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post #1 of 3 (permalink) Old 03-06-12, 08:14 PM Thread Starter
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"The Emperor protects, the Emperor protects, the Emperor protects."

Jerial was muttering his sayings over and over again. He did not believe that the trench he is in would protect him or that even his praises to the Emperor himself would do no good. After 3 days of heavy trench warfare against the Ork Waaagh led by a warboss, Tank Smassa, the trauma of seeing his friends and a lover being torn to shreds during one of their suicidal charges or began beheaded by one of the Ork Meganobz and the constant fear of bein killed by the rumoured Ork Kommandos began to tear his sanity to shreds.

It also did not help that he was next to charge the lines of the Orks.

"Commissar, the shelling will stop in the next minute or so."

"Understood, Luetenant. Alright, boys, we're about to do the Emperor proud. Keep heading towards the direction of the Ork lines and do not stop! I want as many men to hit their lines as possible, so do not worry about aim as you will not do all that much damage."

Jerial began to finger the trigger on his lasrifle, just hoping that his death would come swiftly if he was to die. He began to feel as though the gods of Chaos were holding onto his ankles in order to slow him down.

"And do not worry about being shot by me if you do begin to run, you'll be killed by the volley before you even consider it."

"30 seconds sir, Emperor be with you, sir."

"And with you, Luetenant. Prepare the charge!"

In only a second, a loud clack ringed throught the trench line as lasrifles were brought down to the hands of 5,500 Imperial Guardsmen who were ready to die for the Imperium, even if they didn't want to.

"Ready Bayonets!"

Jerial looked down and saw that he had already prepared his bayonet. Even throught his madness, atleast he was able to preform his duties as a soldier.
"Oh Emperor help me, I wasn't supposed to be here." Jerial cried to himself as he looked at the conscript insignia on his right shoulder pad.

"For the Emperor and the Imperium!"

A whistle sounded and then the roar of 5,500 men ringed into the sky as men and women began to pour out into no man's land. No guns were being fired from either side. Soldiers began to regain their hope and morale, some even screamed and laughed as they headed towards the trenches. Some even sprinted towards the lines, making the charge a race.

Then they realised why the orks weren't firing. Two miles away, it was seen. Guardsmen just stared at it as it came towards them, dropping to their knees or crying out in vain.

It was an entire squadren of Great Gargants, being lead by a massive Mega Gargant.

"Retreat back to the lines! Leutenant, get me that vox caster over right now! The rest of you, retr-"

A giant shell landed where the Commissar was. There were only chunks of dirt flying, not one chunk of the Commissar was seen flying.

Gaurdsmen began to run back to the trench lines as the Gargant began to open fire. Scores of men began to die as shells and lasfire began to rain down upon them. Jerial ran the fastest of them all.

He was also the first to see the Ork Dreadnaughts that had some how sneaked into their lines.

The Orks had distracted the Guardsmen long enough to sneak in their armor behind the Guardsmen lines. Orks began to spill out of Ork lines as the Guardsmen saw that everywhere they went was danger. As all the guardsmen were being slaughtered by the orks or by themselves, Jerial just stood there. He was waiting for the death that he had long deserved.

"Oy, boss, dis umie iz just standin here. Want me ta Krump im?"

"Nah, I'll be doin the krumpin round ere! Ey, you, the dumb dumb umie, you look at me while I talkin to ya!"

Jerial slowly looked up as he heard the cries of mercy and death all around him.

"Wat's your name, umie?"

"Jerial."

"Guess wat?"

"What?"

Tank Smassa took Jerial's head off with one single swoop of his power klaw.

"You'z gonna be on me boss pole."

-Happy Heresy, Heretics!

Take a look at all the primarchs that stayed loyal.
Dead, missing, or in critical condition.

Now, take a look at the chaos primarches.
One missing primarch, the rest are Daemon Princes.

Chaos, The Better Solution.

Paid for by the Word Bearers.



Last edited by demonlord24; 03-08-12 at 04:43 PM. Reason: spelling mistakes
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post #2 of 3 (permalink) Old 03-06-12, 09:43 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by demonlord24 View Post
"Commissar, the shelling will stop in the next minute or so."
"Understood, Luetenant. Alright, boys, we are about to do the Emperor proud. Keep heading towards the direction of the Ork lines and do not stop! I want as many men to hit their lines as possible, so do not worry about aim as you will not do all that much damage."
Jerial began to finger the trigger on his lasrifle, just hoping that his death would come swiftly if he was to die. He began to feel as though the gods of Chaos were holding onto his ankles in order to slow him down.
"And do not worry about being shot by me if you do begin to run, you'll be killed by the volley before you weven consider it."
"30 seconds sir, Emperor be with you, sir."
"And with you, Luetenant. Prepare the charge!"
In only a second, a loud clack ringed throught the trench line as lasrifles were brought down to the hands of 5,500 Imperial Guardsmen who were ready to die for the Imperium, even if they didn't want to.
"Ready Bayonets!"
Jerial looked down and saw that he had already prepared his bayonet. Even throught his madness, atleast he was able to preform his duties as a soldier.
"Oh Emperor help me! I wasn't supposed to be here." Jerial cried to himself as he looked at the conscript insignia on his right shoulder pad.
"For the Emperor and the Imperium!"
A whistle sounded and then the roar of 5,500 men ringed into the sky as men and women began to pour out into no man's land. No guns were being fired from either side. Soldiers began to regain their hope and morale, some even screamed and laughed as they headed towards the trenches. Some even sprinted towards the lines, making the charge a race.
Quote:
Originally Posted by demonlord24 View Post
"Wat's your name, umie?"
"Jerial."
"Guess wat?"
"What?"
Tank Smassa took Jerial's head off with one single swoop of his power klaw.
"You'z gonna be on me boss pole."
These two blocks are what I like to call 'wall o' text'. Whatever format you wrote them in originally didn't translate into the message board (happens to me all the time). You might want to edit this to put in the spaces between dialogue parts to make it far less of an undertaking to read and understand coherently what is happening and who is doing it.

The story itself is good, but for ease of reading, this would help.


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post #3 of 3 (permalink) Old 03-08-12, 04:44 PM Thread Starter
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Quote:
Originally Posted by jonileth View Post
These two blocks are what I like to call 'wall o' text'. Whatever format you wrote them in originally didn't translate into the message board (happens to me all the time). You might want to edit this to put in the spaces between dialogue parts to make it far less of an undertaking to read and understand coherently what is happening and who is doing it.

The story itself is good, but for ease of reading, this would help.
I think i did what you asked me to do. Thanks for pointing this out, I didn't realize that I created a word wall.

Take a look at all the primarchs that stayed loyal.
Dead, missing, or in critical condition.

Now, take a look at the chaos primarches.
One missing primarch, the rest are Daemon Princes.

Chaos, The Better Solution.

Paid for by the Word Bearers.


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