Ours is not to Question, Ours is to Do and Die

From the Fortress of Arrogance:

Commissar Muskeg reporting. Trooper moral is low, though I have seen lower. We have been under assault for the last dozen days or more. Night and day, without rest, our foe has been throwing their bodies onto our bayonets and into the path of our las bolts. We have suffered casualties, most particular of note was Sergeant Craig, one of the companies more devote troopers.

The foe we face is not without cunning, for all of their mindless attacks. Some greater force guides these leather clad fools, pushing them to frenzied heights of bloodletting. Their leather suits are festooned in buckles and straps, weird glyphs and piercings. They cry in ecstasy when injured, and moan in joy when they are sprayed with the life blood of my loyal soldiers.

We have been pushed from the outer walls, and are resorting to street fighting, not giving the enemy a block without spilling their guts and blood. We cannot surrender to this filth. In the name of our God, we shall not fall. 

Someday soon, I hope to march from this city at the head of my unit, over the bodies of these fanatical freaks. But a darker part of me, one that I dare not admit to, fears that this fight shall be longer and more bloody then I would wish. 

Repent Thy Sins

From the trenches:


I am Commissar Muskeg, a soldier in the never ending war to bring the light to darkened places. Though I am not a true soldier, my journey and battles are no less difficult for it. For the sake of security (least the enemy discover my communications and glean valuable information), my true name will not be divulged. Perhaps this is all to grandiose for a first entry, but I suppose that is who I am. I will profess no real sense for what is to be written, but I would hazard the guess that this is what a blog is for, to write down what would otherwise be left to the void. 


I battle daily for my own continued sanity, and for the soul I house in my body. Not always is this against a person, a place, or even a thing so much as it is a fight for my continued existence. I will not lie, my own flaws are what harm me the most, making the most mundane of tasks impregnable fortresses, my latent desires a mighty foe, and the whispered voices of my own failing sanity akin to the crumbling of a once grand bastion.


I repent my sins, but as they are manyfold and some unmentionable for the sake of politeness, I shall not delve much deeper. I soon go to war with my teachers, my mentors on the field of battle. To gather more information is a lofty goal, like a mountain fortress armed with dedicated soldiers and battle ready war machines. I do not go unarmed, but at the forefront of a mighty host; a single yet many faceted entity who's capacities are legion. I march to the tune of a thousand pounding feet, the song of a howled battle cry lifting me up to battle my foe as an avatar for all that is righteous. I shall return, victorious; and though I may be battered, my smile will show my soul as unmarred.


-God wills it -
---Commissar Muskeg---