Gods Praise

"May the men and women of this battle be blessed by the Gods of Cyrus. Let their hearts be strengthened by the touch of you, our Guardians. Saren the Goddess of War, Uriel the Speaker of Peace, and Cyrus the Leader of Gods. Amen. Good luck Marines. May the Gods watch over you." The Preacher finished before an artillery shell hit above the trench where he and fifty Marines sat waiting for the call to advance. The Preacher of the Three moved further down the trench while the Marines got ready for the battle they were charging into.

Centurion Captain Evander stood up where the Preacher had been to speak to his troops. "Alright, let's get this done. This war will be ours and the First Praetorian Marines will be leading it. Ready bayonets, reload, and prepare for battle." He announced.

Each man and woman emitted a click as they put their sharpened short spears onto their respected Assault Rifle or other weapon of the trade. Many had already outlived their expected war-time life expectancy and a lot more had already been put through warfare that very day. A majority were missing their helmets while many others had lost their grenades or an extra clip or two along the way of the advance on the bloodied battlefield. That mini campaign was dubbed 'Battle for Cipius' while in fact the battle was being waged three miles outside the city of Cipius.

First Corporal Italus Remus could be called one of the lucky ones as he had already survived the so far four year old campaign against the Gemini Rebels, joining up and being assigned to the First Praetorian Marines at age sixteen after a vigorous and rushed two week boot camp. Throughout this month long battle he had already been shot, stabbed, and had been officially dead for two minutes before being revived. 'Hella of a month' as Legate General Vibius had simply described it.

Italus was standing by his two must trusted friends in the Praetorian Marines, Legionnaire Sergeant Devin Aeneas and Lower Corporal Plinius Consus and that definitely eased his nerves about the ever so nearing charge.

"Lets get those fucking Gem's." Italus heard Consus mutter. At least he wasn't nervous.

Then it came. The blow of the whistle that determined when to move, when to shoot, and when to kill. Lower Private Tatius, a rookie Italus hadn't gotten close enough to learn his surname, was the first over and out of the trench and the first back into the trench, a bullet smack in the middle of his forehead.

Italus was waiting for his turn to go over the trench and ultimately be shot back into the trench, stone dead. Fortunately, though, many troops made it pass the first two steps to be able to scatter about, advancing towards the Gemini position, yelling all the way. The whistle was still blowing. And it would be until the last man was up and over the trench. Bullets whistled over the trench while the weapons they came from made the most noise on the battlefield.

The First Corporal's turn had come and while he was considering jumping down and letting the next man go he knew his duty was to climb over and out of the crudely dug trench and kill every Gem he could until his body ceased to move. His arms did the thinking and decision making for him as they pushed him up before his legs took over.

He was followed by Aeneas, Consus, and whatever Marines were behind them. Italus had not time to look to see who they were and whether or not his friends were still even alive. His legs had taken over and he had no time to hesitate. Hesitate and you died, look back and you died, go forward and you died. Nothing kept you alive in war except for your rifle and your instincts. And Italus' survival instinct had definitely kicked in. The First Corporal shot his weapon without knowing, moved without knowing, kneeled over without knowing.

Once Italus had come back from his 'War Trance' as Consus had jokingly dubbed it he realized he had taken cover behind a destroyed jeep alongside Centurion Captain Evander, Legionnaire Sergeant Aeneas, and Lower Corporal Consus.

Good his two friends had made it... Of course he had lost many other friends along the way. After a while he had learned to almost completely amputate social ties to the fellow Marines out of the fifty odd men and women of the Centuria.

But enough about that, they had a battle to fight. Italus took a minute to examine his surroundings. Aeneas and Consus were taking potshots at the enemy fortifications while Evander was trying to organize and establish orders to the nearby men and women with a series of hand signals. Many yells were emitting from the battlefield. From the healthy and wounded alike.

"Ghost! Ghost! Lets go!" Italus heard the yelling of his nickname from Aeneas but he could not answer, much to his dismay. The least he had to do was move his head, get up, anything. His legs had apparently decided that it was time to work and stood him up. He did the rest. He lifted his 20lb T-91 Squad Automatic Rifle to his hipe. He pulled the trigger and felt the recoil of his rifle push on his hands. It felt right to him. After four years of serving with the T-91 it had damn better feel right to the Marine. Italus saw several other Praetorian Marines attacking the Gem's Trench.

So far the battle had died down to this one spot where the Gemini Rebels seemed to like. Meant they were protecting something. And if they were protecting it that meant the Drusus Republic Forces wanted it. Aeneas joined Italus in what would've seemed like suicide, standing in the open about fifty feet from enemy forces... Great plan. The Legionnaire Sergeant was using a Q-43 CQB Scattergun, which was barely effective at the current range yet still extremely destructive in simultaneous use with the T-91.

There were at least twenty Marines from the First Praetorian alone attacking this spot. It was only a matter of time until the last foot was taken and they could advance into the trench. Italus would leave that to the others for all he wanted to do was lay down and mentally prepare for the next blood bath he had to take part in. Gods praise, he was alive again.