anything asked of him with complete obedience.