The Infinite Crucible
16-10-2005, 03:52
This was it. This was where the final hammer stroke fell, the final gap in a weapon of perfection sealed. Here on the southern border of The Wood, the final remnants of degenerate natives stood against The Grand Crucible Army. To the north was a land no man had ever entered and returned to tell the tale. The natives would be smashed between the iron fist of an army forged from men of pure malice and bloodlust, and the dark unseen evils of the north lands, The Wood. It was here the last vestiges and of purity and light would be crushed between two infinitely deep and terrible evils. The day was suitably terrible for such an occasion.
Even the fair weather of the more northern regions of The Infinite Crucible, which has not yet come into existence, will kill a man within the hour. Today however saw the great and terrible land spit forth winds that would knock a man from his feet, cold that froze spit before it hit the ground and froze a man’s features in a matter of minutes. One could hardly see a foot in front of him as he was bombarded with snows, sleet, and hail. The air was permeated with the constant roar of winds. Even before hitting the enemy many would fall, and even more would be separated from his fellow soldiers. Today was a day where all a man could trust was the strength in his own arms, even his weapons were liable to fail.
However terrible the weather it all broke around a single figure, it was as if even the earth did not dare to tempt his wrath. He was known simply as Lucifuge, Hand of the Emperor. All that common knowledge of this man reveals is that he has been general over all who serve the Emperor as long as any can remember. His steely eyes pierced the gale without effort, the wind that would lift a normal man from his feet merely pattered away at his cloak.
At his side two soldiers of great renown and prowess stood, unable to match is unwavering state into the white oblivion before them. Beyond and about those two men was the army. It was composed of millions. Ranging from greenhorns of all ages, who were doomed to die this day, to veterans of a thousand battles, most likely doomed as well. For this would be the greatest battle in the history of the land.
Lucifuge slowly looked to the stalwart figure to his right, “You have stood by me for more than any soldier should, for this I owe you the truth.”
The man looked over, he had never seen this side of the terrible figure.
“This is a battle I believe very few shall walk away from, we have driven these natives north for over a hundred years, this is the final engagement.”
The soldier was awe struck, this war had been fought for over one hundred years. He knew it had roots deep in history, but it had never occurred to him how long that may have been.
“The natives have fled and fell back, for we did not seek to slay only their warriors, but every single last one of them, man, woman, and child. Now they have nowhere to run, they will fight to the last.”
The soldier had told this fact to himself a hundred times in preparation for the battle.
“They will fight harder than any man we could muster, they will strike at you with a rage even I cant comprehend.”
The soldier had never known his superiors to admit a shortcoming, let alone the legendary general of the entire legion.
“For every one of us there are eight of them, every native huddling before the forest’s edge shall fight.”
“Sir, I have no faith in my strength, but with your leadership and the Emperor’s light I believe we shall drive this native blight from the earth.”
“Indeed, but remember, I am just a man, take heart in this fact and you will find your strength,” with that the great figure turned to gazing back into the oncoming oblivion.
I am just a man… take heart… The soldier smiled at this, he was simply a man as well, perhaps, just possibly he would live through the day.
“It is time, signal the advance.”
The man whispered into his radio, “Signal the advance.”
The message slowly spread like a creeping vine through the miles of soldiers. It rippled through the men, a death cry for the natives huddled to the north, fighting extinction.
Lucifuge waited a second, and glanced to his left then his right, “For victory, for peace.” The statement was lost to the wind, and he took a step forward. The very earth must have begun to cry out at the damnable weight of the army as it trudged its way to the native formation. Tanks plowed through feet of snow, men with bayonets fixed marched in ragged formations. Miles behind artillery opened fire, there tell tale cracks and rumbles lost to the wind. Men who remember the day shall say the shells were as prone to hit the advancing men as the native lines half a mile ahead.
Foot by foot the men pushed through the freezing hell. Foot by foot they fell. Men, just barely men, still in their teens simply shut down. The older soldiers, who had served for more than their fair share died all the same.
Then it the advance ended, and the battle began. It was almost anti-climatic. A single native armed with a frozen rifle crouched huddled around a whimpering fire. He looked up and before him stood a figure, Lucifuge. The man knew his face even through the biting screen of snow. It was the final straw for a dying man, and like so many on both sides he died, at the mere site of Lucifuge.
His lifeless fearful eyes stared up at Lucifuge and for a moment there was an understanding between them. Almost as to signal the battle’s beginning a shell struck the ground ten meters ahead of Lucifuge. Natives struggled from debris all about the strike. The time for understanding was over. Lucifuge howled and charged forward with rifle and mace in hand. He had lied to that soldier at his side, he was far more than a man.
His mace crashed into the skull of a still shocked native splitting it asunder and blowing out rib cage. The native melted away before Lucifuge. A blonde haired woman looked up armed with nothing but a spear at the titan of a man. She charged screaming, flailing her weapon in wild arcs. A solid slug from Lucifuge’s rifle struck her square in the chest. Life escaped her as well.
More artillery struck the ground all about Lucifuge and he was knocked from his feet. Moments later he was up again and all about him his own soldiers were charging forward with cries of hatred and slaughter.
Battle was joined. All about Lucifuge men and woman alike fell to weapons of every fashion. Lives were ended. The terrible white was replaced with a terrible red and frozen crystals of blood were kicked up and flung miles around.
Lucifuge swung his weapon with the precision of a surgeon crushing all those who stood before him. The ground was littered with those of both sides. Hell rained from the sky as artillery strikes were carried out with reckless abandon on the carnage. The fury of the battle shook the world to its core. With each blow struck from man to man, human to human, the earth cried out and its fury increased.
The battle raged for hours on end until one final ridge remained between the forests edge and the advancing legion of the crucible. For three miles south there was less land than bodies and still the soldiers advanced, but courage threatened to waver, here at the end of all things. A man could not stick his face above the ground for it was more bullet than air above that.
The natives were desperate, but desperate minds are often brilliant. The arcs of fire were perfect, every inch of that last one hundred meters was a kill zone. It seemed as if the legion of the crucible had been stopped. It would have halted, but Lucifuge, Hand of the Emperor, still lived, and there would be no defeat under his guidance.
He slowly rose from cover as all about him death whirled through the air. The same aura that had driven the weather to its knees seemed to protect him now. His tired beaten men looked up at their general and were in awe.
“There shall be no defeat for the soldiers of the Emperor, we shall finish this. This war has raged for far too long, it is in dire need of closure. I would rather die in victory than live in defeat for this final stretch. My friends, courage is a scant thing, but gather it now. I stand before you, alive. I have done what you believe none could do. You may think I am more than a man, but you are wrong, I am just that.”
I am just a man… take heart…
The soldier that had stood beside Lucifuge before the battle slowly rose. Courage was all it took. He came to a full stance.
“Now, for the Emperor’s glory, no for YOUR glory, CHARGE!” which of the two men cried that order is still unknown.
The land echoed in an terrible roar as the last of the great legion arose and ran guns blazing into the final line of natives. Hundreds fell, cut to pieces from the well laid fire. Courage pushed through however and the charge could not be stopped. The legion crashed into the native line.
It was both terrible and glorious. Wondrous and despicable. Triumphant and tragic. Above all things however, it was victory. The final remnants of natives fled north, risking death among The Wood. The war was won, and a nation was founded.
Miles away the message came through. The last of the natives had been driven out and the land was now pure. The Infinite Crucible was founded.
OOC: So my new government's statement and other stuff will be coming soon. Feel free to react. Sorry this is not my best writing, as I am pretty tired right now.
Even the fair weather of the more northern regions of The Infinite Crucible, which has not yet come into existence, will kill a man within the hour. Today however saw the great and terrible land spit forth winds that would knock a man from his feet, cold that froze spit before it hit the ground and froze a man’s features in a matter of minutes. One could hardly see a foot in front of him as he was bombarded with snows, sleet, and hail. The air was permeated with the constant roar of winds. Even before hitting the enemy many would fall, and even more would be separated from his fellow soldiers. Today was a day where all a man could trust was the strength in his own arms, even his weapons were liable to fail.
However terrible the weather it all broke around a single figure, it was as if even the earth did not dare to tempt his wrath. He was known simply as Lucifuge, Hand of the Emperor. All that common knowledge of this man reveals is that he has been general over all who serve the Emperor as long as any can remember. His steely eyes pierced the gale without effort, the wind that would lift a normal man from his feet merely pattered away at his cloak.
At his side two soldiers of great renown and prowess stood, unable to match is unwavering state into the white oblivion before them. Beyond and about those two men was the army. It was composed of millions. Ranging from greenhorns of all ages, who were doomed to die this day, to veterans of a thousand battles, most likely doomed as well. For this would be the greatest battle in the history of the land.
Lucifuge slowly looked to the stalwart figure to his right, “You have stood by me for more than any soldier should, for this I owe you the truth.”
The man looked over, he had never seen this side of the terrible figure.
“This is a battle I believe very few shall walk away from, we have driven these natives north for over a hundred years, this is the final engagement.”
The soldier was awe struck, this war had been fought for over one hundred years. He knew it had roots deep in history, but it had never occurred to him how long that may have been.
“The natives have fled and fell back, for we did not seek to slay only their warriors, but every single last one of them, man, woman, and child. Now they have nowhere to run, they will fight to the last.”
The soldier had told this fact to himself a hundred times in preparation for the battle.
“They will fight harder than any man we could muster, they will strike at you with a rage even I cant comprehend.”
The soldier had never known his superiors to admit a shortcoming, let alone the legendary general of the entire legion.
“For every one of us there are eight of them, every native huddling before the forest’s edge shall fight.”
“Sir, I have no faith in my strength, but with your leadership and the Emperor’s light I believe we shall drive this native blight from the earth.”
“Indeed, but remember, I am just a man, take heart in this fact and you will find your strength,” with that the great figure turned to gazing back into the oncoming oblivion.
I am just a man… take heart… The soldier smiled at this, he was simply a man as well, perhaps, just possibly he would live through the day.
“It is time, signal the advance.”
The man whispered into his radio, “Signal the advance.”
The message slowly spread like a creeping vine through the miles of soldiers. It rippled through the men, a death cry for the natives huddled to the north, fighting extinction.
Lucifuge waited a second, and glanced to his left then his right, “For victory, for peace.” The statement was lost to the wind, and he took a step forward. The very earth must have begun to cry out at the damnable weight of the army as it trudged its way to the native formation. Tanks plowed through feet of snow, men with bayonets fixed marched in ragged formations. Miles behind artillery opened fire, there tell tale cracks and rumbles lost to the wind. Men who remember the day shall say the shells were as prone to hit the advancing men as the native lines half a mile ahead.
Foot by foot the men pushed through the freezing hell. Foot by foot they fell. Men, just barely men, still in their teens simply shut down. The older soldiers, who had served for more than their fair share died all the same.
Then it the advance ended, and the battle began. It was almost anti-climatic. A single native armed with a frozen rifle crouched huddled around a whimpering fire. He looked up and before him stood a figure, Lucifuge. The man knew his face even through the biting screen of snow. It was the final straw for a dying man, and like so many on both sides he died, at the mere site of Lucifuge.
His lifeless fearful eyes stared up at Lucifuge and for a moment there was an understanding between them. Almost as to signal the battle’s beginning a shell struck the ground ten meters ahead of Lucifuge. Natives struggled from debris all about the strike. The time for understanding was over. Lucifuge howled and charged forward with rifle and mace in hand. He had lied to that soldier at his side, he was far more than a man.
His mace crashed into the skull of a still shocked native splitting it asunder and blowing out rib cage. The native melted away before Lucifuge. A blonde haired woman looked up armed with nothing but a spear at the titan of a man. She charged screaming, flailing her weapon in wild arcs. A solid slug from Lucifuge’s rifle struck her square in the chest. Life escaped her as well.
More artillery struck the ground all about Lucifuge and he was knocked from his feet. Moments later he was up again and all about him his own soldiers were charging forward with cries of hatred and slaughter.
Battle was joined. All about Lucifuge men and woman alike fell to weapons of every fashion. Lives were ended. The terrible white was replaced with a terrible red and frozen crystals of blood were kicked up and flung miles around.
Lucifuge swung his weapon with the precision of a surgeon crushing all those who stood before him. The ground was littered with those of both sides. Hell rained from the sky as artillery strikes were carried out with reckless abandon on the carnage. The fury of the battle shook the world to its core. With each blow struck from man to man, human to human, the earth cried out and its fury increased.
The battle raged for hours on end until one final ridge remained between the forests edge and the advancing legion of the crucible. For three miles south there was less land than bodies and still the soldiers advanced, but courage threatened to waver, here at the end of all things. A man could not stick his face above the ground for it was more bullet than air above that.
The natives were desperate, but desperate minds are often brilliant. The arcs of fire were perfect, every inch of that last one hundred meters was a kill zone. It seemed as if the legion of the crucible had been stopped. It would have halted, but Lucifuge, Hand of the Emperor, still lived, and there would be no defeat under his guidance.
He slowly rose from cover as all about him death whirled through the air. The same aura that had driven the weather to its knees seemed to protect him now. His tired beaten men looked up at their general and were in awe.
“There shall be no defeat for the soldiers of the Emperor, we shall finish this. This war has raged for far too long, it is in dire need of closure. I would rather die in victory than live in defeat for this final stretch. My friends, courage is a scant thing, but gather it now. I stand before you, alive. I have done what you believe none could do. You may think I am more than a man, but you are wrong, I am just that.”
I am just a man… take heart…
The soldier that had stood beside Lucifuge before the battle slowly rose. Courage was all it took. He came to a full stance.
“Now, for the Emperor’s glory, no for YOUR glory, CHARGE!” which of the two men cried that order is still unknown.
The land echoed in an terrible roar as the last of the great legion arose and ran guns blazing into the final line of natives. Hundreds fell, cut to pieces from the well laid fire. Courage pushed through however and the charge could not be stopped. The legion crashed into the native line.
It was both terrible and glorious. Wondrous and despicable. Triumphant and tragic. Above all things however, it was victory. The final remnants of natives fled north, risking death among The Wood. The war was won, and a nation was founded.
Miles away the message came through. The last of the natives had been driven out and the land was now pure. The Infinite Crucible was founded.
OOC: So my new government's statement and other stuff will be coming soon. Feel free to react. Sorry this is not my best writing, as I am pretty tired right now.