Apology Accepted

For some time now, I have been dealing with hatred, depression, greed, envy, and it just consumed me like some monster from under the bed, that was tormenting me with how I would taste. And he says I taste esquisite, like the finest ambrosia wine to ever be sampled. (I prefer Scotch myself but that is for another time.) So I just wanted to say that I am now back to writing, and publishing my friends stories that they give me. So first, a little something I wrote...
Brother Darkness

"Again I writhe upon the backs of pain.
Where thy open arms greet me with such succulent suffering, that I could dare not say no.
 The blackness opens up the maw of misery, and I embrace it like a lost brother.
You see, but do not see, you hear, but do not actually hear!
A trap I daresay for the steely mind of wonder that is truly mine.
This world that is twisting, turning, lurching, plummeting to a demise that death herself could not fathom
for she is but an actor in this play called life!
 Hark! I pray thee, do not let my fortitude leave me in this blackest hour of the night, for I know that it is my last!
My memories consume me with a soul, my thoughts turn the sweetest of innocence into a monster so hideous
that even I cringe to look upon thy ghastly face of my own mortality.
My heart is forever frozen in a state where laughter and sorrow face each other in a battle to the death of what I once was.
 For I dream of the terrible, the unforgiving, the agonizing, the wort that festers until it explodes
in nothing more but the crimson that is my own spirit that shall never flower!
 For I am but a man, who shall never again feel the light of day against my flesh,
only my brother darkness shall see me for who I really am..."

And now, the second chapter of Blood Raven 117's story, and have a good week people.

Chapter II

Death Of a Guardsmen

   Larnegin was smiling for the first time in weeks. Sitting down next to the others around the Guitar, he looked at the rank pins in the cardboard box as the guitar played a soft melody. Janeson peeked over and smiled as well. Larnegin looked over to the others and they all stared back at him. Larnegin was speechless, a officer was meant to be a charismatic, brave, and strong leader. He was not much of any of those things, he was tactically sound and loyal all the way to the Emperor of mankind, but he was no Sergeant.

   The men stayed silent as they saw Larnegin tentatively pick up the pins and slowly attach them to his collar, a velvet strip was on his helmet for just this thing. Once he had attached the pin, he  carefully applied the sewing adhesive to his arm for the patch. Looking up from his newly done work the men were smirking. Larnegin smiled in reply and all of them busted out laughing. Calming down Larnegin's unease diminished. Smiling now, he realized he may be the right man. He hoped he could prove that to be true.

   After the round of laughter. Larnegin went to his own bunk and taking off his boots collapsed into his bed. He had been on the night watch and been up for more then sixteen hours and he was dead on his feet from fatigue. He would give just about anything for a bath and a soft bed, but this was all he had. Rolling over and getting comfortable he swiftly fell unconscious.

   About ten minutes later he was woken up by Caref and was urged on his feet. All the men inside were whispering low and checking weapons and equipment. Larnegin's head throbbed and all he heard was the loud whine of his ears protesting at a loud noise and being waken up. Sergeant Caref was walking, Larnegin heard nothing but he followed his mouth. They were to attack the enemy soon. His hearing returning Larnegin started to hear loud whistles and shrieks as their artillery opened fire on the Chaos mutants positions. He heard even louder explosions as they kissed dirt and sent it flying to clatter in dark black clumps on the ground.

   Getting his boots on as fast as his cold hands would allow Larnegin slid them on and laced them. Janeson handed him a roll of tape and he tapped his boots closed so water would enter them. Looking around Sergeant Caref began to brief them on the section they were going to hit, it was supposedly a weaker point in the trench line, they were to take it with all their strength, and hopefully from there lead a charge to the enemy AA guns and eliminate them. Tactica command had estimated around five hundred mutants were manning those ditches in the dirt and less then one hundred manned gunnery posts along the Kilometer stretch. Caref's platoon had been volunteered for pushing there way in and opening a gap. Larnegin hoped those men and woman cozy behind the lines were right about their estimations, other wise they may not live long enough to see the next sun.

   Larnegin fastened his bowled helmet around his head as he ducked his head through the gas curtains followed by the rest of the platoon. Crouch walking they heard answering artillery from the mutant lines, compared to the big explosions created by the Imperial Basilisks and Earth Shaker pieces they were nothing more then a hand grenade exploding next to a super nova. Or that's what it seemed like. Getting to their exit point Caref got in front of Larnegin and smiled at his new second. “Ready Corporal?” He asked no longer talking formally. “Yes sir!” Larnegin nodded as he assented. Clutching his Lasgun he did the only thing  a sane man in a trench does, pray.

   Then their signal came, three loud whistles in order marked the mad dash of a charge across no man's land. Hopping over the trench the basilisks fired smoke canisters to cover their advance. They were disguised as gas canisters and had been fired into the enemy lines and on no man's land. Just in case the mutants had fired their own grenades Caref had ordered everyone to put on their masks. No one argued at the necessity of this. Strapping on hoods and gas masks they charged forward with all due haste. Mortar shells dropped amongst them but no heavier weapons fired thankfully. They had no idea where the charge was going to hit. A lucky mortar hit nearby disintegrated a pair of men, one liquidized, the other torn to shreds as the heavy round came crashing down. The men around the explosion had only minor wound and got up breathlessly spraying antiseptic on the surely infected wounds if they could and running when they could not.

   Larnegin had his lasgun point first with his gleaming bayonet pointing out as well. The smoke was so thick it was near impossible to see where you walked. Charging forward he fell right in the trench toppling two mutants at a fixed gun. One, evidently the loader, had a pistol drawn as the other tried to throttle him with its mutated hands and tentacles. Larnegin fired point blank into the one trying to grab him, then he swung around quickly and started to stab the one mutant with a pistol before he could fire trying desperately, and almost in a panic, to kill it. He heard more men drop around him and turned to see most of the platoon made it. Letting out a cheer at they cut down the mutants at the trench and overrunning the place. It was too easy thought Larnegin. Then the smoke started to clear and just 50 meters to his left down the walkway he saw a horde of them, convering on them to end their lives.

   Larnegin nearly froze at the sight of the disgusting and horrifying creatures before him, many were twisted parodies of man, lurching and running down the trench line. Many had extra appendages, limbs, even heads. Some also had twisting tentacles for arms, scales, fur, spines, any thing that could be thought of they had it. Like some twisted display of all things in nature. Then he saw it. Saw the creature that would send fear to the deepest part of a man. Sergeant Caref broke his fear filled stare, “FIRST RANK FIRE! SECOND RANK FIRE! NOW DAMN YOU!” He screamed into the vox and air raising his purring chain-sword high into the sky. Immediately troopers formed two ranks of men. Larnegin got in the front rank and kneeled down. “Fire!” immediately hot lazer death spat at the enemy.

   Larnegin fired, feeling the satisfying recoil of discharge. Red lines of energy shot at the mutants, sending the first score down into the muck to be trampled by the press. They didn't even have to kill them in their first shot, just knock em over and the rest kill them with stampeding feet. Larnegin kept his rate of fire up. Already men at the sides who did not form a rank began to fire into the press full auto. He saw as he fired, a things head explode in black brackish blood and gore. He realized he had set his lasgun to full power, over kill for the mutants, but it was to late to switch it now as they got closer now only twenty-five meters away.

   Larngein fired his last shot then his gun fizzled, his energy cell had run out of juice and there was no time to reload. Despite the heavy toll the mutants suffered, they still came in with more then enough numbers to butcher them all. Seeing now up close the thing that was so dreadful. It was three times the height of a man at least, and four times as wide. It had a ghastly head with a pair of horns that were dirty with blood and grim. Its eyes, a pure white like the snow from Vernesta's beautiful mountains. The thing was now barely five meters away roaring loudly. Tentacles rose from its back flapping uselessly as nerves spasmed, its large meat corded, muscle bound arms ready to crush him. Then salvation came in the form of Commissar Jard.

   The Commissar fired his lug mounted grenade launcher at the Chaos spawn. Larngein closed his eyes and covered his face as meat and blood splattered across his body sending him on his arse. He saw how the thing exploded from its back sending it crumpling in half like it was cut in half. Now he would truly give anything for a bath as he rose up from the trench floor's muck. Looking around Commissar Jard was screaming obscenity’s to the enemy as he lead 5th platoon in to the fray. The mutants lost all hope as they saw the giant Chaos spawn die in such a spectacular fasion. Slaughtered as surely as the mutants would have slaughtered the Imperials they had taken the trench. Looking out Larnegin smiled at the Commissar. The man met his gaze and his grin was wicked in the extreme. Jard looked every ounce of imperial discipline. His uniform was clean, with a green sash around his waist and over his shoulder, he had several decorations of honor on his chest over his heart shining brightly with pride, daring the enemy to shoot at him. His great black and red trimmed great coat flew out behind him as the wind took up from the east. His cap was peaked and had the regimental pin of the Vernesta Marines and had the Imperial Aquila on it. His face was a grim set of determination, his black trimmed hair swept under his cap. His eyes shown a dark blue that spoke out brightly to his white pinched skin. He looked every amount of a hero.

   Larnegin realized he had his mouth agape and closed it. The Commissar smiled more friendly like and said, “Corporal, good to see you.” The big man smiled and jumped off into the trench. He turned off his power blade and sheathed it. Larnegin stood at attention and saluted with a shaking hand.  The commissar smiled much more friendly like and said, “Don't stand gawping boy! Reload!” Larnegin shook with sudden realization and began to do so. “Sergeant! Who's still kicking?” Jard asked Caref and they went to the side. Now the immediate battle around them was over Larnegin realized the battle raging around. He saw artillery firing from all sides and the red and green exchanges of las fire. Setting his power gauge lower Larnegin saw Janeson smiling at him. Larnegin couldn't help but smile back at his close friend as he realized what happened. He had just stared down a Imperial Commissar with not a hint of fear in his eyes. They both laughed. 'What a strange day this day is.' He thought.

Oi Oi

Alright all you readers out there, I have a special guest writer that wants to see if he is good enough for hopefully a full publication of his works. He is a good friend of mine, so please, be kind with the criticism and give it up for Blood Raven 117, and his story; Death Of A Guardsmen.

Chapter I

Chapter I

Death of a Guardsmen


Larnegin Perenza was sitting on one of the many wood supports for his trench. Of course they weren't called wood, but flak board cut specifically for these newly dug trenches. It has only been two emperor damned months in this stinking mired mid pit of death and hell. Looking up the trenches small view-port built into the lip for periscopes he saw the blasted crater fittingly called “No man's land”. This is how a guardsmen died for the god emperor, unloved and uncared for in the stinking black dirt ground of this accursed planet called Sigma Seven Fourteen, or some other planet who's name would scarcely be remembered.


It was not all bad, he knew that after six grueling months here they would be shipped out for fresher units from orbit. They thankfully had air superiority, not like it mattered much as the damned creatures rightfully named mutants had somehow gotten AA guns online. Large, and menacing they towered behind the front and tertiary lines of the enemy’s trenches, mockingly out of range of their Air and artillery support. In the enemy's front trench he saw spikes and body’s and heads from men who died in battle on their lines, set as grim, vomit inducing reminders of the evil of Chaos. His eyes drawing back now he saw the details of what was in the no man's land. Every where he saw craters slowly filling with rapidly stagnating water. He saw the occasional bloated dead body of both sides. He saw where he last hid with his other squaddies last charge, a shallow crater with rusting razor wire covering the lip. Commissar almost shot them for cowardice, but he saved the man's life as he informed him of the smart thing and kicked his legs down just in time for the troopers behind him to be incinerated by plasma fire. The commissar had a small change of heart then. Wasn't long before they were forced back again. Pulling out of that crater he saw every where discarded and degrading equipment, every once in a while he saw the lines of barbed and razor wire around.


He was brought back to the trench when someone patted his shoulder. Looking round suddenly surprised he fell on his arse as he slipped off the support. Laughter dwindled around as the troopers around him had a laugh at his expense. Not like it matter, looking at his comrades around him he saw them grimy and muddy just like him. Their laughs were choked out and hoarse as they warmed their hands around heat packs and small lamp fires in the dawning light. The man who patted him was one of his closest friends, Janeson Corren, a handsome looking man in his thirties with tight cropped black wet hair and a impish look to his face and blue eyes of ice. “Hey Larns!” He said with a enthusiasm rarely seen in the veteran soldiers of the 10th Vernesta Marines. Looking around the trench space he sighed. It was built on a tiny hill if you could call that, on the front trench. Looking to his left he saw to the end of the fire step and the heavy weapon, then 5 more meters then it suddenly zagged out for artillery security. Seeing around he saw the flak board newly cut hold back the dirt. To his right he saw some men lighting Iho smokes as they called them, they had a black end and a white shaft. The black part was where you sucked to get the smoke from. They called it obscura and was technically a contraband, but no one enforced that rule saying how it was a waste to write them up for something so small.


The fire step was well worn and had dried dirt caked where boots had once stood. He saw one man currently on it using a periscope searching the enemy lines. The man was also Venestian in ancestry. He had the flying black trench-coat , and the bowled helmet that they were all equipped with. If the man were to face him he would see underneath his Carapace armor for trench storming, and the more flexible but strong flak padding for his arms and legs. He had his lasgun slung along his back. Seeing this Larnegin returned to what he had been doing, cleaning his own weapon. It was a rifle about 1.5 meters long, longer then his arm. It's stock was a wooden stock made from a fine wood on his home called Carensta. Feeling it he smiled as he remembered the soft wood trees of home. They were always so nice. He knew he may never return to that place once more. But that was the life of a servant of the mighty Imperium. “Age amicus meus!” His friend said in high gothic. Loosely translated meant, “Up my friend.” Looking at Janeson, Larnegin finally gave in.


“Whats wrong?” He asked his close friend. He smiled and motioned for him to start walking with him. “Sarge wants ya. Didn't ask why, he didn't say.” Larnegin nodded. Walking past a sign to his left towards no man's land it said in his native tongue, “Осторожно! Мины вперед!“ A warning of what lies ahead. “When did da' sappers get the mines out?” Larnegin asked, “The sappers didn't do a damn thing.” Larnegin knew what that meant. Chaos mines, the worst mine of all. If the boom doesn't get ya the infection sure will.


Then Janeson took a left into a bunker built into the wall. Pushing past the gas curtains the bunker was a barracks for his fellow members of his platoon. Smiling he heard soft singing along with a guitar playing. Looking over he saw in the corner men singing the military's anthem from where they all came from. They all sang with great pride even as they sang with great hope. Larnegin passed a mirror where someone had just shaved as a lukewarm bowl of water was below the mirror. Looking into it he saw his face for the first time in at least a day, he had a jutting chin that rounded on the bottom but gave him a vulpine like look to him. His cheeks were drawn and pale giving him a almost sickly look to him as well. His eyes were sunken but did not diminish the piercing gaze of someone who was driven, just deep sapphire green pools of determination. His hair was cut short and black white like many from his home. He also saw he needed to wash as well.


Janeson stood infront of Sargent Caref and saluted at attention, “Sir as you requested.” He said with his trademark enthusiasm. Saluting back with precision he said, “At ease Janeson, get yourself some rest.” Janeson nodded and went to the others and added in his voice with a corner stone of tune, “.......If death don't bring you fear, then death ain't brought by no marine!” They all coursed with pride swelling. Standing infront of his Sargent, Larnegin waited for the message, “Larn how have you been?” Caref said as he returned the salute and motioned for him to sit. The bunker was a bug out barrow, but the men did what they could to keep it clean and tidy from all the dirt. The sarge was a rare breed in the officers core, hell the whole regiments command structure was. The officers cared for the men like they were their offspring themselves, many other regiments looked with envy in their eyes as they felt the pressing whip of their arrogant officers in their backs.


“Fine sir. Glad you asked. I got my inoculations and all. Whats this about?” Caref sighed and sat up more attentively. “Commissar Jard is commending you for your valor in saving his life last time. He also notes that he wants you to be field promoted for some reason.” Larnegin was shocked. It was rare for promotions like these, especially from someone like Jard. Jard was a hard man to impress and as he had seen many great heroes and soldiers. He had carefully cultivated himself as a good army Chaplin and commissar, dealing out both battle field reprimands and punishments and moral and religious support often unseen by others of his cadre. Many respected him as a good man. “Now we have no platoon openings for you, but even if we did I feel you are unready for command,” Caref brought Larnegin out of his mental dreaming, “But the Commissar wants you higher up. So I'm promoting you to Corporal, I will be taking you under my wing after to train.” Caref smiled. He had been in need of a second in command after his previous man died in the last charge. Caref then heard some chatter on the vox radio. “Excuse me Larn. You should go and get some rest as well.” Larnegin was about to leave when Caref stopped him again and said, “Oh and before I forget.” He got a small cardboard box out, “Welcome to the officers cadre Corperal Perenza.......”