40K Vignette

The scream of an artillery shell is heard in the distance, followed by a blossom of fire illuminating the battlefield. A black tank, a white fleur-de-lys emblazoned on its side, rolls over a sandbagged wall, the pilot-lights on its flamethrowers flickering in the near-dark.

From beyond the distant hill, two screaming Land Speeders scorched across the sky, the chin-mounted assault cannons spit shells toward the enemy emplacement behind the tower, the screams of the fallen resounded as the bullets found their mark. Space Marines, encased in their power armour, ran across the battlefield, the plasma-guns in their hands glowing with a dangerous light. Twin flares burst from the 'guns, slamming into the side of the flame-tank, detonating the fuel-storage within, sending shrapnel across the landscape. Oily smoke poured from the destroyed tank while long flames flickered past the metal.

From the hill, Lucius Gabriel, master and commander of the 3rd Company of Storm Ravens, grins ferally, the distant firelight reflected in his dark eyes.

++ SIR. TARGET IMMOLATOR IS DESTROYED. YOUR ORDERS? ++

Gabriel looks towards the emplacement, and nods. Assault the emplacement. Beware of heavy weapons, he subvocalized.

++ UNDERSTOOD. ++

++ COMMANDER GABRIEL'S LOG ++

DATE: 3246002.M42
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: Success is measured in blood; yours or your enemy's.

++ TRANSMISSION BEGINS ++

My company and I have just arrived in orbit around Colcha Prime. Revolt has sparked here, the result of several years of raids by 'demons that strike under cover of darkness'. Currently within it's ecliptic period, the planet is shrouded in darkness, which allowed the raids to grow in frequency and the panic spreading. The government, in an attempt to quell the widespread fear, contacted the Adeptus Administratum and Adeptus Ministorum to aid the darkened planet, and after several months with no respite or sign of progress, felt it necessary to call in the Space Marines.

We were called in after finishing our tour of duty against the Chaos forces within the Sabbat Worlds. The raiders on the planet have been identified as eldar pirates, and have been using a slave legion of humans, equipped to match the local PDF. My company, the 3rd Battle Company, colloquially known as 'Gabriel's Angels', were assigned to free this planet from the damned xenos. Assigned a small contingent from the 1st Battle Company, comprised of a squad of Terminators and the Venerable Brother Markus, we jumped towards the Colcha system.

We drop tomorrow, just after morning prayer, which will be led by our reverent Reclusiarch Xerxes. I hear it shall be truly rousing.

++ END TRANSMISSION ++

Colouring work.

Recent colouring job for http://www.bittercomics.com. Art copyright 2006 by Marek Twarog.

'Blog Review

Well, I've been searching through Technorati recently, looking for new writing blogs, when I stumbed across this little gem. The Chronicles of Seriphyn Knight. It's the ongoing story of a girl known as Seriphyn Knight, told in an Industrial Age (as far as I can tell) setting. Without spoiling any of the written work, I'd like to give it a little review.

It's actually mostly well written: the story itself progresses at a fairly fast clip, a bit of disjointment here and there from gaps in the actual story. Grammar and punctuation leave much to be desired for, and definitely could use some work. Also, watch for some mispelled words, occasionally they can throw you off (consider 'reteched' rather than 'wretched', as it should be).

Otherwise, not bad at all. It'll be interesting to see where the story goes on from here.

Vignette

The cold steel of the corridor reverberates with the not-so-distant roar of the jump drive spinning into action. James Treader looks up from the open panel in the bulkhead in the general direction of the drives, and smiles.

I love my job.

James bends back over the open system bus, and seals it shut. Standing up straight again, he begins to walk through the ship towards the drive bay, stopping for a snack in the mess. Seeing his captain, Alahor, he grins.

"Drive's are operational, cap'n."

"I'm hearing that. Thanks, James. Wanna have some chili? I've got some left."

"Nah, I'm good. Plus, yer chili gives me the gas."

Alahor laughs. "Well, I can't be having you all gassy in the drive room, something might explode." Alahor stands, and begins walking towards the door. "Look, keep my ship together, 'kay?"

"Will do cap'n."

"Good." The hatch seals shut, leaving James to his own thoughts.

Vignette

Jared Irons arrives on the third floor, the elevator chiming as it opens the door. He steps out into sunlight filtering through the polarized glass of the ceiling and walls. Jared looks into an infinite mass of floating billboards and skyscrapers, lost amidst the sea of commercialism. Any direction he looks brings advertisements for devastatingly expensive merchandise, "Need the Speed? Drink FlashForward.", and other various products and services.

Turning to the desk at the centre of the observation-room, Jared strides over to the imbedded switch in the mahogany, and flips the breaker. The air suddenly awakens with sound and moving light, the advertisements coming to life from their restful sleep. Jared pulls a sheaf of papers from his pocket, and marks the box labelled "Signage complete".

Movies...

Well, it seems that I have gotten myself involved in a movie project...I'll let you know more as I know more, but suffice to say I will be the creative director and writer of the project.

When I know more, you will know more.

A little something I found on my journeys...

Here's a li'l something I've come across.


Done in Adobe Illustrator 10. Pintstize riding Winslow like a horse (not the other kind of ride! ;-) ).

Characters (Pintsize and Winslow) copyright 2006 Jeff Jacques. Artwork copyright 2006 Matthew Terry.

7th Face of God - Excerpt

The black sky opens up, cascading torrents of rain down upon the earth. Water pools in crevices at the side of the roadway, splashing as each new droplet hits. The lights along the street flicker as the downpour increases, the light casting its rare glow on the water while it drains into the sewers.

Splashes can be heard in the distance, advancing slowly through the rain. A man dressed in a drenched trenchcoat and fedora walks under the light, and looks up towards the storm clouds. Rain splatters on his weather-beaten face, dripping off the scraggly beard adorning his chin. Sighing, he looks back down towards the ground, and trudges along through the rain.

Sayings and Saids

Shakespeare's quote, "All the world's a stage,/and all the men and women merely players./They have their exits and their entrances;/and one man in his time plays many parts..." isn't spiffy enough. I've come up with something better.

"All the world is a stage, and we are naught actor nor director; instead, we are some mix of either."

- M