Project IVoS

Project IVoS?

What is this?

Project IVoS is an aggregator for columns, some short stories, and pretty much anything that's extracurricular to Shartak. In May 2008, Javier Sortani decided that the forums weren't enough drama for him, so he decided to contact a few people about writing columns for something that he called Project IVoS-the Independent Voice of Shartak. IVoS is a drama lightning rod. It's both madness and Sparta at the same time. It's a way for a lot of people to be remembered after they're gone. It's just starting off right now, but hopefully some day it'll be big and it'll be beautiful and it'll be unforgettable.

This is awesome! How can I get involved?

Glad you asked! It's very simple. Send us a column as an example of the sort that you'd write. If it's worth posting-and almost anything that's reasonably coherent and well written is-we'll put it up in the one-shots section.

If you want to post anything after that, either send it to us along with a snappy title for your series of columns, or just edit it into the Wiki page yourself. Basically, one column gets you put with all of the other people who've only written one column; two columns gets you a snappy title. I don't think it's a hard decision.

If you know you'll write a second column, you can ask for a snappy title from the outset. Be aware, however, that that gives us the right to harass you until you give us the second column.

Memoirs of a Commissar by Lukas Alexander

Part One

Monday

I have taken to writing these memoirs; why? I am still not sure. Perhaps it is a comfort, perhaps it is to reaffirm my faith in our cause. I cannot say.

The days look bleak. For all around us all hold a knife, it seems that no matter where we turn our backs are exposed. However, I must remain strong for this is my duty to both myself and the men. Should my faith in the Greater Good falter then how could the men continue to fight? Recently we had a new recruit. An ex-mercenary of the savages. While I myself would not allow such filth to serve Captain S.L. Hunter has decided that even the traitor can absolve his sins by killing the enemies of the greater good. Although grateful for another experienced hand I hope that this militia does not turn into a penal legion. I have not seen him yet and he seems to work alone, although I have had reports from various sources showing his results. However; the idea of a penal legion where criminals serve to absolve their sins would be of much help in combating the crime wave in York. An idea for another time.

Ah York. It has been so long since I have seen home. For that is what it is to me. Durham is lost, lost its faith in the greater good. With the fall of the corrupt pistoleers and the traitor some call ‘Malice’ I envisioned a replacement with a strong town and leader, a home I could be proud of. These hopes were dashed by the charlatan Ron Burgundy. At first a flame in the shadow but he turned out to be a spineless wretch. Worthy of nothing but redemption at the end of the blade or rifle. Once friends, Sam has separated himself from Durham, fearing it lost. Ron Burgundy has made friends with the Creedy brainless puppets and their Raktam masters. This corrupt governor has jumped in bed with the enemy. I suggested to Sam that I give Burgundy a swift redemption but he bade me bide my time. 'All will receive the justice of the greater good in time' was his words. It heartens Me to see him still strong in faith as well as in arm.

Captain Samuel L Hunter. A friend and a selfless leader. He never asks those who follow him to do anything but what they perceive of their duty. They follow him willingly. I fear even this war has taken a toll on him, in the past few weeks he looks like he has aged a year or two. Although never have I seen him close to breaking down. Sometimes I must question his methods and reason but I know that the ends always justify the means. It sometimes feel like an empty solace but there are far worse feelings on this god forsaken island. Failure, absence of faith, fear.

Gun'Show the halfbreed native came to see me today. A developing soldier he is showing his worth. Although he is a half breed there is no taint of the savage on him. He spoke to me of fear, fear of failure and the taint that lies in his blood. The taint of the blood of the savage. I told him that 'Fear denies Faith', an important lesson I learnt when studying long ago. I also told him that Heresy grows from idleness, this seemed to strengthen his resolve and he headed out to hunt the enemies of the greater good. As I sit at this desk, his folder lays beside this diary. His father had lay with a native, he was born. Both his parents were executed and received the swift embrace of the greater good. To lay with a savage is to become tainted. Of course I don't need to look at the file to read the report by the executing commissar. The writing is my own.

The war in Creedy. It has gone on longer than I can remember. An endless meat grinder with both sides taking losses. As of recent with the attacks on Durham by lone headhunters there has been a dull in the fighting. Weeks ago Sam met with defense commanders to announce our withdrawal from the Durham defense. The reason? Burgundy of course. Oh how I would like to grant him salvation at the end of my sword. The Creedy traitors and their masters have proved more difficult than anticipated. Although not beyond our redemption. Some say the puppet president has announced victory. What ignorance from the heretic. The war will not stop. For the righteous cannot falter in their gifts of salvation to the heretic, the blasphemer and the coward. There are only two courses for those who stand in the path of the greater good: to join it and receive salvation and have their eyes opened or to be given swift redemption.

Now I go to walk the streets of Durham. To see what the corrupt and the unbeliever have done to the town. Durham was always a sump hole, always kept that way by its leaders; welcoming all types of heretic, traitor and savage. In time they will all be purged. None can hide from the Greater Good.

For the greater good.

Commissar Lukas Alexander. 1st Colonial Militia.

Part Two

I sit once more at my desk. A desk that has seen as much bloodshed as most people on this island. People have died on the whim of the papers that pass across this desk. Some may hold reverence for such an item, but I know it to be only a tool. A tool as we all are, a tool to do the will of the greater good. A tool that must never dull. We must not shrink in our faith or ability for it is on our merit and the nature of our death that we will be judged. For only in death does Duty truly end. Even then we blessed few may be called on again to battle our enemies.

I spoke to the citizens of Durham this morning. Speaking to both police and civilian. One man came to me, a poor man little more than a beggar. He spoke to me of how he feared he had nothing to give, scared of the fact that he might not help against the devils who took Durham heads daily. I remember a teaching that my tutor Commissar Hendran once spoke off, ‘Even a man who has nothing can still offer his life’. The man’s spirits were lifted and while still only half understanding he saw the meaning behind the words. For words are but tools, tools to serve. A weapon as well as a means of peace.

Sam spoke to me today before he left in the morning. He talked of bounty hunters and mercenaries. Scum, greedy and self obsessed, they disgust me. Although Sam was quick to point out that they are but tools, as we all are. While some may be the blinding sword sheathed in flame, others were the dagger in the shadow. Both tools, that when used could bring about the greater good. I can’t help thinking that this is a step too far. ‘It is better to die for the Greater good than to live for yourself’, were those not the words of the litany of faith? A book all of our proud men have ingrained in their hearts and minds.

Today I inspected the headquarters of the Durham Model army. A new force birthed just before the election of the corrupt Burgundy. The man who leads it is no soldier, but a politician. This man, his men call him Tomn, is a philosophical type. A former consul of Durham during the dark ages of Durham. This man has often questioned the methods of the Militia. Words such as ‘barbaric’, ‘cavalier’ and ‘brutal’ have been used to describe the actions of our proud men. Little does this fool know that Zeal is its own excuse. This heretic gathers others around himself, slowly building a ragtag army of followers. Like the pistoleers I fear that if left unchecked they may evolve into a problem. The only thing that heartens me is their inability; green and untested they have struggled against the enemies that come from the surrounding dark of the merciless jungle. Added to this is the scorn that Tomn holds for the traitor Burgundy. Let the heretics bicker and argue, weakening each other with their petty squabbles. With any luck they will kill each other and save us a job.

Ah the pistoleers. In my early days I fought such a menace. Under Governor Hale did I test my faith against the unbelievers and corrupted. Few were the servants of the greater good in those days and light were the days of Durham. Before Durham became a den of inequity . Few know of what happened to Governor Hale in those days; the days of the ‘Grey Ghost’. My strikes on the enemy were swift and my judgement final. The nickname still brings a smile to my lips as I write this. It seems so long ago now, perhaps another lifetime. Local nationalists and the heretic pistoleers fought over Durham in those days. But one day did Nathan Hale disappear from our sight, never to return to us. It was my reckoning that his faith had finally seen him ascend to join the greater good. The remaining nationalists despite unwavering faith were slowly picked off by the numerous enemy. Many lost their faith as they saw the true servants slowly overcome by the heretics. Little did anyone know that it was the plan of the greater good that we might today bring a candle to banish the shadow. The fallen shall be forever remembered as our finest. When my time comes to be judged to have such a glorious death would be welcome.

Word filters back to me of the ongoing war with Creedy. It seems this very morning Sam cut down the heathen warlord in the heart of Creedy itself. Not only that but he remained unscathed, his faith his armour against the infidel savage. We all know that a savage is no match for one who is so strong in faith and arm. This news has been a major boost to the men and now Creedy lays empty, our enemies scattered to the foul winds.

While heartened by Sam’s personal bravery and example I cannot think that this will be the end of it. Our supply lines grow strained and with the enemy within that is Burgundy and the heretic loudmouth Tomn we cannot become complacent.

I am weary now. I go to sleep. I’m getting older now and even the strongest of faith are still only mortals.

Commissar Lukas Alexander, 1st Colonial Militia.

Part Three

Thought of the Day: Heresy grows from idleness.

Today my mind is conflicted. So forgive me if I sound distracted and my thoughts appear out of order. These are trying times for us all. Even the most faithful struggle against the eternity that seems to engulf them. Word from Home arrived today, York, it seems so long ago now. How long has it been since I was home? I know the men feel it, but to dwell on it only brings doubt; to doubt is to be found weak and wanting. The only one who seems oblivious to such feelings is Dok; blessed is the mind too small to doubt.

Public opinion of the war is as brutal and divided as the war itself. Some support the cause of truth while others question our actions. They ask ‘How can you walk into Creedy and execute anyone you see fit?’ These unbelievers at home and in Derby question our right to destroy these people. Those who understand realize that we have no right to let them live. What is worst about these rebels? Their subservience to the swinekin or the fact that these scum seem so like us in many ways? The native; the swinekin as many call them, they have never known the light of the greater good. They are but simple beasts, living only for destruction and war. What makes these rebels worse, is that they have been shown the light of the Greater Good and turned from it. For them there can be no forgiveness; only death.

I spoke to Sam again today. The issue of Governor Burgundy and his traitors cannot be blindsided for any longer. Some protest that he has nothing to be sorry about. I say he has; for he who allows the savage and heretics to live, shares their crime in existence. So it has been decreed long before the light of the Greater Good came to this word. As it has been before, so shall it be again. I hear rumours that he aids them in their war against the faithful. Dark tidings bring word that an agreement ensures that Creedy rebels can walk in Durham without harm. Be wary of the savage, the heretics, but beware more so the enemy within.

I had the privilege to drill potential recruits today. It is no simple task to be a militiaman; one must prove themselves worthy and prove their souls pure. Impurity can lead only to a swift death. There is no room in the militia for the weak; heart, mind or body. I led them in a chant, this particular chant I find aids in drilling the right sense of objective into the potentials’ heads. I recommend it to any leader, should they read these words, as a teaching aid.

To be Unclean