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.
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-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.

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I would like feedback!

--The Blogging Gerbil
AKA Sean

2 comments:

  1. Retrospectively, this isn't one of my best works. Just average. But for being started and stopped that quickly, I can't say it's too bad. Much of what I usually write, which I may put up here, is longer and requires more background knowledge.

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  2. granted im a little drunk right now, and it's a little late right now, but i thought it was pretty good. some useless stuff here and there, like i dont care taht he thought about picking through the random shit on the ground, but i was able to easily paint the image in my head with your details.

    also im not exactly the best critic. i liked it though, i would like to know what kind of accent they have, because i'm not exactly familiar wiht the 40k or whatever army thing.

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