non-canon Crimson Fields (An Eurth "War of the wurlds" Story)

[Anatea]

"No one would have believed in the first years of the twenty-first century that our wurld was being watched by intelligences greater than our own; That as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this glube about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over our wurld. Yet across the gulf of space, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this Eurth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us."

November 10, 2005 - Delamaria

For several years the country had been in full economic development, while everyday life went on normally for everyone. That day, however, apart for the late autumn cold that was about to become winter frost, the sky was cloudy, but something strange was happening. For those who looked at the sky, they would see a spiral in the clouds letting a soft light pass, while the wind blew hard… towards that spiral in the sky. Suddenly a crackle, followed by a flash that became a lightning. It crashed to the ground, followed by several more lightning bolts that kept hitting a specific spot anywhere across the country, whether in the middle of the countryside or in towns / villages. The lightnings kept hitting those spots several times, doing so for 26 times before stopping and leaving the affected places in silence. At the end of that storm, a small, and deep hole could have been found where the lightning struck repeatedly… but whoever checked their phone, TV, car, or watch… would have noticed that they were no longer working. They were completely non-functional, as if an electromagnetic pulse had destroyed every electronic devices around the point of impact of the lightnings.

 

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OOC: Welcome to this War of the Wurlds themed survival RPG (2005). This post serves as an introduction to your characters, to introduce them to the RP, and to describe their introduction in the first stage of the RPG. The RP is limited and set within the Commonwealth of Delamaria, so the starting places of your characters must be chosen among the cities belonging to the nation [This was decided to make the characters meet more easily in some places, in order to avoid extremely separate stories, moreover the place of Delamaria is perfect to recreate the same eerie atmosphere of Steven Spielberg's film.], also your characters can be Delamarians if you want. During the RP, at the end of the posting turn cycle, I will do a post master that can create advantageous or disadvantageous situations for the characters, in order to create a more survival situation and add some small difficulties along the way. Obviously godmods or unrealistic actions for your characters are prohibited. For those wishing to be part of the military, I warn that the difficulty will be higher as the goal of each army would be to engage the tripods, and being practically impossible to shoot down with conventional weapons, the probability of dying will be much higher than a civilian. About the aliens/tripods, they will be the exact same ones of the 2005 movie, but this time bacteria will not kill them, making the survival rp longer and more difficult the more it will keep going. Have fun and good luck!

 

Edited June 27 by Anatea
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[Delamaria]

Delamaria, Labrador, Pritchett House

November 10th.

The office is small but comfortable, a single desk about a metre in front of a couch, and less than that from the wall behind. It belonged to Stephenie Edwards, the Deputy Chief of Staff to the Vice President. Stephenie was in her late twenties and her job meant more than anything to her. On a TV screen the news plays “Public approval against Presidential Order”, “Cafferty’s not going to like this one bit” Stephenie says to a colleague, “Do these people even realise how much work has to be done to make their lives better? Give us a break”. “He’s off somewhere fast” the colleague mutters, “Who?” Stephenie asks, “The President, his helicopter just took off in a hurry, wasn't even on the helipad they just parked it on the lawn”. “That is odd” Stephenie replies. “Hey what’s up with the clouds?”

Suddenly another colleague, John Fourtnoy, bursts open the door, but suddenly a large cracking sound, enough to make all of them duck to the ground, followed by bursts of light through the window. The country wasn’t alien to sudden explosions, with several terrorist attacks taking place in the years prior it wouldn’t be out of the question for such an event, or what they thought was an event like this, to happen at Pritchett House.

After what seamed like a lifetime of flashes and cracking outside it suddenly stopped. “Thank god for that” Stephenie said, “They must’ve shot the bastard”. John says halfwittedly “No its… its, the sky, check the news”, Stephenie goes over to try to turn on the TV, “That’s odd it won't turn on, it was working fine a moment ago”, “Yeah the computers not working either” a colleague says, but then they are all drawn to the window by the sound of the Presidential helicopter, they can only watch in horror as it spins out of control and crashes onto the lawn. “Get down!” John says as a piece of debris smashes through the window. “Why aren’t the fire alarms on?” Asks Stephenie. “It looks like all powers out, I can't get my cell phone my watch” Replies John. “What did you want to tell us before John?” The colleague asks. “At 6 this morning something was detected in the outer atmosphere, we got a call about 7 and after further discussions we decided to take the President to Mount Konig where he would be safe, if they got there”. “Wait outer atmosphere you mean space? Like aliens did this?” Stephenie asked. “How the hell am I supposed to know? It could be aliens it could just be a comet, hell it could be the Dolch for all I know. But now we’ve got to get out of here, the Commonwealth Police should be setting up evacuation now”. At that moment a policeman runs to the door, “Everyone alright?” He asks. “Yeah just a bit shocked” Stephenie replies. “All good, all personnel Level B and higher have to evacuate to Walter Air Base, well have transit for you now”.

Stephenie and John gather their things and head out hastily, seeing the damage left from the helicopter and smoke clouds billowing from the distance. An entourage of military style cars pull up at the emergency exit and begin to take the key staff. “Go ahead Mr Fourtnoy, Ms Edwards” one of the guards says. The truck clearly wasn't designed for civilian personnel, Stephenie was squeezed in besides bureaucrats and generals, with little idea of what’s happening, but that it will change the country if not the Wurld forever, the truck began moving hastily. In the distance explosions could be heard. “Oh god it's the planes” one of the generals said. “What? Why would the planes be going down?” Stephenie asked. “Whatever this is, it created what appears to be an EMP, all electronics are fried, hell I’m surprised they can get this hunk of metal moving”. “EMP what like a nuke?” Another asks. “It's one way to attack us, but I’d reckon anyone wanting to nuke us would do it outright, we’ve still got most of Pritchett House, Landstadt, we’ve still got Congress, if someone wanted to take out the capital they could’ve with something like that, but here we are. Now we just have to find out who the hell we're up against.”

[Hinterlands]

“Hey, cabbie. See that long skinny pedal on the left?” The taxi driver looked up into the rearview mirror, a look of confusion and mild annoyance slowly spreading across his face. “Yeah, it’s the gas pedal. Wanna try using it?” The cabbie scoffed and turned his attention back to the road. Frank Sinclair leaned back and turned his attention to the pedestrians walking by. His flight back to Nowhere City was in an hour, and he’d barely gone seven blocks. If the yellow cab kept up this pace he’d be trapped in Yorkerdam for hours. Frank looked down at his clunky laptop, apparently the cutting edge model for the 2005 winter season. He was supposed to be writing a report on the market gaps in Delamaria for his employer, Morvos, but his mind was drawing a blank. He began running his fingers across the keyboard, typing lines of gibberish and culminating by lightly slapping the computer keys. Suddenly, just as he concluded, the small screen began flickering, turned blue, then pitch black. It was as if the device had taken offence to his treatment of it. “Oh, you son of a -“ Frank’s expletive was suddenly cut short, by an almighty crash.

The explosion was like no ordinance Frank had ever heard before. The thunderous noises continued, and Frank could see in the rearview mirror bolts of lightning striking the road behind the car, each impact jolting the suspension. After twenty-six thuds, the streets were silent, bar the panic of the denizens of Yorkerdam. The cabbie turned the keys over, and the taxi responded with complete silence. It was junked. “Great. I’ll get out here, keep the change.” Frank tossed a few notes into the passenger seat and got out of the car. An SUV was sitting lifeless in the middle of the street crossing ahead of him, and a group of people were gathered around a deep hole, the impact site of the bolts earlier. Quiet murmuring emanated from the crowd, and below that could be heard a strange rushing sound, almost like something was falling. Frank and several others looked up, to be greeted by a small passenger airplane, gliding on a rapid descent and clearly out of control. Frank stood there, staring in a stupor, until his trance was broken by the strange accents of the citizens beside him. “It’s gonna hit the buildin’! Run!” Frank jolted into action, sprinting down the street just as the plane collided with an office building, showering Frank and the other running people with glass and shrapnel. The only thought in Frank’s mind, other than the imperative to escape, was one simple sentence. “Guess I’m gonna have to rebook my flight.”

[Seylos]

The HMS Titan had been right off the docks in the city of Labrador in what would have been its international farewell tour. The Seylosian battleship, one of two remaining, would be finally decommissioned by mid next year, and it had been decided the two ships would go on a final goodwill tour of nations that Seylos had positive relationships with. It was a fitting send-off to ships that through their sheer presence had brought stability where they had been deployed. Of course times were changing and no matter the cultural value of these ships their fate had been decided, long after their military value had ceased. Despite the Titan's age though, she had brought forth crowds, and even an entourage of Delamarian Navy ships. This had triggered a sort of impromptu festival, that the Labradorian local government had only been too happy to hype up.

Captain Gregory Sinclair was stood leaning over the railing outside the bridge, sipping on a Delamarian whiskey that had been gifted to him by one of the captains of the Delamarian ships that had joined them in the harbor. He took some joy in the festivities going on in the port, and soon he was joined by his second officer who he glanced at before looking back out, "Mr. MacRae, I hope you're enjoying the festivities."

"Of course sir. It's the best way for Titan to go." MacRae responded, taking up a stance beside the captain.

"I heard you got offered first officer aboard the Argos. She's a new ship, it's fitting you'll be with her. 2006 will be your year," Sinclair said, raising his glass.

MacRae smiled, "She won't be the Titan, Captain."

Sinclair was about to respond when suddenly the sky grew dark, far too fast for any storm. From their view lighting cracked across Labrador, but most terrifying of all was how it all struck in the same place over and over. The lights across Titan flicked then died, though it wasn't long before the ship's emergency lighting kicked on. Sinclair watched as the more top of the line Delamarian ships completely went out. He turned quickly back to the bridge, barging in, "What the hell is going on?"

A crewman nearby came up to the captain, showing his confusion immediately, "I don't know sir. All the computer systems went out. External communications aren't working, but it looks like internal communications are still on."

Sinclair's first thought was an attack on Delamaria. He wasn't sure who could be behind it, but of course the Seylosian battleship would be obliged to protect its ally, "MacRae, get Commander Harrison up here from the docks and sound general quarters. All hands to stations!"

Before MacRae had the time to leave they saw what was coming from the sky. Dark forms began to smash into the city, though at speeds that didn't seem possible for something out of the sky. Throughout the city enormous machines rose from the dust they had scattered. Near the docks one had fallen as well, a terrifying construct rose from the destroyed building it had landed on. Its heavy body continued to rise above its three spindly legs before it came to a stop, dominating the surrounding landscape. It let out a deep roar which took the step out of every crewman who heard it, staring in awe at the machine which had emerged.

"My god… What is that?" MacRae said, staring out of the bridge's windows. The other constructs had turned their attention away from the coast, but the one landing close to the docks reared its body in the direction of the coast. Another deep growl came from the tripod before a white-hot beam erupted from the machine, carving a path of fire through a cluster of buildings near the docks. The sudden violence had sent the crowds into a panic across the boardwalks as another beam tore through the area.

"Jesus Christ," Sinclair exclaimed, "Get the guns fucking turned around! Now! Load live rounds!"

The Titan's heavy guns had been faced out to sea for a ceremonial firing, but despite the chaos of the moment, the crew obeyed the orders and ran to their stations. Even though the electronics of the old battleship were offline, she was built to function without them, and the hydraulics needed to move the Titan's massive guns were still functioning even though it needed the manual labor of the crew. Slowly the guns began to lift upwards and turn to face the approaching horror.

Sinclair watched helplessly from the bridge as the tripod's beam focused on one of the Delamarian ships nearby, heating its hull and sending out some sort of pulse at the same time. He could see the ship fracture and then explode as its munitions ignited from the heat of the beam. The tripod let across another roar before letting its beam cut across the docks again, undoubtedly killing scores of people. He nervously watched as the Titan's guns slowly rounded the midsection of the ship bringing them towards port. Suddenly a missile erupted from one of the Delamarian ships, slamming into the machine and exploding, sending the tripod staggering back for a moment. Despite the lucky missile, the tripod stood tall again and focused its attention on the offending ship, letting off a beam which made it suffer the same fate as the ship before it.

Without computers everything was being done by hand now and chaos reigned on the bridge as orders were being shouted and received both on the bridge and through the internal communications systems. Another beam came from the tripod hitting the last Delamarian ship, beginning to heat its hull up. Sinclair could see as the Titan's guns finally locked into position.

MacRae looked up after getting word from the internal phone, "Captain, they've got it in their sights."

"Fire!" Sinclair yelled without a moment's hesitation.

The battleship shuddered to starboard as all nine barrels from the three 16 inch cannons unleashed their barrage at close range. They impacted the tripod sending it reeling backwards amidst the fire of their explosion. Still it stood after the impact, but clearly dazed, and maybe even damaged as the scar of one of the 16 inch rounds was apparent on its body. It let out of series of piercing shrieks stumbling about as it seems to try to gain its balance. Still the crew of the Titan continued to reload her guns.

"Reloaded!" MacRae called out from his post.

"Fire one through three!" Sinclair yelled out. The most fore cannon fired its three barrels, its rounds slamming into the disoriented tripod. There was an enormous explosion as the hulk collapsed into the city. Still despite the Titan's fire, the tripods continued their rampage around the city seemingly ignoring their comrades' death.

"What the fuck just happened!?" MacRae said in complete confusion staring out the bridge of the Titan.

The only thing keeping Sinclair together was his training and experience. He took a step back for a moment, bewildered by what had just happened, even more aware his crew had just opened fire without even truly realizing what they had just shot at.

A clearly terrified ensign stumbled up to him, "Captain… the radio operator is telling me we've got external communications again…"

Without wasting a beat Sinclair stormed over to the radio operator's station and snatched the microphone from him. "This is Captain Sinclair of the Seylosian battleship HMS Titan to any responding Delamarian forces. We've engaged some sort of unknown machine in battle which has already destroyed three Delamarian ships. Any military force who can hear this please respond!"