And the debate rages, which is mightier. The sword, the pen, or just to be a dick, the gun? Obviously I'd rather a gun if it came down to an actual fight, but the debate is more or less meaning rather than literal. The sword or gun represent the power of a nation in just that of their military. Some would say that a Military can only get you so far. Then there is the pen, or the political means of a nation.
In my most recent poll, the gun won 2/3rds of the vote. The pen won the other third. Clearly, someone thought it would be worth voting for the under dog. The sword won itself a grand total of 0 votes.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Quick Update + Emo-ish / Not Crap
I have come to a conclusion. There is only so much hurt a person can take. After a certain point, it just becomes numbness. You just lose all sense of caring on a particular subject, as if it had never affected your life before, and never will.
It then becomes easy to move on. So yey for overwhelming amounts of annoyance making big issues all of a sudden non-issues.
Also, sorry for the lack of activity. I have found myself very busy as of late. I will try to get some more updates rolling soon.
It then becomes easy to move on. So yey for overwhelming amounts of annoyance making big issues all of a sudden non-issues.
Also, sorry for the lack of activity. I have found myself very busy as of late. I will try to get some more updates rolling soon.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
My Most Recent Poll
My most recent poll was the option between love, and money. I'm somewhat surprised what I must imagine me reader base is chose 100% love, but that's how it was.
Anyways, keep up the voting in my polls. There is a new pole to the right of this entry at the top. Go ahead and vote.
Anyways, keep up the voting in my polls. There is a new pole to the right of this entry at the top. Go ahead and vote.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Filthy Animal
I decided to randomly name this one. Because I can. I'll put a hodgepodge [you thought that word was dead] of crap in here.
Well... I'm lying somewhat. I really have nothing to talk about. Just stuff to say. An urge to communicate something, but nothing the communicate. I have this inexplicable urge to communicate with people I know, and people I don't know, my sometimes useless, non-self-supporting opinions. That's right. Non-self-supporting. If you closely read my previous entries, most of them make fun of myself to a fair extent. That's because I have a massive ego [that's a lie] that can handle that.
Truly, I just wanted to use the word hodgepodge because it annoys my subconscious that I'd use a word so antiquated and silly sounding. But anyways, I have no point to force upon your optical inputs today, so I'll give it a rest.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
Well... I'm lying somewhat. I really have nothing to talk about. Just stuff to say. An urge to communicate something, but nothing the communicate. I have this inexplicable urge to communicate with people I know, and people I don't know, my sometimes useless, non-self-supporting opinions. That's right. Non-self-supporting. If you closely read my previous entries, most of them make fun of myself to a fair extent. That's because I have a massive ego [that's a lie] that can handle that.
Truly, I just wanted to use the word hodgepodge because it annoys my subconscious that I'd use a word so antiquated and silly sounding. But anyways, I have no point to force upon your optical inputs today, so I'll give it a rest.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Drama Lllama Activate!
I have have recently started to say... Drama Llama. I don't know why, but apparently, everyone, even males (who are completely devoid of estrogen and ovaries I hope) seem to be getting their periods. All the time.Men don't admit to being into drama, but they cause it just as much as women. Women claim to hate women for the reason they cause drama, but will still cause it themselves. I cause a fair share myself.
I raise a question: Is there some scientific reason why people in my "special" and "turbulent" age group have a need to cause drama? Do we get our metaphorical rocks off on drama?
Who dates who - She has herpes!? - He has only one nut!? - What the security guard did to your mom last night - blah blah blah. Drama has many faces. Each one, in the grand scheme of life... Stupid. Sit down and think to yourself [Insert here a mention of how cold the author is and that the space bar is being a pain in the ass to hit because of it.] what of it will matter in 10 years? 10 years is a long time. Do you remember 10 years ago? I hardly do. And they are good memories. Good memories will stay longer that the bad ones.
I'm externally a pessimist, internally an optimist. Shit sucks, but there is always a silver lining so to say. Even the worst of situations has a good reason to have occurred. Now, you could say my dad died, what's good about that. Well, not much. I could play cynical and say, well your mom could find someone who is good in bed, and that's one less towards overpopulation.
That's just plain mean. But it somewhat proves my point. To anyone who just had a dad die, sorry about that. First thing into my head. Nice isn't what comes naturally to me. But there is always a bright side to everything. You broke up with someone? Now you're single and can bone anything that moves. Lost your leg? Now you can be a dick to everyone and cut every single line. Failed a test? You've no learned one way not to pass a test. Totaled your car? You'll be able to enjoy a bike ride and get some exercise.
It's not complex what I'm suggesting. I'm not even using big politician-esque words. Just let the drama roll off. If it has nothing to do with you, ignore it. Really, don't get involved in people's shit. Be mature. Your life will get somewhat more boring, I'm sure, but you'd probably live an extra 10 years due to the reduced stress levels. Kill the Drama Llama and move on. Understand that not every situation is life or death. When you pull your friend to the side to tell them a "secret" not only have you pissed off everyone else in the area, but you're now spreading the Drama Llama about, and no one really wants that.
And for people reading this, this is not only a suggestion to y'all, but it is now going to be my philosophy. At least I'll try haha.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Seven Tons Of Weed!
According to my most recent poll put up on my blog here, 75% of people would sell 7 tons of weed if they found it. 10% would use it, 10% would give it to the cops, and 5% would destroy it. I don't know the reasons behind everyone's vote, it did not give that option.
However, here you can debate what you would do were you in the same situation. I did not put up the option to sell and use, however I wanted a bit more black and white in the results than the fuzziness.
Just so everyone knows, my blog is open to anonymous responses, so you do not have to log into anything to respond.
Also, take the time to vote in my new poll! It's on the right of the body of text, second box down.
However, here you can debate what you would do were you in the same situation. I did not put up the option to sell and use, however I wanted a bit more black and white in the results than the fuzziness.
Just so everyone knows, my blog is open to anonymous responses, so you do not have to log into anything to respond.
Also, take the time to vote in my new poll! It's on the right of the body of text, second box down.
People Being Stupid & Judgmental
It's that if you don't know anything about someone before you meet them, you are more likely to get to like them. However, if you have heard stuff about them, or made assumptions about them just by what they are dressed like, you will never get to really know them.
I'm not saying that I ever judged people without giving them a chance first, but it is true. If you and no one you know knows a specific person, you will likely hang out with that person without shame of any sort, and have a really great time. Now, if you have heard rumors about a specific person, you are not likely to like them. If they are good rumors, you judge them based on whom you heard the rumors from. If they are bad rumors, you take them at their negative face value (this is so you fit in with your friends, without any problems. You will dislike a person, if your best friend dislikes them, while that other person may be someone who would become one of your best friends, would you give them a chance).
Judging by clothes is another problem people have. I know this for certain. I used to judge people on what they dressed like, then I just stopped caring. When I was younger, people who wore black were goths. Goths, were bad people. Well, I myself wear black and all things considered, I'm a good kid.
People define themselves by what they wear. Others define you based on what you wear. I think everyone should just simply dress the way the find best, and not judge others by what they wear. However, I know it's not that simple.
People will always judge people based on what they wear, and what they hear, not what they themselves learn about another person. All I can say is give other people a chance. You may find that they are not quite what you thought they would be like.
I'm not saying that I ever judged people without giving them a chance first, but it is true. If you and no one you know knows a specific person, you will likely hang out with that person without shame of any sort, and have a really great time. Now, if you have heard rumors about a specific person, you are not likely to like them. If they are good rumors, you judge them based on whom you heard the rumors from. If they are bad rumors, you take them at their negative face value (this is so you fit in with your friends, without any problems. You will dislike a person, if your best friend dislikes them, while that other person may be someone who would become one of your best friends, would you give them a chance).
Judging by clothes is another problem people have. I know this for certain. I used to judge people on what they dressed like, then I just stopped caring. When I was younger, people who wore black were goths. Goths, were bad people. Well, I myself wear black and all things considered, I'm a good kid.
People define themselves by what they wear. Others define you based on what you wear. I think everyone should just simply dress the way the find best, and not judge others by what they wear. However, I know it's not that simple.
People will always judge people based on what they wear, and what they hear, not what they themselves learn about another person. All I can say is give other people a chance. You may find that they are not quite what you thought they would be like.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Some more Warhammer fan fiction. Read my last post to get an understanding of what is going on here if you're not familiar with the lore. No action like I usually like to write in. That's in the next section. This is the foreplay for that if you would.
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Sazari was sitting in his quarters inside of the Scarred Horror. His one-hundred and six men were quartered a deck below him on the warp-capable beast. He thought about it some more. When he did the math he had far fewer than one-hundred and six men. Ten were the elite Kasrkin that had been attached to his part of the 108th armored. Sazari commanded 10 platoons. More squads than platoons but he still called them platoons. On a level it made the Colonel feel more important. Also just recently attached was the venerable Commissar Lynch.
To the Colonel Commissar Lynch was a mystery. The last commander of the 108th armored infantry had been killed in their last action. As had just short of three thousand men. The last actions on Vonthrax had made the men of the 108th veterans almost to a man. You couldn't ask for a better unit to command. When the last commander had died, rest his soul, Lynch and the Kasrkin squad had been attached to him at the same time. No unit in the 108th had ever had a Commissar, Cadians were no men to stray from their duty. None braver in the face of Chaos. Indeed none more loyal to the Emperor. Lynch hadn't had much to do. He'd actually spent more time keeping discipline in the other units on board. He couldn't understand the need for a Commissar. He did enjoy having an elite Kasrkin squad however. To him that was a pleasure.
Sazari was polishing his honored sword, passed down from commander to commander of the 108th. It didn't feel like it belonged to him, but he had always wanted it, so he treasured it like his own arm and cared for it even better. A hard knock on the door interrupted Sazari from his cleaning and thoughts. Sazari leaned from his wooden chair and tapped a green rune on the pict-slate hard wired into the wall. It fizzed for a second and it came to life with the grizzled face of Lynch staring into the camera. Another tap of the green rune and the feed cut and the door clicked loudly as the locking mechanisms to his quarters disengaged.
The Commissar entered, his black great coat trailing behind him. The Commissar removed his peaked cap and sat himself down in a chair by the small and bare table across the room from Sazari. The Colonel stared at him and waited for Lynch to say something. For a long moment all he did was stare at his hat that he had placed on the table. He slowly reached into his jacket. Sazari's mind began to race. He thought to himself why else would they put a Commissar into such a decorated unit that in its entire history had never had one nor had need for one. Command didn't trust him. He stood up placing his hand on the gilted grip of his ancient sword.
The Commissar now had his turn to stare at the Colonel. Slowly he pulled a flask out of his coat. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig and offered it to Sazari, who took a long drink from it himself, handed it back, and slouched back down into his seat. Lynch put it back into his coat and began to quietly laugh. "So is that why you think I'm hear, Colonel?" he asked lightheartedly, laughter evident in his voice.
"Honestly, Commissar, for a moment I did. I cannot fathom why a man of your order would be placed in the 108th. One can only assume." With that he grabbed the ornate sheathe for his weapon and slid it back in, placing it by his seat, but still within easy reach, should the need arise.
"No, I'm not here to watch you. Or your men even. In fact, I don't want to either. I've spent far too much time killing Imperial soldiers for insubordination that I don't think I could any more honestly," he said into his cap, rotating it so the brim now faced him with the sign of hiss office affixed above the gleaming black brim. "I was put here to die."
"To die?" Sazari stammered. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not because it sounded silly, which it honestly did, but because if he wanted to die, there were far better units to do that with. "You're going to have to explain, Lynch."
"I was getting to that," he began, adjusting uncomfortably in the metal seat finally looking up from his cap and to the Colonel. Look, they, and by they I mean the Scholum, don't want me about any more. I really fekked some missions up with the last unit I was attached to. So they put me here to finish my service out quietly. They didn't put me here because you you needed me, but rather because you didn't," he looked back down at his cap. He had become a pale drawn color now.
"Well if I'm not to have you removed you'd better tell me what it is you did," Sazari demanded, putting on his newly acquired commanding officer voice.
How Sazari said it made Lynch smile a little. "It's always entertaining to see new officers put on voices like that. Don't try to get tough-guy on me. I've seem my fair share of new officers and you're no different. It's cliche, but it's not how or what you say to your men, but rather what you do. If you're a good man they won't care how you talk." Sazari just got angered by this, but the Commissar was by far more experience with soldiering than he was so he didn't respond. They sat there in silence for a moment before Lynch began again. "Colonel, it's the matter of opinion that got me here. Or rather, misinformed leaders saying what I did was wrong. We were defending a hive, my last unit and I. Their commander, a green Captain not unlike yourself thought he was hot to trot and took on the biggest missions he could. He was wearing his men down, having them killed. These men weren't expert Cadian shock troops or well drilled Morriden men. They were conscripted boys. Nothing more. He was pushing them so hard. He ordered suicide mission after suicide mission..." The Commissar trailed off stopping in his dialogue as suddenly as he had shown up at Sazari's door.
Sazari could see how this would anger a man, but not drive him to do something drastic. He was waiting for where any reason would come for what he assumed the Commissar had done, that is execute the officer. This scared Sazari a little. He was new to his job. He was only a company commander less than a year ago and had been promoted so much to keep with the rank requirements to command a Cadian regiment. Sazari was now looking at the Commissar expectantly. Waiting for him to continue wondering why he wasn't. "Sir?" he asked cautiously.
"I shouldn't say more. Its still magenta level, Colonel. All I can say is things happened that should have, from my eyes. But well connected men, not on the ground disagree. All I can say is I had to make hard choices to save lives and accomplish a mission. That is all," he picked up his cap and placed it on his head. He looked tired. "I can say they don't trust me. They put me here half as a test to see if I'd make the same mistakes in a flawless regiment, or if I'd wisen up and acknowledge that it's not always the Commisserants duty to make decisions. Either way I'm here until I die. So we'll have to work together."
Sazari nodded and stood up. He offered his hand to the Commissar who took it and pulled himself up from the chair. "I'd like to know what happened with your last unit one day. I hope one day you'll find fit to tell it all to me. In the mean time, we both have work to do. We've been given orders."
"What are they, Colonel?" The Commissar asked, getting over himself and sitting back down in the metal chair. He pulled the flask out of his coat again offering it to Sazari who refused the flask this time.
Sazari reached into his pocket drawing a data slate. He pressed his finger into the identifier and it registered him as the real Colonel Sazari of the 108th. "Well," he said looking at the slate, "there are some rim worlds that have recently been attacked by this new race called the Tau." Although the Tau are a serious menace to the Empire, Sazari had heard very little of them. Cadians were treasured for the valor and ability to hand Chaos without becoming tainted, being born so close to the Gate.
"They're only new in terms of presence on the fringe, Colonel. The Empire has been dealing with them for a long while now. Little buggers keep "converting" loyal men of the Empire to fight on their side. They don't seem to be agents of Chaos, but woe betide the man who tries to pry into the alien's mind," the Commissar punctuated the sentence with a sign of benediction towards the Emperor. "Do you have any solid details on the mission?"
"Well, it looks like we're being deployed almost alone. A Morriden unit and a few other Cadian units as well as ourselves. It looks like everyone on this barge is going into the field. It doesn't even look like we'll be getting the full 108th armored branch to aid us. Just two companies of armor to aid us. It doesn't look like they expect much," Sazari put away one pict slate and drew another from his pocket. "The intel seems very poor. It says to expect airborne units as well as stiff air mobile resistance. Whatever that means. We're a ground unit. We don't bother with the air. I say leave that to the navy." He turned off the slate and walked to his table and started sifting threw the draws.
"Well Colonel, you don't know much about the Tau, do you?" Sazari shook his head, focused on his search. "The Tau use hover vehicles. Warriors are transported in by air and then engage in hit and run style tactics using the speed of their transports."
"Is that so?" he questioned still searching. "No matter. We'll shoot them down then," he continued, still clearly not focussing on the conversation between him and Lynch. Lynch began to speak but Sazari raised his hand. "Hush a moment, Commissar, I'm looking for something." Lynch just leaned back in his chair. He didn't like being told the obvious very much by a man a quarter his own age. Finally he found what he was looking for and held it up. "This, is very special."
"Well, I sure hope it is. Do tell, dear Colonel, what is it?" Lynch said with mocked enthusiasm.
"This, my friend, is a medallion. Obviously. But what is important is what it's said to do." He pulled on the string until the brown-gold object sat in his hand. "This was given to me by a man I knew a long time ago. Before I joined the Guard. He was lets just say an expert on aliens. Everyone knows someone like that, right? Anyways," Sazari was now talking excitedly fast. It was his turn to share with the Commissar, "this is meant to have some sort of power against the alien. I don't know what, or how, but I was told 'If you ever have to fight the alien, be sure to take this with you.'" Sazari pocked the medallion in his chest pocket and sat in the chair across from Lynch. "I've spent my entire life waiting for a chance to stop fighting the Chaos tainted and to fight the alien. I mean, its all well and dandy fighting what we know, but can't you see that the chance to fight the unknown is so much more exciting?"
"You are rather junior, Colonel. But your enthusiasm is a gift, my friend. Not many would be overjoyed with the prospect of fighting something they hardly know of." Sazari looked at him as if he had been offended.
Just as he was about to say that he meant no offense, the lights on the entire ship dimmed. The atmospher became warmer as the fans for circulation stopped spinning. The lights flicked off and a moment latter red lights came on instead of the bright white ones that usually light the warp capable ship at all hours of the day. Kalaxons started to sound loudly in three distinct sounds. "We've been attacked," Lynch said as if it didn't matter that the ship was under attack.
"Impossible, we would have felt it," Sazari argued.
"No, the artificial gravity prevents us from feeling it unless its extremely close to us. Soon, that will shut off as power is diverted to the main weapons." As if on cue, the gravity cut in half. Now it was just the spinning of the ship that held them to the deck.
"What should we do? Anything?" Sazari asked giving in to the experience of the vastly older Commissar.
"Nothing. If we're needed the gravity would reengage and the lights would turn to both white and red, so we could see better in deck combat. Even then it would be up to the ship enforcers. We have what? Knives and shock sticks?" At this, the lights came back to white and red and the gravity reengaged. "Right, so we've been boarded. But still, nothing we can do. We should sit still."
Again, as the Commissar had finished talking there was a decided shake in the hull. A green rune flickered to life on his door mounted pict slate. He got up to key it. When it flashed to life the image of the ships cargo officer, the one in charge of the guard, appeared on it next to the captain of the ship-born enforcer units. He turned to look at Lynch and says just loud enough so Lynch can hear him, "I guess we will be needed." With that he turned back to the screen, "What could I do for you two gentlmen at this hour?"
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Sazari was sitting in his quarters inside of the Scarred Horror. His one-hundred and six men were quartered a deck below him on the warp-capable beast. He thought about it some more. When he did the math he had far fewer than one-hundred and six men. Ten were the elite Kasrkin that had been attached to his part of the 108th armored. Sazari commanded 10 platoons. More squads than platoons but he still called them platoons. On a level it made the Colonel feel more important. Also just recently attached was the venerable Commissar Lynch.
To the Colonel Commissar Lynch was a mystery. The last commander of the 108th armored infantry had been killed in their last action. As had just short of three thousand men. The last actions on Vonthrax had made the men of the 108th veterans almost to a man. You couldn't ask for a better unit to command. When the last commander had died, rest his soul, Lynch and the Kasrkin squad had been attached to him at the same time. No unit in the 108th had ever had a Commissar, Cadians were no men to stray from their duty. None braver in the face of Chaos. Indeed none more loyal to the Emperor. Lynch hadn't had much to do. He'd actually spent more time keeping discipline in the other units on board. He couldn't understand the need for a Commissar. He did enjoy having an elite Kasrkin squad however. To him that was a pleasure.
Sazari was polishing his honored sword, passed down from commander to commander of the 108th. It didn't feel like it belonged to him, but he had always wanted it, so he treasured it like his own arm and cared for it even better. A hard knock on the door interrupted Sazari from his cleaning and thoughts. Sazari leaned from his wooden chair and tapped a green rune on the pict-slate hard wired into the wall. It fizzed for a second and it came to life with the grizzled face of Lynch staring into the camera. Another tap of the green rune and the feed cut and the door clicked loudly as the locking mechanisms to his quarters disengaged.
The Commissar entered, his black great coat trailing behind him. The Commissar removed his peaked cap and sat himself down in a chair by the small and bare table across the room from Sazari. The Colonel stared at him and waited for Lynch to say something. For a long moment all he did was stare at his hat that he had placed on the table. He slowly reached into his jacket. Sazari's mind began to race. He thought to himself why else would they put a Commissar into such a decorated unit that in its entire history had never had one nor had need for one. Command didn't trust him. He stood up placing his hand on the gilted grip of his ancient sword.
The Commissar now had his turn to stare at the Colonel. Slowly he pulled a flask out of his coat. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig and offered it to Sazari, who took a long drink from it himself, handed it back, and slouched back down into his seat. Lynch put it back into his coat and began to quietly laugh. "So is that why you think I'm hear, Colonel?" he asked lightheartedly, laughter evident in his voice.
"Honestly, Commissar, for a moment I did. I cannot fathom why a man of your order would be placed in the 108th. One can only assume." With that he grabbed the ornate sheathe for his weapon and slid it back in, placing it by his seat, but still within easy reach, should the need arise.
"No, I'm not here to watch you. Or your men even. In fact, I don't want to either. I've spent far too much time killing Imperial soldiers for insubordination that I don't think I could any more honestly," he said into his cap, rotating it so the brim now faced him with the sign of hiss office affixed above the gleaming black brim. "I was put here to die."
"To die?" Sazari stammered. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not because it sounded silly, which it honestly did, but because if he wanted to die, there were far better units to do that with. "You're going to have to explain, Lynch."
"I was getting to that," he began, adjusting uncomfortably in the metal seat finally looking up from his cap and to the Colonel. Look, they, and by they I mean the Scholum, don't want me about any more. I really fekked some missions up with the last unit I was attached to. So they put me here to finish my service out quietly. They didn't put me here because you you needed me, but rather because you didn't," he looked back down at his cap. He had become a pale drawn color now.
"Well if I'm not to have you removed you'd better tell me what it is you did," Sazari demanded, putting on his newly acquired commanding officer voice.
How Sazari said it made Lynch smile a little. "It's always entertaining to see new officers put on voices like that. Don't try to get tough-guy on me. I've seem my fair share of new officers and you're no different. It's cliche, but it's not how or what you say to your men, but rather what you do. If you're a good man they won't care how you talk." Sazari just got angered by this, but the Commissar was by far more experience with soldiering than he was so he didn't respond. They sat there in silence for a moment before Lynch began again. "Colonel, it's the matter of opinion that got me here. Or rather, misinformed leaders saying what I did was wrong. We were defending a hive, my last unit and I. Their commander, a green Captain not unlike yourself thought he was hot to trot and took on the biggest missions he could. He was wearing his men down, having them killed. These men weren't expert Cadian shock troops or well drilled Morriden men. They were conscripted boys. Nothing more. He was pushing them so hard. He ordered suicide mission after suicide mission..." The Commissar trailed off stopping in his dialogue as suddenly as he had shown up at Sazari's door.
Sazari could see how this would anger a man, but not drive him to do something drastic. He was waiting for where any reason would come for what he assumed the Commissar had done, that is execute the officer. This scared Sazari a little. He was new to his job. He was only a company commander less than a year ago and had been promoted so much to keep with the rank requirements to command a Cadian regiment. Sazari was now looking at the Commissar expectantly. Waiting for him to continue wondering why he wasn't. "Sir?" he asked cautiously.
"I shouldn't say more. Its still magenta level, Colonel. All I can say is things happened that should have, from my eyes. But well connected men, not on the ground disagree. All I can say is I had to make hard choices to save lives and accomplish a mission. That is all," he picked up his cap and placed it on his head. He looked tired. "I can say they don't trust me. They put me here half as a test to see if I'd make the same mistakes in a flawless regiment, or if I'd wisen up and acknowledge that it's not always the Commisserants duty to make decisions. Either way I'm here until I die. So we'll have to work together."
Sazari nodded and stood up. He offered his hand to the Commissar who took it and pulled himself up from the chair. "I'd like to know what happened with your last unit one day. I hope one day you'll find fit to tell it all to me. In the mean time, we both have work to do. We've been given orders."
"What are they, Colonel?" The Commissar asked, getting over himself and sitting back down in the metal chair. He pulled the flask out of his coat again offering it to Sazari who refused the flask this time.
Sazari reached into his pocket drawing a data slate. He pressed his finger into the identifier and it registered him as the real Colonel Sazari of the 108th. "Well," he said looking at the slate, "there are some rim worlds that have recently been attacked by this new race called the Tau." Although the Tau are a serious menace to the Empire, Sazari had heard very little of them. Cadians were treasured for the valor and ability to hand Chaos without becoming tainted, being born so close to the Gate.
"They're only new in terms of presence on the fringe, Colonel. The Empire has been dealing with them for a long while now. Little buggers keep "converting" loyal men of the Empire to fight on their side. They don't seem to be agents of Chaos, but woe betide the man who tries to pry into the alien's mind," the Commissar punctuated the sentence with a sign of benediction towards the Emperor. "Do you have any solid details on the mission?"
"Well, it looks like we're being deployed almost alone. A Morriden unit and a few other Cadian units as well as ourselves. It looks like everyone on this barge is going into the field. It doesn't even look like we'll be getting the full 108th armored branch to aid us. Just two companies of armor to aid us. It doesn't look like they expect much," Sazari put away one pict slate and drew another from his pocket. "The intel seems very poor. It says to expect airborne units as well as stiff air mobile resistance. Whatever that means. We're a ground unit. We don't bother with the air. I say leave that to the navy." He turned off the slate and walked to his table and started sifting threw the draws.
"Well Colonel, you don't know much about the Tau, do you?" Sazari shook his head, focused on his search. "The Tau use hover vehicles. Warriors are transported in by air and then engage in hit and run style tactics using the speed of their transports."
"Is that so?" he questioned still searching. "No matter. We'll shoot them down then," he continued, still clearly not focussing on the conversation between him and Lynch. Lynch began to speak but Sazari raised his hand. "Hush a moment, Commissar, I'm looking for something." Lynch just leaned back in his chair. He didn't like being told the obvious very much by a man a quarter his own age. Finally he found what he was looking for and held it up. "This, is very special."
"Well, I sure hope it is. Do tell, dear Colonel, what is it?" Lynch said with mocked enthusiasm.
"This, my friend, is a medallion. Obviously. But what is important is what it's said to do." He pulled on the string until the brown-gold object sat in his hand. "This was given to me by a man I knew a long time ago. Before I joined the Guard. He was lets just say an expert on aliens. Everyone knows someone like that, right? Anyways," Sazari was now talking excitedly fast. It was his turn to share with the Commissar, "this is meant to have some sort of power against the alien. I don't know what, or how, but I was told 'If you ever have to fight the alien, be sure to take this with you.'" Sazari pocked the medallion in his chest pocket and sat in the chair across from Lynch. "I've spent my entire life waiting for a chance to stop fighting the Chaos tainted and to fight the alien. I mean, its all well and dandy fighting what we know, but can't you see that the chance to fight the unknown is so much more exciting?"
"You are rather junior, Colonel. But your enthusiasm is a gift, my friend. Not many would be overjoyed with the prospect of fighting something they hardly know of." Sazari looked at him as if he had been offended.
Just as he was about to say that he meant no offense, the lights on the entire ship dimmed. The atmospher became warmer as the fans for circulation stopped spinning. The lights flicked off and a moment latter red lights came on instead of the bright white ones that usually light the warp capable ship at all hours of the day. Kalaxons started to sound loudly in three distinct sounds. "We've been attacked," Lynch said as if it didn't matter that the ship was under attack.
"Impossible, we would have felt it," Sazari argued.
"No, the artificial gravity prevents us from feeling it unless its extremely close to us. Soon, that will shut off as power is diverted to the main weapons." As if on cue, the gravity cut in half. Now it was just the spinning of the ship that held them to the deck.
"What should we do? Anything?" Sazari asked giving in to the experience of the vastly older Commissar.
"Nothing. If we're needed the gravity would reengage and the lights would turn to both white and red, so we could see better in deck combat. Even then it would be up to the ship enforcers. We have what? Knives and shock sticks?" At this, the lights came back to white and red and the gravity reengaged. "Right, so we've been boarded. But still, nothing we can do. We should sit still."
Again, as the Commissar had finished talking there was a decided shake in the hull. A green rune flickered to life on his door mounted pict slate. He got up to key it. When it flashed to life the image of the ships cargo officer, the one in charge of the guard, appeared on it next to the captain of the ship-born enforcer units. He turned to look at Lynch and says just loud enough so Lynch can hear him, "I guess we will be needed." With that he turned back to the screen, "What could I do for you two gentlmen at this hour?"
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Liturature
Allot of the people who know me well do not know that I enjoy writing. It's not something I keep a secret, I just don't share it. Below is something I did as a sample for a group of people who wanted to do an online collaborative.
To set the pace for those who may not know what I'm writing about at first, I'm writing about the Imperial Guard. A fictional army in the Warhammer 40k universe.
To get the pace started, here is a Guardsmen. Mere men in a universe full of genetically engineered warriors and incredible aliens. They are mere men.
Link to actual image.
----------------------------------
Lollic slammed home another clip into his freshly stamped Lasgun, 54684. He swung himself back over the lip of the trench and scanned over the sights of his Lasgun for targets. His breath misted in the chilled air. All he could see was a fog rising from the snow and the bodies of those that had fallen in the small assault. He wiped the sight aperture of his Lasgun from the frost of the morning.
He stepped down from the firing step and leaned against the wall of the trench. The morning had been an intense one. Three times the enemy had charged their trench. Nothing bigger than a company at a time, but the line was thin at this point. He looked down at the flakboad beneath his booted feet that was stained red in some places and was covered with discarded equipment. He toyed with the idea of looking for something of value down there on the trench floor but decided against it.
The sounds of an eternal war of attrition roared in the distance. The occasional snap-crack of a hot shot round sounded nearby. Through the din Lollic heard booted footsteps of another of his platoon. Khrenov, one of the heavy weapons men sat down on the firing step next to him. The entire morning had been infantry only attacks. Not even supported by artillery. His light rocket had been useless to him. His pistol hadn't been much good to him either, because men like Lollic were crack shots, and that's all they had along the line and nothing got close enough. The disappointment in the man's face was obvious.
"'Ey, mate. Got a smoke?" Khrenov asked slapping his hands together to keep the circulation going. Lollic pulled out his pack and tossed it to his friend.
"Think we'll get anything big this morning?" Lollic asked, making conversation. He knew there would be more, but he had nothing else to talk about really.
Khrenov handed the pack back to Lollic. "If the Emperor put us here to fight, mate, we'll fight today. And tomorrow..."
"And tomorrow's tomorrow." Lollic finished the other mans sentence.
"You got it." Krhenov took a long drag from the cigarette.
Lollic allowed his legs to give way and slid to the bottom of the trench, across from Khrenov. "You know, I don't talk about the war in terms of right or wrong," Krenov looked up, flicking some of the ash off of his cigarette. "Yea. Just in terms of how long we have to stay in one place before someone gives up," Lollic paused for a moment, "You know, never mind mate. It's pointless to ponder the whys' of the Guard. Just the hows'." Krhenov nodded in agreement.
Lollic picked himself back up, adjusted his coat and stepped back up on the firing line. He rested his Lasgun on the lip of the trench and casually scanned the line. In the distance he thought he saw moving shapes in the bitter fog. He brought his rifle up to his shoulder and looked through the sight. The glass aperture had frosted over again. He cursed, wiped it clean with his thumb, and pressed it to his eye again.
"Aww shit, mate. Blow your fekking whistle! They're coming again!" Krhenov jumped up, dropping his cigarette and grabbed his rocket launcher. A dull humming sound indicated the incoming of slower flying rounds. The detonation of these rounds indicated the shower of mud, debris, and snow that follows. The two men were coated in the afterbirth of three explosions. Small arms started to fire off down the line. Three meters to the right, one of the armored emplacements roared to life spitting death from a large caliber automatic.
Lollic aimed his rifle, squeezed the trigger, and let go of himself for a moment to get into the combat, body and mind.
----------------------------------
I would like feedback!
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
To set the pace for those who may not know what I'm writing about at first, I'm writing about the Imperial Guard. A fictional army in the Warhammer 40k universe.
To get the pace started, here is a Guardsmen. Mere men in a universe full of genetically engineered warriors and incredible aliens. They are mere men.
----------------------------------
-Trench Warfare-
Lollic slammed home another clip into his freshly stamped Lasgun, 54684. He swung himself back over the lip of the trench and scanned over the sights of his Lasgun for targets. His breath misted in the chilled air. All he could see was a fog rising from the snow and the bodies of those that had fallen in the small assault. He wiped the sight aperture of his Lasgun from the frost of the morning.
He stepped down from the firing step and leaned against the wall of the trench. The morning had been an intense one. Three times the enemy had charged their trench. Nothing bigger than a company at a time, but the line was thin at this point. He looked down at the flakboad beneath his booted feet that was stained red in some places and was covered with discarded equipment. He toyed with the idea of looking for something of value down there on the trench floor but decided against it.
The sounds of an eternal war of attrition roared in the distance. The occasional snap-crack of a hot shot round sounded nearby. Through the din Lollic heard booted footsteps of another of his platoon. Khrenov, one of the heavy weapons men sat down on the firing step next to him. The entire morning had been infantry only attacks. Not even supported by artillery. His light rocket had been useless to him. His pistol hadn't been much good to him either, because men like Lollic were crack shots, and that's all they had along the line and nothing got close enough. The disappointment in the man's face was obvious.
"'Ey, mate. Got a smoke?" Khrenov asked slapping his hands together to keep the circulation going. Lollic pulled out his pack and tossed it to his friend.
"Think we'll get anything big this morning?" Lollic asked, making conversation. He knew there would be more, but he had nothing else to talk about really.
Khrenov handed the pack back to Lollic. "If the Emperor put us here to fight, mate, we'll fight today. And tomorrow..."
"And tomorrow's tomorrow." Lollic finished the other mans sentence.
"You got it." Krhenov took a long drag from the cigarette.
Lollic allowed his legs to give way and slid to the bottom of the trench, across from Khrenov. "You know, I don't talk about the war in terms of right or wrong," Krenov looked up, flicking some of the ash off of his cigarette. "Yea. Just in terms of how long we have to stay in one place before someone gives up," Lollic paused for a moment, "You know, never mind mate. It's pointless to ponder the whys' of the Guard. Just the hows'." Krhenov nodded in agreement.
Lollic picked himself back up, adjusted his coat and stepped back up on the firing line. He rested his Lasgun on the lip of the trench and casually scanned the line. In the distance he thought he saw moving shapes in the bitter fog. He brought his rifle up to his shoulder and looked through the sight. The glass aperture had frosted over again. He cursed, wiped it clean with his thumb, and pressed it to his eye again.
"Aww shit, mate. Blow your fekking whistle! They're coming again!" Krhenov jumped up, dropping his cigarette and grabbed his rocket launcher. A dull humming sound indicated the incoming of slower flying rounds. The detonation of these rounds indicated the shower of mud, debris, and snow that follows. The two men were coated in the afterbirth of three explosions. Small arms started to fire off down the line. Three meters to the right, one of the armored emplacements roared to life spitting death from a large caliber automatic.
Lollic aimed his rifle, squeezed the trigger, and let go of himself for a moment to get into the combat, body and mind.
----------------------------------
I would like feedback!
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Learning Lessons
I have an issue with learning my lesson. Sometimes it's a good thing, other times it's bad. I'm sure other people out there can relate to this issue. I'm stubborn, determined, and taking no as an answer is not my style.
Have you ever been through a tough patch and thought you'd never end up there again? And then of course you're there again wondering to yourself why you let yourself get there? That happens to me all the time. Some lessons are just not learned the first run through.
I'm not talking about any specific situation for anyone who may know me in real life. I'm just going on another one of my tangents. But go ahead, keep reading. As usual, I make a point eventually.
And this brings me into the greater spectrum of what I want to hit I guess. Two points. The first is perhaps the most important. For every event in your life you gain an experience. You learn from the sums of these experiences. Weather it be a lesson actually taught by a teacher, or learning the hard way that getting a swift kick to the ass is not pleasant. But still, you have learned something.
I like to say that for every tough lesson I have, I come out a better person. I can respect myself more knowing that I have been there, done that. Even the worst of situations, once you're through them, you can look back and say to yourself: "Man, that fucking sucked. But I made it. What now?" If you can look back, feel proud of yourself for surviving, and have a good laugh about it, you've made it out. You've become better. Weather or not you know it, you've mastered another challenge.
Getting there brings me back to where I started in a fashion. Although I may have mastered a task, I still may find myself there again, doing the "same shit different day" routine. And this is the second point. Testing yourself. Proving your metal in the heat of combat so to say. I am a confident person, but there is nothing better than proving yourself right. Winning. So when that test comes, because you were too stupid in the first place to avoid it usually, take it by the horns, flip it on it's back, and proceed to ass rape it. Once you're done, now you know for sure the first time was worth it. Worth all the challenges, all the difficulties, all that strife.
My grand point is, that no matter what you go through, it's always, always better at the end.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
Have you ever been through a tough patch and thought you'd never end up there again? And then of course you're there again wondering to yourself why you let yourself get there? That happens to me all the time. Some lessons are just not learned the first run through.
I'm not talking about any specific situation for anyone who may know me in real life. I'm just going on another one of my tangents. But go ahead, keep reading. As usual, I make a point eventually.
And this brings me into the greater spectrum of what I want to hit I guess. Two points. The first is perhaps the most important. For every event in your life you gain an experience. You learn from the sums of these experiences. Weather it be a lesson actually taught by a teacher, or learning the hard way that getting a swift kick to the ass is not pleasant. But still, you have learned something.
I like to say that for every tough lesson I have, I come out a better person. I can respect myself more knowing that I have been there, done that. Even the worst of situations, once you're through them, you can look back and say to yourself: "Man, that fucking sucked. But I made it. What now?" If you can look back, feel proud of yourself for surviving, and have a good laugh about it, you've made it out. You've become better. Weather or not you know it, you've mastered another challenge.
Getting there brings me back to where I started in a fashion. Although I may have mastered a task, I still may find myself there again, doing the "same shit different day" routine. And this is the second point. Testing yourself. Proving your metal in the heat of combat so to say. I am a confident person, but there is nothing better than proving yourself right. Winning. So when that test comes, because you were too stupid in the first place to avoid it usually, take it by the horns, flip it on it's back, and proceed to ass rape it. Once you're done, now you know for sure the first time was worth it. Worth all the challenges, all the difficulties, all that strife.
My grand point is, that no matter what you go through, it's always, always better at the end.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The E-peen
Recently, I received a message in my in-box. It was from someone who had responded to my then incorrectly spelled "Add Free" post. Now, it is the incorrect word versus an truly incorrect spelling. It was the only error in the entire post, and it was only once. The response was a flame.
This brings me to another Internet spawned rant. It's something called the "e-peen". He decided to flame an entire post, based off one letter, without even commenting on the post itself. This is just unnecessary. The shield of being anonymous granted by being on the Internet is a double edged sword. While on one side of the blade, it allows people to express their views on certain subjects, much like I do, it also allows people like him to freely be nothing short of assholes.
Now, some people are just simply in of themselves dysfunction in a real life social situation. I would wager money that he is one of those people, but I could of course be wrong. Much of what I say here is likely to be nothing but an opinion.
I believe 100% in keeping the Internet uncensored, so I won't delete his response. But that does not mean I won't respond. I sit here transparently responding to an immature post by some person who gets his rocks off on the Internet by flaming people who are simply trying to express a honest opinion without attacking another individual
.
Fuck you good sir. Take the panties out of your pussy and learn to respond to a simple typo with a mature, thought out, response. Not a flame.
Admittedly, this is a flame response somewhat. However, this can be applied to the many people who do this on the Internet. I added one letter to the entire post, and he shot off. Why? I don't know. I didn't ask for grammar or spelling Nazis to visit my blog. Nor do I wish it upon anyone else.
The lesson is to at least be kind to those you do not know. Your friends, something like what he did would be teasing and maybe funny. But would you go up to someone you don't know and kick them in the balls and not expect to have him kill you? No. Not that I condone ball-kicking, but you can get away with it in real life with your friends if you can calm then down enough, then it's just funny.
That's my opinion. 'Nuff said.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
This brings me to another Internet spawned rant. It's something called the "e-peen". He decided to flame an entire post, based off one letter, without even commenting on the post itself. This is just unnecessary. The shield of being anonymous granted by being on the Internet is a double edged sword. While on one side of the blade, it allows people to express their views on certain subjects, much like I do, it also allows people like him to freely be nothing short of assholes.
Now, some people are just simply in of themselves dysfunction in a real life social situation. I would wager money that he is one of those people, but I could of course be wrong. Much of what I say here is likely to be nothing but an opinion.
I believe 100% in keeping the Internet uncensored, so I won't delete his response. But that does not mean I won't respond. I sit here transparently responding to an immature post by some person who gets his rocks off on the Internet by flaming people who are simply trying to express a honest opinion without attacking another individual
.
Fuck you good sir. Take the panties out of your pussy and learn to respond to a simple typo with a mature, thought out, response. Not a flame.
Admittedly, this is a flame response somewhat. However, this can be applied to the many people who do this on the Internet. I added one letter to the entire post, and he shot off. Why? I don't know. I didn't ask for grammar or spelling Nazis to visit my blog. Nor do I wish it upon anyone else.
The lesson is to at least be kind to those you do not know. Your friends, something like what he did would be teasing and maybe funny. But would you go up to someone you don't know and kick them in the balls and not expect to have him kill you? No. Not that I condone ball-kicking, but you can get away with it in real life with your friends if you can calm then down enough, then it's just funny.
That's my opinion. 'Nuff said.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
Government
I'll take this late hour to rant a little about our government here in the United States as well as our news media. I'll start off with the news media.
In foreign countries, such as the UK, it is easier to obtain truthful nearly unbiased information than it is in the United States. The BBC is more truthful than MSNBC or Fox put together. I'll take my first swings at Fox. Honestly, I like Fox. They report more "news" than NBC. Though it may clearly be republican, I don't have to watch 50 minutes of puppies and mutated babies before I get to hear a 5 minutes quip about what I actually want to hear about. Now, NBC... I hate NBC with a passion. Not only are they clearly democrats, but they will sit there and have a specially educated line up of human interest stories and music that is just not news. I prefer to watch Fox, even now. I know that they want Obama to fail, but that is why perhaps they are the best source. They will give you the dirty side, which in times like these, I would rather see than the fluffed up, polished side that NBC tries to show.
But onto actually ranting about the government. Obama, as much of a good speaker as he was, is just a politician. He is driving our economy further and further down the rails towards destruction. A bail out may be the solution, but the magnitude he is planning is just far to big. If all his plans go through, the United States will have a thirteen trillion debt ($13,000,000,000,000). The United States cannot possibly pay that off in my lifetime.
One thing that tires me about my own country-men is their blind following along political lines. I live in a democratic state. I tend to have republican views, but I do understand democratic views . I however, try to stay informed on subjects. I will not pass judgment or even discuss a topic I do not understand. I do find, that during the elections, many people did not know Obama's or McCain's stances. A few times I would take McCain's stances, say they were Obama's, and people would still say they liked Obama's better.
Ignorance is one of the traits that runs like water here. I may not be the most informed person, but I try to imagine I am not a patsy, like some of the people who blindly supported one candidate over another. If we lived in a perfect world, we would not have two parties who had views based on being the opposite of the other party. I don't want to chose Republican or democrat. I usually sit comfortably in the middle. My state does have Sen. Lieberman, who is in the middle for the most part, but the majority of politicians pick sides. It's almost as if at some point they just turn themselves off and blindly follow some misguided alien ideology.
As it is, we're fucked. But the United States is truly run by the people. The economy will be fixed only by the people. And once that issue is resolved, we can set ourselves on the right track to fix the rest. Will Obama fix much of it? I doubt it. Could he? Maybe. As it has be said before, only time will tell.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
In foreign countries, such as the UK, it is easier to obtain truthful nearly unbiased information than it is in the United States. The BBC is more truthful than MSNBC or Fox put together. I'll take my first swings at Fox. Honestly, I like Fox. They report more "news" than NBC. Though it may clearly be republican, I don't have to watch 50 minutes of puppies and mutated babies before I get to hear a 5 minutes quip about what I actually want to hear about. Now, NBC... I hate NBC with a passion. Not only are they clearly democrats, but they will sit there and have a specially educated line up of human interest stories and music that is just not news. I prefer to watch Fox, even now. I know that they want Obama to fail, but that is why perhaps they are the best source. They will give you the dirty side, which in times like these, I would rather see than the fluffed up, polished side that NBC tries to show.
But onto actually ranting about the government. Obama, as much of a good speaker as he was, is just a politician. He is driving our economy further and further down the rails towards destruction. A bail out may be the solution, but the magnitude he is planning is just far to big. If all his plans go through, the United States will have a thirteen trillion debt ($13,000,000,000,000). The United States cannot possibly pay that off in my lifetime.
One thing that tires me about my own country-men is their blind following along political lines. I live in a democratic state. I tend to have republican views, but I do understand democratic views . I however, try to stay informed on subjects. I will not pass judgment or even discuss a topic I do not understand. I do find, that during the elections, many people did not know Obama's or McCain's stances. A few times I would take McCain's stances, say they were Obama's, and people would still say they liked Obama's better.
Ignorance is one of the traits that runs like water here. I may not be the most informed person, but I try to imagine I am not a patsy, like some of the people who blindly supported one candidate over another. If we lived in a perfect world, we would not have two parties who had views based on being the opposite of the other party. I don't want to chose Republican or democrat. I usually sit comfortably in the middle. My state does have Sen. Lieberman, who is in the middle for the most part, but the majority of politicians pick sides. It's almost as if at some point they just turn themselves off and blindly follow some misguided alien ideology.
As it is, we're fucked. But the United States is truly run by the people. The economy will be fixed only by the people. And once that issue is resolved, we can set ourselves on the right track to fix the rest. Will Obama fix much of it? I doubt it. Could he? Maybe. As it has be said before, only time will tell.
--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean
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