[PT,1910's tech] Terra Liberum

[Erquin]

Western Erquinian Border, 1914
7:32PM Local Time, 3rd Mounted Rifles Regiment

It was cold evening night, and the small lights lit the little building in camp. Jolk was sipping some Ashflower tea very casually, as his legs were propped up on the desk that lay infront of him with map, typewriter, cup of pencils, and documents. It was cold outside, but luckily, a heater made things easier on him, and he could relax the day. His IOL-3A lay beside him, its elegant shape and form gave it distinction compared to Mozrian or Sylvan rifles, where they seemed more for mechanical superiority then they did a balance of comfort and functionality. Its bolt handle was curved down to fit a man's 2 fore-pointing fingers so he can lift it up. Jolk took another sip, that is, until a knock at the door broke the silence. "Come in." he said, and an OC-1 operator came in, recognizable by his black armor smock with dark red piping. "Got anymore of that?" the operator asked Jolk, as he was replied calmly with a "yes". The 2 sipped some of the tea, and the operator instantly got to business halfway down his cup. "Hey, we've been ordered to start moving into the Northern Collectives as of tommorrow, you ready?" the man said, which set off a fuse in Jolk's mind. No wonder I recognized his face, he's the armoured battalion commander! yelled his thoughts obviously, which made him say "Yes, of course I am, Akag, but the troops are not really...". His thinking had mixed up his reply into something quite awkward, but he did not mind.

The commander stood infront of his desk, looking at Jolks face. Akag was known in the regiment and his battalion for having a masters degree in facial-emotional courses, relating to psychology. This apparently was appealing to the Erquinian Armed Forces, and he was put into Mountain Cove academy, an academy that really is a 15th century castle dug into the side of the mountain, not to mention it being pretty big. Anyhow, Jolk slipped, and his emotions exposed themselves as like to put up 2 neon signs saying "This man is lying!". "Your not ready for the troop movements aren't you, Jolk?" inquired Akag, in where Jolk snorted, and confessed to him saying yes out of impulse. Akag quickly forgives his mistake, and bids goodbye. But as soon as he leaves, Jolk falls asleep on his comfy woolen chair, in his mounted rifles uniform.


OOC________________________________________________________________________________________

Hello and welcome to the Erquinian Occupation of the Northern Collectives! This RP is for Erquin and the Northern Collectives only, and its here for people to see the story unfold. However, if you ask about there being tanks in 1914, I claim that in Meridia (Im about to), I first made tanks and from 1910 to 1954, we made the best tanks in the region, until the dictatorship destroyed the perfectness. Now, no spamming OOC or trying to join, all OOC discussion shall be held on this thread!

http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=318873

Thank you for your time and enjoy the show!

[Northern Collectives]

Rocheste

The city walls were made of thick stone with iron supports, and were tall. Centuries of warfare made for cities becoming fortresses, and the people becoming experts in battle. The sentries on the walls wore animal skin to keep themselves warm from the biting wind and carapace armor, and many had helmets with sneering visages. Each one was armed with a primitive bolt action rifle, a short range high caliber weapon, or a crossbow-like weapon that had a magazine mechanism. There was no uniformity to their armaments, although each carried a brutal close combat weapon.

Rocheste stood at the center of three mountain ranges rich in natural resources, a major reason for their success in the battles between the other cities, their only real rivals being the mounted warriors from Hecarim, and their allied city of Cohlen. The leader of this city, like many of the cities was a warlord, a veteran of raids against their southern islands, until he became strong enough to lead his party as its leader.

His name was Darius Zalvona, he was married, Christian, and had three sons, although all young. He had a scarred face, and if one had seen his torso they would have seen deep scarring, and would have known just how much a soldier he was. His wealth had come from the iron, copper, and silver mines around his city, and from his raids. Looted material sat in his home, in the center of the city in large abundance, mostly in the form of swords, rings, and shields, and even a single Mouser. He wore lamellar plates and heavy armor as if they were nothing more than a t-shirt and his hands were covered in steel gauntlets. He wore a Nordic-style helmet, and his eyes were a cold green.

He was pacing around his map of the area, namely at the spot where scouts from other cities had spotted a great army. He knew that the people would not unite against a common foe, they had been a united country for over three centuries after the ruling houses decided that the world would give them nothing. He resented them for that, but the past cannot be changed.

There was a single man in the room with him, a simple servant. “Fetch me Captain Adrea Cresa.” The servant nodded and left the room. Before he could begin pacing again, the servant returned, following him a woman in formfitting armor, and gorgeous features that were barely dampened by the scar she bore across her right eye. She saluted him by tapping her fist against her chest twice, and Darius returned it. “What do you need, my lord?” The captain asked. It was still dark out, but dawn was coming.
“Yes, Captain Cresa. We have a situation on our hands, a possible foreign campaign against us, and I fear that we will not be able to hold it off.”
“It is too early for a campaign surely, it is almost winter, sir.”
“Indeed, but that does not change the fact that our ‘oh so great’ forefathers kept us from progress, while the rest of the world advanced. Winter will be of little consequence to that army, the scouts reported moving fortresses, and I doubt that some damned snow will do much against that. I need you to act as an envoy to Cohlen. We need assistance of we are going to stand any chance. We will stand against them before they can threaten our city, or any other. For honor and glory Andrea. Dismissed.”

The captain left, and there was nothing the warlord could do against what he was facing, but he would stand and fight. He had a nasty foreboding that Hecarim would side with the invaders. He couldn’t sleep that night, and instead picked up his battle axe and practiced movements with it. Upper cut, flash, parry, downward cut, upper cut, slash…..

[Erquin]

The Eastern part of Northcol, near a city
1:23PM Local Time, 3rd Armoured Battalion

The OC-1 interior was pretty cramped, hot, and it did not help that suspension was sort of rough, but they inched forward anyhow. The I4 engine roared with great effort to propel the tank to go through the road. The 25mm rifled gun was of a Mozrian city state make, and it was mediocre at best against enemy positions, but it does what it needs to. Hundez was the gunner/commander of A-023, a tank that is tagging along with a group of 3 OC-1s. The engine suddenly tuned down a bit, and the group halted to a stop. Around 20 metres from them were a group of small trenchs, a spotters outpost apparently, and they were opening fire at the tanks 15mm armor with their primitive bolt-action rifles. The bullets hopelessly bounced off the tank's armor. Hundez quickly takes a 25mm round and attempts to load it into the cannon in the hexagonal turret, it being cramped. He loads it up, and he closes the breech, pulling a lever that pulls off a safety mechanism. He starts cranking away at the x-axis axle and he lines up with the emplacement. They're still trying to penetrate our armor, and they've only done so much damage to one of the tanks! However, they start peppering the formation with artillery, and Hundez hits his head on the breech, only for the shock to be absorbed by the leather helmet, and he starts cranking the y-axle. He's about to fire the gun when a lucky bullet manages to pierce and 'kill' the driver! Apparently, the driver was about to push on the throttle to get into a better position when he showed probably one of his view mirrors! He fires the cannon nonetheless, and the cannon goes off with a heavy *Pop!*.

The emplacement is showered with dirt and debris, while they start getting mauled by cavalry and fast moving infantry troops. Now, the funny thing that happens to Hundez is to find out that the driver didnt die, but merely he got knocked unconscious from having such low pain tolerance, suffering from shock. The driver analyzes his wound shakingly and then starts moving the tank through the road at a measly 5 miles per hour towards another emplacement, this time with a primitive ball cannon. It shoots and it almost gets the turret of one of the OC-1's, and it fires to hit the cannon barrel. The tanks get peppered with gun fire, and Hundez aligns his little gun towards some boxes in the emplacement. He fires, and the boxes start exploding as gunpowder ignites. A tower of bulbous flame a smoke shoots into the air as the emplacement blows up, leading the tanks a way to a village to make a foothold.

[Northern Collectives]

Near Fort Rorick

The mounted soldiers of the city of Hecarim were in ranks of fifty horsemen, with five of these groups having being deployed under a Captain Trevan. They were not blind to the plight of the city of Dandaria, they simply did not care. They all wore jet black armor, with colored tunics beneath, and were armed with small rifles, and in many cases glaives.

They were going to soften up the cities defenses. Fort Rorick had been designated a major threat, soon after the Erquin forces had been spotted, by the warlord in charge of Hecarim, as it was one of the few places that had artillery inside of it.

Trevan had a long sword at his side along with a steel round shield embedded into his bracer, and a repeating rifle in his hands. His tunic’s color was the color of blood, and he wore no helmet, and was an ancestor of the woman who would later lead the nation. He wore a half face mask, and his long white hair was blowing behind his skull, and he was unscarred unlike many. He raised his left hand, holding the trigger of his repeating rifle in the other. The trees did little to keep their cavalry at bay as he threw his arm down and signaled the surprise attack.

The sounds of galloping echoed through the area as the soldiers entrenching themselves outside the city walls began to open fire on the mess of horses and men that were charging them. It was a hopeless effort as the horseman began to open fire, having taken minimal losses on their charge.

They circled the fortifications that were being created and threw torches into the ditches that would have become trenches and the shot apart the would be defenders. Trevan had an expression of determination on his eyes as he tore apart the defenses of Fort Rorick, then their elite came to the walls, the cities sharpshooters went to the wall, and the signaled the retreat, as the defences of the city burned in the early morning, and would smolder in the afternoon….

Dandaria

“Get to your positions damn it!” The commander on the wall ordered. The mobile fortresses had done their task, and created widespread terror among the trade city. Civilians trying to leave clogged the roadways as they tried to flee, doing little to help the situation that was unfolding in the doomed city. Chunks of stone and masonry fell and toppled as the ancient walls slowly came done under fire from the Erquin tanks.

Bullets rained down from the wall as the frantic defenders looked for a way to take down one of the tanks. It was a brutally inefficient way to deal with the tanks but the primitive artillery pieces were all sighted on a single tank, and they would open fire in an attempt to destroy one the beasts. There was simply nothing they could do other than by time for their loved ones to escape. A small number retreated in the forests around the city to wage a hopeless guerilla war against the invaders, but they were simply too far behind in the arts of war to do anything to the tanks that were slowly leading the assault against their positions.

The cities of Cohlen and Rocheste mobilized the entirety of their forces and entered the mountains around their cities, preparing brutal traps, but they knew they would have to wait for the tanks to pass before they could fight. They were used to fighting against infantry, not tanks…

[Erquin]

Dandaria, Northern Collectives
3:57 PM Local time, 7th Infantry Brigade, First person View point

The wooden apartment had holes showering in light as the fight un-folded, and inside, there I was, shooting Northern soldiers as they desperately tried to stop our breach into the city square. His IOL-3 was doing well for the most part, and most Northern's had children's toys compared to my fellow Erquinians who were armed with IOL-3's and 2's. The sounds of Northern lever repeaters sounded metallic for the most part, like a Chink-Pow kind of sound. I however, had a scope and I was picking off the plate-armoured fellows. All the while, there was a barricade made up of a few broken down wagons, poles, and trees, with an OC-1 supporting the fight in the square. The square had a statue that---and then it happened. A Maxim machinegun found my position and it was raining down on me with extreme vigor. I didn't know where it was coming from, nor did I know how he found someone such as me in such a shabby establishment, surely, snipers would be in their new stone apartments, but I was different, and he exploited the wood walls lack of protection. The sound was quite terrifying to say the least, and it was making me nervous. So I went towards another window, but my enemy was seemingly all knowing when it came to my position, and so he pepper my new position with a renewed vigor and fury. I was pinned down behind a heavy sofa, and I figured he had to fend off infantry coming to him, but a crack in the wall gave me an idea! I got my bayonet and I made said crack bigger so I can pin my barrel out with noone noticing and aim down with my scope as well. I succeeded in doing so, but I still had difficulty aiming, since a slight imperfection in the newly cut hole was giving me a bigger case of tunnel vision then what most people get when using a scope, so I made it bigger with my bayonet. My bayonet, however, had a slight shine on the tip, and the machinegunner noticed it, and remembered about that little sniper, and so, he peppered the apartment again. I had trouble with all the wood chips raining down from above, but I was able to make my mark on the malicious machinegunner. I took in my breath, and I pulled back the trigger, and it happened quite quick and his body movements were quirky. I about shot him off a seat, so his back started bending, then he slid off the side and fell down on the wooden floor of his improvised position.

I quickly moved out of the apartment into the cold, where Erquinian troops were making their way into the square, and right there, was atleast one tank casualty. It had its turret popped off and cannon bended upwards, as well as the hatch (Which all OC-1s had) on the side of the turret was swung open to reveal no body, revealing a possible abandonment of the tank. Nonetheless, I unscrewed the scope on my rifle, put it into its case and I put on the bayonet to start moving up with the main infantry body, assimilating with an infantry squad. They led me over to a statue of a random man I did not know of, and over at the other side, by some benches, were our counterparts with little repeating rifles, those bastards! The were zips and zzz's going all around us as they tried to take us out. A squad member, with 2 partners, were assembling some kind of cannon on the ice, and it was apparently one of those infantry support weapons. It had 2 skis and it had a coil around its barrel, and as they moved it up to have view over the enemy position, I spotted two boxes on the side of the thing. "Sir, how will we be able to aim down and not get shot in the process?" one of them pointed out, as the statue had another few pounds of lead shower the statue base. "I don't know,private, does anyone have the balls to attract their attention?" yelled the corporal in charge, as I rose my hand, "I will try to get them to shoot at me!" I said. It was one of the stupidest choices I have ever made in my life. I thought the bullets trying to hit us were alot, I ran over to a stone flower pot and a bench, poking my head over the combination, only to go down to barely survive. A flower pot had one side grinded off as a desperate group of defenders unloaded on me. The little gun team though, had time to make their contribution, and they fired a large 28mm projectile filled with HE filling into a position, only to make them softer. They take another shot, and about 2 men fly into the air as one group flees out of fear. They shoot another, for one torn up group disappear, making the other retreat deeper into the doomed city...

[Northern Collectives]

Near Vervun

Captain Trevan Demotra had changed out his half mask for simply extra cloth from his shirt going up to his just above the bridge of his nose. He had his repeating rifle loose in his left hand as looked across the open plains near the city of Vervun. Although the Erquins probably did not know it, they had an ally in the war, and they were about to show it for a second time. The army of Vervun was amassed two miles north of the city, in easy striking distance of the Hecarim cavalry, although a recent snowfall meant they would have to fight on foot.

The captain had been granted an additional five hundred fighters, and as usual they were armed better then every army but the armies of the regional powers of Rocheste and Cohlen. He had ancient looking binoculars as he watched the Vervun infantry assemble. They wore feathered helmets and light grey armor, and their commanders were easy to spot due to their silver should plates. He went to his pocket and retrieved a small one handed crossbow. He pulled the string back and put in a single bolt, which he set ablaze. He knew his forces were waiting for the signal to attack.

Too long had the people of Hecarim been looked at like barbarians by their own and too long had they been hidden in their city. He fired the flaming bolt into the air, and the people in the encampment barely noticed, as the milled about eating, joking, and laughing. The black clad warriors advanced at a fast pace, in full force.

Trevan dived to the ground, barely noticing the bullets that whizzed over his head. He fired a shot, bringing one of the Vervun down, followed be a second after a fast reload. The smoking shell casing slowly melted the snow around them.

A heavy weapons team ran pulling a Gatling gun on skis, and slowly began to open fire, with the distinctive clunking of the cranked weapon, shooting massive shells into the disorganized encampment, as the teams of Vervun with heavy weapons began to open fire at similar points. Crimson coated the white snow as if someone poured cranberry juice on a piece of white silk.

A black clad soldier flew back as a double headed battle axe cracked his armor and pierced his lower abdomen. The champion looked at Trevan a mix of rage and determination in his eyes. The champion struck at him, landing a glancing hit on his shield, although it still caused pain, but the champion did not expect what came next.

Trevan out maneuvered him and drove the butt of his gun into the man’s back forcing him face down in the snow and taking the breath out of him, and in the next instant two shots entered his upper torso, and a third into the back of the champion’s neck. The next Vervun soldier who tried to fight him had her fair features destroyed by a shot through her eye.

He took cover behind a thick hunk of wood that had acted as a gun rack, and reloaded his weapon, albeit it slowly. The Vervun forces were being slaughtered, as they attempted to fight the storm that was the advance of the Hecarim forces. Later that day, a letter from the city of Vayne stated that their heavy infantry would support them.

The city of Vervun surrendered after witnessing their forces obliteration without a fight.

Captain Demotra had changed cloths into a red trench coat, and a black shirt, but the lower half of his face was still covered. He removed his mask revealing the bottom of his face which was visibly maimed by third degree burns. He quietly sipped at a glass of Joliq, which was warmed up, with a splash of milk added. The drink was hot down his throat, but to him it tasted good, and was cheaper than the other drinks offered other than ale and beer, which he had already offered to pay for his soldiers. He liked the taverns that were dotted throughout the cities, but it wasn’t because of the drinks though, he just liked the merry feel of the places.

He decided that two days of success granted him the right to more expensive liquor especially in the city they had just forced to surrender. He knew the next day he would be the messenger to bring the message to the invaders that they had allies in the northern reaches of the country, but he knew there would be a massive language barrier to break. A pretty waitress brought him three slices of bread, A few slices of a pot roast, and a few pieces of steamed carrots. He sighed when the waitress looked frightened after seeing the lower half of his face. He ate the meal in silence, his soldiers joking around him. For all his abilities in war, he was not a people person, he didn’t know how to talk to people, but back home he had a sweetheart, and he smiled at the thought of the girl, which brought a slightly more welcoming look to his burnt flesh.

He finished his meal, and put his mask back on and rented a room in a nearby inn, and slept, more so from exhaustion then the time of day…

[Erquin]

(Stagnation of the RP should be expected)

[Nova Sylva]

Sylvan Embassy, Northern Collectives
November 1914

This wasn’t Gregory Davall’s first tour in the Northern Collectives, but he certainly wanted it to be his last. Huddled around the fire were Davall’s compatriots, Ferdinand “Freddy” Oslo, Aaron Vu, and their trusty native guide, Sven. Freddy was complaining about the cold. Aaron said that girls and a bedroom helped with that. Freddy cracked some rude joke about Aaron’s mother, and the three Sylvans laughed. Sven handed them each a cup of warm liquid.

“Ashflower,” he said. “It’s a local brew of tea. Very popular, especially in Erquin.”

Davall took a sniff of the liquid, and, satisfied it wasn’t a mixture of snow and dog shit, drank. “Ah,” he said. “Very nice. Did you mix in some Honeymead, or something?”

“Yes, actually.” Sven replied, smiling. The guide seemed to be extremely pleased that Davall liked the drink. Freddy and Aaron took their own respective drinks, and all of them were satisfied. They were on sentry duty tonight – not a job any of them wanted, especially during the winter months. But orders were orders.

The Sylvan embassy in Norcol was essentially a military installation. Located just outside of St. Matthew, one of the few cities with any real government, Due to the large amounts of domestic warlords squandering with one another, and no real authority to negotiate with, the embassy was diplomatic in name only. It was, in reality, an excuse for the Sylvans to have a battalion of soldiers in the country. Six companies of infantry and two of cavalry – about three hundred sixty riflemen, plus a hundred mounted horsemen. Davall, Aaron, Freddy, and Sven were part of the latter, and proud of it – they were the Carmisian Dragoons, the most feared cavalrymen in western Meridia. Yet somehow, Two companies of Her Majesty’s Finest had ended up with this shitass assignment…

“Where did you get it?” Freddy asked, intrigued. “They don’t sell this shit at the embassy. Did you make a run to St. Matthew or something?”

“I went up north a ways,” Sven said. “Up towards Vervun.”

“Vervun? Vervun surrendered a few days ago. The Hecarim fucking decimated their army, in full view of the city. Scary shit, man.”

“Eh, they wouldn’t stand shit to us,” Aaron replied. “They’re a bunch of opportunistic, petty raiders. We’re Her Majesty’s Finest, for god sakes.”

“Well, we’ll get to see that soon enough. We’re going to be fighting alongside them,” Davall said, to a bunch of confused faces.

“Did you not read the daily manifest?”

Blank faces.

“Does anyone read the daily manifest?”

Aaron tried to muffle a laugh with a quick cough.

“Well,” Davall said, “It said we’ve received new orders. The Queen has agreed to help the Erquinians occupy the Northern Collectives. She feels it necessary to “tame the northern frontier,” according to the government’s official statement. We march tomorrow at 0800, to regroup with”

“Well,” Sven said, “we better get packed, then.”

[Erquin]

Outside Dandaria, towards Freeport, Northern Collectives
4rth Infantry Division, 34th Infantry Regiment
5:45PM Local time, 34 degrees Fahrenheit

The air was cold, and it was windy. There was ice everywhere in the forest, and the dead log infront of me was no exception. It had ice all over it and to top it all off, snow. We were part of the offensive towards the Northern Collectives town named Freeport, which was not poorly guarded in any way. The garrison there had extremely strong medieval defenses, predominately a castle, and Erquinian generals knew that if they made all those defenses fall down completely, they will wreck the town completely and make the gain not worth while. So they sent in the cavalry and infantry divisions. We were only about 170 miles from the city, and already, we have seen Northern soldiers clad in plate armour, with their lines being without uniform. The forest was expansive, and we were all lined up, all of us in our black winter greatcoats, 1910 model, with all of our knapsacks and our furry little hats covering our hard leather helmets. "God be damned! There's thousands of them!" a soldier from the line calls out, as I light a cigar and I bring it from my mouth down to reveal the image infront of my eyes. "Holy shit! Get ready lads!" yelled a sergeant, and I could hear the muttering of my fellow infantry men, as well as the talking from behind me in little fortified positions, those people being the MG operators. The cavalry were leading the charge, and the Freeport colors flew vigorously. They were lancers, and they were coming in the hundreds. "OPEN FIRE! KILL THEM ALL!" yelled a lieutenant, who started firing a brand-new IOL-2-PR, apparently a new gun that's like a pistol in its bullets but fires like a machine gun. Soon, I was taking panic shots at Northern lancers, and they fought hard. A lancer got through our lines and he impaled a soldier to my left with his lance, only to be mowed down by an officer. I look back and I find myself in the middle of a medieval war. Infantry were going up with their bayonets and making quite an impressive defense against the lancers. I got up and took up in the fight, as I jump on a horse of a passing by lancer. Quite frankly, I jump pretty high and I manage to land soft enough to not have him notice me on his huge horse. I took my bayonet from my rifle, stabbed the man in the neck, threw him off onto a bed of snow, and I took mount of his horse, taking the mans lance with me. I rode like the wind, and I found myself in a fight with another lancer. "DIE SWINE!" He yelled in almost perfect Erquinian, and he thrusted his lance towards my body, and I bend my chest to dodge it, for him to go and start cursing me and my ability to flex my body, "You fucking snake! Come here!" he yelled. He brings his lance down on my like a sword and I deflect it with the lance.

I then take out a revolver (Which I brought with me into the Northern Collectives via my mother giving it to me, its a heirloom practically) and I shoot the man in the belly, for it to pierce, but not to kill the man? He looks at the hole in his armour, and he looks at me, laughing as he taunts me with a deceptive look. I frown, and I yell, recalling the words he said to me as I met my new enemy, "DIE SWINE!". I shoot him up in a fast motion, killing him with all the bullets I had in the revolver, and he fell off of his horse, only for it to run away to the thickest of the forest. Now that I think about it, I thought I saw a flash of light coming from that patch of thick forest when that horse got to it. But we were outnumbered, as the MG nests were unloading, we were losing infantry men left and right, and we were ordered to retreat. I started galloping with my horse and beside me, a horse and buggy were going full speed, carrying the 3 MG's that were helping us hold them off. Then, as I was galloping, my rifle on the horses saddle, revolver in hand, and lance on my back, another lancer got up to me, and I shot him dead in the head. More were swarming me and I started shooting at about 4 lancers. One thrust his lance into my leg, which opens a bad gash. I grip it with my left hand, biting down on the pain, and I shoot 2 more of the lancers. One other one stabs my horse in the ass, but he doesnt mind, which was principally worrying about this horses health. I then shoot the last 2 lancers, and they fall off their horses. My blood is spilling all over me from my thigh onto my lower leg, like a black-red paint. I get a bandage while riding the hardy horse, and I wrap it around my leg and onto my wound, quite badly as I am riding a horse whose head and neck is probably as big as my torso. I ride off with the cavalry, and I do recall being incorporated into cavalry that same day.

[Northern Collectives]

Freeport

The ocean was beautiful here, but the cold wind bit into anyone was looked towards it. The soldiers of Rocheste had recently arrived, two thousands of them, exactly half of the military force of Rocheste, but none of the forces of Cohlen were here to reinforce them.

They wore a combination of scale armor and thick plates, and were armed with the best weapons available to the people of the Collectives could afford., namely the powerful close range rifles that made up for their lack of range with brutal firepower. Captain Adrea Cresa was still wearing her form fitting armor (Capture her, do not kill her). She had a look of brutal determination on her face as she placed her Nordic helmet on her head and let the scales go back to cover the back of her neck, her hair that had no place being covered by helmet, but she did not care.

She had a belt around her waist with clips of ammunition for the Mouser that Warlord Darius had given her. She was inside the city, given full command after her arrival a day before. She saw the damage that the Erquins had done when faced with frontal assault as she had arrived.

She was beginning orchestrate a blood bath of her own after the brutal loses to Freeport’s lancers. She placed the best entry point under hidden guard, machine gun positions hidden by foliage, and placed lancer ready to cut off any point of retreat. It would be brutal, but she had not earned her rank by mere attractiveness, and she had the trophies to prove it.

She was looking over her deployment, heavy infantry in the frontal positions, light infantry ready to reinforce them and unleash brutal carnage, and she was keeping her shock troops as a last resort as either a final way to break a siege or to make a last stand. She would be fighting in the front personally.

“Madam, are you sure you will fight in the front?” One of the senior officers of thr deployment asked her. She looked at him, a grim smile on her face.
“Yes. The Erquins must learn to fear us, and not just the men.” She replied to him.

She walked to the front as the invaders were preparing for their second thought. “Weapons ready! Raise the Banner of Rocheste in the air with that of Freeport!” The Banner of Freeport had an anchor surrounded by a setting sun, with glaive in the back ground, raised next to it the red banner of Rocheste, the face of a snarling grizzly bear in the foreground with the bastions of the mountains behind. Adrea adorned her personal crest plate, a leopard’s paw with a skull behind it, and two daggers angled at 45 degrees on either side.

She had a black iron bayonet at the end of bolt action rifle as she put in a fresh clip, and watched the Erquins advance, the brutal wind pushing into them. “Weapons at the ready!” She ordered. She waited, her arm raised clearly visible from the gate keep’s bastions. She waited for the Erquins to enter the brutal killing trap before throwing down her arm….

Fort Rorick

Trevan had gotten the message to the Erquins, but the battle of destruction was nit a battle the Hecarim forces would join in. They would have to destroy Freeport themselves. His white horse was a welcome feeling after his stay in Hecarim again, unfortunately for him his girlfriend had been on business in Ainle, and it didn’t help his confidence that the damn screaming demons outside the city were more active than usual as October’s Harrowing was coming up(The NorthCol version of Halloween), and the damned creatures that were not to be actually documented were always making their screaming noises more with every passing day.

He shook the thought from his mind, he had job to do. We was supporting Angnaros (Sorry said Vayne Before, Vayne is just easier to remember then the city I to a necropolis during the fighting of the rebellion..) heavy infantry after Fort Rorick had officially declared a state of conflict between themselves and Hecarim, a choice that none of the military forces would survive other than the wounded, which was better then what happened to those who tried to surrender to the forces of Cohlen.

The Hecarim Forces were tasked with taking the defenders off of the wall while the heavy infantry stormed the city.

The battle lasted all night and into the morning, as the sounds of the total occupation and demilitarization of city echoed through brutal means. Many of the buildings had simply been turned to rubble in the battle, and civilians while they were avoided, had at times been caught in brutal cross fires from opposing forces.

The forces of Fort Rorick were wiped out, and the dual black banners, the one of Agnaros of a white wolf, and the one of Hecarim having a snow leopard with crossing glaives behind it. Neither of them dared to attack Ainle, the third of the black banners, the stoic defenders of the ancient city fought under the visage of one of the ‘Vamperics’, it’s horned skull fluttering in wind, and it would indeed by the only city in the north that the natives refused to attack, but the same could not be said for the city they had taken by brutal force.

[Erquin]

Outside Freeport, Northern Collectives
7:32 PM Local Time, 45 degrees Fahrenheit
2nd Storm Troopers Regiment

The Freeport garrison had officially turtled down, and although there have already been 2 waves of infantry and cavalry troops attacking, they have proved fruitless and not worth the resources of the army group. However, there was another option, and that was sabotage. The army group had at least 3 regiments of storm troopers, and I was one of them, a private to say the least. My regiment was supposed to get into the city via some hazardous terrain, but at least the area was not walled off completely. Despite the damn Northerners primitive technology, they still had mines, and they had loads of them as we tried to get past them without simply exploding, losing a limb, or losing a limb and flying to the side as a lifeless body. Worst of all, we all had to be careful of pit traps, mud pits that were extremely cold and thick, and patrols averaging out at about 12 troops each, too much for my little squad of 8 troopers. I was the one sharpshooter in the group, as well as the signaler, with flags and a flare gun. I was armed to the teeth, like the rest of my squad mates, with an IOL-3-PR and an IOL-2. The IOL-3-PR was a very light instrument, and although it fires pretty fast for a CQC weapon, it was flimsy, unreliable, and was pretty cumbersome. Anyhow, we got to the castle, going through that field of death, and we managed to get into the castle via a secret entrance (Who knew they would actually put these here?). The first thing we saw was a stair case, and some walls with slits and a trigger-operated crossbow on the ceiling, pointing towards us, apparently a kill area to make one die in the most embarrassing and painful way possible. We quickly moved up the stairs, and we checked two doors, one hallway apparently leading outside. We were supposed to plant a time fuse at a section of a wall that was the weakest in strength (Observed by spies, who did not have combat training nor the equipment to get to and destroy the wall segment.) but was guarded extremely well from the top, and would be almost impossible to sneak up into. We went down the hallway that lead through the walls, and the walls were practically living. We stumbled into dozens of rooms, and this gave me a perspective of how big this castle really was. In fact, I was able to snatch a little souvenir for myself, a necklace of precious gems, laying in a room. I do recall feeling extremely guilty about doing that deed though. Our first contact with the Northerns was quite noisy, and it kinda got us spotted. 3 guards encountered us, and we quickly subdued them, but with great mistake. By using our IOL-3-PR's, we alerted the guards, and already, I could hear foot steps on the wooden floors. "They're coming! LETS MOVE IT!" yelled the lieutenant in command, and we started our run to our objective. I was in the front and I shot down a Northern down with a spray of bullets. "We're almost there! We're getting closer!" said a fellow private, who was running with the the explosives in hand, with another saying "I wish we could run alittle faster for a change.". All of a sudden, we met an entire crowd of guards, and it was like one of my birthday party I had when I was five, when a crowd of friends and relatives of mine went into our house that cold night, except this time, the crowd is merely bloodthirsty guards who want to kill us. One private got killed as we started spraying the hallway with gunfire.

Only then, after taking another casualty and having a bunch of rounds zip by my leg, we continued through down the wall, until we go to the segment, with an ammunition shed right by it. "There it is! But the people from the 2nd inner wall are incoming, and the rest of the 3rd wall is converging on us!" said the corporal , as we primed up to start defending the shed as the private with the explosives starts priming it. The troops were flowing in, and we only managed to hold them off for a bit, taking out a hand cranked Gatling gun from the shed to assist us. I got on the top of a flat topped building and as the rest of the squad was killing the enemy, I was picking off apparent officers and some soldiers firing from cover. "Explosives are primed! Lets get out of here!" yelled the lieutenant, and the squad moved away into the wall, where they would find a secret door...But I wasnt with them the first few seconds. I jumped from the roof and a Northern got in my way, and I about squished his head with my steel toed boots. I ran towards the door way, as I was being shot at with panic shots from lever repeaters. The sound of steps were echoing throughout the walls interior, and before I knew it, I saw a member of my squad going into the same type of room we first encountered, a kill room. "Light the dynamite and lets get outta here!" demanded the corporal, as the private lit a match to light a bundle of dynamite. We went down the trapdoor into a dirt tunnel, and we were almost home free. Suddenly, a large explosion followed by a second one occurred, then the dynamite detonated, and the tunnel was caving in as I got out. The wall was buckling severly, and almost half the entire east side of the fortress was obliterated, allowing for easier deployment and invasion. The crumbling of stones and the brushing around cloud of dust and soot from the explosions filled our lungs, quite painfully. We ran until we could run no more, we jogged lightly until we could jog no more, and then we simply collapsed into the protection of a bushy little area, a safe haven from what had just occurred.

[Nova Sylva]

Carmisian Dragoons, Northern Collectives

The cavalry trotted through what was left of the city. It had been burned to the ground, with only the stone foundations remaining, as the ash settled into the snow. The town looked like it had been populous at one time – close to a hundred piles of rubble could be identified as the remnants of homes or businesses. Corpses hung from skeleton trees, with small signs around their necks. THOSE WHO RESIST THE HECARIM.

“Bastards,” Davall said.

“Look at this,” Sven said, pointing at the ruins of a stone fountain that had been the city’s center. Affixed on the top of the frozen and scorched top was what made them shake their heads in disgust.

ALL OF NORCOL SHALL FALL TO THE SNOW LEOPARD’S CLAWS

“Look,” Freddy said, “Cavalry tracks. This was recently, the snow hasn’t covered it.”

“Aren’t we allied with the Hecarim? We can’t go and kill them all!”

“Watch me,” Freddy said, angered. “These civilians weren’t guilty of shit. Those Hecrim are monsters.”

“And we’re allied with the Erquinians, not the Hecarim.” Davall said.

Sven loaded his carbine. “Let’s go hunting.”

OOC: Sorry for such a short post. I'm a bit busy atm, with school and such. But either way, brevity is the soul of wit.

[Northern Collectives]

Near a the Ruins of Fort Rorick

Trevan had been gone from the city he thought was still intact for three days. They had taken two deserters who had the insignia of the Rorick Garrison, who they had swiftly taken prisoner. He saw the smoldering ruins, and he could not keep himself from cursing. “Vax Zaeta!”(The equivalent of a popular four letter word..) He looked at the deserters. “What the hell happened here!” They remained silent, their expressions grim. He looked back at the city and saw the silhouettes of skeletons, charred bones on most of them. “Speak, or I will not grant you any honor in your death in a few moments. “ His voice was calm, but the five hundred riders knew the look in his eyes. He would be taking Hecarim’s law into his own hands.

One of the garrison soldiers spoke. “Captain, Lieutenant Verta ordered the destruction of the city. He said they should set an example for Rocheste. They were moving for towns about ten miles from here, and then were going to head for some of the mining towns.” Trevan looked at the man and nodded his approval.
“Did either one of you take part in the killing of civilians.”
“I did sir.” The one who had spoken already said, then he looked at the one who had remained silent, “But he did not. He stayed true to his honor. Please spare him, captain.”
“You have earned your life as well, but I am afraid anyone who has followed Verta in now an enemy to Hecarim. Time to hunt some feral beasts, comrades.” He paused. “You two will ride the horses of the fallen.” The two men nodded.

That had been an hour ago. Trevan had the look vengeance and fury in his eyes. His mind had a single purpose now. Verta had broken the Code of Honor. He had killed civilians on purpose, burned the city to the ground, and left their bodies to hang, and most of all he had broken his oath to Hecarim. He was an enemy to the state, an enemy to all the NorCol, bandit and civilized alike…

Freeport

Freeport was falling. After the destruction of the better half of the castle the forces began their fall back plans, utterly refusing to surrender they took positions inside the ruins and remaining parts of the fortifications. They were moving ordinance and armaments as quickly as they could from the front but it was not enough, not half of what would be needed to achieve a real victory.

Andrea’s armor was blood stained, her bayonet stained crimson with the blood of the Erquinian soldiers who had made it to her trench. She was being followed by fifteen of Rocheste’s elite shock troopers, many others nearby prepared to defend their captain with their lives. Her face was hard and determined. She would defend this city for as long as possible, she had cost the invaders dearly, but only so much can be done for a falling city.

They could hear the sounds of advancing soldiers before they could see them. The Erquinians could taste their victory, smell it’s sweet and delicious scent, but the defenders were determined to make sure as many of the soldiers of Erquin never got to taste that victory.

Andrea’s last speech as a soldier of Rocheste had been the following. “They seek our blood! They seek our land, and our lives. They will get none of these things. They can taste their victory, taste their triumph, but they will learn that even when we are few in number we can still wreak havoc on them. Fight to the last, earn your place in heaven, your guns are your fury; your swords are your faith. We will earn remembrance this day, and we will earn our glory for our valor. To the end Brothers and Sisters!” And indeed it would be her last speech before becoming a prisoner of war….

[Erquin]

Near Fort Rorick, Northern Collectives
2nd Erquinian-Hecarim Joint cavalry battalion
2:34PM Local time, 56 degrees Fahrenheit

A light snow was falling upon the land, as we were all in a cloud of horses and humans alike, traveling like a herd. The Hecarim were holding the front, while us Erquinians socialized and even traded while riding in the back of the line. I, however, was just reading a book as I was on my horse, Red. I was reading a new novel I took from an Erquinian owned book store back when we were stationed at Fort Rorick, investigating a gruesome scene of a fort wide massacre, and the novel was apparently about some adventure of two youths on an adventure, following the Northern Star. It brings me back when I read books when I was 7-8, only this one is detailed to the exact amount of splotches on an ink pen text to how they each look kind of thing, but still alittle freeloading on that kind of thing. As I read my book, my torso slips as I try to make myself alittle more comfortable, laying on the big horse. I fall into the snow, still attached to the saddle via a securing rope. "Aw shit!" I exclaimed, as I took up my book, forgetting the page I was on and the book being slightly moist. I crawl back on my walking horse as a fellow cavalrymen laughs at my trouble, moving closer to me to engage in conversation. "Hey Jenkin" I say, and he nods, greeting me as well "Good day, Hody". We start talking alittle about my accident, then we start going into a general topic. The guess that we are going to win, will we stay allied with the Hecarim, etc. It was a great chat until the crack of a rifle pierces the air. "Sniper! Hody, get up!" yelled Jenkin, as he kicks his horse up to go behind a rock, while I get up onto a position I can ride in. I was alone in the field by then, as the entire flock of the cavalry deserted the little space to cover, and I was in the middle of a shooting range as 23 other rifles started shooting at me. Red takes a hit to his upper torso, but he tanks it, however painfully. NEEEEIIGGGGHH! went Red, as he put his upper end into the air and starts pedaling his forelegs and gets down, immediately starting to gallop. The bullets whiz by me, and I put my book into one of my bags, taking out my rifle from the lowest part of the saddle, the left side version of the part that hangs on the sides of the horses back. I try to get them to lower their fire as I shoot into their little firing position. Finally, we get to a boulder, and I jump off, allowing Red to sit down on his four legs and lick his wound (Arent horses supposed to do that?). I peek from behind the boulder and I see a terrifying sight. They had a captured OC-1, and it was painted a bright blood red color. It had the cast turret, and it was the new turret that boasted that new 35mm gun and a 9mm close range machine gun on the turret, evidently making it bigger.

I dart back behind the boulder, and already, I hear a Hecarim soldier say "ITS THE TRAITORS!". I look over, and the OC-1's coming my direction, and he did half the distance. I panic, and I search the saddle for a grenade. I start better hearing the engine working, and I finally find a R-6 frag grenade, more like a tomato grenade, with a fuse ring on a pit on top, making it like a tomato. I start running towards the tank, and slip right next to it, near its side and way out of the reach or observation degree of the turret. I can hear the hatch open on the turret, and I jump up, toss the grenade in, kick the guy in before he has any time to shoot me with a revolver he has, and close the hatch. I jump off and I hear a drastic explosion as I mount Red, get my stuff, and gallop outta there. Behind me, the tank lays in flames. By that time, we were ordered to charge the enemy, who were already retreating into the densest winter forest ever seen in my life..

[Northern Collectives]

Near the Verise – Future Location of Stoneheart Manufactory

Trevan could hear the sounds of fighting and death echoing through the mountains. The Agnaros heavy infantry were locked in a brutal deadlock with the heavy infantry of Rocheste two miles away, and some small scale fighting was taking place no more than a mile away. He had a black trench coat on, and a long muzzled revolver he had bartered for from a Erquinian cavalryman two days before in exchange for a four inch black steel dagger, in addition to three engraved leopard claws.

The night was dark, the chilling air biting into the skin of everyone in the area, and it wasn’t even the worst of the seasons yet. He knew that Warlord Ulrich “Iron Fang” Vesverish would be giving him a permanent placing in Hecarim soon, and he was determined to earn his place in the ranks of the top brass of the soldiery. His efforts had earned him a half mask embroidered with a golden cross surrounded by a white shield with a leopard paw in the back ground. The emblem would become the house crest of the Demorta family. His burned face’s scars were slowly healing more, and his face was looking more regular. He never spoke about how he got the burns but the rumor was that he had earned them from being the son of someone who was the wrong side of a group of criminals, and many knew he had personally killed three known criminals before joining the military.

His eyes stared mercilessly at the fires he spotted along the left of the valley, of fires. “Officers to me.” he ordered softly. Slowly five of his subordinates arrived near his location, one of them female. “Tonight we bring retribution to murders and those who have made their life forfeit. They are madman, the lot of them. They can be shown no mercy, for they showed none to those who were in Fort Rorick. We will wipe out any traces of this sad mark.” He said, speaking more to his men then his officers. His voice was determined, unfaltering, and totally unforgiving.
“None can be spared. Those you knew as friends are no longer among them, for your friends would not have murdered the innocent. Mercy for these bastards is not an option. There can be no forgiveness for what they have done. They do not deserve the armor they have adorned, and must be pursued with extreme prejudice.” Then he spoke to his officers.

“Commandants, you know what must be done. Lexis, out flank them to the north, Nicine lead your company west, and cut off their path of retreat. Cordon, your company will follow me, Vladek, Maceon, go north east and into their front. They will be cut off, overwhelmed and destroyed. Their numbers will be thinned and the remainder of the number will be forced to flee to the mountains in terror, not in defiance. Charge!” His last order spoke the end of the lesser half of the traitors who had dishonored them. There would be many more hunts.

The charge began in brutal grace, the thudding of the horses galloping at full speed, the clicking of repeaters being loaded, and the click-snap of the bolt action rifles.

All hell broke loose in the night, as the shrieking of steel being drawn from their scabbards added to the sounds of blood and chaos. Trevan leaed from his horse, and his horse already knew where to wait for him, 100 yards in the nearest foliage, or until she heard his whistle.

One of the soldiers under Trevan’s command was a tall brute of a man named Zaeson Dreda, a future inhabitant of Ainle, and his friend Erich Rhodaan was following close behind him. He wore steel scales, and a helmet with a fierce face mask. He was armed with a more modern bolt action rifle, and he carried the ammunition in was effectively a skirt that never closed in the front.

He had dark red hair, and black eyes, and a brutal outlook on life. He was natural bred soldier, from the age he was seven he had been taking fighting classes and had mastered the long sword, axe, rapier, sword and shield, and glaive that was a minimal fraction of the time it took many. He took ordered without question and had taken a blood oath with the Hecarim government to defend them until he was discharged, and after his actions in the nights fray he would earn his place in legends, and be discharged with full battle honors, but at the cost of his left arm, and right ear.

Bullets flew over his head as he knelt beside his dead horse, Erich having dismounted before his horse could be hit. One of the mobile fortresses, or OC – 1s that they had heard of from the Erquinian soldiers was badly damaged and sloped downward on the side of the valley. Large caliber bullets were spitting fire into the lines of loyalist Hecarim.

Zaeson ran to the tank and felt blood pouring down his face, which through him into a brutal frenzy, He had a boarding axe and five inch dagger in his hands. The people manning the mounts of the vechile had no idea what was about to open th hatch of the tank and spell death for all inside.

He threw open the match of the tank, and jumped inside, his axe immediately pulverizing the skull on the first traitor who was in his way, and directly underneath him. The next met the same fate, a blade being thrown into his throat.

The next was able to get to strikes in, one of which almost severing his arm, but he met his end by havingdagger thrown down his throat. The last attempted to surrender but was beheaded shortly before the ancestor of Khaine went unconscious.

The battle was over in two hours, many dead on both sides, but the soldiers of Trevan having only tasted vengeance once. There would be a reckoning between the rival officers of the traitors and the loyalists, and anyone who got in the way of it would be doing so at their own peril….

[Erquin]

Rocky Gulch, Northern Collectives
23rd Infantry Division, 28th Infantry Brigade, 45th Infantry Regiment
3:24Pm Local Time, 59 degrees

FOR NORTHCOL: This faction is later wiped out completely after occupation of the country, but it did possess some airplanes, and a conventional infantry military. This okay with you?

"Hey, kid, got a light?" asked a fellow soldier, as I lay by my MT-07 machinegun. "Yeah, I do, here, let me light it for you..." I reply, as the man leans over for me to open up the zippo lighter with a small flickering brilliant light. I was in the 2nd Company ,"Bulldogs" as we named it. We were with the entire contingent of the 45th regiment holding a key position, Rocky Gulch, in the middle of nowhere, but we were there because we had reports of some "modern" Northern faction. Apparently, they were sort of like us, conventional tactics and other stuff. My platoon was lying under a large tree, where we cut out our little fighting position, with all equipment and extra ammo in the center, including a little fire that burned out 2 days ago. I was the machine gunner of the platoon, and with my Sylvan buddy, Joey, we would mow down enemy troops with the surprisingly light MG. Some say its only about 34 pounds, but some say its actually 42 pounds. Me and Joey think its 37 pounds, but we digress. "Houkom, when do you think they're going to come? Do you think they'll come with those planes they rumor about?" asked Joey, who was looking at the sky, tipping up his new 1914 steel helmet. "Im not so sure, I think they don't need airplanes right now. Currently, the EAS has some air superiority, I think, considering how they have those TJK-12's with the fancy gun gear on the propeller thing, I dont know." I answer, as I begin adjusting the sights on the MG. Soon, an MG team comes over, and we welcome them after they explain themselves, coming from another platoon, using our position as some kind of MG bunker. One person gets a shovel and starts making a little wall that faces the hill, and he starts bringing dirt from a little hole in the ground, but rather slowly considering the ground is extremely rocky. Suddenly, the sound of engines roars in the sky, and we all get down and ready to start firing. I pull the cock handle back as I start loading the gun and connecting the condenser can to the light water jacket. I bring up the MG only for me to put it down again as the platoon lieutenant calms us down, "Relax! Its just the EAS making scout runs over the gulch." he yelled. With my helmet and face, my head digs a little ant-sized cut in the ground, resting alittle, then bringing back up, soon saying in remark, "They couldve warned us about that shit, its not like its the most common thing in the world and we'll be definitely on our toes." Joey countered my statement, saying "Well, atleast they didn't shoot at us, didnt they Houkom?". I resigned from the arguement, until the scream of agony wails out from a little bush trench over near our position.

"THEY'RE HERE! EVERYONE GET READY!" yells a lieutenant as he runs through the trenches, ringing a bell. Soon, people are scuffling through our fighting position to go to the battle trenches or their fighting positions, and already, I see Northern troops in brown clothing slowly moving up the bushes about 600 meters ahead of us. Soon, they come into range of our machineguns, but the lieutenants refuse to let us fire. Behind me, I can hear Joey nervously praying and panting, and I didnt blame him! This was his first real time fighting, at the frontlines of it all, including mine. However, I wasnt so easily startled, and I calm my friend down to turn my head around and look down my sights. 400 meters, and the lieutenant would not let us start unleashing our 7.62mm fury. Then, a shot rang out from the Northern lines, and then the peace spiraled down to outright pangs and ka-pows. I immediately pressed on the fire trigger of the gun, letting out a furious but satisfying sound, letting loose bullets everywhere, while our other MG team did the same. "HOUKOM! Shoot those ones trying to flank us!" yells Joey, as I turn my attention to those few troops. Soon, fire is pouring down on us, and I hunch over ever so blatantly, as to not die. Then a ping pierces the air as both a bullet luckily grazes Joey's helmet, and the gun jams! I keep pressing the trigger, only to find a cartridge sticking out of the receiver output port. Joey quickly opens up the receiver and looks down at it. 2 bullets jammed in the receiver, and the thing was hot as hell. We quickly take out the bullets and do quick checks before we load in the other belt. Soon, we continue firing. A scream rings out beside us, and I look to my left to see the MG gunner of the other team have his index finger tip hanging off by a thread. He screams nervously, and calls medic, as he's quickly drawn away. I keep focusing fire.

Soon after that incident, another 3 companies come in to aid our already tattered 4 companies. I can soon hear the IOL-2's and MT-07 MGs rattling out to fend off the Northern legions. Then, it hit. A mortar strike has been called in, and at rapid succcession. Me and Joey hunker down, holding onto our helmets as our MG is knocked over onto its side. "Shit! Mortars!" yelled a rifleman private, as he shot the head of a Northern soldier. Another shell hits a fighting position straight in the middle, and a slight, short lasting flash of orange flame and a dark, lingering plume of smoke and dirt fill the air above and around it. The whistle of another shell rings into my ear drums, as we struggle to get back to firing the MG. A shell lands straight infront of us, showering dirt and rocks onto our heads and slipping a few bits of shrapnel into a corporal. "MY LEG!" he exclaimed, as he fell on our platoons bounty of ammunition, all stored down in a protective hole. "I really doubt the need for us to have this big pile of ammo behind us, dont you think Joey!?" I said as I turned the MG over and keep firing, being replied quickly by my friend, "You betcha I do! Now kill these barbarians!". I let out a wail as I keep shooting, while under mortar and rifle fire. I score another 2 kills as both of them foolishly tried leading the charge towards our position, only to be mowed down. However, a desperate charge formed up, running to our lines. I get my IOL-1 CQC carbine and give Joey one, and in seconds, we're interlocked with a group of Northern's. I shoot one through the leg, and then through the head, then to shoot another at the chest. I start reloading the slugs into the gun until I get knocked down by a sword wielding officer. "GLORY TO THE NORTHERN COLLECTIVES! DOG!" he yelled, but I kick him off. He charges me again and I use my gun as a shield and club, trying to force him away. But he had superior strength, and deflects my block, to knock me on the ground and have his sword raised above his head. "You will know the true power of--" he doesnt finish his sentence when he then has his head blown into pieces by Joey. Soon after, an OC-1 battalion comes in, and cheers, from us too, arise, as the tankers start destroying whats left of the enemies.That, was the Battle of Rocky Gulch.