BRICHSTOPIA: The Story of a Rebellion
Welcome to Brichstopia, the ultimate hit action/adventure series. Co-created, co-produced and co-written by blockbuster authors My good self
and The Hound Knight
, as well as many other members of the BrickForge Forums, Flickr.com
, it has undergone mass renovations and is always striving to become a greater and greater story.
I had the idea for Brichstopia in winter of 2008, sitting at my non-heated desk on a rickety old laptop over our garage smack in the middle of when I should have been doing school, and ever since it has grown into a vast world of colourful characters, a twisting, churning plot, gripping action and intense suspense as well as just the right amount of violence to give the story a red tinge.
I recommend it for ages 10 and beyond, because, if I may say so myself, it is the ultimate story of kinship, courage, foolhardiness, romance, action and even a bit of mystery.
Prepare to immerse yourself in simply the greatest war story of all time. (In my humble opinion.) Click here to view the whole series, as well as many other tales by me and other authors.
These stories chronicle the adventures of Rebel Commando Jaak Onidor, and his many friends (including such infamous names as Jon Barrett, Brégan Hundersen, Geko The Silent, Annie Kroftt, Bella Mia, Xander Ferdinaand, Caine Dexterr, Poncho LeRoy, Tahk Deir and dozens of others) in the time of The Greate War for Brichstopia's Freedom.
Enjoy the epicness, and long live Brichstopia!Introduction
The old man dipped his quill pen into the inkwell one last time, scratching out the last elaborate words onto the piece of parchment with a flowing script. He had been working on his long story for many years now, and he was just penning out the end of his introduction, which had been the source of many disappointments over the years, for he did not feel it was suitable for the tale he had slaved over for so long. Now, finally, he was finished. He looked over the page almost fondly, reading over the words that had taken so long to write.
Standing up, he stretched his back, wincing slightly. He had sat in that creaky wooden chair for so long he was quite sore. Walking across the room to a brass wast-basket, he bent over and pulled several half-rolled parchment pieces from inside. Rolling the papers into one large wad, he shuffled over by a large fireplace and picked up a large brass capsule, about three feet long. With great effort, he pushed the rolled scrolls into the circular container. Walking across the room to the door, he pulled on a leather cap, picked up a roughly carved walking stick and walked outside. The weather was sunny and balmy, with a slight seaward breeze coming from the west. Strolling through a large garden of flowers and other plant life, the man could hear the birds chirping in the trees about him, and watched as the blossoms from an apple tree blew in the wind.
He walked for quite some time in this way, passing the garden and continuing into a heavy woodland, then emerging onto a huge, stretching flatland. The bright green grass blew in the wind, which was stronger now on the elevated plateau. Small, yellow tufts of grass stretched as far as the eye could see in ever direction, and the man continued on. Coming, after a while, to a small rise in the ground, he reached a little hole in the earth. Kneeling, he took the capsule from the small bag he was carrying it in, and dropped it in. Taking a long shovel, he buried the precious container, covering it with the smooth, dark earth, and therefore hiding it from the outside world…….
Centuries later, a small group of hikers from a neighbouring country, who had trekked over miles and miles of the rough country came to the huge flatland. One of them, who had run ahead to scout out the area for the rest, came to a small rise in the ground. From little more than a few yards away, he saw the sun gleaming off a shiny, brass container. Curious, he walked over to it, picked it up and studied it for a moment before yelling for his friends to come see what he had found. Upon the group reaching the area, the man had cut the capsule open and was looking at dozens of pieces of perfectly preserved parchment paper. After quite some time of glancing over the numbers at the bottom of the pages, the man finally found #1. Holding the page up to the sunlight, he started to read the contents of the page to his friends. This is how it went….Last, and first chapter of the journal of the last Rebel, the first Commando, and one of the few sole-surviving members of the International Alliance for Freedom in Brichstopia. From I, one of the select few left-over inhabitants of Brichstopia, to you, whoever might find this capsule, greetings.
The first thing I would like to say is this: Congratulations, and the heartiest of them. You are now standing on free Brichstopian ground. You are possibly the first person to step on this ground that has not fought for this great country.
Look around you now, to the west up that tall hill. Imagine legions of bloodthirsty men and women, hungry for the bloodshed of those that once enslaved them. On the left flank, to the north, giants of men, at least seven or more feet tall, clad in fur and bones, armed with swords as well as rifles and handguns. On the right flank, to the south, robe and turban clad men, with advanced weapons and ammunition, their skin as tan as the sand they scratched their living from. And in the middle, well-armed yet thin and meager men, their faces streaked with dirt as well as sweat, ready to kill for their rightful freedom, remembering the cruelty wreaked upon them by the evil ones that are at that very moment marching to meet them.
To the east, across this great field and facing the great sea, thousands upon thousands, perhaps even millions of men in white armour with black visors, marching in unison with loud footfalls that sound like claps of thunder in the middle of a storm. On their right flank, burly men with white skin, well armed and well fed, march with less ease but with greater stamina. To the left flank, in lesser numbers, tall men clad in suits and sunglasses wielding machine guns and RPGs, adjusting their ties. As the sun sinks into the west, the two forces meet, each side about half a mile away, staying perfectly still, waiting for one order……………
Years of smaller-scale battles and fights have led up to this, all for one cause….. FREEDOM.
And now, I take pen in hand to relate to you, the finders of this capsule, and therefore the people of this great country, the tale of the blessed ground you now stand on.
This is the story of us.
This is the story of you.
This is the story of BRICHSTOPIA…….Snippet from Parte the Eight'th
Jaak watched the soldiers fall, blood squirting from their bullet wounds. They were dead instantly, shot to death by an undefined (and none too friendly) gunman down the hall. Whoever it was, they meant business, and lots of it.
Jaak peered around the wall cautiously, his pistol out of its holster and in his hand within a split second. Looking around the corner, he gasped slightly at the horrible sight that met his eyes, hoping whoever was around the corner didn’t see him. However, they did.
Barrett stood in the hallway with his hands tied behind his back, and, holding the burly boxer as a human shield, a Royale Soldierre (known as Imperial Maggots among the Rebels) shoving a still-smoking .45 magnum into the side of Barrett’s head.
The Imperial maggot had noticed Jaak and heard his gasp.
“I see yeh. Slimy mine-rat… Come on out, I ain’t gonna hurt yeh..... yet.” the maggot said in a wheedling tone. Jaak hated being called a mine-rat. He stopped the rest of the group by holding up a hand. Maybe he didn’t see us….
he thought, fooling himself.
“Alright, if that’s the way it’s goin’ ta be…. If yeh don’t come out, I’ll shoot your prissy li’l friend ‘ere in the ‘ead.” the Imperial said, his tone far more serious as he cocked the magnum. Jaak knew he had no choice. Signaling the rest to follow, he stepped out into the tunnel with his pistol raised at arms-length.
“Drop the gun.” he said. “I’ll shoot.” he started to advance. The Imperial stood his ground, grinning. A gold tooth sparkled in his mouth, and a sly light shone in his eyes.
“Oh, perfect, just perfect! First I get overpowered by an Imperial Maggot, then y’all show up to save me. This just turned out absolutely peachy!” he said, his anger rising and his face beginning to turn red.
“Silence, insolent fool!” the maggot kicked Barrett hard in the back of his shin. It made little difference, the sturdy boxer hardly flinching. “You, Rebel Hog, come one more step and 'e dies!” the Imperial said. Jaak stopped. The Imperial gave an evil grin. “Drop your weapons. All of you.” he continued.
Barrett shook his head as Jaak stood, grinding his teeth in indecision. Annie held a hand over her mouth. She hated these situations, and they never seemed to end well.
“Don’t do it Jaak, just shoot the bloody maggot! Just shoot ‘im, I don’t care if I die, just kill ‘im!” Barrett yelled, shaking as his anger rose to a higher level. The Imperial chuckled mockingly, holding Barrett by the rope that bound his hands.
“Oh yes, shoot me! But be warned, if you don’t have good enough aim, you’ll hit him instead! Then it’s bye bye to the Rebel pig. Ha! Now! All of you! Drop your weapons!” he dug the magnum deeper into Barrett’s temple. Jaak was angry too at this point. Just as he was about to pull the trigger and end the situation, he stopped. He thought of how Barrett would die, and how it would be his fault. No. He couldn’t do it. As he went to drop his pistol, the Imperial stopped him. “Uh-uh-uh! Eject the clip.” he said, jiggling the barrel of the magnum toward Jaak's gun. Jaak had no choice but to obey, so he ejected the clip with a loud CLICK!
and dropped the pistol.
“Jaak, there’s still time, I can shoot him!” Caine whispered to Jaak.
“Do as he says.” Jaak whispered back. “We can’t risk Barrett’s death. Let me think…” he continued.
Caine growled, releasing the clip from his P90 and throwing it to the ground. Jaak motioned for the rest of the group to do the same.
“Now throw away your knives. And remember, if you so much as tense a muscle to throw it, I’ll pull this trigger, an’ your li’l sissy friend’s ‘ead’ll go… Bye bye.”
Barrett snarled, and Caine, with much hesitation, as well as Jaak, threw away his knife, therefore giving away the last ounce of hope they had of retaliation.
“Now, all of you, hold your hands up.”
The group obeyed. They had no choice.
“Get on your knees an' gimme the respect I deserve.”
Jaak’s mind was racing. Then, suddenly, he remembered what he had done to Geko’s boot. Within seconds, he had formulated a plan.
“No.” he said, flatly and without emotion before the rest of the group could do the Imperial's bidding.
In the quickest, most fluid movement any of the group had witnessed, Jaak stepped back and stomped hard on Geko’s right foot, activating the spring-powered sheath and caught the blade by the outside of Geko's thigh just as it flew out of the right side of the boot. Geko yelled in pain, but Jaak ignored him, throwing the knife as hard as he could at the Imperial in the same movement.
He closed his eyes, fully expecting the loud fire of the magnum and a blood splatter on his face. But all he heard was a horrible squish and a dull thud. The Imperial didn’t have time to pull the trigger. He was dead instantly, the long knife protruding from his eye socket as blood and unspecified juices squirted from the wound. Overcoming his surprise as quickly as possible, Jaak acted like a true Commando, striding over and, with a little difficulty, pulled the knife from the limp Imperial's eye socket.
“Made’ja look.” he quipped, picking up his pistol and shoving the still-loaded clip inside.
Stories are usually updated every three to four to five weeks.
Enjoy, discuss, read and feel free (nay, feel encouraged) to make a character
Also, as a final note, I could not have begun to create a series this great without the help of all my friends here on BrickForge, Flickr and dozens of other places. Thanks guys.