Warriors in Arms

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Warriors in Arms

In the early sixth age, Kandarin discovers a secretive island in the sea beyond Isdafar. At first, they try to make peace... but against the genocidal, totalitarian regime that rules the island all that their peaceful attempts come to is WAR. Ten years into a war that as raged across the rocky mountain range north of Isdafar an across the frigid islands that cross the Northern Ocean, there is only one way to settle the conflict. An invasion of Derelich, the enemy island, is planned, prepared, in one of the biggest and most amazing military actions in Gielinor's history. In all of the invading forces, of all the stunning stories, one group of soldiers, one of the Paratrooper divisions, EASY company, led the most stunning story of them all.

This is the story of that company, those men. Those Warriors in Arms.

COMING SOON

Confirmed information

 * There shall be ten episodes.
 * It will be based on Band of Brothers, the book by Steven Ambrose and the TV series later produced by Steven Spieldberg and Tom Hanks.
 * The project will be released after quite a while whilst Fegaxeyl finishes reading the original Band of Brothers book and re-watching the series to gain influence and inspiration.

Information subject to change

 * There may be a follow-up series.
 * There may be a large article or series of articles acting in the same way the original Band of Brothers book did to the series itself.

Previews
Suspense

...Captain Summers took one last look back in the troop hold of the gigantic airship and jumped. Instantly, his drop-balloon inflated, sagging momentarily as he dropped before evening out. Despite the fact it was a pitch-black night, the sky was illuminated from K-S blasts that crackled blue and the brilliant yet horrific firework displays of flaming airships as they crumpled and fell out of the sky. Behind Summers came a whole stream of drop-balloons, each carrying a soldier to his drop zone... or his death. Above were thousands more drop balloons, and above those still were hundreds of airships, whether they be terrific three-bodied sky-cruisers or the huge long convoys of troop transporters. The sky was so thick with objects that night that it could have filled up an ocean. And it was the same below, for countless drop-balloons were depositing their cargo on the groun before, relieved of their weight, they started to float up again. And amongst these were the nimble strafe-ships, tiny and agile airships carrying deadly machinegun arrays to tear apart the enemies on the ground below. Then, suddenly, Summers saw a blast of blue from below. Was it an exploding K-S carrying truck? An electrica malfunction on a strafe-ship? No - it was just what he feared. A K-S shell screaming through the sky. Summers prayed it would pass harmlessly by, but to his horror he saw flecks of red flying off indicating it's firedust was running out. The shell slowed, then hung in midair right in front of him. Suddenly, it exploded in a singularity of sapphire and white. If it wasn't so deadly, Summers would have hailed it as a work of art. Crackling blue fingers of maddened energy reached out from the hovering maelstrom at the centre, probing for his balloon - or worse, his face...

Courage

...Lueghald Nexon raised his bulky rifle and fired. A canister shot of tiny mithril flecks emptied themselves from the rifle's barrel and flew through the air. A Derelichan soldier running along the road to a Powerstaff recieved the canister shot full in the side of the head. Puncturing his helmet, the shots continued straight into the soldier's scalp. The armoured body fell immediately. Nexon turned and laughed - then was pulled to the ground as a glowing arrow singed the air where his head had been the moment before. In no time at all the air was full of sparkling arrows and spears. It was like someone had taken a picture of the night sky then superimposed the stars onto the grey clouds above. "Return fire!" someone yelled. Instantly the ground was also ablaze as rifle shots ricocheted off the road or embedded themselves in the weathered cobbles. The chatter-chatter of a machinegun opene up, followed by another. Nexon carefully laid his rifle on the top of his foxhole, and fired. Beside him, Jim Toy pulled out a railgun and fired a CSR round across the road. Somewhere on the other side it exploded. Mortar fire opened up. Then, in another foxhole, someone screamed. With no time to waste, Nexon leapt out of the hole and scrambled across the dewy grass to the source of the screams. A private, his shoulder looking kind of funny. Nexon ripped the clothing off where blood was seeping across the private's neck, and immediately saw that one of the enemy's spears had blew the man's shoulderblade off until it was hanging on by a thread. "Medic!" Nexon cried. "Hold on, buddy, you'll be alright," he reassured the injured private. Suddenly a shadow fell over them - a crossbow-holding enemy. Without thinking Nexon drew his rifle on the enemy and fired. The figure went stumbling back, his chest torn apart by the power of point-black canister shot. Nexon didn't hesitate in case there were any other enemies trying to pounce on them - he stood up and fired across the road. Suddenly, an arrow smashed into his right hand. He felt an intense stinging pain, and saw to his horror his fingers dangling on by a few strands. Right then, the medic arrived. "You want I patch you...?" he started, but Nexon shook his head. Instead, heroically, he took the gun in his other hand and kept on firing...


 * Comradeship

...The world was nothing but a muffled, fuzzy thing. Disorientated, he stumbled through the wreckage. The vague outline of a tank was on his left. As he passed by, he felt heat, and could only guess the tank was burning. Ahead, to his right, a fuzzy building suddenly was replaced by sky as it crumbled from an unseen, unheard shell. He could hear a low buzzing of what he supposed was a machinegun. His hands - or what remained of them - reached out in front of him, stopping him from collapsing onto a brick wall. Something soft - plaster - rained down and mixed into his pouring blood. His arms were weak, tired - he couldn't go on. But he made himself do it. Like a zombie, he stumbled through narrow streets, tentatively climbing over whatever his feet hit. His world went from extreme-heat-haze-foggy to startlingly clear in black and white, to a vibrant, psychadelic illusion where the boxy shapes of houses became spiralling cylinders and twisted cones. Then it went fuzzy again. The ground rumbed - he lost his footing and dropped onto his smashed ribcage. For a few moments, he lay in what felt like a pillow - but he knew was a warm puddle of blood. He tried to get back up. Eventually, as muffled explosions coated him in dirt, plaster and ash, he pulled himself across the cobblestones using the waning strength in his arms. He snaked his way to a dark, narrow alleyway, where he mustered the strength to push himself up. As he did, he screamed in pain as his arms burned, but the anger and terror gave him strength, as he finally found himself upright again. Confused, he continued his mindless walk. Up ahead something caused a ripple on his sallow cheeks - a Powerstaff and it's crew were consumed by a sphere of gold. Shadowy figures danced through the watery world ahead of him. His strength was gone - he managed a few more steps then felt as if he could go no more. But up ahead he saw what he had been trying to find - his friends. Three men stood underneath a sign. With desperation he tried to call to them - "Cap... capta... capuh..." They turned. Worn out, he stumbled into their midst. "I tri... I tri... I tried..." he moaned. One of the figures move closer. The person's face grew clearer and sharper - Captain Summers. "Oh gosh... Jeez, Webber, what happened?" Summers asked, genuinely concered. "There was... there... an explo... exploshu..." Dave Webber tried to string the sentences together. But he couldn't. He tumbled over - but Summers caught him. Slowly,they sat down together. Webber was sobbing, his face streaked in blood, his body ripped into feeble shreds. Summers put his arm round him and held him. "Don't worry buddy... don't worry... it'll all be fine, okay?" The other two - Ulzozi and Doong - stood and watched. How such a peaceful, compassionate thing could occur in the middle of a deadly battle was beyond them. But as comrades, brothers, that was their moral obligation to each other. Their job wasn't killing - it was the opposite - looking after their fellow warriors...