To the Fallen

I'm apologizing in advance. Sorry, everyone.








The Fallen: Every blog member who has left this blog, also including those who will leave in the future before the Blogs have officially ended.


To the Fallen

I wrote this not because of recent times but because it needed to be said, sooner or later. Yeah, I know you all have your reasons. But to me, they just don't make sense.

What the hell is wrong with you now?
You've stumbled again,
But refuse our arms. 
You supposedly failed to do something or feel you don't want to burden us
Blame yourself
And tell us that you don't want to give us any more grief or pain, and so you drift away
But what grief?
What freaking pain?
I have suffered nothing but good memories with all of you.
To hell with your million reasons to go
To hell with your logic.


Coming here was the best thing that ever happened to you
So why the fuck do you leave?
Why the hell can't you see
That life'll never live up to your expectations?
In the outside world there will always be people who will dislike you,
Misunderstand you,
And bully you out of your mind.
And here?
We all love you.
We all need you.
We've all been through bad times
But never dwell too long on them.


So why do you leave this beautiful Elysium to descend, becoming Fallen, to Hell?


So stay here a while longer with me,
Here in this place of great ecstasy.
I'm not leaving. I never will;


What about you?





I didn't want to have to go this far. You know who you are. And I didn't want to have to write something like this again, almost blackmailing you to come back. I don't want to, it doesn't feel right- But what else do you want from me? I've given you all my hope, love, friendship, hugs, and best wishes. And for some unknown reason you sit just that little bit out of my reach, just out of my grasp. And it's infuriating.

I want my friends back. These blogs are the best and most important thing in my life. Better than my friends, my schoolwork, my writing, my games, my books, my everything. So why aren't they the most important thing for you all?


I've tried to get the Fallen back. Hell, we all have. But in the end it's up to them to decide what they want, not us.

-HB

:)

I'm in that kind of mood. A :) mood. Not quite :D, and definitely not close enough to xD, but it's just a kind of content, I'm-going-to-sit-back-and-watch-the-world-go-by/burn kind of mood. Y'know?


People know that I have a new Deviant Art account, right? It's mostly for scraps that I post as pictures, all in lead pencil, but some of them are kinda cool :)


http://hellboyselysium.deviantart.com/ There ya go :P


Oh, and my fanfiction, my WW2 one, is going great :) I know where I'm going, and that's a lot of writing for me, is planning where the hell I'm actually going...




Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KALLISTA! HAHAH, YOU'RE 16! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!


:D See, now I'm in that kind of mood :P

Venice Rain One Shot Fanfiction...thing...

The other day, Venice said to me "Someone really needs to write how our characters met." And I took it as a challenge. Instantly, I started coming up with ideas for explosions and unicorns and what the hell a Huffelpuff really is, and put it into writing. A mere *counts* week, two weeks later, I have produced a very, very short story.


While this was a good idea, it's taken up a lot of my time, which bothers me. I really want to write up some more ones like how Israel met Kal and Octa, and Lizzy and Kenny and, and...


...See, those were just the people I had on my mind at that moment. There are so many more that I'd like to write about, but frankly don't have the time. Sure, eventually I'll get round to some people. But there'll always be people asking how their character met mine, and why can't I write a story about them...


Truth is, I'm remembering my brother Louis not too long ago, and his own personal challenge- to illustrate each and every OC on the blogs. As you can guess, it didn't turn out that well. He ended up only illustrating about five OC's and releasing them (I think there's one drawing of Mary Hiashi that we have hidden away somewhere but was never touched up on the comp or anything...) to the outside world. People weren't very happy, he felt pressured by me, and I had to end it.

So, this might not be a thing I'll be continuing. But now, onto the story...



Three years prior to Ven's fan-fic.


Venice Rain smiled as the last patron left the library she was reading in, and when the glass double doors closed softly she stretched her arms and relaxed. Finally, peace and quiet. She selected a book from one of the many towering bookshelves, and then settled down at one of the wooden tables with wooden chairs to read it. Even the library's owner had ducked out to get a coffee, as Venice was a regular and trusted patron.
She had just settled into a comfortable position and opened her book when the opaque glass double doors burst open, revealing a midnight black sky for a second before they closed again. A rather lost looking man stood inside now, a brown leather trench coat reaching his knees. Venice saw him and instantly started to sink lower and lower behind her book, hoping like hell that he wouldn't come over towards her table...
But despite her hopes, he spotted her and made a beeline directly for the table she was at. His boots clunked loudly on the wooden floorboards until he got to where Venice was concentrating on the ink smudges on the book in front of her. Probably just some crazy homeless person, she thought.
Scratched and worn hands pressed firmly onto the table and in her field of vision, placed there to get her to look up. When she didn't, the man sighed.
"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave this building."
She frowned at her page. Yep, definitely crazy. "Excuse me?" she replied lazily, turning the page. The man knew when he was being ignored and slammed his palms back down onto the table, making her jump.
"Now," he said, and she heard a distant noise, repeating itself and getting louder. She didn't care about this hobo. For all she cared, he could go f-
He grabbed the book and held the book under his arm, and she looked up now. There was real fear in his eyes.
"We need to get out of here, NOW!"
The noise started to define itself as it got louder and louder; a huge thumping noise that seemed to shake the floorboards beneath them.
Suddenly with a rush of air she was behind him. The chair she had been sitting on tumbled backwards and he snapped his head back to see her smile at him. Then the book was in her hand, a blur moved past him and she was twenty feet away, reopening her book.
"Ah," the man said, nodding at her. The thumping had stopped. "You're another Mage. In that case, don't leave- I'm going to need all the help I can get. Israel Elysium." He held out his hand, and in a blur she was there to shake it.
"Venice Rain," she said, wary. She noticed the absence of the thumping noise and looked around, worried. Her eyes went back to Israel and saw that his own were closed, and twitched weirdly. He opened them suddenly and grabbed her arm, shouting "Move!" and leading her between the bookshelves. He crouched and she protested, thwacking his hand away. He shook his head and just raised a finger to his lips, then carefully pulled a book out and used the gap to peer at the library entrance.
"Ridiculous," she muttered, following it up with a well-placed cuss or two. She went to open her book once more and finally get back to reading, when there was a sharp cracking noise, like that of a great oak falling in a forest, and then the entire front wall of the library collapsed.
Israel saw it all through the gap in the bookshelf. He blinked hard and sat back on his haunches when the dust arrived, spilling though the gap. Venice was making her own makeshift peeping hole next to him, eyes wide and wondering what she'd gotten herself into now. She swore when she saw it.
The monolithic beast that stood where the wall had been was easily sixty feet tall and snarled at the inside of the library with a gaping maw of narrow teeth. Spiralling red markings traced its shoulders and ran down to its feet. It roared, and a book or so toppled out from a shelf close to them.
"What the hell is that?" Venice hissed at Israel, who was still staring through the gap. "And who are you, really? How did it get here? Did you lead it here? Where are the Cleavers?"
"That, Venice, is what we call a monster. It is huge, often has claws or fangs, and appears pissed off at everything around it." He shook his head. "And I'm just too lazy to answer all your other questions..."
She smacked the back of his head with her hand. "Tell me, dammit!" She was being left in the dark. She hated the dark.
"No can do," he said, rubbing his head where she hit him. "Shh now. I'd rather not get eaten by a monster today."
The beast had stopped roaring and now started sniffing around, poking its head inside the library. Venice backed up against the shelf behind her and her hand touched the book she had been reading earlier. She looked down and her mouth spread into a huge grin at the title, The World Encyclopaedia of Large and Terrifying Beasts. "Jackpot," she whispered, and started to flick through the pages.
The beast, satisfied with its sniffing, reached its front arms down to the ground and lowered itself so it was almost touching it. Then from atop the beast's head climbed down a smallish man, suited up and carrying a heavy bag over his shoulder. He stopped when he had reached the library floor and closed his eyes, breathing in and then out. He smiled and Israel nudged Venice without looking back.
"Now, that's something I can tell you about. That man's name is Sinclair Esoteric. He's wanted in nine different countries by their magical communities for library-related affairs. Guess he forgot about this little one in his own hometown..."
Venice wasn't listening. She was scanning the pages as fast as she could to try and find something, anything to help them defeat it. Israel noticed her not answering and frowned, turning around. None of them were watching Sinclair, who promptly dropped his heavy bag onto the ground and unzipped it, pressing a few buttons and zipping it once more.
"What are you doing?" Israel hissed at Venice. "Pay attention- and that means no reading! We might need to run at any moment!"
"You can run," she replied smoothly, ripping a page out of the book in her hands. "But I'm staying. That thing has to be taken down."
She unceremoniously threw the book behind her, and froze when she had realized her mistake. It sailed through the air and hit the bookshelf, knocking out two other books to the floor.
Sinclair stopped as he was just climbing to the top of his monster; he had heard the noise. A frown crossed his face and he cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Come out now, whoever you are! Come out now and I won't let my friend Jasper here eat you," he shouted, guestering to the monster.
Behind the bookshelf, Israel frantically rummaged through his pocket. He came up with a square of paper and an orange texta, and scribbled down the letters ASS on it. Venice rolled her eyes at what he had written, and decided it would be funnier if she didn't tell him. He motioned for Venice to stay behind the bookshelf, straightened his jacket, and stepped out of cover.
"Stop right there!" He called out to Sinclair. He showed the piece of paper to the criminal, adding "A-S-S, let me see your hands."
Sinclair burst out laughing. "Well, I guess you are a bit of an A-S-S. Let me guess, from your disgusting accent; Australian Secret Service?"
Israel frowned, looked at the paper and put his head to his hand. He scrunched it up and threw it away. "Regardless of my terrible foresight in making up fake organizations, I'm still going to see some hands. You're a wanted criminal for the weirdest crime I have ever seen. Damn, do you need a hobby."
Sinclair smiled, gesturing his hands to the library. "You tell me to give up, and yet I only see one of you, alone, and me, not so alone." He patted Jasper's head as he sat atop it.
"That's where you're wrong," Israel said, grabbing Venice's arm and dragging her out into the open. "This here is, um...What was it? Rome? Yeah, that's it, Rome Hail."
Venice yanked her arm away. "And this dumbass' name is Egypt Heaven."
Israel glared at her. "Israel Elysium," he hissed.
"Venice Rain," she replied smoothly.
"Do you think I care what your names are?" Sinclair said, bringing their attention back on him. "Jasper, we're leaving."
The beast growled in response, and with heavy footsteps started to turn around. Israel closed his eyes once more, and Venice was about to ask what he was doing, but he opened them and yelled "Run!" before she could. The beast was already outside the library and moving away at a sluggish pace. They reached the broken wall and had just stepped outside when Venice looked up and saw the detonator in Sinclair's hand. She knew what was going to happen. That doesn't mean that it didn't hurt like hell.
Inside, the heavy bag received a signal and the bomb exploded, obliterating everything around it. Israel and Venice were caught in the shockwave and were all of a sudden flying head over heels, up and down switching places constantly. Then there was just down, and cement and pain and steps...so many steps.
Venice felt herself stop tumbling but didn't see it. She had closed her eyes when she hit the ground, and kept them shut, wishing it all away. But she knew pain just didn't leave. It had to be beaten into retreat.
She opened her eyes and groaned as she firmly placed her hands on the ground and pushed herself up. Far away her mind registered the slick pavement and sent dull spikes of horror through her as she realized it was blood. She got to her knees as her hearing returned, then looked around for Israel. He was a metre away, face down in his own pool of blood. Her magic had protected her mostly from the fall, and she didn't seem to be bleeding. She groggily crawled over and shook him, her thoughts not clear enough to turn him over. There was a sputtering noise and he coughed violently, moving his arms forward and raising his head out of the blood. He murmured something about Pokémon and a bucket of Firewhisky and then seemed to realize where he was.
"Venice," he croaked. "You ok?"
She looked down. There weren't any obvious wounds. "Yeah, I'm ok." She went to help him up but he stumbled and collapsed, crying out. He removed his hands from his leg and revealed the seven inch wooden splinter impaled just above his kneecap. Blood poured from it and Venice's head suddenly had the fog lifted from it. She shoved his hands away, spared a quick glance at the wound, and yanked the splinter free.
Israel howled.
"Keep pressure here," she instructed, looking for something to tie the wound with. Israel gritted his teeth and pulled a hip flask from within his jacket and drank half of it in one gulp, then poured the rest over his leg. He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it out, passing it to Venice. She found material to use and put the blade to it.
"No!" Israel barked at her. "Not my jacket! Are you crazy?! Use my jeans leg material, under the wound. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you, going for the jacket..."
She sighed and dismissed it as the ramblings of a man in shock, but listened to his request nevertheless. She roughly cut off the jean leg under the kneecap on his right leg and tied it as best as she could to make a bandage.
Israel nodded his thanks and laid flat on his back. After a moment of him not moving, she wondered if he had passed out. It was all just too anti-climatic for her.
She turned and looked at the burning wreckage of the library behind them, at the top of the stairs. All that remained were a few of the support beams that were near to collapsing, and what looked to be one book that had specialized in fire-retardant spells. Obviously, the author had thought of casting them on the book to test it.
What was left of the other books drifted slowly down from the sky- burning pages that she had to sidestep every now and then when they got close.
Slowly, Venice became aware of the slow and sarcastic sound of one man clapping, sitting atop a monster and at the bottom of the stairs. Contrary to his hand's joyful actions, he did not look amused.
"Oh, bravo, bravo," Sinclair sneered, bringing his clapping to a halt. "You managed to escape the ball of fire that I've turned the library into, albeit with one of you injured."
"Nice work at noting the blatantly obvious. In fact, I'd quit your day job to continue it."
Sinclair raised his eyebrows. "Really? You think I have potential? I wonder if I could get a job for it somewhere, y'know, like narrating a play or someth-"
"No, I mean it, quit your day job.’Cos you don't want to be a mass murderer of books anywhere near me right now."
Sinclair glared at her. And the glare of a Frenchman on a beast capable of ripping away an entire building's wall is a terribly frightening thing.
"Ven," Israel said, kicking her shoe. He propped himself into a sitting position, revealing something she hadn't seen before- a double-barrel shotgun, sawn off at the barrels. "That page you had before, tell me how to kill this thing."
Venice dug her hand into her pocket and withdrew the page, straightening the crumpled edges so she could read it. Behind her at the bottom of the stairs, she heard Jasper taking slow and heavy steps towards them.
"Alright, um," she began, scanning the page. "Carnivore, easily controlled by a single person but extremely loyal, razor sharp teeth, can crush a bus..."
"Hurrying to the 'How to kill it' part would be nice," Israel grunted, getting to his knees. He drew the shotgun he had strapped to his leg and hit the release switch, flicking both barrels forward with his wrist.
"Here we go," Venice said, reaching the 'Weaknesses' paragraph. "Um, it's kinda ripped. But it basically says that it has an area of about a foot in diameter on its chest that'll hurt it pretty good, but if you want to kill it there's only one spot- a light brown coloured spot on the back of its skull, right where Sinclair is standing."
Israel did the math. Considering the spread of the buckshot from his gun, and the rapidly shortening distance between the monster and him... If he timed it just right and aimed perfectly, he could take the shot.
He stood up, then, using Venice's arm to steady himself. He raised his shotgun and took aim at Jasper as he lumbered up the stairs towards Israel. But just as he was about to fire he swore that he heard a voice inside his head saying "Use the Force..."
He nodded to himself grimly and closed his eyes.

It was always hard for Israel to explain to others what happened when he used his power. His power enough was hard to explain... He had the power of foresight, but not like a Seer. Instead of seeing snippets of the future at times unwanted, he has honed his skill to let him see all of the trillions of paths of action he could take, and choose the best one to execute.
While he was in this dream-state, he no longer could see, hear, smell or taste anything. He had his touch though. And while he could only see darkness around him, he seemed to feel... Blue lines, reaching out to every direction. They were the paths, he knew.
He would let his unreal hands drift over them, more or less like a piano all around him, and with every press of a path he would instantly see a vision in detail. He had trained his mind to narrow down the trillions of paths into less than a thousand, grouping together paths that were the same except for one tiny detail. And of these thousand were the keys around him, the paths that led into the future.
At this time, all of the paths around him were close to the same. Some cut off unexpectedly when he 'played' them, where he obviously was killed by either the monster or...
Israel tried to frown in the dream-state, unsuccessfully. He had seen some stupid deaths in his life, but none of them added up to the myriad of endings he had seen using his power. The current one that could still possibly kill him right now would be the burning page that was floating lazily though the air above him that was going to land on the back of his jacket and set him alight if he watch out. While Venice would be laughing at his flaming back, he'd die, and then the vision cut out.
The best thing about his power was that he could view thousands and thousands of paths and visions, and yet it would only take less than a second for everyone in the world. He'd appear to close his eyes and think for a moment, then open them and have a plan.
The worst part about his power was that he only could see five minutes into the future. He had tried to expand the timeframe several times, and it had only ended in a bloody nose and a migraine.
The other thing was that he couldn't use it constantly. That just ended up in more headaches, and the visions would frequently get messed up, putting the strangest things into them like purple dinosaurs and raining cell phones.
Israel chose the path best suited to his survival and opened his eyes.

Venice helped Israel to his feet and let him steady himself on her shoulder while he got ready to battle the creature. She readied herself too, pulling out a curved knife from her boot and flipping the handle around restlessly.
She saw Israel close his eyes. When he opened them a second later, there was a sort of gleam in his eyes, and he slowly started to smile. He took aim again, and fired the shot, hitting the monster perfectly in its weak spot on the chest. The creature bellowed and swung its arms to the left and right in rage, smashing several telephone poles down. It continued to roar in pain and Israel continued to smile. He rested the shotgun over his shoulder and spoke.
"That's right," he said, pulling the trigger and letting lose the other shot over his shoulder without looking. It hit an ominous piece of flaming paper that had slowly been drifting towards his back. "Shit just got real."
Venice facepalmed. "Really? Shit just got real? That's you're one-liner before you face a sixty foot monster that's going to tear you to shreds?"
"...Yes."
The monster Sinclair called Jasper smashed down its claw into the pavement at their feet and sent them flying backwards. Venice was back on her feet in an instant, and rolled her eyes when Israel once again needed help getting up.
"We have to do this smartly," Venice said to Israel. "You shoot, I'll climb."
Israel grinned. "I'm good at shooting. But climbing? What're you climbing?"
"Ultimately- that," she replied, pointing to Jasper. Then she turned away from him and ran to a building on the side of the street. Israel quickly reloaded and then shot Jasper twice more in the chest, firing without really aiming properly this time. He reloaded and turned tail as the beast swung its claws once more, lumbering after him.
Venice reached the front of the best building she could find- a lot of footholds and one that matched her clothes at least a little bit. She tested the first foothold slowly, making sure the ledge above the door frame wouldn't let her down. The next spot she tested a little faster, and faster still when she got to the next. All the way until she was racing up the side of the building, reaching the top in only thirty odd seconds. She surveyed the scene below and realized Israel didn't seem to understand the rules of battle. His way of fighting Jasper was to run flat out in circles, firing pot-shots over his shoulder that almost all missed the large target.
She sighed. Her eyes focused on the reptilian creature beneath her and she backed up from the edge of the roof slowly. Then she sprinted forward and leaped, and for a split second she was flying, laughing her glee to the world, and then the monster's back came rushing up towards her and she flung her arms out to grab at it's scales, spikes, anything that would stop her from hitting the ground.
Venice's hands found a spine and she held on to it, the sudden jolt straining her arms. She saw another spine a bit further up and worked with the movement of Jasper's lumbering to swing upwards to it. She kept moving up like this until she was standing upright on its back, Sinclair in front of her but not facing her way. She crept along, but Sinclair turned at the last moment and saw her.
He smiled, and opened his mouth to speak. She smiled and sliced her dagger vertically across his chest.
He cried out and she pushed him behind her, no longer worrying about him. Then she was moving forward once more, standing on the head and kicking away the seat Sinclair had set up, staring at Jasper's weak-spot and hefting her knife above her head in a two handed grasp.
She plunged the knife into the lightly coloured brown spot and braced as the monster roared in pain. It blindly reached a clawed arm over its head to swat at her, but she held on grimly to the knife and ducked under its blows.
But it wouldn't die. The knife hadn't reached its brain, let alone the skull, and it couldn't do any more damage than it already had. She stood and saw Israel on the ground, reloading his shotgun and backing away from the raging beast at the same time.
"Israel!" she called, as Jasper tried to throw her off again. He looked up and waved, grinning. "Shotgun!" she yelled down to him.
He frowned and called back, casually sidestepping a swing from the beast. "What pun are we talking about here?"
She glared and he cocked his head to one side.
"Hey, what are you doing up there, anyway? Have you even tried to kill it yet? Never mind, take my shotgun and finish it!"
He threw the shotgun like a discus and it sailed towards her. She grabbed it from the air with her right hand and pressed both barrels into the light brown spot on Jasper's head.
"Go to hell, Ugly," she said, and sent two shells worth of buckshot into its head.
The beast roared one final time and reared its back, throwing Venice off and sending her to the ground. It stumbled and made a sad sound, then fell dead on the ground before her. She stood up and walked slowly past the smaller corpse of Sinclair, crushed underneath Jasper's huge arm. She approached its head in the following silence, moving as quietly as she could. It did not move when she neared, and its eyes remained closed.
"For the record," Israel whispered, suddenly beside her. "Your one-liner was no better than mine."



As mentioned earlier, this was going to be an extremly short fanfic, and proved itself to be. See, it didn't even have a proper eneding :P
In the end, Israel gave Venice a card with China's address on it as an apology for getting the library Venice had been reading at blown up earlier. Three years later, after spending way too much time at the library, Venice met Niall Montblanc. And the rest, you can read from her fanfic, here.
The point of this very, very small fanfic one shot was to try and fill in the massive gaps in the SP Blogger Timeline-thingy. It is a wonderful idea, and in turn I think Venice should now right a short story about how her character met another person. And so on, and so on, because to be honest we couldn't of all just met up in Ireland with Skulduggery and suddenly we're all friends. That would be far too silly.

I hope you enjoyed it! My World War Two fanfic will be resuming as soon as I complete the latest part. It might take a while, but you're just going to have to be good little followers/stalkers and wait.

Cya all soon! And Happy Halloween!




BUT WAIT- WHAT'S THIS? IT'S A VIDEO WITH BRIAN HOLDEN (Proffessor Lupin in AVPS, Junior in Starship) AS ONE OF THE CHARACTERS!

Yes, I know it's a short vid. I'm just busy, is all.

WW II Fanfiction, Part 2!

For once, I have nothing to say before we get on with the fanfic...um... well, a quick note- The PPSH is a Russian made sub-machine gun used in WWII, with a large drum magazine- point and shoot. The Mosin Nagant is another Russian made gun, but it's a bolt action rifle- point, shoot, pull back the bolt, then point and shoot again.


And you know what I mean when I say jeep, right? I'm not talking about the brand...I'm more of talking about one like this or this. But kinda larger...it's hard to explain.


To set the scene: This entire piece takes place on the road, while Dimitri's busily driving. So if you don't hear a lot from him, it's cos he's madly trying to navigate the roads. 'k?


Enjoy!



Israel was running.
The ground melted and remelted to form solid ground, then water, air, sludge. He could not turn his head to see what was after him, but he knew that he could not stop. Around him the world was collapsing, drawing apart and crushing itself into one huge, crumbling earthquake.
Israel reached the edge of solid ground and leapt, his hesitations far behind. Falling through a constantly moving chasm, he saw faces rise up to stare coldly at him from beneath. Myest, they chanted, over and over. And then "Ooraaaaaaah!" in a voice made by many. Before the Russian war cry was finished and he hit the bottom of the chasm, Israel opened his eyes.

"Apologies, comrade," Dimitri said from the front of the jeep to Israel in the back. Israel rubbed the sleep from his eyes and let the Private explain. "The road's are getting rougher and rougher every minute."
"D'ya know where we are?" Israel said, clearing his throat. They had been driving for an hour, maybe. The sun had yet to set and still cast it's rays over the narrow road surrounded by forest that they were traveling on.
"Yes, Senior Lieutenant. The map says we're about two hundred kilometers from a Russian stronghold," Dimitri said while yanking the wheel left and right to dodge the largest rocks. "We should reach it by early tomorrow, if we do not stop."
Israel nodded and glanced around the jeep at his sleeping comrades. He did a quick check on their armaments and worked out that the mounted machine gun was completely out of ammo, while they had two clips left for their PPSH's each and one for the Mosin Nagant rifle he had brought. He knew that Vasilev had a spare clip of pistol ammo in his boot, and Nikolai had his machete, but apart from that, they were helpless.
He sighed and turned around to shake Vasilev and Nikolai awake. He left the three officers they were protecting asleep- he knew that if they were to wake, the questions would start. Better to just leave them be.
There was a crackle of static from the front of the car and Israel snapped around; Nikolai and Vasilev were well awake now. He leaned forward and flipped up a small compartment on the dashboard, revealing a standard-issue radio system.
Nikolai wordlessly shoved Israel aside from the passenger seat and fiddled with the dial, turning it back and forwards in hope of hearing chatter. There were snippets, and then a voice could be heard through the tiny speakers, clearly Russian.
Nikolai didn't hesitate. He grabbed the handheld microphone and thumbed the button on it, holding it close to his mouth.
"Puh Mawch! Puh Mawch!" he said. He took his finger off the button and held it away when there was no response and sighed. He brought it to his mouth again and spoke in English this time; "Help. Please, help..."
There was silence. The jeep still bounced over the dirt road, and the wind still rushed by them, but that was it; the radio was silent once more.
Dimitri sighed and turned a corner marked on the map, and that was when they saw it, only twenty metres away.
"German roadblock!" Vasilev shouted, and Dimitri went to swerve away. But there was no way around it; large rock formations rose on either side of them.
"Go right through it! Faster!" Nikolai cried. The soldiers at the roadblock looked up and spotted them, rushing to  reach their weapons. Dimitri floored the accelerator and smashed straight through the gap between the two German cars, bashing them aside. They lost speed but Dimitri didn't stop, and turning around, Israel saw one of the German soldiers with a small radio in his hand.
The speakers came alive again and there was the distinct noise of German chatter.
"Shut up!" commanded Vasilev. "What is he saying?"
They all struggled to listen in. "Did he just say..." Israel frowned. "Motor-rah-der? The hell is th-"
There was a roar from both sides of the road, and two motorbikes soared from the rocky edges rising next to them and landed on the road. There was a German soldier driving each bike and a man sitting on the back, machine gun in hand. The bikes swerved to either side of the jeep and they opened fire.
"Shit!" Nikolai cursed and blindly fired his own weapon at the bike on the left. The driver slumped and the bike careened wildly into the rocky cliff face, stopping there. Vasilev held out his hand and the shooter of the second bike shot away like a cannon, too fast for them to even see him hit the ground. The driver barely glanced back, instead veering towards the jeep and pulling out a pistol  from his belt. There wasn't a second wasted; the driver snarled and leapt forward, straight from his bike to the jeep's side. He clambered over and Dimitri swerved the car dangerously. Nikolai drew his machete and sliced it twice horizontally across the soldier's chest. The German looked down, horrified, and Nikolai kicked him.
The radio was squawking again and Nikolai sheathed his blade and returned to it, one hand fiddling with the dial and the other holding the handheld to his mouth. He constantly alternated between Russian and English, trying to establish some form of communication between them and the stronghold they were headed to. After three more minutes of trying, he gave up and slammed his hand on the dashboard. "Hopeless," he muttered, and then clearly through the speakers came the words in Russian: "Renegade jeep, we read you, ov-"
The sound was replaced with static and the sound of motorbike engines, and then the jeep was once again surrounded by German motorcycles, their occupants and passengers yelling their separate war cries.
The decimated squad in the jeep didn't even stop to hesitate- they raised their weapons and fired.
Dimitri saw his chance and took it. He braked hard and the jeep instantly fell backwards, the motorcyclists looking around and realizing too late their peril.
"Fire, comrades!" Captain Vasilev said, and they took aim and fired at the motorbikes and their drivers in front of them.
Israel's PPSH bucked weirdly in his arms and he threw it to the ground- the mechanism had jammed. He pulled his pistol out and aimed his shots more carefully, shooting out the back tires of two of the motorcycles and watching them spin away. Nikolai took three out with his Mosin Nagant, and Vasilev mowed down the rest with his PPSH.
Nikolai could hear the far off noise of more vehicles approaching, but but he reckoned they still had a few more minutes before they were attacked again.
So he grabbed the handheld again and spoke through it once more, intent on communication. Mere seconds later he finally got a reply in broken English.
"This is radio command at stronghold Zahkaev, we read you. What's your position and situation, over?"
Nikolai's face exploded into a huge grin, and he passed it to Vasilev, who hurriedly spoke in Russian through the radio, relaying their coordinates and the fate of the camp they had been at. Then he glanced around the jeep and at the terrified officers in the back.
"We've, uh, had some... 'Magical' experiences today...uh, do you read, command?"
There was silence for a long time on the radio and Israel was reminded that there were still German vehicles following them; he could still hear them in the distance, probably working to cut them off.
"This is Commander Sergei Polonkski, we're reading you loud and clear," a new voice on the radio said. "Let's get straight to the point, comrades- how many of you are sorcerers?"
Vasilev looked around at the jeep's occupants. He wasn't looking for consent, he was only judging whether it was a good idea to tell the Commander or not.
"All of us, save the three officers in the back, sir."
The reply came almost instantly. "Good. Are you the commanding officer?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Vasilev, reporting for duty," he said, and added a second later "and ready to raise hell."
The Commander on the other end of the radio chuckled, a blotchy, alien sound through the radio speakers. "Not soon enough, comrade. Captain Vasilev, I'm promoting you to the head of a new squad- Codename Myest."
Israel could visibly see Vasilev stiffen before he picked up the radio and replied: "What other soldiers will be in this squad?"
"Do not worry, comrade. Your current squad has been promoted as well. I will, however, be adding whoever I deem fit to this squad, understand?"
Vasilev smiled. "Of course, Commander Polonkski. Thankyou."
"Think nothing of it. Your newest squad member is waiting for you in the treeline, one kilometer from your position. You will need to provide evac for her, then make your way here. This is the only reinforcements we can send, over."
Nikolai frowned and gave Israel a look, mouthing the word 'her' and raising his eyebrows skeptically. Israel shrugged, and Dimitri cleared his throat loudly. "I don't want to alarm anyone," he said, eyes flicking from the road to the rearview mirror, "but I think we're being followed..."
The air was filled with gunfire and Israel whirled in his seat, hands already ripping the magazine out of his gun and fiddling to load another one. Closing in quickly on their jeep were two German cars, all with collapsible roofs folded down and with several gun-wielding soldiers inside.
"Commander, that's going to be difficult, we're a bit outnumbered here," Nikolai said into the handheld.
"Not my problem, soldier. Good lu-" A bullet zipped from behind them and hit the radio, reducing it to scrap metal and sparks.
"Stuck up piece of..." Vasilev begain cussing, and aimed his weapon at the advancing cars. They returned fire and Nikolai and Israel moved to the back of the jeep as well, shielding the officers as best they could. The two cars drove faster and worked on boxing the jeep in, almost running it off the road. German soldiers on either side fired at the jeep, and a few launched themselves onto it.
Vasilev grappled with a soldier that had made it onto the jeep, and successfully landed a punch in his face. He completed the move by grabbing his shirt and throwing him right back onto the car from where he had jumped, then steadied himself on the jeep's seat. He reached for his PPSH but another soldier was there, throwing it off of the jeep and punching him in the gut. Vasilev doubled over and Israel grabbed the soldier's leg and flipped him off the jeep. Nikolai jumped up, drew his machete, and plunged it into another man clambering onto the jeep. He withdrew it and Vasilev helped him stand on the seat so that he could fight properly.
They all stood there, back to back and out numbered. "Sir..." Nikolai muttered at Vasilev, as the soldiers in the two cars boxing them in raised their weapons and took aim.
Vasilev opened his mouth to speak but there was a sound that pierced everyone's ears, a single, sharp gunshot that awoke an animal-like fear inside everyone.
The car on the right of the jeep swerved sharply off the road, and Vasilev glimpsed a sudden flash of red in the driver's seat and then the car crunched into a tree and stayed there, smoking.
The three soldiers left in the other car on the left of the jeep saw their chance and opened fire with their weapons. Nikolai and Israel crouched instantly in their seats, trying to use the doors as cover. Vasilev stayed standing and kicked up a rifle from inside the jeep, aimed from the hip and took out two of the soldiers faster than the eye could follow. The third one yelled something at the driver and their car rammed into the jeep, making Vasilev clumsily fall over the seats...

Five hundred meters away, a woman wrapped in a Russian soldier's outfit stood defying gravity straight out the side of a tree at a ninety degree angle. For her, it was the world that needed changing, the real gravity that needed to be swung around to her absurd angle.
In her hands she held with great care a large Mosin Nagant rifle with a magnifying scope that was only just bigger than the ammo clip. She was staring with a grim face through the scope at the jeep careening wildly down the road towards her, and the two German cars boxing it in. She took careful aim with her rifle and fired the first shot, hitting the driver of one of the cars and sending the vehicle bouncing off the road. She lost sight of it and nudged her scope upwards the tinniest bit, aiming for the second driver. The jeep and the car were closer now, barely ten seconds away. She lined the sights up and fired, the sound echoing through the nearby mountain ranges.

The second driver's head snapped backwards and then fell forwards as his body slumped across the wheel. The body started to slide to the right, yanking the wheel as well, and making the car cut wildly across the road. Dimitri swerved in turn to avoid crashing, and Vasilev's hand shot forward to pull the handbrake. The wheels locked and the car spun round a full revolution on the road before coming to a screeching and shuddering stop. The German car, with no-one alive to drive it, kept on happily going the last five meters to the treeline and crashed.
There was stunned silence. Then a whimper of fear reminded Nikolai, Vasilev, Dimitri and Israel of the three commanders in the back.
"Shut up," Nikolai growled and kicked open the battered door of the jeep. Vasilev jumped out with Israel and they followed them to the crash-site, leaving Dimitri to mind the jeep.
"Where's our reinforcement?" Vasilev asked to no-one in particular when they reached the crashed vehicle. He turned as if the treeline would answer his question, and behind him, still in the car, the German soldier rose slowly, pistol in hand.
There was a flash from the tree above and an impossibly loud gunshot, and the soldier toppled back into the car. The Russians turned their heads upwards and there, now standing upside-down from the tree branch and with her rifle still smoking, was their reinforcement.
"Who are you?" Nikolai asked, amazed.
She somersaulted to the ground, stood up, and pushed right past them, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. Their eyes followed her every move as she heaved the dead German out of the drivers seat and dumped him on the ground, then moved to the back and grabbed the other dead soldier by the collar.
"Tanya Espionage," she answered simply, her Russian accent easily distinguishable. She lifted the German over her shoulder with ease and turned to face them. "Now start digging."

Camp Photos

Yes, there isn't a lot...but I still want to post them.


I was originally going to do some footage as well, but seeing as how it's a four wheel drive camp, most of it is extremely shaky...




So instead, here are the photos that we took on our camp at the Flinder's Ranges. 

What's this? A normal coke bottle that I bought in a tiny shop/gas station in the middle of no-where?

Hell no. I wouldn't just take a picture of it for no reason. This bottle has my name on it xD
Cool thing about this was that there was only one other coke bottle like this, and it had 'Tristan" printed there...kinda a no-brainer for which one I chose in the end :P

Beautiful hills. I apologize in advance- a lot of these photos will just be hills. But they'll be epic hills...

See what I mean? Probably the last thing you wanted to see. But it's epic...

And trees.

:OOO This just kinda loomed above us as we were driving on the 4wd tracks...

Close up.

Our car.

Our camp site! Surprisingly enough, no-one else was on the site, except us. The fire's somewhere behind it.

This epic creek that ran right behind our tent.

Oorah for large rocky hill-things.

It looks so cool o.O

It's very hard to capture the awesomeness of the Flinders in just an image. Footage isn't nearly as good. Someone tell me when DARPA designs a contact lens that records exactly what you're seeing, as you're seeing it.

Another shot of our camp sight. The creek's on the left.

I wish you all could of been there xD

This was on our way up to Mount Arden. What was weird was that after navigating a really tight 4wd track up there, we arrived and saw that randomly, there was a huge bull dozer... Even weirder, the door was unlocked and the keys were inside...
Thankfully, there was a giant tower up there, allowing me internet access with my dad's phone.  EDIT: God, I'm sad sometimes...

So awesome :D

And they were all the good images...I'm sorry for the boring slideshow, I would of put something cooler, but these are the only images we took. 


Oh, and the B.A.H...

...is my Bad Arse Hat. 

Yes, the pictures are fuzzy. But the awesomeness is still there xDDDD

It's huge, irl. It sits atop my head and radiates pure epicness to everyone who looks upon it.

Every time I go camping, on my birthday, whenever I'm doing something epic, I wear this hat as a sign to all that I'm glad to be there. Also it looks cool ;)

1 downside- This is what I can see when I'm wearing it *cough*
As you probably noticed, my peripherals are slightly cut off...

And that was my camping experience. I hope you enjoyed it.






-Hellboy










EDIT: I like the word arse over ass. And so that's what I'll use in all my stories, writing, whatever. Kick-arse. Bad-Arse-Hat. Big-arse. Waaaaay cooler... :)

Hello Darkness, My Old Friend...

I've come to talk to y'all again...



Israel stood with his legs inside his van and his torso leaning over the roof of it, outside. He had a perfect view of nothing, continuing in every direction. Because that was what it was; unkempt, dried-out grass that continued all the way to the distant hills. Beautiful.
He smiled and donned a peculiar hat atop his head. He was back in his country. And ready to raise hell.
He started the car and drove down the road to the hills.


The clouds above, the acres and acres of shrubbery, the purple hills...it all came together and blended into a happy feeling bubbling it's way from inside his chest. Something was on it's way, something big was afoot and about to happen. He was just glad to be back in familiar territory. No more constant rain in Dublin. No more giant steel towers in New York. No more snow in Canada.
Just nothing, and a whole lot of it.


The asphalt roads faded and were replaced with sparkling white gravel. The only vehicles they passed were either tractors or four-wheel-drives, the occupants giving small waves to Israel as they sped away in the opposite direction. Then even they stopped passing as Israel drove further and further inland.
The distant hills were brought closer and closer to them, and soon the clear land gave way to densely packed shrubs, and surged upwards where huge rock formations hulked.
Israel's smile never disappeared. His hand reached under his seat and came back up with a brown bottle of Cooper's beer. He popped the cap on an opener he had roughly taped to the dashboard, and took a swig.
"Come up here and take a look, guys," he called over his shoulder. A moment passed, and then movement came from behind Israel and Kallista Pendragon carefully climbed between the front seats, slumping into the passenger spot. She snatched the beer from Israel's grasp and took a swig herself, even though she screwed up her face from the taste.
"Australian beer," Israel commented at her expression. "Different to what you're used to."
"You know," Kallista said, coughing into her arm. The beer was different; it burned her throat like liquid fire. "You shouldn't be drink-driving."
Israel took the bottle back, drinking deeply and keeping his eyes on the road. Whether the beer tasted the same as what Kallista had tasted or completely mild instead, she could not tell; his face didn't show anything. "When has that ever stopped me?"
Gepard Valk leaned in between the two front seats, resting his elbows on the center console separating them. He wearily lowered his head onto his arms and glared up at Kallista.
"Can't believe you beat me at chess," he said grumpily. 
"Can't believe we could even play chess, with all this crappy driving Israel's doing."
"Pure magic," Israel said, and they laughed. Nothing could dampen his spirits now. 
"Oh God," came a voice from behind them, still in the back of the van. "There are chip packets and empty Coke cans everywhere!"
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Kenny," Israel called back. "And there's, like, one or two Coke cans at most..."
"Living or not," Kallista said, pointing at something past the windshield. "That's pretty damn amazing."
Kenny Lakinson stumbled towards the front of the car, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He managed to peek above Gepard's head and see what they were all staring at.
It was breathtaking. Right before them and stretching all the way around them were, in all their magnificence, the Flinder's Ranges. 
'Astounding' hardly described it. Words like 'grand' and 'stupendous' came close, but not nearly enough. The hills were covered from top to bottom with gum trees, branches grasping out at the cloudy sky like bony hands. The clouds cast a blueish-purple shadow over them, shrouding the many narrow gullies and rocky gorges.
Israel tore his eyes away. He focused them on the road and finished the last of his beer in one big gulp. "Alright," he sighed, but his companions were still watching the awesome sight. He flipped open his phone and hit a number on speed-dial, pressed it to his ear and waiting for the person to pick up. "Let the hell-raising begin..." 

"HELL RAISIN

YOU CAN'T EVEN TELL WHICH RAISIN I'M TALKING ABOUT"

Will be continued...never. Yep, that's right. Because I'm annoying like that. Also, there's the fact that I would have no idea how to go on from that point in the story...And it's better to watch you squirm ^^ (Who was he calling? Does Cooper's beer really taste different from other beers? Which Raisin am I talking about? Raisin or raising/raisin'?)

So, I wrote that on camp. Also, I wrote the first part of my latest fanfiction, the most epic thing yet, which I have unfortunately have not come up with a name for it yet. 

My latest fanfiction follows a particular part in Israel's history, set in World War Two. This was before he had his signature jacket, or even his shotgun. Meet a much younger Israel, Senior Lieutenant in the Soviet Army. 

(He could of been fighting with all the other 'Diggers', or Australian soldiers, but he hates Turkey, so he decided to sign  up to fight for Russia. Impossible? No. It's a fanfiction, or course it's not...)

Enjoy!

Israel Elysium trudged lightly through the small forest of trees set on the left side of Elysium Asylum. His eyes cast around at the bright scenery around him, taking in the wonderful display of oranges, reds and yellows cast about. 

It was these trees that triggered the memory, one so vivid that he gripped the sides of his head and closed his eyes, groaning. He stood there, alone in the forest, surrounded by Autumn, as the memory overtook him.

Near the city of Seelow, Germany, 1945

A much younger Israel Elysium gripped the cold Colt .45 pistol in his hands, leaning low against the old tree in the German forest tainted by Autumn. He had received it when the American Marine force had donated thousands of them as their way of helping the Homeland's fight to claim back their country. 

Israel smiled at that name, the one that the Russian soldiers used for their country; 'Homeland'. He liked the Russian soldier's spirit; they would gladly lay down their lives for a greater cause like their Mother Russia.

The fallen leaves surrounded him, a carpet of orange and red sound carriers that would give away his position the moment he walked anywhere.

At that very moment he heard the crunching leaves and aimed his gun to the owner of the sounds. He lowered it when he saw who it was and waved his right hand in a small salute. He holstered his pistol underneath his armpit and accepted the Mosin Nagant bolt-action rifle handed to him by his commanding officer as he was pulled to his feet. "We are moving out, Senior lieutenant Elysium," the Captain told him in a thick and genuine Russian accent. "Grab your gear and regroup with me at base."

Israel nodded and Captain Vasilev walked off, moving fast to talk with the next scout, fifty metres away.

Israel sub-consciously drew the Mosin Nagant's bolt backwards, noting the gleam of bullets already loaded, and pushed the bolt back into place.

He slung the heavy rifle over onto his shoulder and cast a long look at the beautiful forest around him, the leaves of every tree brilliantly illuminated by the golden rays of the morning, German sun.

He heard a sharp whistle and almost jumped when it reached his ears from the branches above him. There was a quick rustle of sound and a figure dropped like a dead weight straight on top of him, scaring him witless.

Israel swung a fist and the man on top of him easily caught it and then twisted it to the side. The man pinned down Israel's other arm with his knee and pulled out a small Tokerev pistol, pushed the barrel against Israel's chest and pulled the trigger three times in quick succession.

But no gun shots came, and instead a hearty, Russian chuckle escaped the lips of the man on top of Israel. "You, my friend, are dead," Lieutenant Nikolai said, smiling. Israel shoved Nikolai off and rolled to his feet. 

"Yeah, but only an idiot soldier would hide in the branches for a tree all day just to kill me. They'd have no-where for their gear."

"You are such a bad loser," Nikolai said, laughing and patting him on the back as they both walked towards camp. "Sometimes I wonder why you even came up here to fight with for the Motherland and not with your own country.

Israel shook his head. "The 'Diggers' were going to be fighting in Turkey, freezing their arses off. And I will not be apart of it."

It was weird, walking into camp like that. One moment you were just in another part of the forest. And the next, the ground before you had revealed itself to be several camouflaged shelters filled with Russian soldiers chatting and planning, sitting with friends or standing to the attention of higher ranking officers. Trenches of a metre deep ran between the shelters and opened up in clearings with even more trenches running away from it.

Israel didn't speak a word of Russian. It was often a hindrance, but most of the time the commands were simple enough to understand. It wasn't as if he was going to be living there long term, he felt no need to know the language. Also, it helped that a majority of the soldiers already knew some English.

This all being said, Israel stood completely stunned when a man he didn't recognize walked up to him, quickly saluted, and rattled off one or two sentences in Russian. When the man had finished he just stood there, standing to attention and looking Israel in the eye, not challengingly, but nervously. There was an awkward silence and Nikolai sighed from next to him and shook his head wearily. He said something to the other man and instantly he relaxed. "Seriously, Israel, you really need to learn our language. Many good things will come from it; like you will actually know what's going on half the time. This man here's name is Dimitri." Israel noticed the lack of any significant ranking badges. The only things on his spotless uniform suggested that he was a private.

"Dimitri says that he'll be joining our squad for our mission with Captain Vasilev." Nikolai gave a quick look to Israel. "He is straight out of training."

They turned to walk, all three of them, through the camp. Nikolai instantly dived into a conversation with Dimitri in Russian, making Israel lose interest. He heard snippets of words he knew, but they were just the usual things like names of weapons and places. He shook his head. One of these days, he'd have a long sit down with Nikolai and have him teach the Russian language. One of these days...

The Captain's shelter was right ahead and Nikolai told Dimitri something rapidly, pointing in the other direction. Dimitri nodded his head rapidly, saluted quickly, the rushed off.

"What was all that about?" Israel asked Nikolai when they reached Captain Vasilev. He was in a deep conversation with a few other Captains about a mass of documents and maps before them spread all over a small table.

Nikolai just stopped at the table and whispered out of the corner of his mouth: "Told him to stock up on more vodka from storage. I have a feeling that we'll be needing it soon."

Israel nodded and the Captain finished his discussion, turning to the two of them. Israel heard others gather up behind him and he looked around to see a couple of members of the group he had been previously assigned to, like Viktor and his brother Ivan. They nodded at him but then kept their gaze fixed on the Captain.

There was the stamping of feet as the small group stood to attention before the Captain and he released them with the same words Nikolai had used before, which Israel later learned was the command "at ease".

He spoke in broken English for the sake of Israel, debriefing them on their target: a small German training facility closer to Seelow, newly discovered.

Israel listened attentively, not noticing the sound until it was too late.

Four of the seven officers around the table fell dead.

There wasn't even a pause. "Get down!" Captain Vasilev yelled, grabbing the collars of the remaining officers and dragging them to the floor. Nikolai tackled Israel and they both hit the ground. Israel heard someone shout "Sharpshooters!" but something didn't add up...

Then, from one of the trenches that came into the shelter strolled three German soldiers with a strange black garb, carrying silenced sub machine guns.

They raised their weapons and Nikolai reacted instantly, drawing his Tokerev pistol from his prone position and pulling the trigger. But he hadn't had it loaded before when he shot Israel earlier and he had forgotten to reload it since; the gun only clicked now. His eyed widened at the incoming danger and he struggled with the fastening of a sheath on his belt.

Israel unslung the Mosin Nagant rifle from his shoulder briefly aiming down the sights, lining them up on the first soldier's face. He fired the shot and his fingers moved lightning fast to pull the bolt up and backwards, the empty shell ejecting to his right.

The German soldier caught the bullet under his chin and went down. His finger was held on the trigger of his gun as his body started falling to the ground, spamming bullets all over the trench. They hit the second enemy soldier, who fell, surprised, to the ground as well.

Nikolai had undone the clips on the side of his belt and pulled out a massive machete blade, roaring and jumping to his feet. He charged forward and the machete slid easily into the chest of the third soldier. Nikolai didn't waste time with rage once the first blow was given, instead lowering the soldier to the ground and wiping his blade on the soldier's dark outfit.

Israel got to his feet and ran to the trench entrance to take point. There was a shout from somewhere else in the camp and the muffled sound of gunfire, but Israel ignored it. He raised his rifle and aimed at the confines of the trench in front of him. He saw no-one but stayed crouching there, hearing the sounds of Nikolai and the officers grabbing what weapons they could find. There weren't many there, Israel knew. It was the commander's shelter, and the weapons were placed in another part of the camp, fifty metres away. He looked back and confirmed his suspicion; Nikolai had his now-loaded pistol and was handing his machete to Vasilev, while Ivan was handing his pistol to one of the commanders there. There were three commanding officers in all, and they were now everyone's responsibility to save. They were the VIP's, Captain Vasilev and his squad were just cannon fodder to protect them.

Nikolai moved up to Israel and placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need to get more weapons, and know what we're dealing with here." Israel nodded and realised that the silenced gunfire had stopped, leaving nothing. It was eerie, because normally the entire camp was alive with talk and sound.

Captain Vasilev moved stealthily towards them. "Alright. Lt. Elysium, you spot for us while we move up. Then take point and spot again. Got it?"

Israel grunted agreement and got ready. Whatever was over the lip of the trench, whatever was on level ground, he could not see. For all he knew, there were a hundred Germans there, ready to shoot him to pieces.

He slowly propped his rifle against the trench's entrance and took of his helmet, balancing it on the end of his gun's barrel. He then lifted the gun upwards so the helmet just peeked over the lip and out into the open. When no firing sounded and no-one mistakenly took his helmet on top of his rifle for an enemy and shot it, he considered it safe and strapped it back to his head. 

Israel took a breath and peeked over, gun raised.

Every Russian soldier that had been in the camp were lying dead, not thirty metres away. German soldiers in the same, strangely dark uniforms were walking around, talking, ordering. Israel crouched there, transfixed. He couldn't turn his eyes away from the bodies of his comrades, still on the forest floor.

There was a sharp yank on his collar and he was brought roughly to the ground. Nikolai was there, and Captain Vasilev crouched behind him with an angry look on his face. "You're going to get us killed, Lieutenant!" the latter said, and Nikolai shook his head.

"We saw as well, Israel," He said. "And we will have myest. But not here. We'll get them back by winning this God-forsaken war..."

Israel nodded, but it didn't fix things. They were still irreversibly dead, and someone was going to pay for it...

He crouched and they started down the trench. Captain Vasilev was first, then Nikolai, Ivan, the three commanders, Viktor, and Israel brought up the rear. They moved at a sluggish pace down the trench, Israel moving to the corners and taking point to make sure they weren't spotted. They reached the end of the trench, where it opened up into the large clearing with a camouflaged tarp pulled over misshapen items. 

Israel smiled. They had reached the weapons.

There were the sound of footsteps and the group shrank back into the trench, wary. A German patrol walked into the clearing, chatting quietly. They held MP40 sub-machine guns, and were ready to use them. 

"There's no way past them," Israel commented, keeping his voice to a whisper. "We don't have enough weapons to take them all out, and there's no way we could kill them one at a time so the other soldiers wouldn't know."

Vasilev was stony-faced as he made his decision. "Alright, comrades. I'll burn them out."

No-one spoke. They knew that when the Captain said that, he was not talking about fire in the terms of a lighter or matches.

Israel wasn't the only one in the camp who was a mage. Nikolai had gained the ability to see things as if he was looking through a thermal camera if he tried; if he was close enough to a wall he could even see heat signatures on the other side of it. Ivan had practiced on his adept magic, allowing him to shoot bursts of green energy from them. Viktor and Vasilev were both elementals, although Vasilev was the more experienced of the two. It was a well kept secret, all though with the officers now watching, Israel knew it would get out fast.

But there was no time for secrecy. This had to end now.

The Captain spoke in Russian to the commanders and they replied questioningly. He shook his head and repeated what he had said and the commanders slowly obliged, crawling further back into the trench and muttering among themselves. Then Vasilev turned to Viktor. "Ready?" he asked, and the other man nodded. They both clicked their fingers, summoning flames in their hands. They stepped up and into the open, palms outstretched. The German soldiers only had a split second to shout in alarm before Captain Vasilev and Viktor let the fire out in twin streams like flamethrowers, completely submerging the soldiers in heat. Strange, Israel thought to himself as he stood and fired, pulled the bolt back and fired again on the burning soldiers. It's almost like they were ready for the flame.

Nikolai ran into the clearing and his pistol came up to shoot at more German soldiers that were arriving. Israel pushed past a burning soldier which was stumbling and cursing by. When he reached Nikolai he called his name and lobbed the rifle at him.

Nikolai caught it deftly and swung his entire body around, smashing the rifle's butt into a soldier's face. He went down and Nikolai flipped the gun around to fire it point blank into another. He pulled back the bolt and loaded four more bullets into it, aimed down the iron sights and ended four more lives.

The moment he had thrown the rifle to Nikolai, Israel grabbed the edges of the camouflaged sheet on the ground and pulled it away. More soldiers started to pile into the trench, and bullets were getting closer and closer to hitting him. He picked up the first weapon there, a PPSH sub-machine gun, and loaded a drum mag into it. There were soldiers inside the clearing now, some creeping up behind Nikolai...

Israel clicked the safety and fired, spitting bullets everywhere. He took aim and fired once more, actually hitting his targets now. The soldiers fell from burns and bullets, screaming incoherently. Then Israel saw him.

The man was walking up to the top of the lip, a pistol in his belt and a frown on his face. He spoke sharply in German to the soldiers behind him and they relayed his command to all the others there. One soldier stepped up to the man, head bowed and hands outstretched. The man ripped off his gloves and placed them in the soldier's hands.

Israel noticed the badges and patches sewn onto the man's black trench-coat and he realized that the man was probably an important General. And an enemy General was always better off dead. 

Viktor noticed him as well, as did Ivan. Ivan reached for a PPSH from underneath the tarp, but suddenly his left leg buckled. His face screwed up in pain and a moan left his mouth. His hands clutched at his head and that was when Israel saw that the General was pointing both bare palms directly at Ivan.

Israel and Viktor ran to Ivan's aid but when they got within a metre of him, a strange burning feeling engulfed them. It was like two hot irons were pressing on either side of their bodies, and closing in, compressing them and burning them at the same time. Israel fell to his knees in agony, and then Nikolai was there, gritting his teeth and pulling Viktor and Israel away, out of the field of pain. The burning stopped instantly, and Israel shook his head and got to his feet, just in time to see Ivan rupture violently all over the ground.

There was only a second of pause. Only a moment, and then Viktor was on his feet and running towards the General, screaming.

"You bastard!" he said, and kicked up the PPSH that Ivan had been reaching for. It landed in Viktor's hands and he yelled as he pulled the trigger.

In three seconds, twenty bullets flew towards the General in a flurry. Seven of them hit him, but were stopped by a strange armour he was wearing. One bullet got through his armour and penetrated his arm, making his body jerk backwards.

The General glared at Viktor and went to raise his uninjured arm, but Israel ran and pulled Viktor away. He half dragged, half lead him to a trench and dumped him there, where Nikolai, Vasilev and the three Russian commanders were crouched. Nikolai nodded at Israel and shook his head in disgust and Viktor, who was weeping and calling for his dead brother.

"He lived and bled and died for Mother Russia, comrade," Nikolai told Viktor dismissively. "There is no greater honor. Now snap out of it- they are coming!"

It was true. German soldiers were now spilling into the clearing with the weapons, the General ordering them forward. 

"Where do we go?" Viktor said, fear in his voice. He was rewarded by lightning fast slap to the face by Captain Vasilev.

"I've had enough of your whining." He loaded his PPSH and risked a quick glance at the advancing soldiers. "Alright, we make for the tree-line on my mark."

Nikolai shook his head. "We need to stay and fight. We won't make it running."

The Captain gritted his teeth. "We can try."

There was an unspoken signal and as one, they all stood and leaped out of the trench, running full pelt for the tree-line, fifty metres out. There was a chorus of shouts from the enemy soldiers as they gave chase. Some stopped and fired their machine guns, and Viktor screamed as a bullet caught him in the chest. He fell in a heap, and Nikolai cursed, tripping over him. Nikolai reached for Viktor but the wounded man was trying to solidify himself into stone. Being in a forest, he could only draw a limited amount of stone from the ground and ended up solidifying just his legs. He was still screaming when Nikolai gave up trying to pull him free and ran off. And he was still screaming when the soldiers caught up to him and shot him in the head.

Twenty metres to go. Nikolai had been right; they weren't going to make it. The German soldiers were aiming properly now, their shots reaching closer and closer.

There was a roar of an engine and a Russian jeep that had seen better days appeared, the driver shouting crazily. He pulled over ten metres ahead of the remainders of Captain Vasilev's crew. "Get down!" he shouted at them, and Israel saw the second Russian soldier sitting with a mounted machine gun on the back of the jeep. 

Nikolai, Vasilev, the three commanders and Israel dived to the ground at once, just as the Russian soldier opened fire, cutting huge swathes in the German soldiers' ranks. The sound of the gun was deafening, and the turret operator swung it madly side to side in an effort to slow down their pursuers. Vasilev turned and motioned for the squad to crawl towards the jeep. They did so at a painstaking pace, and finally reached the tires. When they did, there was a single echoing gunshot from far, far away and the Russian soldier that had been behind the turret slumped forward.

"German sniper!" the driver said, and Israel recognized it as the soldier he had met earlier; Private Dimitri. "Hurry, comrades!"

Without the machine gun firing over their heads anymore, they jumped to their feet and piled into the jeep. A second sniper bullet buried itself into Dimitri's headrest and he fearfully put the jeep into gear and floored the accelerator. They shot off, and Vasilev leaped for the mounted machine gun, pushing the dead body of the previous turret operator away, swinging the gun to the rear of the jeep and laying down fire onto the rest of the soldiers. He stopped when they were out of range and slumped back into his seat, exhausted. The jeep was quiet, and Dimitri was muttering a single word over and over, "Myest", shaking his head as he navigated a tight road. Israel looked questioningly at Nikolai in the seat beside him, and the Russian man sighed and translated.

"'Revenge. Revenge, revenge, revenge..."

There it is. I hope you liked it. I hope you comment. And yes, I do know that all of those Russian names were a bit stereotyped. But Vasilev and Nikolai are epic names :P

I have more to write, more to say, and I would like to post some pictures of my camp, and finally tell you what the B.A.H is... 

But I don't have the images now. I will update this, maybe on Wednesday. In the meantime, CHAAAAAT!