Journal: Sergeant Rook

[Aeon]

About 3 or 4 years ago, I played a session of Only War with Redsandroyals and several other members of this board. It didn't last more than about a dozen sessions, but we had tremendous fun. I remember I wrote stories about my character, Trooper Crowley, in the form of journal entries.

Now that I'm in another session of Only War, I've decided to do the same. I'm playing the group's sergeant, and my Game Master is extremely cinematic and a great story weaver. I haven't written the bits about the sessions we've had, as I'm just fleshing our my character's back story right now, but I have written some, and I'd like to share it with you. Without further ado, here is the story of Sergeant Rook (although he is but a newly conscripted Trooper in these first entries)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Journal: Davius Rook
Sergeant: Lolitan 14th PDF
Section 1.1


++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (capital)++

Well it's my first day. I just completed my mandatory 16 days of primary PDF training. Interesting experience, compared to working on the farm. I needed to get out of there. Nothing more dull than tending to grox and crop day in and day out.
I've learned to march, and to carry my lasgun and clean it; As if it even needed cleaning. It's nothing like any of the agriculture machines I've used. There are no moving parts! It's just a green piece of psuedo plastic with a steel barrel running through it. I don't even really know how it works, they gave me a book of prayers to the Machine Spirit, which I've learned to heart. They say appeasing the spirit will keep the weapon functioning even better than just cleaning the bore and charge pack well.
What's next, I wonder? I know my duty station is right here in my home town. I may even be able to visit home on my off-days. I'm garrisoned here with the 14th Lolitan PDF Infantry, and my billet is rifleman. What does a rifleman even do on a planet this peaceful? We've all grown up here, there's hardly any crime rate, and everyone is a devout and loyal citizen of the Imperium, I can't imagine much need for an army this size. No uprisings, no xenos invasions are going to happen here. It couldn't
+++Transmition: Complete+++

++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (rural town)++

It's been a few months now, I haven't had time to record anything. They've been drilling us non-stop since I arrived back home. We sleep in a leaky, drafty barracks building made of shackled together plasteel and flak board. It almost looks like a hasty trench quarters that we saw constructed in the training holovids at primary training. Only slightly concerning to me, though, they would have told us if something was going to happen. Right?
+++Transmition: Complete+++

++Holovid Cam: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (wilds: unknown coordinates)++

Time stamp indicates that one full year has passes since the first entry

The camera lenses fizzles to life, obviously mounted to Trooper Rook's helmet. The feed is hazy, with static dancing around the edges of the screen. Near the bottom of the monitor can be seen Rook's hands, gloved in black leather, arms covered by his olive-brown fatigue uniform, and clutching his green lasgun, the bayonet afixed and dulled with dirt and soot.

The time of day appears to be early evening, with a warm golden swathe of light illuminating the scene from his left, the East. All around him are trees, rocks and foliage, not a building to be seen in sight. Deeper into the woods where the fading sun does not shed light enough, is darkness enough that this cheap helmet mounted holorecorder cannot distinguish features. By his sides and in front are his fellow PDF Troopers, dressed identically, and armed much the same. Some of the men carry primitive gun-metal auto rifles, and one man carries a grenade launcher. To Rook's left you can hear the distinct sound of a plastic shell being injected into the chamber of a shotgun, and the loud metallic clank as the slide is rammed shut, loading the shell into the weapon's chamber. Then a voice.

"Alright, 5th squad, we're going to show these men why you do not offend Imperial rule on our planet. Remember, these men are not your comrades anymore, they are heretics, declared excommunicate. Form line, and march into that brush. Set up a rapid ambush. Auspex is saying we've got possible contact up ahead, and that means they know we're coming, too! Move it!"

The snapping of twigs and the brushing of leaves and tall grass can be heard, and wind whipping past the holorecorder's noise sensor, as Rook quickens his pace, gradually breathing heavier under the weight of his flak armour and field kit. The rustling of a leather backpack can be heard, although you cannot see it through the feed.

To his left and right flank, men take cover behind trees, rocks, are damn near plain in the open, but lying prone on the ground, submerged in tall, spiky grass. They look extremely tired and uncomfortable. Rook is nearly gasping for breath after his near full on sprint to the tree line. He finds a large rock, and crouches low behind it, lasgun held upright at first, and then shouldered as he takes aim, bracing the handguard on his selected piece of cover. In the bottom left corner of the holo feed you can just barely see his cheek, pressed to the stock of his rifle as if welded to it by furnace heat. A heavy bead of sweat drips down his nose and is ignored, falling to the ground with so many others. His breathing begins to relax, and the air becomes eerily quiet.

Many long minutes pass, an agonizing wait. You fast forward a dozen minutes through the feed and still nothing, no movement save for a light breeze tossing the grass gently back and forth. Rook at this point has repositioned his weapon slightly, although he is still behind the same piece of cover. You can almost sense his apprehention through this recording, he breaths in short, quiet gasps.

Without warning, a cacaphonous crackle of static blasts through the speakers at you, and you can see flashes of yellowish light zipping towards Rook and the men next to him. Leering, angry voices shouting commands and queues to each other. To the right you hear Rook's squad leader give the order to open fire, but a bolt of light aimed at Rook strikes the screen, nearly blinding you as you watch on. The feed goes dark.
+++Trasmition: Complete+++

++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (Barracks)++

The holorecording crackles to life, but you hear no voice for several moments. Men moving about the leaking, damp barracks building can be heard, as well as the sound of weapons being disassembled and cleaned. Nearly inaudible laughter comes from another room somewhere, and the shuffling of cards as well.

Last week, we went on our first manuever against a real....tangible enemy. A group of farmers from a few towns over got up in arms about something, I'm not even truly sure what it was, command won't tell any of us, even our officers. I don't regret what we did, it was the Emperor's law they broke by taking arms against their fellow farmers. The Imperium needs our world to produce resources for its armies, even if we never see them, and even if we're never conscripted ourselves. Disrupting what we do here on Lolitan is in essence, heresy just the same as rebuking the Emperor's right to rule, and you do not defy the Emperor or His laws.

Another long pause

But....maybe there could have been another way? Flogging them all, capturing them and making an example of the leaders? Seems like a waste of resources, killing them all.
My holorecorder got shot right off my helmet during the fire fight by a low quality surplus lasgun. I don't even know where these people got weapons like that. I never even saw a las weapon until I enlisted with the PDF. I have a very small burn on my forehead where it struk the flak helmet, thank the Emperor I was wearing it. My right eyebrow is also burned off.

He laughs for a second, and you can hear him scratch and itch where his eyebrow used to be

It got pretty dark by the time they showed up, so....I'm not sure if I actually killed any of them, but I said the proper litanies, the Litany of Accuracy, and I aimed as true as I could. No one will find me wanting, or abandoning my duty, no matter how I feel about the situation. It is not my place as a Trooper to disagree with anyone of Imperial authority.
When we were done, we suffered no casualties. The....rebels.....were wiped out to the last man. We collected their weapons, dug a hole, and torched them with a flamer. Then we did the same to the bodies. It....was the worst thing I've smelled in my life.
+++Transmition: Complete+++

[cheminhaler]

That feels really authentic, even down to experiencing minor injuries from being shot with a torch.

Keep us appraised of your further adventures.

Also; did you choose the world name for a new regiment or are they your old regiment/ guard army?

[Aeon]

It's what my game master came up with. I wanted to play just regular Cadians because after many years of struggling with ideas, I just gave up and that's what I now paint my own guardsmen as. However, seeing as all Cadians are trained from birth, I wouldn't have been able to get this realistic, run of the mill guy to be compelling. Cadians are more or less brain washed human robots when it comes to how they soldier. I've been role playing this guy as if he was indeed a farmer before he was a soldier

His background was in the PDF. In the current point in time that our group is at, we've only been on a foreign planet for 5 days, and even my character who has combat experience, doesn't have a whole lot. So there's lots of room to grow!

Another few entries like this, and I'll get down to what's been happening our last 2 sessions. We've got another one this Sunday, so plenty of material to write

[Aeon]

Just got off work, and had been thinking about ideas for this all day. This section is just a single, long entry, about how our protagonist is beginning to have his mind set and psyche changed by the realities of service to the God Emperor, and has obviously at this point, fought several very small skirmishes, and has several confirmed kills. This is a real change for him, and where at first he felt hesitant to kill his fellow Lolitans, he now feels more loyalty to the Emperor. This will be touched on later. Remember, this story is written in a format that is both spoken from Davius Rook's own mouth, as well as adressing the reader as if the reader was a character from the 41st millenium, watching all of these holovids at a much later date, and describing the scene. I am not a great writer, so sometimes I struggle to write out exactly what I"m trying to portray

Feedback ALWAYS welcome from you, my brothers of the IGMB

Anyway. Enjoy my latest entry


Journal: Davius Rook
Sergeant: Lolitan 14th PDF
Section 1.2

++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (barracks)++

The weary face of Trooper Davius Rook stares at you through the holo vid monitor, his head newly shaved, battered with several bruises and dirty patches of skin, covered in the fine silt like earth that covers most of his homeworld. His right eyebrow has almost completely grown back in, although the burn scar remains as prominant in this entry as it was in the previous, which according to the vid's time stamp, was several months ago.
His hazel eyes seem darkened by emotional trauma, or merely by fatigue; impossible to tell through the static ridden feed. His mouth is cracked from too much moisture or lack thereof, a wicked, bloody split visible down the middle of his lower lip. Where in previous, shorter recordings he had seemed a vibrant young man in his early 20s, he no longer appears so.
Rook raises one hand and plants it on his face, leaning in and bracing on his knee, almost slumping over as if he cannot hold his own weight up due to massive fatigue. He is still wearing his uniform, the collar ripped and torn, and his Trooper's rank pin on the left lapel has gone missing. His dark green flak armour still fastened securely to his torso, although it too has seen significant wear and tear. Middle of the left chest piece, just a few centimeters above the heart, is a small concave imprint in the armour's material, with bits chipped away and cracked surrounding it. A bullet from a primitive autogun seems to have nearly penetrated his armour and would have most assuredly killed him had it passed through the layered fabric of his curiass.

"The Emperor Protects"

A long sigh

"Well....the 14th PDF thought that our half a dozen minor engagements with these rebels would be the end of it, but we were just so wrong. These men, these....Lolitan citizens....traitors now, I suppose, finally spoke out on their reason for what they're doing. Something about unfair tithing by the Imperium's Departmento Munitorum. They don't know the weight of their words, apparently.
Their force is small, less than three hundred men, or so our Platoon leader would have us believe. We've been shelling them nonstop with mortars, and they're cornered like rats, and surrounded at an agricultural processing facility they took over by force."

He pauses, looks up, and in a hushed and inaudible tone converses with a fellow guardsman in front of him, not visible to you on the screen. You can hear Rook's fellow trooper ask something you cannot distinguish, then holds out his hand. Trooper Rook breaks out a pack of cheap lho sticks, opens the pack with the flip of his thumb and allows his comrade to take one. He then turns his gaze back to the holo vid

"I have to be honest, to anyone....anyone who might view this later. I mean nothing heretical, for to doubt is unbecoming of a warrior in His service, but at the start of this conflict, I believed the workers we were killing, to be in the right.
But how they took over that complex, was inhumane. They asked once for the occupants to leave, and when they refused, they killed them. Completely ruthless. Why? Because of a tithe that didn't sit well with them? Now they're killing their friends and families and fellow Lolitans? It's madness!
They deserve to die. And I will be the weapon that ends them. I can see the purpose behind our movements, attacks and strategies. And in addition, I can see why we use such swift and brutal tactics on people like this. Heretics do not deserve mercy
So we've been fighting them. Like I said before, we've got them cornered in this meat processing plant. It's a pretty large complex with lots of machines and walls and nooks. Almost like a maze. Mortarting them hasn't done any good, really, they just retreat inside the walls.
The bullet mark you see here on my chest came from a skirmish yesterday, out in the forest. I suppose they sent out a team for supplies, and tried to be stealthy about it. My squad caught them, and we gave them The Emperor's justice, but hell, did they put up a fight. One of my squad mates took a las bolt to the femur, and he's being treated by the medicae staff, but they're all saying he's not going to make it.
Trooper Anton Kalger. Even if he dies, I will remember his name. I pray the Litany of Mercy to the Emperor every night, hoping he will recover. Only time will tell."
+++Transmition: Complete+++

[Aeon]

Journal: Davius Rook
Sergeant: Lolitan 3rd Regiment
Section 1.3

++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (barracks)++

You examine the time stamp quickly as you press Play on the next entry. It has been 2 more weeks since the last recording. The holo feed flickers to life, revealing the same bunk in the same barracks that you've seen the young Trooper recording in before.

"Well, Kalger didn't make it. He woke up from a coma-like sleep, screaming bloody Emperor. The medicae staff tried to sedate him but he just kept yelling, and then he was suddenly quiet. I was a few buildings down at the mess hall, and I could hear it from there. It was....awful.

I knew the risks of becoming a soldier but....but, I didn't think anything like this would happen here"
+++Transmition: Complete+++

++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan: Camp++

The monitor flickers to life, displaying a familiar view of a holorecorder attached to a flak helmet. In the bottom left corner you can see Rook's nose again, though it is clean and not dripping with sweat this time. In front of him and to his flanks are ranks of his fellow PDF troopers, all clad in the same battered green armour and brownish-green uniforms common to Lolitan forces. Their weapons are held sharply at parade rest, and in front of the formation stands the reason: A full Colonel, dressed in his trench coat of the same color, with polished black jack boots, and an ornate swords sheated at his side. He too, wears his flak armour, although thicker and with gauntlets, perhaps the heavier carapace armour than many officers wear, rather than standard issue flak.

To the officer's right is his command squad detail, all wearing the heavier and thicker armour like their commanding officer, and with golden Imperial Aquila markings on their helmets and chest plate, as opposed to the matte grey of the rank and file troops. One man holds the Lolitan 14th battle flag at attention, while the others hold their rifles, all cleaned and unblemished at right shoulder arms.

A song is playing in the background, one you do not recognize, although you suspect that it is the Lolitan Anthem. Three minutes pass before the song comes to a close, and a loud and commanding voice gives the command for the regiment to come to attention. Clacking of boots the snapping of lasguns as they are brought to the proper position ring out through the parade ground. The officer begins to speak.

"My name....is Colonel Torian Jack. I am your new commanding officer, Lolitan 14th, and it is my honour to become such. I understand that my predecesor, never one time addressed you all, and as such, I am pleased to see you all today, and introduce myself. I have heard nothing but excellent remarks about you men, and about how you have been quashing this work-force rebellion with skill and diligence"

The Colonel goes on to discuss several things with the regiment, mostly regarding their performance, and what he hopes to accomplish with the regiment. Minutes into his speech, he informs the men that they will be marching on the factory that the rebels have held themselves up in, and taking it by force within one week of this adress

"We will deliver the Emperor's justice to these traitors, and they will learn the error of their ways by their death. Regiment, you are dismissed"

+++Transmition: Complete+++

++Holorecord: Active++
++Location: Lolitan (Barracks)++

The camera faces Trooper Davius inside his barracks room. Around him is much commotion, the sound of boots hitting concrete ground, weapons being loaded, and flak armour being strapped onto bodies. There is murming from every direction, as well as shouting, a mix of apprehensive noise and shouts of motivation and excitement.

"Well, this is it. We're gearing up and marching out in 6 hours. My things are packed, my weapon is clean, and my will is steeled. I think this will be the biggest battle we've seen yet, and there is no more doubt in my mind that this is what must be done. My faith in the Emperor is strong, as is my faith in my regiment, and in my own skill, and in my weapon. It is time these traitors were dealt with so we things can all go back to normal"

He pauses, places his mouth in his hand

"I've decided to reenlist, when my time comes. I feel this is the right place for me, as a soldier of the Emperor and a defender of Lolitan. I am very good at this job...I think i'd like to climb the ranks.

See you all on the other side"

The feed remains active for several moments as Rook walks away from his bunk to interact with several fellow troopers. You hear him yell something playfully sarcastic at his bunk mate who he names as Quinn. Then the feed cuts out.
+++Transmition: Complete+++

10 years later
Location: Unknown

"So....what do you think so far about this candidate? I know there's years worth of footage left to view, but from what I've seen so far, he progressed greatly in a very short time span. I believe he is a great warrior, now" asks a voice from the other side of your dimly lit room.

The only illumination in the ten by twenty meter box you're in comes from multiple terminals, with servitors situated in front of each, endlessly calculating, sorting through files that even you, and Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos, have forgotten about in your several century service to the Emperor of Mankind.

"Too early to tell, Xavian. Far too early" you say coldly, as you always do. "There is no room for doubt. This team needs to be perfect, flawless."

The other figure in the room sighs in annoyance. "You've been digging through reports and files for five Terran weeks, now. Just let me dig through his memories, it will be much quicker"

You consider it for many moments, before agreeing.

"One condition, though, Xavian. If I tell you to stop, so I can review something on these feeds, you stop immediately. You understand? I am the Inquisitor. You are the acolyte."

"Of course, Inquisitor" he says. He leads you to the room where Sergeant Major Davius Rook lays on an operating table, mangled and torn. Six medicae servitors work tirelessly on him, sewing together open wounds, implanting even more bionics than he already has, where necessary. His left eye had been torn out, his right arm completely removed above the bicep. Both of his legs were severed below the knees, and his body covered in promethium burns. Utterly unconscious, and barely breathing, his vital signs are monitored on a screen above his head: Still alive, and with a good chance of being resecutated.

You stare for a moment, at this heroic but beaten soldier of the Imperial Guard, before turning to your psyker acolyte.

"Delve in, and show me what this man has seen"

[Aeon]

Well to anybody who might be reading this, we just had a really awesome session that concluded our first chapter of game play. Can't wait to write about it, because I have some really awesome cinematic stuff to share with you

[Rolling Thunder]

THE ROOK!

[Aeon]

The Rook will be back shortly! Had a bad case of writer's block for the next section, but I just got inspired tonight, actually

[Aeon]

Journal: Davius Rook
Sergeant: Lolitan 3rd Regiment
Section 1.4

Your mind and vision go dark as the psyker's telepathic abilities take hold of your brain. A horrendous itch at the center of your skull nearly drives you to tears of pain, but subsides after many agonizing moments, and a vision of a battlefield begins to form, as if you were there yourself. It is an image of the past, viewed through the eyes of the very man you have been studying for the past standard week.

The smells of battle are ripe within your nostrils, vivid to the point that you almost begin to feel the rush of combat, and adrenalin spikes through your body. You can see your own hands, no, not your hands, Trooper Rook's hands, holding an M36 Lasgun in a vice like grip, white knuckled with stress and and a sense of confusion washes through your body. Not terror, though, as you would expect from a relatively green trooper.

He is crouched behind a metal plate, perhaps the burnt out hull of a vehicle, although it is unpainted and there are no insignias visible. You can hear autogun rounds and las bolts ping against it on the other side. In your left ear you hear the muffled voice of a Sergeant bellowing orders to his squad. Move up, show no fear, he says, but nobody is moving. They are staying in cover under a blistering hail of gun fire, but stalwart are they, returning with a torrent of their own accurate vollies.

You see Rook peek out of cover. Ahead of him, through some blasted and damaged trees, you see a tall concrete wall, perhaps 10 meters high. Atop it sits a guard tower of some sort, although it's strange that an agricultural facility would have such a tower. Upon further observation you notice it seems to be ramshackle, and makeshift. The terrorists had obviously fortified it for themselves. What exactly were they rebelling about, again? Oh yes, unfair wages. Selfish heresy, you think to yourself.

There is a pair of men, terrorist traitors, taking cover in the jury rigged tower, arming a double barreled heavy stubber, and firing with reckless abandon at the loyal troopers. You see Rook raise and shoulder his weapon without taking careful aim, and pop off half a dozen shots in quick succession, most of them colliding harmlessly with the wooden and aluminum barricade. One shot, however, perhaps a lucky one, finds its mark with the man feeding the ammo belt into the devastating twin linked weapon, and passes explosively through his head, showering the tower with gore.

The gunner stops firing for a moment, in shock, allowing several other troopers to stand up from their cover and fire on him. The heat of more than eight las rifles pounds into the man, flinging him backwards off the tower. You hear the Sergeant once more order his men to stand up and charge. Rook fixes his bayonet and bounds to his right and around the enormous metal plate he had been using to shield his body from harm. You see now that it is an Imperial Chimera armoured transport, destroyed and burning on the other side, perhaps by an RPG or a krak missile.

Through the brush, leaves and stones the men charge, with vigor and courage. A titanic battle cry of a hundred men rings in your ears. Inspiring, for such a small and poorly trained unit, you conclude.

Rook is running in your vision of the battle, towards the concrete wall where you notice a large metal door. He and his squad mates stop about 30 meters from it, and a man with a grenade launcher fires a pair of krak grenades at it in rapid succession, blasting it from its hinges with a cacaphonous metallic clank. It falls inwards, blasted into several pieces, and without hesitation, several men emerge from the room it led to, disregarding cover and concealment. Rook once again raises his rifle and with his battle brothers, guns the enemy down without mercy. They are rushing yet again, stacking up on the door with precision and discipline. Rook is fourth in the stack, with his friend you remember from the holovid, Quinn, in front of him. Front of the stack, the smallest trooper, whose name you do not know, primes, cookes and tosses a fragmentation grenade into the room.

As the grenade detonates the trooper immediately and without hesitation or fear, rushes into the room, followied by his comrades. Quinn enters, and then Rook; the room is dark, difficult to see in, and lit only by a trio of lamps hanging from the ceiling. You are in the reception area of the facility, and an overturned desk is being used for cover by yet another heavy stubber team. The young, small framed trooper is torn to pieces as the heavy slugs rip through his flak armour, and also slay the man behind him. The reaction is intense, as Quinn and Rook fire their rifles, lacing burn wounds up the enemy's torsos from the belly to the collar bone.

Again they are moving, bounding over the wooden desk. One enemy in front of Rook is still alive, struggling and grasping at his webbing gear for a frag grenade. Before he can pull the pin, Rook's bayonet is thrust forward and jammed into the man's chest once, twice, and three times, ending his life with a spray of blood that paints the trooper's hands and part of his weapon.

All goes quiet in the room, but the adrenalin still flows. You can hear Rooks heart beating in your ear, his breath coming in gasps. Perhaps flak armour is heavy? You don't even know, having never worn such meager protection.

The Sergeant enters the room last, his chain sword unsheathed but not active, a las pistol in his hands. He shouts at his men, applauding them on a job well done. He informs them that taking the reception area was the first step, but there were several more rooms to cover for their squad. The other squads in their platoon would be moving in from another direction and covering another section of the building, but the momentum was apparently very strong and they were winning the fight.

Troopers around Rook spread out and cover the three doors in the room; one behind the overturned desk, and one on each wall to the left and right. The Sergeant leans down to the two fallen soldiers and plucks their dog tags from their necks, and inaudibly says a prayer to the Emperor. He closes their eyes, a peaceful and respectful gesture, cut short by a yell from behind Trooper Rook.

As he turns, you see a frag grenade has been tossed into the room. Everyone clamours for cover, diving away from the grenade as it detonates. Suddenly, you feel a stinging pain in your abdomen, and Rook screams in your head, briefly but loudly. The visions cuts away and your vision of your current setting returns.

"Damnation! I felt that grenade!" you scream at Xavian. He looks at you, grinning sideways as if he knew it would happen. "Yes, Inquisitor, I feared that you might feel his pain, but I had no way of knowing if these were his only injuries he ever received"
He glances into the medical room that Davius Rook now lay in, still unconscious.

You sigh angrily. Xavian is far too valuable to you to be rid of, but his sense of humor is infuriating.

"I think that's enough for today, Xavian. Let us rest"

[Rolling Thunder]

It's...solid, though a few mistakes throw off one's appreciation. "Cookes" a grenade. Keep writing, the plot is the strongest part of this.

[Walrus]

I think this is is excellent! I was so absorbed I hardly noticed any mistakes.

[Aeon]

Feb 22, 2016 18:34:12 GMT -5 Walrus said:

I think this is is excellent! I was so absorbed I hardly noticed any mistakes.

I'm glad it's working! There is so much in store for this character. I've been busy with the band for the last few days. I think i'll be writing more tomorrow, at least another full section, hopefully 2 sections if I am inspired enough

Feb 20, 2016 19:06:30 GMT -5 Rolling Thunder said:

It's...solid, though a few mistakes throw off one's appreciation. "Cookes" a grenade. Keep writing, the plot is the strongest part of this.

My word pad doesn't have spell checker. I am often most inspired after a 12 hour day of work, and I get very sloppy with my spelling and grammar. None of this has been edited or spell checked, so I must be doing something right if that's the only mistake you noticed!

[RedsandRoyals]

If you've got a Gmail account, try using Google Docs. It has a spell checker and you can access the same doc from any computer where you can log in to google, basically. I've used it to work on the same writing projects from my chromebook and desktop.

[Aeon]

Feb 25, 2016 19:28:44 GMT -5 RedsandRoyals said:

If you've got a Gmail account, try using Google Docs. It has a spell checker and you can access the same doc from any computer where you can log in to google, basically. I've used it to work on the same writing projects from my chromebook and desktop.

I do have one. I will use that instead

[Aeon]

Journal: Davius Rook
Sergeant: Lolitan 3rd Regiment
Section 1.5

The following morning comes quickly, four standard Terran hours of sleep and you are back at it again. You lean back into your throne-like chair, adjusting until you are comfortable and content. Xavian places his hand to your forehead and invokes the warp, bringing back that same stinging sensation as the first day.

Immediately you taste a thick, metallic liquid in your mouth. Your ears ring sharply and you feel disoriented, almost ready to vomit at the slightest involuntary movement. Your vision goes black for many minutes before the ringing in your ears subsides and you come into the vision of the past. The metallic disgustingness on your tongue remains.

Your eyes finally open, and your see first two fellow troopers, one standing and one kneeling, firing down a hallway, las bolts and solid projectile rounds zipping past their heads. They do not falter, they are well trained and disciplined. They are returning fire with cold and calculated precision. You cannot hear very well but you know that an intense battle is raging, and your squad is caught in the reception room of the facility, suffering enemy fire from three sides. Cover is good, though, and none of your fellows seem to be hit.

Then you feel yourself moving, being dragged by a strap attached to the neck of your flak armour. You crane your head backwards to see your friend, Quinn, pulling you behind a toppled metal cabinet for cover. Once your are securely prone behind it, he shoulders his own rifle and fires down the northern passage which leads into the primary preparation area.

"Don't worry, Rook! I got ya! You're gonna be alright when we get back to the base camp! You'll live! Emperor's watching over you, brother!"

A few seconds pass and you regain control of your own limbs. They are Rooks limbs though, you remember. You look down at Rook's hand as it touches his chest, his palm covered in blood as his turns his wrist away from the wound. His hand is shaking violently, and you can feel the intense fear shrieking through his mind.

Another face comes into your vision, the squad's Sergeant. His face is calm, yet concerned, and he looks at you sternly. "Trooper Rook, you do not have permission to die. By the Emperor's Will, I command you to get up and fight!"

And then you are moving, miraculously. Rook rolls onto his side, shaking violently head to toe with agonizing pain. Using his arms, he pushes himself up, and with his right hand draws his auto pistol. Crawling on hands and knees, the young Trooper makes his way to the Western entrance and peers briefly around the corner. From here and through blurry vision you can spy a quartet of heretic insurgents, entrenched behind a mound of scrapped factory equipment, benches, and even a door that has been torn from its hinges.

They are armed with rifles, primitive ones, the receivers made of old reddish brown wood. They are fed from magazines that are inserted from the left side of the weapon, and make a ping when empty. Perfect, a warning sign when the enemy is out of ammo.

Trooper Korrigan, according to the name tape on the man's left shoulder, blindly fires his rifle around the corner, without aiming. You look up at him and feel Rook's mouth move, but barely hear his words over the cacaphony that is open combat. Still, they are distinguishable enough. He urges Korrigan to calm himself, and aim properly, and demands that he provide heavy suppressing fire when he signals him. Korrigan nods in agreement.

From down the hall you hear two loud pings, and you know that Rook is ready to strike. He motions to his squad mate Korrigan to lay down heavy covering fire. Without hesitation, he complies. Turning his body around the corner he pumps las bolts towards the enemy in rapid succession until the barrel of his weapon is glowing white-blue with heat. The enemy fire stops and Rook springs up, ignorning his greivous injuries completely and showing little regard for his own safety.

Up and around the corner he goes, into the fatal funnel that is the two meter wide corridor. You estimate it is somewhere close to fifteen meters long, and it takes only a moment for the wounded soldier to dash the entire length of it. He does not have any grenades, but he does have an automatic pistol. Once at the barricade and places a boot on a foothold and raises himself up enough to see the other side and stick an arm over.

The four hostiles are crouched there, two of them are reloading and the other two are keeping watch. There is no hestiation as Rook raises his weapon and fires on fully automatic, sweeping his weapon right to left, hitting both loaded rifle bearers in the chest several times and killing them instantly. Blood sprays onto the walls in an almost artistic display. You notice the two men who were reloading have finished their task and are raising their rifles.

Rook takes quick aim again and pulls the trigger. A harsh metallic click sounds from the weapon and a sense of pure dread fills your mind. A malfunction. You wonder how your candidate will make it out of this one alive, though he obviously does, as he now lays upon your medicae table on your flagship.

The next several seconds pass in what feels like slow motion. Two autogun muzzles stare at your face meanacingly, but time seems to speed back up to normal as they are gunned down in a vicious flash of light. Six las bolts lace the first man from groin to chin, and five more nearly burn a hole through the chest of the second. A glance to the right reveals Trooper Quinn, who had rushed down the hall after his friend to save his life.

"Quinn you jolly bastard. Never let me down, yet!" Rook shouts in ecstatic relief. Quinn sticks out his fist, laughing, and the two friends knuckle tap. "Of course I haven't!" He jokes back

You emerge from the vision to see Xavian wiping blood from your mouth with a small towel. "What happened?" you demand.

"The injuries that Sergeant Major Rook received during that battle as a Trooper were severe. He only functioned through them from sheer adrenaline, and of course....faith in the God Emperor. Since these visions I'm showing you are warp induced, you feel his pain, and any longer would have caused the same damage to your body that he suffered. It is my duty to protect you, lord, I cannot allow it"

You sigh, frustrated. "Very well, we shall skip through this battle. There are many years of combat yet to witness. He seems to be a remarkably tough man, for an average Guardsman. I wonder what else he has accomplished the last eighteen years in his service to the Emperor..."

[Aeon]

I want to write more but I've been busy with the band, and work, and holidays, and we haven't any more sessions in awhile. Stand by

[Aeon]

I can't get the GM to continue the game....sorry, guys

[Adkenpachi]

What would rook say!

[RedsandRoyals]

May 1, 2016 16:38:55 GMT -5 Adkenpachi said:

What would rook say!

Something zenlike about killing scorpions in the nude.

And I mean that as a compliment.

[Adkenpachi]

I fail to see how it's anything BUT a compliment!

Also, new t-shirt.. "WWRD"

[Aeon]

Thinking about picking this back up in a different format! I miss writing