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  • Redemption

    Ivan Ostopovich sat on the walls of Novogrod deep in prayer. The German army led by Bismarck had thoroughly destroyed his former home of Moscow, and had set up a bastardized city known as Hamburg in it's place. This was Russia's last city, the only thing of note was the Church of the Nativity that had been constructed here many years ago. He wondered, as did many, if Jesus Christ was angry with them, or just wanted them to realize that they can do nothing without him.

    "Although being devout may not save my country, it can still save me" Ivan thought, and prayed more fervently, confessing his sins and nearly coming to tears when recalling Jesus Christ's sacrifice on the cross.

    Yuri Schmidt sat on his damaged artillery piece to get five minutes respite from the battle of Novogrod before setting to work on fixing it. The anticipated Russian winter was late in coming this year, and the barrels of the artillery were warping from the combined heat of the constant bombarding and the indian summer that made their winter uniforms uncomfortable and cumbersome. cheap dreamweaver Most men had stripped to bare chests while operating the artillery, but as Yuri sat there atop the cooling gun, he was thankful to have his coat.

    Strange chills had been coming to Yuri more and more ever since the destruction of Moscow. There was something about bombing a religious temple filled with people (even if they were the enemy) that upset him.

    "Yuri! The gun's cool enough! Get the sledge and pound it back in place!"

    He appreciated Colonel Frecht, the only way to solve a problem was with a hammer, which usually led to humourous exploits by his unit. He swung the sledge like a pendulum, adding force with each upswing so that eventually it landed on the bottom of the gun and it jerked upwards. Well, the results were less than pretty, but a quick diameter check indicated that it was shootin' time once more.


    Ivan's prayers were interrupted by a flash on the horizon followed quickly by a high pitched whistle.

    "INCOMI---" it was all he could get out before the shell hit the base of the wall.

    Ivan ran as fast as he could to get away from his former post that was now crumbling away like a graham cracker.

    Ivan made his way down into the armory, where all the modern weapons were long gone. He found an old hand musket, and a long pike that used to belong to Peter the Great, as a result it was well maintained. Ivan knew that the Great one would want his weapon to taste blood once more.

    He ran out of the fortification over the rubble that had once been his post, taking the secret wooded paths that his superiors had made him memorize in case a guerilla war needed to be fought. His aim was he hill that he had seen flash. He knew the place well, it was where the Russians had Crucified Jesus, and now to be attacked from there, it had to be a sign from God, or the Devil himself.

    He saw the German artillery surrounded by shirtless men who were swearing in the barbaric German tongue and, even curiouser, were hitting their gun with a sledgehammer.

    "Crazy Germans," Ivan thought, "with shoddy guns like this we could win easily"

    Using the darkness as his cover, he snuck up behind three gunners wheo were taking a break and passing a cigarette around in a circle.

    Ivan's heart pounded as he realized what he was about to do, hopefully Jesus Christ would be able to forgive him.

    Peter the Great's spear shot through both lungs of the man closest to Ivan and then was twisted and withdrawn. The German lay on the ground coughing up blood and choking to death. Ivan had no time to mourn his enemy though, the other two Germans saw this as well, Ivan used the spear on the soldier who stared motionless at his fallen comrade. "Probably his first observed casualty," Ivan thought before impaling him with the spear that had killed his friend. The other soldier had begun running back towards the artillery piece when Ivan raised the pistol, aimed for the head, and fired. The man's spine exploded and he fell down, instantly paralyzed. "Curse my training with modern weapons!" Ivan thought as he noticed that his shot had landed a foot lower than he had aimed.


    Well, what do y'all think? Feedback = more story, No feedback = no more story.
    Last edited by fzgton; December 2, 2010, 05:38.