Scale and bone and tooth and claw,
All are symbols of His law
Mourn not the fallen, sick, or weak,
They are His to claim and His to keep!
This feeling grows inside you, this feeling like an eternal flame. Something that makes you want to wake up in the morning, but one that wont let you sleep.
A Sci-fi tale surrounding a Earth force captains first command and battle against an unknown alien race.
This is the first 2 1/2 chapters of my on going Battlefield promotion novella, I have attempted to blend third and first person writing together in a smooth natural fashion, and strived to keep true to the details of space as it’s understood by modern astronomy today.
It may be a bit slow to pick up the pace in the beginning, but it does gain momentum.
For those who are curious I’d consider this story to be rated PG-13 or R due to descriptive violence.
The Mad Pope is a wandering mercenary. He is very well deranged as he considers himself to be the pontiff of the dominant faith. His robes are tattered, his mitre has seen better days and there are surely lice in his long ratty beard. What sets him apart from most addle-pated would be holy men is that he has armor under his robes and carries a large crossbow and several one-handed swords. While many would discout him as just another lunatic, for some reason, he inspires others around him and has demonstrated the ability to lay on hands and heal the wounded.