Post by gaplant on Oct 28, 2009 22:14:47 GMT -5
The year is UC 0079. Armed conflict between the Duchy of Zeon and the Earth Federation has escalated into all-out war involving the entire solar system, and the fate of all mankind hangs in the balance. Zeon seeks to complete its conquest of the ancestral home of humanity, Earth, and end the brutal One Year War to ensure its own survival and natural superiority. Meanwhile, the Federation seeks to push back the Duchy's advance, in the name of freedom and justice for their fallen comrades.
In the midst of this great battle, a brave hero appears in the East Asia theatre of battle. Clinging to an oath sworn in courage, he dedicates his life to defeating the Earth Federation, and ending the war. Can he succeed? What sacrifices must be made in the name of victory? Find out now, on:
COURAGEOUS ZAKU FIGHTER SHO!
The scene was one of carnage and destruction. A long, flat plain stretched on as far as the eye could see – indeed, as if it encompassed all of reality. Once, long ago, it could have been a forgiving, gentle valley full of the hopes and dreams of all manners of life. That was then; now, it knew only death.
Torrents of dark, black smoke pilfered across the plain. Clinging to them were the unmistakable, harsh scent of blood and oil mingled together. The source of the corrupted air was obvious: the ground, formerly a soft padding of short, green grass had been scourged by the charred remains of weapons of war. All around, half-bured in the smoking, singed ground were various pieces of mobile suits, planes, tanks, and human bodies still clutching their guns. It was an evil sight that, thankfully, none living would experience – for not even insects could tolerate the inhospitable conditions of the Valley of the Damned.
Above, the sun only dared to remain half visible over the horizon, as if in mourning for the dead and dying. The rivers of smoke lazily moved toward the sky at the wind's urging, as if to ferry the souls of the damned warriors into the afterlife. The gusts of wind carried with them all manners of war stories: those of hope and despair, victory and death, triumph and defeat.
Suddenly, a single red flash parted the smoke on the near side of the Valley of the Damned, revealing a single humanoid figure in the distance. A closer examination would reveal the culprit – a lone Zaku. Standing proud, arms crossed, it scanned the horizon. Its red armor signified it as a commander unit, someone of great stature – an observation supported by the bright red cape flowing behind the Zaku in place of a backpack. As the ethereal orange light of infinite dusk settled upon it, the resulting glow of light on the metallic war machine made it very much resemble a fabled avatar of battle, a knight of war – a Hero of Courage.
The pilot of the mobile suit was visible, standing on the shoulder of the Zaku. His arms were folded in a reflection of his mobile suit, just underneath the long scarf waving softly around his neck. Though the Valley of the Damned permitted none living to remain, both heroes stoically stood and did not vanish, as if both mirrored the other.
The truth was probably more amalgamous; all the man had known as long as he could remember was battle. Even in death, it was all that connected his mind, heart, and soul. This was equally true for the Zaku, eternally a weapon of war but only an empty shell without a courageous heart to guide it. That said, being able to express himself through fighting in the Zaku was more than enough to sustain his fighting spirit, and between them their combined spiritual pressure allowed his existence to persist alongside his weapon. Thus, they were more like extensions of each other.
A sea of pink lights scattered the smoke throughout the rest of the valley. The man stared down the tightly-compacted beams of Minovsky particles unflinchingly as they flew harmlessly all around him. The man grinned in a wide, maniacal smile – the salvo of beams had only been a challenge, a call for him to battle. This was a call he was more than willing to accept, for after all fighting the enemy with a courageous heart and a righteous fist was his fate.
Entering the cockpit and gazing across the battlefield, he saw his opponent. Across the fields of the Valley of the Damned, through the dissipating smoke, his entire field of vision was blocked by a sea of Federation mobile suits – innumerable GMs that stretched on to eternity.
“That's how it is, huh?”
The man cracked his knuckles, and his Zaku drew two heat hawks – one from its hip armor, and another from the head of a GM his mobile suit had been standing on triumphantly. His eyes sparked with passion, and both he and his mobile suit were engulfed in red flames. The Hero of Courage thus became the God of Destruction with a declaration of war.
“DAMARE!”
The blazing diety rushed in a headlong sprint towards another round of endless battle, and the ocean of machines resumed firing their beam salvo. Raising his weapons defiantly as the world around him howled in explosions and shrapnel, he screamed.
“ZAKU TOMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAWK!”
Second lieutenant Ando Shoji awoke with a start. Jolted into consciousness, the burning figure fizzled out in his mind, leaving only a void to accompany his thoughts.
That dream again...
The soldier of Zeon's eyes were open, but it took several long moments before he was actually able to see. Ando glanced around, taking his surroundings in. The dark ceiling extended upwards onto one point that pointed at the sky, or rather the lack of a sky. Ando regained his sense of self, and remembered – he was inside, in the officers tent of a small waystation in Cambodia. Well, tent in the general sense of the word – it was, more accurately, a sturdy modular building that was meant to be assembled and disassembled quickly and on a temporary basis. Several soft lights filtered in under a nearby door to confirm his supposition. Realizing he had awoken into a sitting position, he placed his palm against his forehead and ruffled his hair to finish waking up.
“How could I forget.”
Ando had arrived at this place after calling for a Zeon retrieval team for his Zaku. It had been rather embarrassing, an attempt to dispatch a Federation mobile suit resulted in a complete failure and very nearly destroyed his mobile suit.
It was two on one, and even then our courage wasn't enough to give us victory. The enemy is stronger than I thought...
Unexpectedly, Ando's thoughts instantly shifted back to the cause of his uneasy sleep – the recurring fantasy of endless battle. Simultaneously, he lowered his hand from his hand and discovered his entire body was covered in a cold sweat. The young lieutenant swore in frustration.
“Kuso!”
This wasn't the first time Ando had experienced this. Every time he saw the vision, it got a little clearer, and was shown in just a little more detail. Also, it didn't happen every night, and although Ando knew it had only started happening since his experience in the Battle of Lourm, something about the experience felt so natural it felt like it had always been with him. Indeed, Ando Shoji found himself reacting to it lately with fear, but also with a burning desire deep within – what troubled him the most was he couldn't decide if it was a dream or a nightmare.
Ando suddenly felt a little light-headed, and glancing down he quickly discovered that at least one particular part of his body had apparently decided it didn't care either way and just wanted more. Stifling a gasp lest anyone else in the tent awake (he assumed it to be one other person, based on only one quiet pattern of breathing in the darkness), he sighed. Resigning himself to the situation, Ando grabbed a box of tissues.
“Guess I have to take care of this...”
Several minutes later, relieved but unable to put his mind back at ease, he clumsily grasped at the large, long tan coat he had become accustomed to wearing. A quick flick of both wrists and he slipped both it and his lengthy, tattered red scarf on. Comfortable in knowing his roommate remained asleep, he grabbed the trash can by his bed and proceeded to walk outside into the howling wind.
In the midst of this great battle, a brave hero appears in the East Asia theatre of battle. Clinging to an oath sworn in courage, he dedicates his life to defeating the Earth Federation, and ending the war. Can he succeed? What sacrifices must be made in the name of victory? Find out now, on:
COURAGEOUS ZAKU FIGHTER SHO!
The scene was one of carnage and destruction. A long, flat plain stretched on as far as the eye could see – indeed, as if it encompassed all of reality. Once, long ago, it could have been a forgiving, gentle valley full of the hopes and dreams of all manners of life. That was then; now, it knew only death.
Torrents of dark, black smoke pilfered across the plain. Clinging to them were the unmistakable, harsh scent of blood and oil mingled together. The source of the corrupted air was obvious: the ground, formerly a soft padding of short, green grass had been scourged by the charred remains of weapons of war. All around, half-bured in the smoking, singed ground were various pieces of mobile suits, planes, tanks, and human bodies still clutching their guns. It was an evil sight that, thankfully, none living would experience – for not even insects could tolerate the inhospitable conditions of the Valley of the Damned.
Above, the sun only dared to remain half visible over the horizon, as if in mourning for the dead and dying. The rivers of smoke lazily moved toward the sky at the wind's urging, as if to ferry the souls of the damned warriors into the afterlife. The gusts of wind carried with them all manners of war stories: those of hope and despair, victory and death, triumph and defeat.
Suddenly, a single red flash parted the smoke on the near side of the Valley of the Damned, revealing a single humanoid figure in the distance. A closer examination would reveal the culprit – a lone Zaku. Standing proud, arms crossed, it scanned the horizon. Its red armor signified it as a commander unit, someone of great stature – an observation supported by the bright red cape flowing behind the Zaku in place of a backpack. As the ethereal orange light of infinite dusk settled upon it, the resulting glow of light on the metallic war machine made it very much resemble a fabled avatar of battle, a knight of war – a Hero of Courage.
The pilot of the mobile suit was visible, standing on the shoulder of the Zaku. His arms were folded in a reflection of his mobile suit, just underneath the long scarf waving softly around his neck. Though the Valley of the Damned permitted none living to remain, both heroes stoically stood and did not vanish, as if both mirrored the other.
The truth was probably more amalgamous; all the man had known as long as he could remember was battle. Even in death, it was all that connected his mind, heart, and soul. This was equally true for the Zaku, eternally a weapon of war but only an empty shell without a courageous heart to guide it. That said, being able to express himself through fighting in the Zaku was more than enough to sustain his fighting spirit, and between them their combined spiritual pressure allowed his existence to persist alongside his weapon. Thus, they were more like extensions of each other.
A sea of pink lights scattered the smoke throughout the rest of the valley. The man stared down the tightly-compacted beams of Minovsky particles unflinchingly as they flew harmlessly all around him. The man grinned in a wide, maniacal smile – the salvo of beams had only been a challenge, a call for him to battle. This was a call he was more than willing to accept, for after all fighting the enemy with a courageous heart and a righteous fist was his fate.
Entering the cockpit and gazing across the battlefield, he saw his opponent. Across the fields of the Valley of the Damned, through the dissipating smoke, his entire field of vision was blocked by a sea of Federation mobile suits – innumerable GMs that stretched on to eternity.
“That's how it is, huh?”
The man cracked his knuckles, and his Zaku drew two heat hawks – one from its hip armor, and another from the head of a GM his mobile suit had been standing on triumphantly. His eyes sparked with passion, and both he and his mobile suit were engulfed in red flames. The Hero of Courage thus became the God of Destruction with a declaration of war.
“DAMARE!”
The blazing diety rushed in a headlong sprint towards another round of endless battle, and the ocean of machines resumed firing their beam salvo. Raising his weapons defiantly as the world around him howled in explosions and shrapnel, he screamed.
“ZAKU TOMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAWK!”
Second lieutenant Ando Shoji awoke with a start. Jolted into consciousness, the burning figure fizzled out in his mind, leaving only a void to accompany his thoughts.
That dream again...
The soldier of Zeon's eyes were open, but it took several long moments before he was actually able to see. Ando glanced around, taking his surroundings in. The dark ceiling extended upwards onto one point that pointed at the sky, or rather the lack of a sky. Ando regained his sense of self, and remembered – he was inside, in the officers tent of a small waystation in Cambodia. Well, tent in the general sense of the word – it was, more accurately, a sturdy modular building that was meant to be assembled and disassembled quickly and on a temporary basis. Several soft lights filtered in under a nearby door to confirm his supposition. Realizing he had awoken into a sitting position, he placed his palm against his forehead and ruffled his hair to finish waking up.
“How could I forget.”
Aurem moved into action as proximity warnings flashed all over his monitor. Levering the sniper beam rifle, he pulled the trigger, a huge beam of pink light streaking towards the Zaku as its rocket propelled anti ship weapon took a clumsy course towards the GM. The sturm faust exploded into the hill to Aurems right, while the beam rifle hit home, eating straight through the shoulder of Ando's mobile suit. His backpack thrusters exploded, knocking the Zaku downwards and shoving Shoji face down a full two feet in the mud. He tried to get the Zaku to stand, but it was no use, his weapon was firmly lodged in the wet earth.
Ando had arrived at this place after calling for a Zeon retrieval team for his Zaku. It had been rather embarrassing, an attempt to dispatch a Federation mobile suit resulted in a complete failure and very nearly destroyed his mobile suit.
It was two on one, and even then our courage wasn't enough to give us victory. The enemy is stronger than I thought...
Unexpectedly, Ando's thoughts instantly shifted back to the cause of his uneasy sleep – the recurring fantasy of endless battle. Simultaneously, he lowered his hand from his hand and discovered his entire body was covered in a cold sweat. The young lieutenant swore in frustration.
“Kuso!”
This wasn't the first time Ando had experienced this. Every time he saw the vision, it got a little clearer, and was shown in just a little more detail. Also, it didn't happen every night, and although Ando knew it had only started happening since his experience in the Battle of Lourm, something about the experience felt so natural it felt like it had always been with him. Indeed, Ando Shoji found himself reacting to it lately with fear, but also with a burning desire deep within – what troubled him the most was he couldn't decide if it was a dream or a nightmare.
Ando suddenly felt a little light-headed, and glancing down he quickly discovered that at least one particular part of his body had apparently decided it didn't care either way and just wanted more. Stifling a gasp lest anyone else in the tent awake (he assumed it to be one other person, based on only one quiet pattern of breathing in the darkness), he sighed. Resigning himself to the situation, Ando grabbed a box of tissues.
“Guess I have to take care of this...”
Several minutes later, relieved but unable to put his mind back at ease, he clumsily grasped at the large, long tan coat he had become accustomed to wearing. A quick flick of both wrists and he slipped both it and his lengthy, tattered red scarf on. Comfortable in knowing his roommate remained asleep, he grabbed the trash can by his bed and proceeded to walk outside into the howling wind.