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This is a story that I am writing so any questions, comments, concerns, etc. would be appreciated. Also this is not set in the 40K universe.
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"War is hell. There is absolutely no way around that time tested phrase. It is a thing that only idiots, barbarians, or Trols would ask for. In fact I'm sure that Trols pray for war like little children. I can see it now: a Trol kneeling near a neatly made bed with his hands clasped together and saying,'...and bless me mummie and dadie and me sista and me brotha. Alsa, pleas 'ave a maja wer start tomorrow cause I'm relly borred and want ta kill sumfin. Amun'
But they aren't stupid enough to pray for war without cause. Each one of those bastards is at least seven feet tall and they may look lean but they are fast and can pack a deadly punch.Their 3 tusks and huge fists make them deadly even when unarmed so don't assume that a Trol with no weapons means you're safe. Hell I've even seen a Trol kill someone with a toothpick just for the challenge of it.
So that's why I want you to pray to whatever god you want to pray to every night. Give thanks to that god that you lived to see another day, pray to that god that you live to pray to him tomorrow, PLEA to him that you have enough ammo and skill to live another day, but above all pray for this:that those Trols never stop praying. For if they did then we'd all be out of the job."
-High Marshal Felgrove Sestein, attached to the 43rd Taltec heavy infantry regiment addressing the regiment commanders and overcommander of opperation:Casogal freedom

********
The armory planet of Casogal.
An obscure but priceless world.
From it's forges spew the ammo, rifles, and bayonets which fuel the Empirical Army. It's sand is a story within itself. It's sand is unique as it acts as if it were snow, but it also acts as sand. From it's sand is crafted the strange but deadly glass blade swords, capable of sliceing steel as if it were paper.
This world is important, but obscure.
It lies to close to wild space to have any real military presence. It lays to far from any civilized system to call for aid. It's population to small to raise regiments. It's survival itself a miracle of machine and agriculture. The planet is like a priceless jewel lost amongst rocks.
And that's why it fell.
In the year 3562 E.T. a meteor shower covered the planet and cut off communications. This had happened from time to time but when the planet failed to pay it's tithes a force was sent to investigate and discovered that the planet was almost overrun by Trol forces and that only the capital city of Bezelgalf remained. Immediately an army of 40 regiments of troopers, 4 million in total, were sent to the planet to take it back in the name of the empire.
Those 4 million souls(there have been reinforcements totaling to around 3 regiments of men) have been trapped there for almost 7 years.

*********
The desert stretched on for miles around in every direction. Of course to call it a desert would be a insult as it contained no sand and was a very mild temperature. Come to think of it, the natives didn't even have a definite name for what it was. The most fitting one was a long word that roughly translated to "great sea of eternal snow" and given have vast and white this stuff was it seemed to fit. Not that the name mattered this stuff was harder was a bastard's son to dig in and impossible to go on without sinking.

Ltc. Lepwiz shook the thoughts from his head and went back to surveying the battle lines. It took some effort to see the trenches and to discern the actual trenches from the death pits but eventual he did it and saw that every man was at their posts. The trenches zigzagged for miles to the sunset and back and were formidable. Even if you managed to reach them through the withering fire you would come across a false section of trenches bobby trapped to kill and hold back as many of those freaks as possible. Then they would have to climb out of those trenches and wither another 50 yards worth of fire before meeting the grim determination and sharp bayonets of the Empire's troopers. He then pulled out his Bi-eyes and went to survey the Trol's lines.

The Trol's "trenches" were easier to find then a starship on your hovel. It was a crudely made palisade that dominated the dunes and were doted with watch towers every 3-3000 feet or so(it probably deepened on the Trol's boredom levels at the time). One watch tower in particular stood out as the Trol posted there only ever carried a banner and was never seen leaving his post. They had tried shooting him down with snipers before but then, just as right now, when you look at him he is ALWAYS looking back at you and it seems like he knows exactly what you're doing. Despite never actually killing anyone Lepwiz had lost 60, or was it 70, of his best snipers to that Trol simply because they went crazy and had to be brought before the Marshall.

Fortunately for all existence, no other Trols were that focused or scary. One day the Trols could launch unrelenting assaults from sun up to moon down, and the next day they'd be trying to play human size blitzkrieg in the no-man's land while never actually agreeing who was what piece. Even now there were Trols mooning him and throwing Halflans at the Empiracl trenches. The most humorous thing Lepwiz remembered a single Trol doing was one day he waltzed right over to the Empiracal front lines with an empty mug in had, asked the troopers on duty if he could borrow some "suga'", and then laughed like a madman, dropped the mug, and ran back to his own lines(That Trol was seen leading the next assault with the warcry "GIVE ME BAK MY CUP O' SUGA'!") The most humorous thing the whole Trol army did was when they all decided to go to the beach(seeing as the nearest coast was 500miles away and the trolls managed to get their and back within an hour the Maguses have set aside a whole division to figure out how they did that.) and came back throwing seashells at the Empiracl troops.

Still, these Trols had earned every rite to act as madmen outside of combat. Lepwiz had to remind himself that all of the regiments posted on this world had lost an average o 43% of their forces, with The 43rd Toltec being hit the hardest with 57% casualties. Including BG Halmsed.

"Colonel!", a voice called out from behind him.

Snapping back to reality Lepwiz turned around to see his new assistant, by Zanbar's bolt pistol what is that boy's name again?

"Cpl. Selven. Also I'm only a LIEUTENANT Colonel." Lepwiz said. Then he quickly added, "so what is it?"

"We believe that the Trols are going to launch an attack soon."

Some flying Trol gak caught Lepwiz in the back of the head quickly followed by a confused Halflan who began running back towards his own lines.

"I HADN'T noticed", Lepwiz said while trying to get the brown stuff of his shako before it stuck.

"That's why I told you sir." Selven replied.

Great ANOTHER one. Even if Lepwiz hadn't noticed to the flying gak and Halflans he would have noticed the steadily rising beat coming up from the Trol's lines. Or maybe he would have noticed the huge sign the Trols had erected saying "We'z gona atak son, O.K?" Still the they hadn't attacked yet meaning there was still time for them to get bored with it and wander off. Lepwiz was about to reprimand Selven when the speech horn at his ear screamed out,"INCOMING!"

Lepwiz barely turned around in time to see a terrpeda slam into the death pits and was followed by some enemy artillery. The bombardment didn't last long but it had filled up almost all of the death pits. Lepwiz shuddered, this wasn't going to go well for them. Drums sounded and men rushed to the trenches, bolt rifles in hand, and waited for orders from their sergeants. Lepwiz unslung his own bolt rifle and waited near the support trench for the Trols to attack.

He didn't have to wait long. The Trols fired a single flaming trebuchet shot, an odd tradition that Lepwiz hadn't seen any other Trols use, and then they let out a fierce war cry and lept over their palisade. They were hideous creatures, around 7feet tall with a sharp, almost fox like, features with pointed ears and noses and 3 tusks(2 going up on the sides and one going down in the middle). They waved poorly made axes, pistols, and led belcha's and began shooting wildly at the Empiracl lines. Lepwiz calmly lowered the stealer horn over his mouth and the moment the Trols were in range he screamed, "ALL UNITS OPEN FIRE!"

***********
The first wave of Trols was scythed down under the sheer weight of bolt fire. Machine bolters and Machine cannons added to the weight of fire while boomstick throwers, mega-ton guns, and pounders gouged huge holes in the Trol ranks. Had the terrain not been likely to suck up outriders, jackles, and sharks the number of dead would be thrice what it was, but then again, that's why they they were in this situation. Lepwiz knew that his own bolt rifle counted for at least 2 dozen dead Trols. However, they could absorb the loss they were given a hundred times over.

The troopers were also taking casualties as well. Trol crez bowz fired there explosives into trenches taking out whole squads at a time. He-jeka's had Haflans dig fox holes for them so the could use their fia werks to full effect. Lucky Trol shots managed to claim several men including Marshal Volderch, which almost caused the troops near him to panic. Iorn Trols, a form of Trol walker about 12' tall, were unleashing devastating hail storms of bullets and boomsticks while ,amazingly given their size and construction, were not sinking in the sand.

The sky wasn't quite either. Dog fights between Falcon fighter jets and ske belcha's were filling the sky with dozens of explosions. 'elly chopyas were floating in the sky with their crew leaning out of it's basket to drop boomsticks and infernorods on Empirical(and Trol) forces. In addition the sky was filled with the whistling of pounder shells, iorn shells, and the occasional terrpeda. But none of this could stop the Trols.

Lepwiz activated his speech horn and screamed, "LIGHT THEM UP!"

Immediately a battle between fire spewers and flam belchas erupted. None of the Trols could stand the heat for very long and they broke. Lepwiz swore that the Trols suffered more casualties running away then they did running towards the line.

"Sir the Trols broke", Selven stated.

"Really?", Lepwiz irked, "I hadn't noticed."

Selven smiled and said, "Glad you know now sir. But should we charge their lines?"

Lepwiz was about to give the order when the trebuchet fired again. This time, however, it must have landed on an ammo store because when it broke through the ground it created a massive explosion. Lepwiz barely had enough time to duck. When he got up he saw that a cannon round had tore of Selven's arm, but that was the least of his worries. A massive gap about 200 yards wide was now completely devoid of troops and the Trols were about to charge again.

*************
Gor took a good look through his stolen long eye. No matter where he looked he came to the same exact conclusion: the Trols were going in for the kill. They didn't seem very serious about it either. After all their werbiks could have crossed the sand in less time then it took for him to kill. On top of that they didn't seem to have any iorn belcha's left. Perfect.

Gor rested the long eye near the hatchet of his merder klas 'eavy tenk with a satisfied smile on his lips.

"Lutenant Rip", Gor said to the Trol standing near the front of the tenk.

"Yes Kurnel?" was his quick and precise reply.

"Tell da solja's dat da weenies 'ave left dere trenches."

Rip cracked a wide smile and took in a long and deep breath

"THIS IS LTC. MADEL LEPWIZ IN SECTOR 5 TRENCHES", Lepwiz screamed into a stealer box's horn, while the operator was trying to adjust the volume so that high command wouldn't want to shoot any of them, "WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS NOW! I DON'T CARE IF THEY ARE TROOPERS, HONOR GUARD, L.O.E.D.ERS, OR EVEN JUST PLEBEIANS WITH POINTY STICKS WE NEED THEM NOW OR ELSE WE'LL LOSE THE TRENCH!"

"Ltc. Lepwiz", a voice said, with a notable air of "I hate my job right now","this is Op. Prvt. Dylan at high command. I will put your request in immediately."

Lepwiz was about to put the box's horn down when Dylan added,"However."

"What is it?", the opperator, Frenered if he remembered right, asked, beating Lepwiz to the chase.

"Well...", Dylan said,"We've been getting requests for reinforcements from all 29 sectors. Seems the Trols finally found the sense to co-ordinate large scale attacks. From what I've heard, We've barely beet off all of their other ones. So on your reinforcements may be civs with sticks and even then you'll have to wait at least 3 hours before you find out. that is supposing that the roads in your sector are in good condition."

"LISTEN", Lepwiz screamed, "WE'VE GOT A GAP AT LEAST A HUNDRED MAYBE EVEN TWO HUNDRED YARDS ACROSS WHICH, IF WE'RE ABLE TO PLUG IT UP AT ALL, WE'LL BE UNDER STRENGTH EVERYWHERE ELSE!"

After a pause Dylan said,"Well then, make peace with you gods and hope the rest of the lines don't fall. Over and out."

Lepwiz slammed the box's horn on the nearby table while trying to go over the stats. 50,000, maybe 51,000 if they were lucky, men against who knows how many Trols. Perfect.

**********
Luckly, the Trols left plenty of time between the conversation and their attack for the gap to be partially retrenched. when the Trols finally did launch their attacks it quickly became apparent why it had taken so long: the Trols had hired mercenaries and had to convince them the pay was worth it. Ohgores, the larger, fatter, thicker Tols sub-species, smashed through their palisade with Trols following in their wake. From each of the watch towers snipers, most likely Heb Gablens given the range and accuracy, began to extract a noticeable toll among Empirical troops. He-jeka's settled into the foxholes they had made earlier and began to bombard the troopers with volleys of, highly inaccurate, fia' werks with a lucky few managing to slam into a pounder battery or two.

The Empiracl forces managed to reply in force. Once again machine bolters and machine cannons took out scores of Trolls while normal bolter fire did in nearly as many of them. What pounders were left began barraging Trols while boomstick throwers laid down more accurate fire. When the range closed the fire spewers managed to fry dozens upon dozens of Trols before their fuel was exhausted. Even Lepwiz joined in with his antiqued bolt rifle, which had superior rifling, and fell almost 200 Trolls.

However, even if they had done the same 50 times over, the weight of the Troll forces was too much. When the Ohgores finally slammed into the trenches there was only so much an over glorified spear could do against 500 pounds of fat and muscle. Troopers died in droves with the casualty rate being around 1 ohgore for every 20 troopers. And when the rest of the trolls got stuck in the number of dead exploded. Lepwiz was about to rush in to help when he heard a giant scream. He looked up just in time to see a jumpa coming at him.

Lepwiz rolled out of the way as the Trol slammed into the ground. Lepwiz pulled out his sword before the jumpa stood back up and charged at him. The Trol attacked first, swinging his hatet down at Lapwiz, and giving him no choice but to block. Fortunately, unlike all the rest of his equipment, his sword was home. Staring at the thing that had once been his weapon, the Trol was distracted long enough for Lepwiz to run it through the iron armor it had donned.

Instead of dying, the Trol looked down at the man with the sword in his chest. If it had noticed anything it was that his opponent looked too old to be doing this, had a black bolt rifle dangling at his side, and had a glass like saber sticking out of it. However long it may have had those thought Lepwiz didn't give it the chance to comment and ripped his sword downward. Turning around he saw another Troll was heading towards him with a buzz sword. He never did get to see it's face though, as it exploded as a trio of bolt shells hit home.

Then, before the Trol even fell to it's knees Marshal Sestein run up to it, smoking bolt pistol in hand, and decapitated it.

"Good to see you", Lepwiz managed, while hipshooting an ohgore in the back.

"Oh I'm doing great", Sestein said, before gutting a couple of Haflans.

"I didn't ask", Lepwiz stated, while parrying a Trol attack

"I know!", Sestein yelled, while shooting a Trol in the head and reversing his power sword through it on the way down. "And before you ask", he added," if you attempt to even order a retreat your day will get much worse."

Lepwiz was about to say something when suddenly a horn sounded. In an instant all of the fighting stopped as the Trols turned to look at their palisades and as the Troopers caught their breath. The trebuchet fired again but, instead of aiming for the Empire's lines, it went in the complete opposite direction.

"DA FERT!", one of the Trols yelled, "BAK TO DA FERT!"

And in one accord all of the Trols, Ohgores, and Haflans ran back to their lines and joined the distant sounds of battle. Had the Empirical troops not been so surprised by what had just happened they may have shot some of them.

After a long silence Lepwiz finally asked, "what was that?"

"Who knows", a trooper, who turned out to be Frenered, "maybe it's tea time?"

The sounds of battle never did completely subside. Every now and then it sounded like guns firing, people shouting, artillery crashing, and a hundred other things. Many people would have blamed the sound on the clean up, but there were to many bodies for patrols to be sent out. Some people even claimed that it was the sand, that it somehow echoed back things you said or did to disorient you, but that's just superstition. The real cause of it was much more real and annoying: the Trols never stopped firing their guns.

Sestein just shook his head, "at least they aren't shooting at us."

Sestein was walking, almost strolling, along the trenches watching the post-battle drills take place. Here some men were re-stocking their ammo supplies, there some trying to clean up the dead, and farther back some men trying to catch/kill a Haflan who keeps throwing stuff at people. Sestein was going to level a bolt off at it but the Haflan knocked over a crate and didn't need the bolt. Some what saddened by being something to do, Sestein, continued his walk, making silent notes about things he saw. One thing in particular caused him to stop and stare.

In front of Sestein was a fire squad worth of troopers, who were trying desperately to move a Trol. It was legless and one of it's tusk was gore covered and it was trying to crawl back to it's own trenches while shouting, "LEGO O' ME YA SQUISHY FREAKS! I'M MISSIN' TEA TIME RITE NOWZ! Wez was gona 'ave crumpeds an' evera fing."

Laughing to himself Sestein was about to turn away when the firing squad recognized his pressence.

"GRAND MARSHAL SESTEIN!", they all yelled, before doing the Empirical salute.

"Troopers", Sestein shouted, mainly do to the Trol blabbering on about buttering stuff, "at ease."

He then quickly added, "what squad are you?"

"SIR", a trooper, bearing the rank of staff sergeant, responded , "S.S. DEVLON METKES SIR! SQUAD TAL51-6-4-1-1-1 SIR!"

"If your a company commander", Sestein said, "then drop the parade ground formalities. Remember, this isn't the Syber, so I'm not in the Hierarchy."

"SIR YES SIR!," Devlon responded, before a glare from Sestein caused him to say, "Of course sir."

"Good, now then can you tell me what's going on?" Sestein asked.

"I ALRADA TOLDA YA DAT IS WAS MISSIN' TEA TIME!" the Trol's bauble produced.

"Aside from trying to shut him up", Devlon said, indicating a man who had pipe bandages, "we were going to move it and then kill it so the smell doesn't stay."

"If you're going to all that trouble then why bother killing it?"

"Sir?"

"Listen", Sestein explained, while his hand went to rest on his pistol, "If you go to all the trouble of moveing it then we can interrogate it. After all, a legless Trol doesn't pose much of a threat to anyone and, if we keep him away from other Trols, he could provide us with some useful information."

"Of course this is merely a suggestion. After all", Sestein said, while fixing his Marshall's cap, "I'm not in the hierarchy."

"SIR YEs... of course sir", Devlon fumbled.

After that he barked new orders to his squad(the rest had showed up with some rations). Many of them groaned, and a few of them produced ear plugs. Sestein didn't see any of that as he was already heading back to his room. When he reached it he punched in the entrance code and, after a few hisses, the door opened. Inside his room he had a million things he could be doing like read after action memos, contacting High Command, writing reports on how tropers did, even filling out papers for the captured Trols.

But at the moment he only had one thing on his mind.

"I can't believe I'm missing tea time", Sestein muttered to himself.

A hundred or so yards away, Lepwiz was standing in the forward command center. It was a dingy little place, eventually it had once been a weapon nest (more then likely a pounder) and it was now cluttered with data-looms, adders, stealer boxes, and a single tele-typer all covered by a poorly made tarp and severely under manned by Lepwiz's command squad and about half a dozen other men seconded from other squads. Had his squad not been just reduced (yet again) to only him and a couple other people this wouldn't have happened. And yet her he was with about 8 other people he didn't know and some cafinade, that tasted like watered gak, working on the post action report.

The figures weren't all in yet but already they weren't pretty. So far the companies had called in at least 20,000 men dead, the highest casualties ever! The number of dead Trols, Haflans excluded, was at almost 50,000 with only around 500 of them being captured. Still the trolls had at least 30 times that counted on the field with an estimated 170,000 not even committed to battle which begged the question: "Why did the Trols retreat?" By all accounts if they had stayed on even another minute they would have forced the Empirical forces out of the trenches and then slaughtered them. Even if Trols were the most unpredictable creatures in all existence, running away when you're winning is just something they never do.

Lepwiz was brooding over this when suddenly his stealer horn barked to life.

"Omega-4-7?"

Lepwiz recognized the code and put his hand on the "steal" switch and responded, "Toltec-4-3. Empire or L.O.E.D.?"

"LO.E.D.ers reinforcements. Southwind?"

"Devils be dammed. Change frequency to 16-7.8."

"Understood."

A few moments later one of the ops started talking to his box. After a while he turns to Lepwiz and says, "Col. we got militia inbound."

"It's LT. Col.", Lepwiz corrected, "and I know. How many?"

"About one legion worth."

Lepwiz shook his head. Only one legion? And on top of that, only L.O.E.D.ers? In any other warzone ten-thousand men might be helpful, but here, and against Trols? Lepwiz had no doubt at all that he was going to die here.

Wesly had to take in a deep breath. It wasn't for any particular reason, but just because he couldn't stand being coped up in a riot tank for much longer. However, he didn't realize he was facing the wrong direction, so all he was rewarded with was a mouth full of himavarsa. He pulled back into the tank choking until it had either all melted or he had coughed it up. There were some snickers and only one genuine concern.

"Lord Alkor, have you ingested foreign particles against your will?" it asked.

Wesly didn't need to look up to know exactly who it was. Years of mutual relationship had seen to that.

"Pel-10", Wesly managed,between coughing fits, "yes I have been forced to eat something. It's called, 'My stupidity'."

It took a few minutes and worried chimes before Pel-10, "Lord Alkor, this substance is not in the data-registry and should be treated as a poisonous substance. I suggest beginning by contacting the nearest apothecary and then waiting for him."

Despite the pain Wesly laughed and corrected, "Pel-10 I love your head for tactics but you need to get that head of yours looked at. I faced the front of the tank when we were moving and got a face full of himavarsa."

Pel-10 sat dazed for a few moments before nagging, "Lord Alkor if you know very well that my main objective is to see over your well being. I cannot do this if you tell me the wrong facts. Now I have to reconnect with the apothecary and explain to him that..."

Pel-10 continued this rant for several minutes (perhaps even an hour) but Wesly knew how to tune him out. Besides he had more important things to deal with.

"Sheldon." Wesly yelled and one of the men on the bench responded.

"What is it Lord?" Sheldon asked.

"Stick your head out of the hatchet."

"Lord?"

"Just do it."

Wesly then added, "But face port side, the wind is acting up today."

Sheldon, rather reluctant to leave his seat, moved slowly to the hatch and stuck his head out. It took about a minute before he pulled it down with a very grim look on his face.

"Well?" Wesly asked, "what did you hear?"

"Battle Lord." Sheldon said.

"I thought as much. Hand me the stealer box."

Sheldon went to were the stealer box was and, after only the gods know what, he handed it to Wesly who had, in his impatience, moved up next to Sheldon. Wesly fiddled with some dials before he finally brought the box to his mouth.

"Omega-4-7." Wesly barked.

"Affirmative."

"Understood."

"Order received."

"Acknowledged."

"Understood."

"Toltec-4-3."

Wesly stopped at this one for a few moments but Sheldon was much quicker in responding.

"Empire or L.O.E.D.?" The voice continued.

"LO.E.D.ers reinforcements. Southwind?"

"Devils be dammed. Change frequency to 16-7.8."

"Understood."

Changing to that frequency they came across another man and, after a few minutes, they relayed all the necessary info and the box went silent. So was the compartment. Finally Wesly asked the question on every ones mind.

"Why are they relaying post action codes during a battle?"

The only answer was, "They probably aren't fighting. But more importantly, If the Empire isn't fighting the Trols, then who is fighting?"

There was more silence as everyone thought hard. Finlay it was broken by a single question.

"Lord Alkor are you listening to me?"

Sestien shifted uncomfortably. He hated being out here at the best of times, but this was even worse then battle as he had only a faint idea why. And even with that, it didn't seem enough to stop tea time. Still, being outside of the command structure, he had to oblige the stuff like this or else the Marshall's authority would get curious and look into his personal life. The last thing he needed was that, they'd look into his history, trooper interaction, personality, how he acts in combat, his religion...best just to go along with the flow of things anyway.

So here he was, standing in full dress with Lupwiz to his right and some other trooper, the one who had the Box on his back, even further to the right. Here they were, standing where an autopark should have been but, local conditions, was inhabited by the off Jackle with some Plebeian and t- models for moving supplies over the poorly made roads. Here they were waiting for L.O.E.D.ers to arrive. Here they were to wait for over glorified Plebeians with semi-autos and the aim of a Trol. And he had no idea why.

Perhaps the fact that they were coming up with riot tanks and had ski-mounted ATPAV as scouts with a few improv-tanks spearheading the rioters should have told him why. Perhaps it should have been the crest displayed on said vehicles that should have told why. No not even the fact the Lupwiz snapped to attention wold him why. In fact only one thing did, one of the scouts in fact. He stopped in front of the group, while a riot tank wheeled backwards near him, and pulled out a scroll.

"Presenting", he began, which was a bad sign, "the most gracious and grand Lord Wesly Theodox Talkom Alkor the fifteenth, son of the Governor of Casogal and Second in line for the head of the Alkor family."

In truth their had been more, but the Heresy-esk attitude of the proclaimer irked his praisey enough for him to come out of his riot tank early, a good sign. However, given his and his retinue's appearance, they could have stayed in there for much longer. It took ALL of Sestein's self-control not to laugh and Lupwiz was to jaded to let something like laughter bother him. On the other hand, an amused smile was more then justified. They looked like they were going to perform, not wage war.

The man at the lead of his group of 3, which Sestein took for Alkor, was dressed in the old-war flamboyant style, with multi-colored clothes, stupid hats, out dated breastplate, and family crest galore. To make him fit the old-war bill even more, he had not one but TWO wheel-lock pistols at his sides with the same mechanism stuck to a hand cannon slung on his back and completed with an saber. The thing to his right wasn't much better, being that it was a barrel with legs, arms, a head, and some wires and chips for a brain, a Tecno in all it's sub-servitudeness. The man to Alkor left was unremarkable enough to not even warrant comment.

However, Sestein suspected, and confirmed by Alkor's grin, that the feeling was mutual. Here he was, a man in has 40's with a oversized trench coat, a hat with the Marshal's crest on it, and some boots more suited to mountain climbing then to the dessert. Then there was Lupwiz. He was a graying man in his...somethings, with the look of a man who just wants it all to end; after all he'd been wagging war for almost...How long has he been wagging war? Box back was just as unremarkable as his counterpart, almost like they were twins.

"Lord Alkor", Lupwiz said, "it is a pleasure to meet you."

"The same to you Lt. Colonel Lupwiz.", Alkor replied, with an added, "Er... sorry about the order."

"No prob..."

"What order?" Sestein demanded, his hand resting on his sidearm.

"Omega", Lupwiz began, "is not their title. Do you know what it meant?"

"No..."

"Well its old military code for attack. The numbers are supposed to be an estimate of the number of enemy guns to our guns heard. Hack they only stopped using because of Friendly fire incidents with Omega's..."

"WAIT!", Sestein interrupted, "so if you hadn't of recognized the code we'd all be fighting instead of sharing caffinade?"

"I don't like caffinade." The Tecno mumbled

"In short yes..."Lupwiz returned. But Sestein didn't hear the rest.

"Excuse me. Marshall matter to attend to." Sestein lied before leaving.

No one noticed (except for the Tecno but it doesn't count) the Sestein's pace was worryingly fast. And with good reason. Right now the Trols' were fighting themselves and here he was. Here HE was. Lupwiz had denied him the groove of things.

"My name is Felix Gottr. I'm am now a Srgt. in the Casogal C.o.P.S., er Committee of Public Safety. Sorry about that I'm used to Military cant. What? where was I 30 years ago? I was a member of the Local Order Enforcement Department enforcer branch and I was assigned to Legion 17/45. I worked with the governor's son... I'm going to be honest it wasn't that exciting until I meet some Trols. Hells that was seven years ago. What? How did I meat them?(minute long pause) No I'm still here but... on the only day of being at the trenches Me and some other guys were selected to go on a recon mission. Who was it? Berth, Yrec, Tengo, Selton, Xavier, Golga, Dale, Uoth, Ungerth, ... and a Marshal. I DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE ALRIGHT?...ok...What? You don't want to know what happened on that mission. The things they did to them...THE THINGS THEY DID TO THEM. I still wake up every night...It's as if someone etched them on my eyelids and no amount of anything can get rid of it..."
-Plebeian interview of C.o.P.S. Srgt. Felix Gottr(KIA) 3592

sorry about the delay but here's the next part:
********
Casogal is small but large world.
The planet is relatively small, only about 30,000,000 square miles.
But less then 3% of this land is water so there are large amounts of land to live on, more so then most other planets.
It is peaceful but militaristic.
In it's entire life within the Empire Casogal has never raised a regiment.
however, the Committee of Public Safety recruits more people from it's populace than any other planet in the system.
It is calm...but haunted

*********
Seven years. That was all Gore could keep thinking to himself. It took him seven bloody years. He knew that, as a Trol, he had no age limit, but still it took him seven years to do what should have been seven days. But FINALLY he had done it; his lord would be so pleased.

Gor was in an underground room(still not even 50% sure what it was used for) with 4 of his top Lutenants standing in silence. They all faced a center stand in which there icon resided. Kneeling near the star shaped icon was his top Werlak, Desit, who was mumbling in Shadowspeak over a clean skull of a Trol while pointing to skulls mounted on it already. To those who didn't understand the god's language it would sound as nothing more then passing wind, but all of Gor's men were fluent in it.

"Wa give tanks ta da grand Warlads o' shadas 'oh pravide us all wit ter blessin'."

"Giv prayse ta da Werladz." The congregation repeated.

"Wa praize Rage god o' da Brutes fer 'is strangth." Desit said while pointing to an Orineth skull on the bottom left.

"Giv prayse ta Rage."

"Wa give praize to Deception god o' Shadas fer 'is cunnin tis witout end.", Desit praised while pointing to a Vergesson skull on the top left.

"Prayse ta Daceptin."

"Wa give tanks to Avorice Lord o' Gargoyas as dey swoop in wit da retabuton." Desit praised while point to a human skull on the bottom right.

"Tanks Avorice."

"Yeah tanks alod ya..."Rip began. but a sharp glance from the Werlak, with an odd darkness to his eyes, convinced him not to finish. Well that and Gor fist reacquainting itself with Rip's face.

Desit continued by pointing to a Utillian skull on the top right and spouted, "Wa give tanks to Pride da wever o' fate, and da mastera o' da Rag Dols."

"Tank ya Tailor."

"AND FINALLY!", Desit bellowed, while holding the skull up high, "WA GIV PRAIZE TA ARE PARTEN GOD FEAR, DA MASTA O' DA DVILS AND RULA O' DA 5 WARLADS!"

"HAIL FEAR!" The Trols' shouted while the Trol skull was mounted on the top spike.

It was at that moment that 2 strange thing happened. The first, and most important, was that the second the Trol skull was added the human skull shot off and shattered against the wall. It was accompanied by what sounded like laughing from the newly mounted skull. The other thing was, for the first time in history, their was a facial expression for the phrase, "Aw gak we're all dead." The silence that accompanied both was broken only by the shattered, face of Rip asking an important question.

"Wel", Rip said," Wez gonna die now roght?"

People running with screams and shouts



All just trying to get out.



Cities burning like their logs


Nightmares feasting like their hogs.


Creatures made of darkness run

People falling under the guns.

Death flying over the plains
Dealing out his special pain.

Terror fills the streets anew/soldiers dying in droves too.
Skulls mounted on mile high stakes/ People sleeping who never wake.
Blood filling the streets like rats/ bodies follow soon after that. Creatures clad in darkness run/ because their fun has just begun.
Bodies piled in secret glyphs/ help conjurer up secret myths. Soldiers so majestically white/ make the sky eternal night.
If this story seems to true,
that's because next is...

********
Alkor woke up with a start. His waking up was not aided by the sounds of battle, those had died over the night. It was aided by, not only his dream, but by a blaring bugle announcing patrol switch. He laid down again and just let his thought fill his void mind.

"Again with that dream", he thought, not realizing it was aloud, "How many times have I had that dream?"

"Sir, you puppy is cat...", Pel-10 mumbled in his recharging.

"...Thanks Pel-10" Lord Alkor said, sarcastically.

Despite being inoperable during recharging, he, somehow, heard his own name and reactivated himself; a feature which only money could keep.

"Lord Alkor", Pel-10 dronned, "it is now 05:15/32:20 standard Casogal time. the date is now 19/30 of 7/12, or the 19th of Abrill, 3569 A.E.C. or 72/360 2883 standard B.S.S. time or..."

"Pel-10", Alkor said mouned," I love your head for numbers but now isn't the time."

Confusion rained all over himself as Pel-10 replied, "But sir, I was already telling you the time. How could it be that its not the time to know the time when it clearly is always a good thing to know the time? Why if I never knew the time then..."

In truth there had to have been more, but a sharp rap at the door ended the conversation.

"Yes?" Alkor asked, relieved at not having to waste time on Pel-10's speech.

"Lord Alkor", the messenger began, but then stopped because he realised the door was too thick.

After several unsuccessful attempts on his side, Alkor, punched they keys in and the door slid open.

"Lord Alkor", the messenger said, while adding, "the Lt. Colonel wants to see you at the forward command center."

********

Lepwiz was standing in the command center waiting. He knew the kid was a L.O.E.D.er, but he had sent the message out nearly thirty minuets ago. Maybe his flamboyant attire was holding him back, he probably needed a squad of men to help dress him. Sill, to give him some credit, he came back before the messenger, who was it again?, came back.

"Sir Lord Alkor, and Pel-10, reporting.", Alkor snapped, followed by a rendition of the Empirical salute fit for theater.

"At ease," Lepwiz said.

"What is it you wanted me for?" Alkor asked.

The lack of sir brought a quick hesitation, but, Lepwiz handed Alkor a pair of brass Bi-eyes and said, "Take a look."

Confusion reigned on every part of his face until he realized that Lepwiz was pointing to the Trol lines.

"Remember yesterday when you asked to lead a scouting mission?" Lepwiz said, to a man who was obviously paying more attention with his first sense, "This is why I said no. A blind man could draw a map of this battle."

Alkor had to agree that he was right. The Trol "trenches" stretched on for only 5 miles before ending in a set of mountains on the right and another on the left. Behind it was, what was once, Albertrile, one of the most important cities in this fief. It's main export was water which, given the desert like conditions, was near impossible to find. This city had been one of the goals of the war since day one. After all, with it, the Trol's could water all their other forces on the continent not in range of an oasis or lake. While he couldn't be sure, Alkor swore he saw no Trols at their battlements and towers.

"Why don't we just try to flank them?" Alkor finally asked.

"Tried that", Lepwiz replied, "Lead to a race to the sea."

"I was talking about the mountains."

"Tried that too, that's why we have the Bolad 97th mountain regiment there."

After thinking about it, after all his opinions carried the weight of the Governor with them, he finally asked, "Why don't we attack now, their walls and towers are unmanned."

"HA", Lepwiz scoffed, "haven't you seen the Watcher?"

"Who?"

"The Watcher", Lepwiz said, while taking his bi-eyes, " He's right..."

Despite the noise of the Data-looms and the chatter of stealer boxes the command center slowly fell silent as Lepwiz never left his sentences hanging.

Finally Alkor spoke, "Is everything all..."

Lepwiz spun around and pointed to Alkor, growling, "Het that team of your's together, but, Grand Marshal Sestien will lead it. No exceptions."

Although stunned, Alkor still pleaded, "Wait, Why?"

"Because", Lepwiz said, "in all 7 years of being here I have never once not seen the Watcher leave his post."

Sestein wasn't a hundred percent comfortable with his current arrangement. Less then an hour before he was reviewing the moral reports of each unit when a messenger had come in telling him to come to the command center. Being, altogether bored with papers, he had went along to discover that he was now the proud owner of a squad of L.O.E.D.ers. To top it off, they were now expected to go over the top, without artillery cover, and then go all the way to the Trol lines. Well at least it was spontaneous...

"Lord Marshal Sestein, SIR", a voice screamed.

Sestein slowly turned around to be greeted by the sight of ten L.O.E.D.ers in desert camo. But something was off about them. Their armor locked a little thicker, and they weren't carrying semi-autos. In fact, they almost looked like...

"Staff Sargent Felix Gottr of the Local Order Enforcement Department Enforcer Branch! Squad 1-1-1-1-17/45 SIR!", The boy yelled.

Bruisers. That explained alot.

"I am happy to have meet you," Sestein lied, thankful only that they would know to hold fire and could take a hit and survive. Hells they may even stand a chance of hitting something. Then a thought occurred.

"Why are bruisers being sent on a scouting mission?" Sestein voiced.

"SIR!", the kid replied, "The entire force sent with Lord Prince Alkor is Enforcers SIR!"

A quick look at another nearby squad of L.O.E.D.ers confirmed it. Their armor was thicker, their posture straighter, their helmets looked like riot helmets, and their weapons were riot guns. In fact, a few of the people had riot shields, shock prods, and snub noses or magnums. Having fought with and against them before Sestein knew they could, on a good day, go toe to toe with a Trooper. Even on bad days, their moral was always higher so at least he wouldn't was bolts on runners. Hopefully.

"Well", Sestein said, while clapping his hands together, "then we best be going."

Just they were about to go over the outer trench a thought hit Sestein's head.

"And don't call me sir", Sestein said, letting his hand res on his pistol, "Remember I'm not an officer, I'm a Marshal."

********
It took the better part of 3 hours for the unit to slither across the himavarsa, with not a single word said the whole time. Even if they weren't on voice silence Felix still couldn't believe it. Here he was, at the age of 24, not only a member of the enforcers but being lead by a real life Marshal. Not just any Marshal, but a LORD Marshal. Felix could barely tare his gaze away from him, which seemed to make Sestein uncomfortable.

It seemed to make him uncomfortable enough that he would look back at Felix with on odd look on his face. It was some where between creeped out and stop doing that. Once or twice he had even checked his bolt pistol was still loaded, although why Felix had no idea. And then there was the informality. Felix had never heard of a Marshal, let alone an officer, who didn't want to be called sir. And then there was that thing under his coat...

Felix had only seen a glimpse of it,when Sestein had reached from his coat before introducing himself, but it looked like a pendant. More then that, it looked like an icon of some sort, but Felix couldn't place where he had seen it before. A quick shrug and he just assumed it was an obscure one for the Empiracal Sect, after all, he had only seen the icons for the local religion and a couple a icons on Trooper's necks so he probably just didn't recognize it.

A shadow descended on Felix and he looked up. They were at the Trol palisade. It looked big from far away, but up close, it was huge. It had to be at least ten feet tall, maybe more, with rusted spikes jutting out from it to discourage one from running at it. However, those spikes were set far enough apart, and were strong enough, that they made going up easy. They were all at the top and looked down.

There was a step to stand on for firing with rails near it for climbing over. Aside from that, there was a mini earth wall about twelve or so feet from that which lead, with a gentle decline, farther back. Felix swore he could almost see the town...

Felix tapped Sestein and pointed. While he was disgruntled by that he followed the point and saw a Trol. It was just standing their, with led belcha in both of its hands and a hatet on its belt, like it was on guard. The only problem was, it was facing the city. Sestein made a shoo sound and went to jump down on the firing step.

"I wudun't do dat if I wer ya." a voice said.

Any attempt to explain what Sestein was feeling right now would have been near impossible. Here he was, with ten L.O.E.D.ers at the Trol lines and they had just been spotted by a Trol. He placed his own life expectancy at 19 seconds. The L.O.E.D.ers? twenty seconds total, maybe thirty.

After a minute or two there was no large hailstorm of led or iorn or Trols. Sestein didn't remember when he had closed his eyes but he had to open them again looking at the kid. After a shrug they tried descending again.

The voice came again, "Wut pert o' Dont do dat dont ya undastand?"

Instead of wincing Sestein turned his head to where the voice had cam from and discovered something he had no clue how they had missed: a Trol pinned under a mega led belcha. It was just lying there, not trying to kill them or even escape, with a look that can only be described as "what now?". Instead of heeding the Trol's advice Sestein began to question it.

"Why should I listen to you?" He demanded.

Instead of talking the troll picked up a nearby bulit and swung it in the air. To everyone's surprise, except for the Trol, it suddenly cut itself in half in mid air. Upon close inspection Sestein saw that there was web of wire set up along the entire length of the trench: one bunch directly beneath them.

"Ripper wire," the kid said.

"What?" Sestein asked, with a tinge of worry.

"The entire trench has been covered with ripper wire", the kid said.

Aggravated, Sestein replied,"I knew that much. What is ripper wire?"

Understanding the question now, the boy answered, "Oh. Ripper wire is a type of wire we use in fences on prisons and bases. We use it in the fences so that if someone tries to climb out, or in, they lose their limbs. I have some clippers on me, so it shouldn't be to hard to remove it. But I've never seen this stuff deployed like this, or so thin."

"Dat aint da 'alf o' it", the Trol said, "Eis only live cus an dum ohgor droped is gun on me. But I don sen, frum a fur, what dey don don ta da utha Trols."

"Like what?", Sestein demanded.

The Trol then leveled a pistel, where he had had it Sestein had no clue, and fired off a few shots at the standing Trol. It was greeted by an explosion that, not only took care of a large amount of the razor wire, throw out a large amount of shrapnel. While the L.O.E.D.ers were too dazed to know what that meant Sestein wasn't. In all his life e had never seen Trols bobby trap the dead, especially their own. And the Sestein looked to the town again and saw Trols lying on the ground the whole way back.

Something had massacred an entire Trol army.

********
About an hour or so later they were in what had once been the town, and were greeted with horror. Felix could barely hold down his breakfast on some of these bodies. In one way or another they had all been mutilated, with large holes bigger then their fists punched in large numbers of them. Some of them hadn't died in what ever had happened. One corpse had been hanged from the top of a building by it's own intestines and then used for target practice, the tiny craters behind it and paint lobbed on it confirming it's death. And that wasn't even the worst of them, Felix lost his breakfast after seeing some of the worse ones with at least 3 of the other guys joining him.

A minor distraction from the Dead were the living. They were Trols who stood around, like humans would after something like this, and , Zanbar knows why, they started following the group.

"Why are they doing that?" Felix asked Sestein.

"Because", Sestein explained, "Trols need purpose. What ever purpose they did have is now scattered on the walls and hung from balconies. We are searching around to scout, we have a mission. We might not be Trols, but right now, we have purpose so they are clinging onto it. Just ignore them, none of them have weapons, and we can always voice ahead a prisoner count."

Felix didn't really understand the answer, but it gave him something to distract himself from death so he tried counting them. After a few more hours they were back at where that one Trol was, and still was, and had amassed a large number of Trols and Haflans.

"Well", Sestein said, putting his stealer horn on, "here we go. This is Lord Marshall Sestein calling in mission successful and a prisoner count."

"The scouting mission was not authorized to bring back any prisoners", the operator replied.

"True", Sestein said, pulling out his bolt pistol to check it's clip, "but as a MARSHAL I am outside the chain of command, and the situation changed: Albertrile's threat level is now null."

After a short silence the operator returned, "...o...k. I'll want to hear how you did it when you get back. What is the prisoner count?"

"Ahh! That would be...", Sestein said, turning to Felix.

After a second, mainly do to pride, Felix said, "an estimated 400 Trols and 30 Haflans."

"Dhat aint enitaly true, mon."

The odd accent caught them off guard, and they turned to look at the speaker. It was a thinner-then-average Trol wearing an odd necklace, and leaning on a crudely made staff. The Trol was also missing it's left arm and its right leg had been replaced by a hinged peg leg. The Trol also wasn't carrying any weapons and had an odd spark in the air around him, with the other Trols staring at him, as if whatever he said was true. Sestein knew exactly what it was, and who it was, before it spoke.

"Da accurate count wud be, tree-hundad and nindy-to Trols, Thirty-tree Haflans, an' one Wit Docta' Kelgrieva, mon", said the most infamous Trol of the whole operation.