Paths of Aggression (Closed to all but TLIN & UFA)

[Vetok]

Point Kilo, Designated Long Range Combat Radius
Alpha Flights, 14th and 2nd Wings

Flight-Captain James Young always found his surname ironic. At the tender age of thirty-one he was one of the best naval aviators in the VN, and it hadn't taken him long to get promoted through the ranks before ending up in command of the 14th Naval Fighter Squadron, better known, and respected, throughout the Navy as the 'Lifetakers'. But that wasn't the ironic thing really. No, the ironic part of his name was how it mocked his looks, since he still looked like someone in his early twenties. None of which changed the fact he was still one of the best damned pilots in the VNAF. He activated the radio that connected him to the rest of Alpha Flight, ready to give them a final briefing of sorts. "Alright, Alpha-Leader to Alpha Flight, let's see what's up for business."

Another voice broke into the channel. "Command, Fourteen-Alpha-Leader. There's a helicopter outbound to the Tagmatine naval forces. Escort it there immediately, copy?"
"Fourteen-Alpha-Leader, Command, good copy. Flight is inbound to designated coordinates. Okay, Alpha Flight, form on me. ROE is no Spectres, I don't want them locking onto our own allies, so keep it to Spikes. Keep it cool in there. The sooner they can get to safety the sooner we can get to fighting the enemy's naval fighters, copy?"
"Alpha-Two, Alpha-Leader. Got it." The rest of Alpha Flight quickly asserted their acknowledgement of the orders.
"Alright Alpha Flight. Open to full throttle, come to heading Point North Four-Ten degrees. Go for it." The five sleek warplanes swiftly waved off away from their brethren of the Heartbreakers. As in all carrier operations in the VN the first flight of every wing was known as Alpha Flight, and the flights were launched in descending order anyway, which meant it would normally be Alpha, then Beta and so on being launched from multiple squadrons.

The 'Heartbreakers' were friendly rivals to the 'Lifetakers', each squadron permanently trying to outdo each other in the best manoeuvres, the best pilots and the most kills. Flight Captain Dean Graveson was like Young in their shared desire to see their respective squadrons as the top dogs of Naval Aviation. The difference between them was Graveson was the nephew of the very same Admiral Graveson who was commanding the fleet, and he had to struggle almost constantly against the snide rumours of nepotism that passed in the bunkrooms of his stations. Those who knew him well regarded him to be a natural pilot though, and he and Young had become fast friends. "Second-Alpha-Leader, Fourteen-Alpha-Leader, don't worry Young, we'll let some of them stay around for your guys to clean up," he smirked into his mic.
"Heartbreakers, form on me. Targets are UFA ships. Lock weapons, and fire when you find a target. And make damned sure none of you fly solo. I don't want someone pinged by an x-ray just because no-one was around to watch their back."

The five planes swept downwards, the indistinct mass below them slowly reordering into the outlines of warships. Some were aflame, their metal hulls being consumed by on-board firestorms. Others were slowly breaking up, wreckage floating off into the heaving morass of cannonfire and hails of missiles. The vast majority of ships were still fighting, each one a steel beast trying to savage its opponents. They split up, Graveson taking Alpha's 3 and 5 with him while 2 and 4 angled off to the right. The three odd-numbered fighters quickly zeroed in on a Rhydinian destroyer, before loosing off all six of their Mk23 AShM's. It was probably going to be more than needed, but they had to make sure that the enemy was completely taken out of action. The trio broke upwards, suddenly racing into the melee above between the UFA and Batory fighters. The two even fighters had likewise found themselves a target, a crippled frigate limping its way from the field. They raced after it like a pair of hounds chasing a bloodied fox, before their missiles reached out to try and claim it. One of them suddenly exploded as a nearby AA missile turned it into high-velocity shrapnel.

VNS Archer
Vetokite Naval Relief Force

The fleet was slowly moving up ever closer. The two fleet carriers had each launched a single E-2 AWAC's to provide cover while they readied another two flights apiece. The vast bulk of a 'Cbayn' dreadnought and three 'Broadsword'-class Battlecruisers accompanied them, slowly ranging out into a line while the numerous shapes of 'Mogami'-class AA cruisers, 'Parish'-class destroyers and 'Firefly'-class frigates accompanied them in a formation designed to provide equal all-round coverage for all the capital ships. The ships that would do the real killing for now though was the five 'Archer'-class Attack Submarines that glided through the deep azure water. They weren't many in number, but most of the others were laid up in dry-dock back in home waters or on patrol there.

"Sir, message from the Batory fleet. They're grateful we're nearly there, and that they'd appreciate help ASAP."
Admiral Graveson looked over to his exec. "Well I guess we should give it to them." He leaned over to the intercom embedded in the handrest of his chair. "Archer Actual to Challenger Actual. Commence discriminate bombardment, range extreme. Danger close, I repeat, fire danger close." A muffled acknowledgement came back before Graveson turned his eyes to the bulk of the Cbayn ahead. The VLS cells on the rear portion of the vast hull opened up slowly, almost teasingly slow in their aspect. The three 'Broadsword's did likewise, the long-range missile-carrying VLS cells opening up.

"This is Challenger to squadron. Commence bombardment, range extreme, danger close." All of them were firing the recently-acquired HK7 Cruise Missile, with the Challenger alone firing a grand total of four-hundred and thirty-two. That was as nothing to the sheer weight of the bombardment put out by the Broadswords however, each one of which could launch one-thousand and twenty-four of the same missiles. Within a few minutes, a vast ripple of fire and smoke heralded the launch of three-thousand, five-hundred and four missiles, all targeted towards the rearmost portion of the UFA fleets. They might not get the best targets but it would be worth it if they could avoid accidentally hitting their own allies.

[Ser Di Haruk]

Ser Di Haruk Imperial Navy
Entering Karthaian Archipeglo

Rear Admiral Vandt stood in the command and control center of the 6th Strike Fleet's flagship, the Kaal Derthaan (Red Tide), of which led eight Chiana (Betrayal) class submarines, two Suliss'urn Alti'uin (Graceful Wings) Class Carrier's, five Cfunt (Sword) Class Missile Frigates, eight 210 Dekan (Tiger) class frigates, six 208 Ryssan (Hammer) Class Frigates, and twelve 205 Ymekydun (Alligator) Class Corvette's. Consisting of a larger then normal vanguard, the 6th had been tasked by UFA Fleet Command to push forth into the Karthaian territorial waters as the main fleet continued against the Xukuthites. He'd just been about to light another cigarette when a non-com reported an incoming barrage of missiles. Nerves of steel, he calmly lit the cigarette and then ordered the fleet to activate all defenses.

" We have thousands of missiles entering our range. Two mark, three five as origin points." Keshelela Tarvin nodded as he took the old man's cue to be calm and precise. " Alert all ships, defensive weaponry is green lit! " His order was clear and monotone like as it was delivered, of which the crew took well and it kept them at a focused state of ability, not panic. The Kaal Derthaan operated the usual compliment of 231L Myhla (Lance) SAM's as a deterrent against enemy missiles and or aircraft. These missiles were housed in the Canbahd (Serpent) 32-cell Advanced Capacity VLS system.

At Tarvin's command, the flaps on the launch tubes were parted, folding up and out like flower before the morning sun, and then whiffs of smoke and fire illuminated the flanks of the vessel as three-hundred-thirty-two 231L Myhla's left their homes for the sky. Accompanying such, and near enough the same time, the frigates that escorted the flagship also launched counter-measures while all vessels engaged their RAAF Defense System's.

Whilst the Ryssan class was less effective with missiles, being that it normally only carried anti-ship variety, it did have the ability to function as a dedicated anti-missile/fighter vessel with it's RAAF systems being double the amount carried by the guided missile frigates and what not. A hold over from the days past, it's continued upgrading had made it a dangerous anti-air anything vessel. As these ships began to move, creating a defensive cordon around the flagship, this in turn gave the Dekan class frigates a slight buffer in which to aim, track, and fire their missile ordinance of R4 SAM's as an anti-missile counter-measure as well.

One-thousand-twenty-eight missiles left their launch tubes, with additional missiles soon to enter and be fired as well. All eight ships were firing and adding to the rising sortie towards the incoming hostile fire. The last to fire being that they were the last to move into position, were those of the Cfunt class missile frigates. Five ships, expending their stores of anti-missiles, from a collection of launchers that were twice what the Cbayn carried. Twelve-hundred-eighty missiles were expended into the air, for a combined total of two-thousand-eight-hundred-twenty missiles.

The Ghuuc Tel'Daan (Moons Smile)

Truely luck had not been with the Ghuuc Tel'Daan. She'd been stricken nearly right off the bat from a vicious broadside from several Xukuthite cruisers near the start of the hostilities. Left for dead, her crew had effected repairs that had allowed them to begin heading away from the combat zone. Dher Okelaar (First Officer) Javo, akin to a Captain ranking within the Harukian Navy was effectively the senior most officer left alive.

The bridge had been hit by an anti-ship missile early on and while that should have killed them all, it hadnt due to some stroke of luck or another. The Ryssan class frigate was limping on one screw, and listing slightly to the right by about ten degrees or so. What was left of the command and control paniced and he was briefly distracted by the sound of the only functioning CIWS coming to life and something exploding.

About to both scold and praise the operators, a wash of heat and thunder drowned out his words, followed soon enough by the death wail klaxons as the Ghuuc Tel'Daan finally surrendered to the sea. The aft of the vessel had shattered, opening the wounded beast of a ship to the sea, and the sea wanted it's pound of flesh.

The whole vessel began to slide downwards and backwards into the maw of the ocean vast, the bow lifting up and nearly verticle did she sink beneathe those accursed waves.

[Holstria]

South-Eastern Landing Zone 1st Corps

Shells and bullets rained down, already wounding and killing around 20, men sprinting about like mad for cover and bursts of fire and the occasional round broke through bringing destruction. Two AAV's had already been disabled on the beach but were providing excellent cover for the wounded as they slowly converged. The guns of the mighty ships were already firing back in response to provide some amount of cover that would hopefully halt any and all aid coming to the defenders.

But there was some relief, a small detachment of close air support aircraft had been released, their planes taking off for the destruction that was engulfing the beach. They screached low to the water with their planes loaded up on weapons and ammunition that was waiting to be unleashed. They could suddenly see the landing craft, packed with troops and even the larger ones carrying the challengers in to roll over the defences.

Great lobs of earth and steel flew into the air as engineers sprinted, crawled and died along the beach, attempting to destroy sections of obstacles in order for the tanks to find a clear path. Their comrades provided excellent cover as they only dodged small bursts of fire and the screeching shells. Troops were huddeling up behind the obstacles and in the shell holes as slowly some were able to make their way forward, others hanging back, spending clip and belt of ammo after another, with a RPG round being fired at the defenders in their quick intervals of loading. Brave officers rushed up and tossed forward smoke rounds that flew up at great heights, falling back to the earth and covering their position for a short time, allowing more men to land and move forward.

As the gunfire grew more tenacious it was obvious in the toll it was taking, with another 12 bodies covering the beach, machine gunners had been able to wade through the mess and begin laying down gunfire as rounds and shells continued to fly through, it was clear it would take a good deal of firepower to over come the defenders, but it shouldn't slow down the landing force. On top of that fellow league forces had already landed and were commencing attacks of their own, they should be able to cut through and endanger the defenders if they break through quick enough. But at this moment only both sides could fire away and kill each other the best they could...

[Renor Xukuth]

Karthaian Territorial Seas
The Barra Elemmiire

Fleet Lord Vekta stood upon the bridge, as he had this entire time of combat. Watching the flow of information, of statuses lost and found, of trials and tribulations that the fleet was going through. The UFA combined fleet had hit like a hammer blow, a repeated one at that. Even now Harukian strike fleets were attempting to flank not only that of his command, but other League navies as well.

There of course was the Batory Navy, slugging it out rather remarkably with the Rhydinian Imperial Republic Navy, what a mouthful. RIRN for short, and good reason. The Takhisian Imperial Navy had been amongst the Xukuthite fleet, and their cruisers and frigates were now buffering up his own force while the troopships concentrated launching wave after wave of landers. It was however, a different story under the ocean vast.

While Rhydin was having issues dealing with the Batory's, they were holding their own against the Xukuthite sub-fighter legionary. Still, their ancient enemy couldnt fight on two fronts forever, and with a third being added into their side, it would take a downturn. Probably why the Harukian Navy had become so active, pushing ahead with it's more conventional fleet. While it did not boast the technology of the RIRN, it had enough potency all it's own with carrier launched fighters and light bombers that were even now making runs against League positions and so on.

Drada Vesiss approached. " My Lord, our lances are ready for the coming order." Vekta nodded and still wearing the headset that provided up to date information on the battle at hand, as well as serving as a communication device to the ship and fleet depending on setting, addressed said fleet. " My warriors, fall to the second line, shield shall we be to those who sally forth to the shores, sword amongst the league that does sail forth to our cause." The order given, the Xukuthite fleet began to withdraw from the first line, heading from the ocean to the archipeglo of Karthay itself, where it could both better defend itself, plus make the enemy fleet disperse to engage.

The massive Barra Elemmiire, was in effect, the largest capitol ship ever built by Xukuth, or probably anyone really. Perhaps save Rhydin's immeasurably large submarines perchance.The Barra Elemmire boasted a displacement of 72,800 tonnes at full load and armed with nine 46 cm (18.1 inch) cannon. On top of this, the vessel was littered with CIWS, VLS launch systems and anti-aircraft SAM launchers as well. She was a massive beast, nearly two hundred and fifty six meters (839 ft 11 in) in length. Four nuclear reactors powered three screws to give her nearly thirty knots upon the oceans great vastness.

Her majesty could be seen quite clearly as the fleet moved, it's armaments still barking, the concussion from such making the water itself quake as her endowments would find enemy cruisers and frigates alike of the advancing UFA fleet. The Cbayn's she had as escorts looked decidedly smaller and less menacing when compared to the flagship of the Xukuthite fleet. Drada Vessis felt immense pride to being a second in command of this vessel, the spirit of Hiendor that was the Bara Elemmiire (Shadow Star). His duty at the moment was to signal the League's other navies and alert them to their repositioning.

First communique sent to the Batory's, then the Vetokites, Takhisians, and Tagmatine's, and if the Tergnitz Navy was still present, to them as well. The sub-fighter legionary would stay as their advance element, keeping the RIRN busy while they in turn would force the Harukian Navy to engage them piece meal.

[Oryctolagus cuniculus]

The Flying Hares
Air Battle Over Karthay

Col. Wullian gritted his teeth, juking and janking his HAD 22b as if it were an extension of his own body, his right arm grafted to the flight stick, the left to the throttle control. The Aetos lived up to a fierceness that had been apart of his training once upon a time with Haru flight instructors. Men and women who lived and breathed the 22b, who had spent time in anticipation of a one day air war with their southern neighbor during a period likened to the Cold War.

Rounds stitched past as he banked hard to the right and up, threading the air itself he didn't have to see them, they could be felt as vibrations upon the wind. Several of his pilots had met their end, but so to had the enemy. Perhaps the unspoken honor of the skies was keeping up, being that he did not follow through on his initial training, that would have meant he'd have shot the pilot ejecting. A death amongst the sea was perhaps brutal but then again, a missile in the tail pipe was no less harsh. No, he'd not worry over that enemy pilot, when his own flock was being whittled away.

Warrant Officer Navene was the only non-hare pilot in the bunch. His anger however was being focused, never mind that his close and personal friend Davi had just been taken out. The pilot chasing his commander, had broken Davi's plane with precise cannon fire until his friend's fighter had crumbled apart mid-air. Vengeance would be his though, the Stoat was chasing after a recently freed enemy pilot. The same one that Davi had been pursuing, third fighter of those that had stayed behind.

While missiles made up modern aircraft combat, for older models such as this, OAF pilots had become rather nasty in cannon warfare. It was the strong suit of the HAD 22b, for an interceptor it was remarkably well armed in this aspect. Navene pulled a barrel roll and then lanced into a pursuit line behind the third fighter while arguably the Tagmatine ace was busy with his superior and the other Aetos contended with his wing man Tandal. Ensign Tandal was incredibly skilled but this was his first actual combat flight, Navene noticed he had mimicked his own maneuver to chase the other enemy pilot.

While the enemy ace was distracted, they were attempting to pull a cross-roads switch. Guiding the enemy fighters towards each other, so that as they passed from the peripheral, the interceptors would rake the others prey with cannon fire as the slower fighters were mid banking turn.

Wullian noted that his subordinates were doing exactly as they were trained to, once the enemy ace was identified and busy, they were working on taking out the elements that might not have been as good. It was noted early one that the Aetos pilots were very easy to get behind and that only flanking maneuvers had been able to dislodge the 22b's.

As his fighter crested upwards, instead of doing a steep dive, he went the other route, allowing his fighter to begin a roll and then diving at a slant. He was planning on making a run against the deck, to give himself the necessary boost in order to get back up and proper approach. The interceptor was quite quick and he was hoping to use his speed against the Aetos more so. In return to baiting his opponent, he waggled his wing tips as escaping the enemy cannon fire.

Hill 32 Firebase

Sergeant Major Dadro had just entered the fortified bunker where the field optics periscope was stationed, to better get a view of the enemy fire and support base near the coast. Senior ranking individual of the firebase, his Leftenant had been killed about an hour ago on a re-supply run. An errant Xukuthite Hind gunship had torn apart the supply convoy before it'd been chased off by anti-aircraft vehicles.

So now as head of the camp, he was giving the orders to the artillery crews on the ridge. The same ones that had been shelling the enemy base for days. When they weren't dumping shells into the area, they were firing rockets and other munitions instead. His tea cup coming towards lips, he was distinctly aware of what sounded like thunder. The weather report had mentioned a storm was developing and would be rather unbecoming for his objective. Still that broiling mess of mother nature was still hours away so what could it be...

Hairs on the back of his neck arose and he had begun running towards the base intercom as the naval salvos landed. The blast was deafening, the concussions sent him to his knee's and those were at the far end of the base. As they methodically stitched across the ridge line, he was thrown about the bunker like some sort of rag doll.

It was brief, but precise. Staggering up, shambling through the entry way, the sight that greeted him brought forth a despair. The ridge line was pocketed, or rather ravaged by large gouges. Twisted metal, burning fires, and red messy stains littered the area. Secondaries were still brewing up from the ammo stores and the occasional vehicle. There had been a hundred and fifty crew manning the artillery line, none of them would be going home again. Twelve of the sixteen Q39 tank destroyers had in turn been destroyed. Thirteen of twenty cargo trucks had also been wrecked by the blasts, including one that was literally sitting atop a guard tower, lifted up by the blast and set upside down atop the structure.

He slicked the right paw through his mane before bellowing out for survivors. It was a good thing that the base had pill boxes and bunkers because after a blast like this, the enemy would come for them. He would if it was them doing the shelling.

[Machina Haruspex]

155 Hours into Assault of UFA held Karthay by League forces
Southern Coastline-Commercial Port of Kabor

Siet Khan (roughly translated means something similiar to 2nd Lt) Dabin climbed up the rungs of the AT-110 Infantry Fighting Vehicle towards it's cupola hatch. The command vehicle for the 7th light armored detachment, serving the House Sargtlin and that of the colonial legionary taskforce deployed to Karthay. The vehicle was already loaded with a small compliment of troops and crew as he slid into position behind the sloped gun shield.

He was lanky in build, wisps of blonde hair cropped short against the scalp. Like most Haru he wore a rebreather, but not the goggles so many were accustomed to seeing them in. His uniform was specifically for this sort of enviroment, being a semi-tropical terrain, highly urbanised area. Red, black and light orange splashed together. Throat mic in place covered a rather wicked scar, a badge of honor from close combat nearly a year ago in the Occidental badlands.

Just over the age of twenty-one, he was of the Vek Sargtlin, a commoner-military line that served the greater house. A slight turn about, as wearing the headset that was passed up to him and he raised his right arm. Behind the command IFV, and in front of it, were several dozen Rhidan LMV's, a popular lightly armored recon vehicle that could survive IED's and so forth. Essentially a Haru Humvee in spirit if not appearance and ability. Accompanying were another half dozen AT-110's, about the same S-12 Halftrack armored personnel carriers, and the hardest hitting of his entourage were a pair of Cbetan Light Tanks.

Still waiting to be offloaded were the 8th Detachment of Heavy Armor. This consisted of ten S-94a Jelduno main battle tanks and four S-17 APALV'S. However, the heavy armor detachment was still several hours from being offloaded from the taskforce troopships as well as still having to land in the port. No or never really. Pave the way and all that.

His orders were to provide distraction for Batory ground forces to hit the recently shelled firebase, and to assess enemy resistance prior to the 8th's advancement with the 12th and 15th mechanized infantry detachments. He waved his right arm and the engines came to life, reverbrations in the air, followed by diesel fumes. Turning to forward, he lanced his arm out and the lead vehicles being the Rhidan LMV's motored forth, leaving the relative safety of Kabor Port for the urban jungle ahead.

157 Hours into Assault of UFA held Karthay by League forces
Port of Kabor, Outskirts of Port City

The first sign of trouble came from a garbled and rushed communique from the lead element of the convoy. The explosion was seen soon after as the Rhidan came racing around a corner, only to be caught by the explosion that appeared to come from the ground up. Dabin ordered the convoy to spread apart as it was apparent that artillery was in fact, in the area.

As his herd of lightly armored vehicles began to spread out, rocket-propelled grenades and heavy machinegun fire from concealed positions in the houses, low buildings and even wreckage began to take it's toll. The close quarters provided his enemy with plenty of cover and freedom of movement while he was not afforded such.

His command vehicle was retreating from the main road to an alleyway, attempting to flank when he saw a following S-12 engulfed by flame. The men were screaming, falling out of the vehicle like burning match sticks and then the transport shattered apart as a secondary hit split it's sides. That was no artillery! He could see the edge of a barrel poking out of a burned house, one he knew well! A Q39 Tank Destroyer..As he ducked inside of the cupoloa, the gunner of his command vehicle was already hammering the house with the thirty-millimeter cannon. Concrete and mortar splintered aside, and then it was impacting something else. Fifteen rounds or so in, and the enemy vehicle ignited, shattering it's concealment with fire and smoke.

Enemy soldiers spilled out of the position, and he was grimly aware of his satisfaction at eliminating them with the twelve point seven millimeter heavy machinegun. The rounds stitched across the inhuman forms that twitched or spazzed across the road and grassy areas.

This was a lull in the otherwise violent demise of the 7th Detachment. For every kill, they were mercilessly being routed. The enemy as he relayed his report live and without consideration of say, profanities, that the enemy was highly trained, determined, methodical, and disciplined. He reported that ten minutes into the combat, he'd already lost a dozen Rhidan's, four S-12 Armored persoonel carriers, three AT-110 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, and one of two Cbetan Light Tanks due to the precise artillery and infantry positions.

An explosion echoed his report as dirt clumps, mortar, and rocks spanged off the side of the command vehicle. The thirty millimeter was barking more now, streaming deadly tungsten tipped rounds towards the enemy. An enemy S-10 infantry fighting vehicle died a glorious death, buckling and then exploding outwards, catching wayward infantry with hot pieces of shrapnel that carved through their flesh like a hot knife through butter.

Dabin was mid-report when static filled the coms. Repeated efforts by LZ Uidmuug Buehd radio technicians would keep recieving static. Whether he was dead or not, time would tell, but his vehicle had been ended rather ungracefully. Caught between two mortar and brick buildings, the artillery rounds had tossed the command vehicle into a rolling spin that had lodged it into a barely standing house of which had collapsed upon the shattered remains of the vehicle. The rear compartment where the few legionary had been, was completely crushed as if it was a roll of toothpaste. The stain of red and assorted clumps out of that tapered end certainly gave one the certainty that none in that section of the vehicle had lived.

The remainder of the forces fought, valiantly but ultimately without hope. One by one vehicles were destroyed, until the last, the lone Cbetan already hit a few times but still alive was bouncing it's way through a variety of buildings and positions. Treads clanking, it's maingun spewing fire as it's anti-personnel weaponry rattled time and time again. The main gun fired, and another Q39 was taken by death, while the machinegun firing in remote turret claimed the lives of more then a few canine soldiers.

It's death was however quite spectacular, if more then overkill. While roving about, it was presenting a hard target for the artillery and due to it's close nature to enemy infantry positions, said artillery was sporadic. Having closed the distance, the light tank had effectively crossed the gap between enemy fire suppression, but had found itself in the throes of the enemy's light armor and infantry units.

As it trudged past a small two story building, an explosion rang out followed by the sound of metal flapping against metal and earth. An IED had gone off and displaced the tracks on the Cbetan. As the turret began to turn towards logical placement of the enemy, no less then a dozen rocket-propelled grenades struck the body of the light tank from two different directions. It vanished in a hail of fire, the turret completely blown from the main body, landing some twenty feet away. The body itself cracked and split apart, throwing metal and fire in a three hundred sixty degree area.

Thirty minutes of fire had hopefully paved the way for the Batorys, because nearly five hundred souls of the 7th had just slid from existence.

[Vanarambaion]

Officially, the 1st and 2nd Fleets had been in dry dock for the better part of a year. While they were due out soon, and sent to relieve the 7th and 5th in their respective areas of control, only the most painstaking observer would have noticed that a significant amount of supplies were missing these past few days, and the dock workers were seen in greater numbers lounging about the still-closed warehousing structures used to house the ships during their refitting and repair. The Khren workers were nowhere to be seen, as usual, but their strange religion didn't allow much time for 'lounging.'

-----------------------------------

The Batorys were not the only people who enjoyed the night. There was a long tradition of Vanarambaion night tactics, in all branches of their military. It was said they had better night vision than natives of other nations due to periods of their history long forgotten in these modern times. Tonight, as with the night before, the 1st and 2nd Fleets were steaming along, radio silence rigidly maintained, as the ships maintained contact through the use of flagmen and spotlights.

On the bridge of the supercarrier LV Brod, the scene was one of chaos. Interactive maps were being updated as updates from other ships became available. Staff rushed around with various assignments. And one very angry ranking officer was almost screaming at a small collection of lesser officers.

"I want heads! The minute - the very second - this radio silence ends, I want authorization to deploy nuclear weaponry!"

"But sir, we don't even know that they fired one..." The man was cut short by a stomp by the irate admiral, Sean "Fitzy" Fitzhugh took them all by surprise.

"I'm sitting here looking at a mushroom cloud, we all feel the pressure wave, and you're going to sit there and tell me that 'we don't know'?!" The conversation was going nowhere. They all looked to Commodore Haon, the large Khren with his grayish skin and deadpan look was the generally the only one who dared tell Fitzy he was wrong. The man, apparently sensing the eyes on him, stirred. "Your emotion..."

A chopping motion from Fitzy cut him off. "If you tell me one more time about my emotions..." the threat hung in the cabin, but Haon didn't seem perturbed.

"The observations you made could be from the death of a ship not unlike our own. You have stated that several of our enemies have less than average intelligence. It is possible that they were operating equipment beyond their capability to understand. That seems more likely than a nuclear weapon detonation, considering the lack of outrage in the transmissions of our allies." The Khren, having made his point, stopped, his eyes still on the Admiral.

There was a long silence, as the assembled officers held their collective breath, waiting for the Admiral to fly off the handle again. "Hmph. We'll see about that." Exhale. The storm had passed. "Dismissed. To your stations, boys we make contact in...3 hours." Three hours. Sean reached into his uniform, retrieving a flask. Best to be loose when that happens.

-----------------------------------

If Fitzy's force was the heart of the strike group, the brain was in command of the 2nd Fleet. Admiral Ceathair, a Khren, was the eye of the particular storm of activity in the bridge of his own supercarrier, the LV Laidir. His staff had long ago mastered the ability to ask him questions in a way that only required a one-word response.

"Yes."

"Seven."

"Go."

"Dawn."

The responses were short, but in the grand scheme of things, nothing more was needed. The surgical, emotionless efficiency was something to behold, though even the 2nd Fleet's admiral had to admit that somehow the 1st Fleet was able to complete their given tasks, no matter how wild their leadership.

"Three." They would make contact in three hours, it was time to sleep. Rumor had it that Admiral Sean Fitzhugh was able to conduct whole campaigns without sleeping. Ceathair doubted it. But it was a useful rumor to enhance the perception of one's leaders to the men doing the fighting. It tended to inspire them to greatness. Ceathair had no need for such rumors. The unmovable Khren had stories of his own being told, and they were mostly true.

Such thoughts were useless. He stirred. It was time for action. "Deploy scouts. I want to know the lay of the battlefield. Make contact with our allies and report back. Go." Several people scrambled to carry out the orders, and the Admiral turned to retire to his quarters. Three hours. Best to be fresh when that happens.

[Tagmatium]

News? The Batorys woman, this Adjunct Siras Vuun seemed to expect that the situation on the ground was common knowledge among naval airmen. Still, Symbatios was grateful that she’d be dragged aboard… the last thing the hemikentarkhos had expected. When the shipping was passing her by, she had been trying to see if her .455 survival pistol was still on her webbing, so that at least stop herself being dragged under and through a landing craft’s propellers alive. Nevertheless, Symbatios was intensely grateful from being saved from drowning, dying of hypothermia or blowing her own brains out. She followed at the Adjunct’s heels onto the bridge of the Adjunct’s flagship. Rarely had the pilot been on the bridge of a warship. It wasn’t something that often happened to lowly naval airmen.

How did one address an Adjunct? The title was unfamiliar and to be Tagmatine was to know a host of honours and titles and how to address the holders correctly. Soddit, just going with the title as an address rarely caused offence. Hopefully, not at least. The Batorys seemed the epitome of barbaroi, right down to taking trophies from the dead. The little woman with the belt. Symbatios shuddered. The Greater Holy Empire recruited some of its more ferocious infantry from the northern and eastern tribes but they would never be allowed to do such a thing.

“Adjunct,” the hemikentarkhos said, giving Vuun the bow such a member of an empress’ retinue obviously deserved. “I know little of what was happened on the ground. I have been involved in air combat, making sure that the Vice-Chancellor can escape.”

Symbatios’ tone was slightly reproachful – she was talking to a savage, although a high ranking one. Her eyes were dragged from the Adjunct and back to the activity of an entire army being deployed. It was… intense. She tried to look from where she stood next to the Adjunct, to see if she could see any of sign of Poylerikos Flight still doing battle in their delaying action against the UFA fighters. The pilot looked back at Vuun and gave her a weak smile.

“Forgive me, Adjunct, but I’m unsure of what help I could be here.”

A droning sound could be heard, just slightly louder than the noises of an entire army. Again, Symbatios’ gaze was dragged to look out of the windows and against the darkening sky, she could make out hundreds of transport planes against the sky. The aeroplanes, insofar as she could tell, looked like the transports used by her own air force. The Tagmatine pointed out towards the aircraft silhouetted against the sky.

“I mean, I didn’t know we’d be doing that.”

---

“So what did you do, then?”

The comment shook Isaakios from his own reverie. The young officer looked around and into the face of his company commander. The Hekatontarkhes was only a few years older than Isaakios, but he was the commander of an entire company, a sign of the decrepit nature of the Parachute Peltastoi Droungoi. The Hekatontarkhes’ expression was one of mischief, a slight smirk on his face. The man was, against usual Tagmatine fashion, clean shaven and an unlit cigarette dangled from his lip.

The question had Isaakios puzzled for a moment. “I’m sorry, sir, what do you mean?”

The man grinned at him. “Everyone did something, otherwise we wouldn’t be in this fucker,” he said, gesturing with a hand at the interior of the aeroplane. “Come on, man. You’ve been in my company for weeks now and you’ve not let on. It couldn’t be that bad, otherwise your arse would be in prison.”

“Nothing, sir. I volunteered.”

The Hekatontarkhes’ jaw dropped open and the cigarette landed on the floor, to roll under the seats the paratroopers were sat on. A few other soldiers had been struggling to listen to the conversation over the noise of the aeroplane’s engines whilst trying to look like they weren’t intruding on their officers’ conversation. Now they leant forward, their curiosity naked as they awaited the senior officer’s reply.

Much to their disappointment, the officer commanding closed his mouth and gave a shrug and fumbled in his webbing for a replacement smoke.

“That does surprise me. You are a rare breed amongst us.” He gave a grin before taking a drag on the unlit cigarette, causing Isaakios to stifle a puzzled look. The other soldiers sank back into their harnesses, an opportunity for amusement snatched from them. The Hekatontarkhes studied Isaakios for what seemed like an eternity before breaking out into a grin again, followed by another drag on the cigarette. “I respect you for that. I honestly had you down as a thief, so at least I won’t have to keep an eye on you as well as the rest of this bunch.”

The man’s hand swept the length of the plane as he said it, taking in the rest of the soldiers sat down either side of the converted cargo compartment. Those that caught the gesture grinned towards their senior officer.

“Uh… what about you, sir?” Isaakios blurted the question out unthinkingly, before looking aghast, aware that he could just have committed a massive faux pas. Instead, his senior officer took another drag. The younger officer hoped the Hekatontarkhes wouldn’t take a fourth pretend-drag. The habit was beginning to irritate him, but Isaakios was aware it was probably a stress reaction to the prospect of an actual combat jump.

“I was in the Klibanoforoi Corps.”

Isaakios raised an eyebrow at that. He couldn’t really believe a member of that illustrious unit was now the commander of a paratrooper company. The Hekatontarkhes caught the surprised look and gave another smirk.

“Nah, really. I was a Molaghos and had command of my own tank platoon. I was in the Civil War and the AdSoc War. I knocked out a good few enemy AFVs. I’m actually considered a tank ace.” He gave another grin, but it was a slightly weary. The cigarette came up again, was drawn on, before going down. Isaakios winced slightly. The officer looked distracted for a moment before shaking his head and returning to his story

“Anyway, there was some… unpleasantness involving an unsurprisingly large amount of booze, a surprisingly large amount of a certain herb, a tank, a training exercise and a not insignificant amount of damage to a stately home. I was dragged before the Strategos, who wanted it hushed up, so he offered me a transfer to the PPT, along with a hell of a promotion. If I’d stayed in the Klibanoforoi, I’d probably have been left to rot. I snapped at the chance and have been regretting it ever since.” The last sentence was said with a smile, but Isaakios doubted it was entirely in jest.

A chime sounded in the earpieces of both of the officers. It meant they were to start their unit on their final equipment check before they took the jump.

“Fuck,” the company commander muttered to himself.

This would be the entire company’s first combat jump as a unit, and he reflected that it probably was the first combat jump for most of the regiment as individuals. It wasn’t supposed to be too hot a jump, but it still wasn’t something to be looked forward to. At least in a tank there was no need to worry about small arms fire. Dangling about in the air for far too long really wasn’t something the Hekatontarkhes was going to enjoy. He stood up, checked that his line was attached and signalled the rest of the unit with a gesture.

“Final equipment check, lads and ladies,” said the officer, whilst giving the recognised arm signal. The words probably wouldn’t be heard over the sound of the aeroplane’s engines, but the gesture would definitely be seen. The Hekatontarkhes watched as the platoon went through their equipment, slapping the soldier in front once they’d been through their own kit and that of the man in front. They had all been impressed on the importance of making sure everyone else’s kit was functioning, as well as their own. Numbers on the ground was an important part of Tagmatine paratrooper doctrine. Or, rather, numbers in the air. It was expected that they’d take heavy casualties, so the more of them that made it through the air, the better.

“Five minutes until we hit the dee zed. If you’ve got any last prayers, say ‘em now.” I know I will be, added the Hekatontarkhes mentally. There was a good reason as to why – flying through enemy anti-air was never the best of ideas, and parachuting through it struck him as even worse. A muttering could then be heard, even above the drone of the engines.

The minutes until air fleet were over the DZ ticked down both incredibly quickly and agonizingly slowly. The Hekatontarkhes listened to the com-net over his headphones and swore to himself again. Two indicator lights blinked on at the rear of the aeroplane and he gave the pilot the order to open the rear door. It thumped open and the noise of the engines thoroughly drowned out any noise in the fuselage. He gave Isaakios a hand single and the junior officer braced himself, checked his line and flung himself out of the door. As the rest of the company followed suit with the Hekatontarkhes being the last out.

The parachute opened with a thump, yanking on the officer’s shoulders. He realised he’d had his eyes closed since just before exiting the troop transport, but they were opened now. It looked like a scene out of hell. There were muzzle flashes, explosions, tracer fire, everything lighting up the ground they were jumping into. Seemingly, they’d managed to take them by surprise so far and little was aimed upwards.

As to make a mockery of that thought, the aircraft the Hekatontarkhes had just thrown himself out of exploded. Another one caught fire as tracers raked it, burning shapes spilling out of the rear hatch. He felt bile rising in his throat and he wished he’d never seen that armour manoeuvre as a chance to slack off. He swallowed, trying to keep himself from throwing up, not wanting to puke whilst floating through the air. His boots hit the ground with a shock and training took over as he rolled with the impact. The erstwhile armour officer lay there for a moment, suppressing the urge to kiss the earth. Pulling himself upright, he looked around and saw one of the marker beacons. A grin split his features. Dead on target.

Now all he had to do was round up the rest of his lads. The parachute was dumped wear it lay – there was no point bundling it up, as it would soon become pretty obvious that an entire division was falling from the sky. Checking to make sure his rifle and hemi-paramerion were in one piece, the Hekatontarkhes moved towards the nearest piece of cover, a low broken wall. There was no sound of any nearby movement, just the background roar of gunfire and explosions. The unlit cigarette had been snatched from the Tagmatine’s mouth as he dropped from the plane, so he replaced it has he took stock of his surroundings. There should be some Batorys soldiers nearby. After all, they had been the ones to drop the markers.

---

More blips on the screens, or so the co-pilot had reported from the front of the helicopter. Fingers tightening on the arms of her chair, the communications officer still started out the window. She could see the lead Aetos of Tzangras flight and felt that she saw the expression on the pilot’s face, one of tension and stress. It was probably just her imagination as the heavy fighter was too far away and the pilot wore a helmet and mask.

“Tzangras One: They’re coming the from the opposite direction, HIAF 41-2.”

That must mean we’ve been outflanked. The communications officer stifled the urge to say a prayer, as she needed to be ready to relay any messages at a moment’s notice.

“They’re coming in from the fleet. Make sure our fighters are aware that these aren’t UFA,” said the pilot over the internal com-net. A wash of relief came over the communications officer. Finally, the end was in sight. The Tagmatine delegation was now within reach of friendly air support and, therefore, within reach of the Holy Imperial Navy flotilla that had got them to Karthay. She wouldn’t miss it, no one from the delegation would. But it was now turning into one huge battleground.

“HIAF 41-2: Tzangras and Poylerikos Flights, inbound fighters are friendly, repeat, friendly.”

“Tzangras One: Acknowledged.”

There was a moment of silence and the communications officer could feel the unspoken relief pouring through the headphones.

“Tzangras One: Poylerikos Flight, disengage. Kamelaukios, you’ve done it. You’ve got the Vice-Chancellor home.”

The communications officer looked around at the helicopter’s seating area, towards the Vice-Chancellor, who’d been looking at her as she spoke to the escorting fighters. An unreadable expression was etched on the man’s face. His eyebrows rose in a quizzical expression.

“We’ve got friendly fighters coming in, Vice-Chancellor. They’ll be engaging the pursuing fighters and ours’ will be breaking off.”

Without saying anything, Kommenos closed his eyes and lent back against the headrest of his seat. Tension broke within the bay of the helicopter and wearied smiles were exchanged between the rest of the delegation. Even the usually immobile Imperial Household Guard seemed to relax, sinking back in their own seats. The communications officer didn’t even what they would have been feeling. They were said to be trained to give their lives in defence of their charges, but they must have been feeling completely useless when death could come from an enemy fighter.

---

“Tzangras One: Poylerikos Flight, disengage. Kamelaukios, you’ve done it. You’ve got the Vice-Chancellor home.”

The comment “easier said than done” shot through Kamelaukios’ head as he moved on the 22b. The enemy pilot was good. He’d managed to dodge most of what Kotopoylos had shot at the tail of his aeroplane. As the enemy aircraft bank sharply, Kamelaukios took the opportunity to take stock of the situation. The hemitrierarkhos quickly looked around through the canopy, trying to catch sight of the other two Aetoi and keeping an eye out for the incoming friendlies… whoever they were. Pulling out before the incoming reinforcements were in combat would probably mean the Tagmatine aircraft would just get shot to pieces.

“Poylerikos One: Don’t get lax now reinforcements are on the way. We need to down these bastards.”

“Poylerikos Two: No sweat, boss. We won’t get caught out.”

“Poylerikos Three: Noted.”

Just don’t get cut down, either of you two, thought Kamelaukios. Not now we’re so close.

“Poylerikos Two: Oops, got one on my arse.”

“Poylerikos Three: Same.”

He caught sight of the last of his flight. Two of the 22bs were behind them, herding them towards each other. He felt his hands begin to sweat a bit more in their gloves. Poylerikos Two and Three were combat veterans, so he hoped that they could recognise their own danger. The Aetos had shown that it was vulnerable if one of the lighter enemy fighters got behind it, as Symbatios had shown. A surge of anger flowed through him, dragging his attention back to the fighter he was tailing. He hovered his finger over the cannon trigger, anticipating the dive that the UFA fighters had dropped into after banking.

“Poylerikos One: Keep calm, you two. You know what to do.”

However, this one suddenly nipped to the right, breaking away from what he had expected it to do. Kamelaukios narrowed his eyes. His opponent was using the higher speed to advantage, waggling his wingtips as if dodging cannon fire. The Tagmatine shook his head. The bastard was baiting him. If the enemy wanted him to use cannon, then he was going to do something else. He held his helmet sight on the tail of the 22b but allowed it to move away. Close to the sea surface, dodging would be difficult. He triggered two more of his heat-seekers away and at an oblique angle, judging it to be where the 22b would be when it came out of its slanting manoeuvre.

[Vetok]

Troop Deck
VNS Kurgan

Sergeant-Major Alfred McHale was one of those strange races in the Vetokite military, the commonplace Highlander who rose to become a senior NCO and was practically indispensible. He wore the body armour of the Vetokite Infantry like it was his skin, and his middle-aged face with the large moustache and ever-present grin belied his position as the Sergeant Major of the 1st Company, which by long tradition was the most prestigious assignment for an NCO. His Highland routes, as a boy who came from the icy mountainous Central Highlands of Vetok, were things he showed in two ways. The first was his booming accent, tinged with the rough tones of any Highlander, and the second was the wide kilt he wore around the waist portion of his plating. It was red and green, the colours of his family, and was fashioned around so as to form part of his webbing. He was stood in a small part of the cavernous troop deck, addressing the men and women of 1st Platoon.

"Alright lads, listen up. All of you here were briefed for this op. Right now we're heading for Karthay, a lovely tropical island being held by the UFA, though our allies in the League are disputing this. Now, since unlike those lovies in the 3rd Lancers and 5th Armoured, we're going to be yomping it." One young lad raised his hand anxiously. "Sarge, where we landing then? I don't fancy yomping all over the open countryside so the enemy can call in artie when they want."
The older sergeant grinned. "Well then my boy, you won't have to worry about the countryside like most of you other city boys. We're landing in the city, or more specifically the south-west port of Karthay." Sighs, exclamations of people not believing their 'luck' and wry looks passed around the gathered platoon. No-one was keen on a city-fight at the best of times. An alarm began to sound as nearby seamen rushed to their stations, a voice booming over the tannoy. "All Infantry, move to embarkation deck, I repeat, all Infantry to embarkation."

"Okay, shift it people," he barked. He trotted behind them, making sure no-one lagged behind. The embarkation deck looked like pandemonium, with nearly everyone of the one-thousand, two-hundred embarked soldiers in it. Deck lifts carried up towed artillery pieces to the flight deck, along with AA launcher vehicles and the Scorpions that would tow them when they got ashore. Units were quickly marshalled into squads, two apiece to the large 'Super Gannets' of the Navy. Despite the look of it all, it was actually rather ordered to McHale's experienced eye. He grinned with approval, before trotting off to his own rotodyne. It was part of the first flight, a whole thirty-four birds that would put just over a full battalion on the ground. He looked out at the naval battle in the distance as the Super Gannet lifted from the deck, before turning and racing off for the port in the distance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We're inbound for LZ Primary, two minutes until touchdown." The old NCO leaned out the bay, vaguely aware the only thing keeping him from falling into the murky blue water below was the clip-line attached to his belt loop. The pilot carried on talking, chattering away to keep the groundpounders focused. "Down below us there are the Batorys forces. They've been here for a while and we're landing near them."
McHale turned to the assembled men and women. "Alright, we're going to be landing in a thoroughfare. Once we land, get the hell off and and move for cover. Move north and we should find the frontline." He turned back, eyes focused on the large stretch of road beneath and rapidly coming closer. They were close enough to hear the roar of cannon and rocket, the sharp crack-crack noise of rifles coming from the tangle of streets. The rotodyne touched ground, and the two squads quickly bailed out, fanning out into cover provided by shattered rubble and cratered paving.

The pilot began to lift his bird up, the rotors whining as he spoke over the radio. "Echo Nine, lifting off for RTB. Good luck folks." The Super Gannet turned in the air, just before a missile roared from nowhere and hit it, hurling debris over the road as thye majority of the wreck fell to the ground trailing flames. "Fuck," swore the NCO. "Alright, get moving damn it!" he bellowed, chivvying along the soldiers with him. Artillery began to burst in the street, scything fragments cutting down the exposed soldiers, their body armour not of help against high-velocity shrapnel. Quickly they rallied though, the discipline forged in them during training organising them to move forwards. Slowly the Vetokites began to delve into the frontlines as they advanced in to the firestorm that was the port battle.

[Oryctolagus cuniculus]

Heavenly Duel

Wullian gritted his teeth as the klaxon alarm sounded to the missile threat warning. He panned his head to the right and then the left, catching sight of the trailing tubes of death powered by a rocket motor. Careful of his heighth above the deck, he spun the 22b in a corkscrew, as letting off the flares and chaff dispensers behind him.

It was a last ditch effort, though not without cost to his enemy, as he noted the cannon trails above tracking one of the enemy Aetos with precision. As an explosion rattled the air behind him, he could at least count on one missile not getting him quite yet. With that, he reached down with both paws and grabbed hold of the seat ejector handle. The canopy of the 22b blew off and the chair holding the pilot blasted out of the aircraft, of which began to descend rapidly without a pilot until the missile caught it and tore it apart.

His headset still keyed in, he gave his orders. " Retreat. Draw back and provide cover to our forces. I am dropping into grid 2-3A. Send a transport." A chorus of yessirs, and once the battle had been fierce, the 22b's used their terrific speed to peel away from their prey and thundered off to leave the Tagmatine pilots that had survived to their lives, for whatever they worth as he drifted downwards, parachute a soft grey hue, of which would aid him in a soft-ish landing eventually.

If the lead Aetos passed him, he'd be saluting for a moment. Only proper really. Knights of the air had to be prim about things.

Urban-Conflict, Port of Kabor, Karthay

The UFA Officer that was the strategic head of the defensive of the southern occupied region as well as offensive against the now League holding of the Port of Kabor was none other then Vice-General Snag, assisted by Sub-Commander Toral who had begun siege of the airport held by Xukuthite forces. Within the hastily built headquarters of which was underground amidst a warren of tunnels expanding outwards, the statregies of war were implemented.

A junior officer saluted and showed real-time photos and intelligence on the port as well as League military positions. " Sir, they are attempting to use the recent push by the Haru as a means to destablize our hold on the city of Kabor itself. Even now, we have League forces being ferried in via VTOL's, as well as landing on the coastline." Snag grumped a bit and then looked towards the map projected. " Of what do we have in this territory? "

Toral at this moment spoke up, the stoat was quite loyal to his commander, a faithful second. " General, we have Kapitan Havr of the 5th UFA Armored Legion currently entrenched, as well as that of Colonel Wullian's strike regiment of aircraft available to us. Furthermore, waiting for deploymnt orders, we have the 23rd Rhydinian Armored Brigade. On top of that, we have the 5th, 8th, 9th, 11th, and 33rd Mechanize Infantry regiments, and the 112th, 1220th, 78th anti-aircraft regiments also in the area at your disposal sir. "

" Very good, I am aware of Tagmatium dropping in para-troopers. How are we coming on that Toral? " The stoat pratically grinned from ear to ear, very murderous like. " Sir, we are cleaning house.."

The Para-Troopers

Kaptian Yavo had double checked his orders, and had followed them. The droning of aircraft overhead was magnificent, so many thundering cattle uponst wings so vast. His orders were to wait ten minutes into the enemy airdrop, once more then enough chutes had been deployed, his regiment of anti-aircraft vehicles and the two accompany brigades of mechanize infantry were to begin firing. What a bloody day he thought as his ferret eyes stared through the field night-optics towards the sky. Right arm lifting to check watch and then he gave the order. " Fire! "

At his command were HIA clones of the ZSU-23, a lightly armored, self-propelled, radar guided anti-aircraft weapon system (SPAAG). The "23" signifies the bore diameter in millimeters. The "4" signifies the number of gun barrels. Despite becoming obsolete, Yavo's forces were still highly dangerous to enemy light armoured vehicles, infantry and firing points as an infantry-support vehicle. With its high rate of accurate fire, the weapons he had to work with could even neutralize tanks by destroying their gun sights, radio antennas, or other vulnerable parts.

It's high rate of fire made it especially dangerous as well, a cyclic rate of 850–1,000 rounds per gun per minute for a combined rate of fire of 3,400–4,000 rounds per minute meant that it absolutely hosed an area with 23mm High Explosive rounds. As it was currently doing no less. The great buzzsaws engulfed the skies above, erupting from their nests dotting the landscape.

Infantry machineguns were sporadic as they would begin firing at those who made it to the ground. The armor in the area also joining in, burping sounds of 12.7mm HMG's and grenade launchers punctuated the affair.

Kabor Offensive

Snag nodded to the intelligence briefing from Toral before looking at the League forces. " Send word to the Rhydinian MBT brigade, they are to deploy and assist in keeping the League from breaking out of Kabor. Send the 112th anti-aircraft, and the 11th Mechanized Infantry regiment to assist Kaptain Havr in pinning down anymore enemy forces from pushing forward. Toral nodded and saluted. " As you order sir. "

Toral's immediate destination was the communication station, of which he then passed the orders of deployment to the forces mentioned. The main battle tanks of the 23rd Rhydinian brigade began mobilization. The Black Jack's were the UFA standard tank, and there werent any League forces as of yet that had heavy armor, at least none that he knew of.

The infantry forces and the anti-aircraft regiment followed suit, moving from their deployment areas to the zones of support that they would undertake in keeping League forces out. Toral knew soon enough that his own legion, that of the 5th would be involved in direct combat, not as a mere firebase, in the siege of the airport and probably further.

[The Order of Takhisis]

Veral eyed the situation at hand, the forest, or rather jungle that stretched out and past the now secured landing and defensive position was not the most welcoming of sights. Still wiping bits of gore from about his neck, he motioned to Kaalor. " Get a Turmae and head into the jungle, put down mechanical traps, and then bck to the Schussline eh? You want to live to be an Alte Hasen." Kaalor grinned a bit and then motioned for a good bunch of legionary to follow towards the treeline of the bush and fronds that carpeted this particular area beyond the trenches.

Mavo was a short man, often made fun of during his youth for barely cresting one-hundred-seventy centimeters. Compared to most of the lads of the legionary, he was often times looking up. Somewhat annoying really, seeing as he was the senior officer and second in command to current higher up Kaptain Veral. His CBAR-01 bullpup held firmly against shoulder, left hand on the barrel guard, eyes forward as he slowly made his way through the nearly five foot high grass, the multitude of fronds, and the rubber trees which allowed random streams of light into the darkness of the jungle itself. It was thick, and chokingly dense, even right at the start.

The heat of the island was here in this place, it crept under his collar, the sweat forming upon brow and cheeks as the heat felt like it was exuded forth as a tangible series of waves. A pause, to the right was a corpse. Whatever it was, it appeared to be a rather mannish looking ferret of some kind. The hole through it's forehead, and the resulting mess at the back of it's head meant it was dead, but not to long. He knelt down, gently checking the body for anything that might be a clue as to where it's comrades had gone, or to see if it was booby trapped.

Not finding anything, he slowly rose up and continued forth. Behind him, twenty-five men spread out in a four meter arrangement and like a wall of bodies, pressed forth until reaching a river bed. Signs of passage were still there, Mavo hunkered down and then looked to the Kaalor at his right. Finn was the lad's name if he wasnt mistaken. In a hush voice he spoke. " Put mechanicals twenty meters down, and over here as well. Two traps, twenty meters apart, for a total of four. Spread the word. When it's done, we withdraw to the Schussline."

Finn nodded and moved towards the others, passing the information along with hand gestures while Mavo sat on his haunches, rifle at the ready but barrel pointed towards the earth. His short, black hair already wetted by the moisture of the place. A faint glance to the right, exposing the wicked bit of gashes from an RG36 grenade earlier, battle scars for the boasting later or reflection. He hadnt figured out which yet.

The traps that Mavo and his turmae were putting down, referenced as mechanicals, were really booby-traps made of claymores, daisy chained with detonating (det) cord. This nasty device was activated by a trip wire. It involved the handle of a plastic C ration spoon and of which was used to put a small hole in one end to which the trip wire was attached. Then an electrical wire on a clothes pin so that the ends of the wire touched when the jars were closed. The clothes pin was attached to a stake and the end of the spoon was inserted into the clothes pin preventing electrical contact. The wire was stretched across a trail, the whole thing was camouflaged and only then was the battery attached.

When the unsuspecting quarry tripped the wire, the electrical spark set off the claymores and hundreds of small steel ball bearings would mow down anyone in the kill zone. As said batteries were applied, Mavo and his legionary assigned were pulling back. Though he had his doubts about this sort of action, obviously their landing had been on the heavier front then the knights. Still the enemy was bound to try and re-claim this area, best to thin the herd of said hostiles he supposed.

They broke through the treeline at a measured pace, jogging back towards the line. None to soon really, a massive explosion sounded off far to the left as Mavo nearly spun himself like a top turning around. He waved his troops on, hastily to the trench works as the legionary of the Huukach Taalogekhec Taagelaan readied for a vicious fight. Enemy bunkers and pillboxs, sandbagged positions had been taken, and while the primaries were better served facing forward, they could provide protection nonetheless.

As Mavo slid into the nearest trench, he could hear Veral yelling orders as a signal flare from the knighthood's landing zone whistled into the air. Green..! That meant the enemy had tripped the furthermost mechanical on it's way to the other LZ. Still, if they were going for one, they'd come here to he thought.

0845
Southwestern Coastline, Landing Point Alpha
3rd Maniples of the 9th Legion of the Lily Knights

The intelligence reports from the Vaelyl Varyr (Recon Patrol) coming to Knight Protector Daya, were not encouraging. While her counterpart, Kaptain Veral was strengthening his hold in a precarious position, Daya had already been reinforced by two more Maniples, the 4th, and the 7th of the 9th Legion of the Lily Knights. Reportedly however, the Canini in the area were under the banner of Vice-Commander Brakas. A rather unbecoming name, the image no less surreal, being a fox in a military uniform. Initial mentionings were that enemy forces were intent on re-capturing Alpha point and had orders to terminate all resistance.

With the late morning light, Daya turned to Champion Effin, leader the 4th Maniples, and gave an order of advancement. She was to advance, and delay the enemy forces until defenses at the Schussline could be made ready to withstand assault and siege. Daya tried to smile to her second, but couldnt. The order was risky, costly, and more then likely signing the deaths of all whom served. Effin to her credit had a smile ready and willing, her eyes were full of a wry disposition that couldnt help but eventually elicit a smile in turn from herslef. " To gloria my friend, do the battle well."

The champion grinned a bit. " Was there ever a doubt? " Effin turned and found her subordinate, a man named Velos, of whom held the rank of Master of the Lily. Velos to shared this sort of carefree facade that hid a true soldier behind it, ever expecting to die, or perhaps had already done so and was no just waiting for the moment. " My Champion, the 4th stands ready for your orders." Effin nodded and took stock of those at the ready, adorned as knights in this modern age. " My faithful flock, we stand at the brink, lances at the ready. " Of which was the command to position bayonets at the end of their GAR-O1T's and stand at attention. " For gloria of the 4th, for gloria of the 9th, for gloria of Her do we go forth to the enemy. " Stamping of rifle butts into the ground, building in momentmum as Effin turned towards Daya. " Good battles my friend, my commander. "

As Effin moved forward, Velos followed, pausing only to salute before the 4th began to dissolve from one mass of bodies, to smaller groups, eventually forming into turmaes that entered into the jungle line. Much like the Huukach Taalogekhec Taagelaan before them, the heat of the afore mentioned jungle spread to each and every knight and accompanying Acolytes. As they came to ruins in the jungle, Effin decided that this would be the spot of resistance. The ruins were vast, covered in green moss and ancient. According to the Vaelyl Varyr, these ruins were from Karthay's past, a tale of moon worshippers and so on.

She doubted the enemy didnt know of it, but they hadnt made transgressions in taking it as a place to set up. More the folly on their part. She directed her troops to key points, snipers to the trees, machinegunners to nests being built and rifle footmen to where they needed to be. Mortar teams behind and waiting. If the Vaelyl Varyr were right, the lead elements of the enemy would be on them soon. Still she had to know. " Dark Warrior Deskin, take Night Warriors Talv and Therin, alongst with ten Acolytes and scout the furthermost edge of these ruins. According to the Vaelyl Varyr, there is a village two kilometers past. " She paused as she looked towards the woman. Just a child really in the scope of things, Deskin couldnt be more then eightteen she thought. " Report movements, if your compromised retreat to the schussline, do not be wasteful of your life."

Deskin nodded, bowed her head in salute and then motioned for Talv and Therin. The two, brother and sister at that, rose up, and ambled behind Deskin, alongst with her Contubernium of Acolytes. Effin watched them until they passed the treeline beyond the ruins, where even her field optics could not follow. A slight sigh as she rested on her laurels a moment, absently glancing to Velos. " Think she'll listen? " Velos glanced after the retreating forms or where they might have been if not for the jungle. " Doubtful. She's like you, a firecracker. " Effin winced a moment and then nodded her head. " So she is. May she die well if it comes to that. "

1030
Beli Bolandari
7th Contubernium, 12th Turmae, 4th Maniples, 9th Legion of the Lily Knights

Upon a ridgeline overlooking the village, they didnt know the name, so they just named it something that was regarding the landscape they happened to be in. Deskin refered to it as Beli Bolandari (literally Jungle Village) and it stuck. She split the Contubernium into two and each patrol went their separate ways around the village for about ten minutes. After combining back together, the Night Warrior Talv set up in a good ambush site. However, she sent her brother Night Warrior Therin two Acolytes armed with a GLM-01 Light Machinegun, and an RPGTA Series Model A.

As the late morning progressed, Deskin spotted movement at the edge of the soy bean fields alongst the berm pathway, and it was identified as a lead element or scouting force of Canini regulars. She turned and ordered Night Warrior Talv to send up a signal flare round as soon as the fighting started. This was both to alert her enemies and give them pause as well as to inform her superiors that she was engaging the enemy. While this was a disobeying of a direct order, chances were that what they did here might slow the enemy enough to give more time to her commander. Of which she would willingly take the punishment, should she survive.

About five minutes later, the Canini regulars attacked by throwing grenades into the village at seeing the green signal flare shoot upwards. Immediately following, Acolyte Jan was positioning his rocket propelled grenade launcher to prepare for the combat action. And action indeed. Through the treeline, the sound of something clanking it's way alongst the ground, shrieking of gears and metal, as the S-12 armored personnel carrier burst into view. Such a short lived surprise though. The RPGTA-01 fires a thermobaric grenade, of which is deadly to main battle tanks and hardened structures. To hit an armored personnel carrier with it, is like shooting a bullet through a matchbox.

The end result was a rolling, flaming pyre of which was disgorging burning and shrieking enemy troops while the those on the ground not thrown about by the blast were concentrating fire at the ridgeline as well as the village itself. Returning fire from the lightmachinegun nest provided suppression fire while her small force rattled away with their rifles at the bottleneck that the Canini had to pass through at the moment.

Acolyte Shav was running through the village, the fire support next he'd been in, alongst with another Acolyte had been hit by a grenade, and well, now it was just him. He turned the corner, and the next thing he knew, there was a huge flash and he was flying through the air and slammed against a cement well wall.

Completely dazed, bleeding from the head, chest, arms, stomach and legs, Shav was obviously in a daze as he meandered up slowly, wavering into the thick of things again. By the bodylanguage present, he couldnt hear anything or perhaps it was the concussion. Deskin was giving the order to pull back as a large round tore into the earth below Shav and Shav simply wasnt there anymore. Just a smear of red and bits of what was once the man. A light tank had followed the armored personnel carrier, outfitted for movement in the jungle with it's hedge/ditch digger blade positioned just so. The 90mm cannon barked again, and a hooch shattered apart, flames spilling about the place as Deskin gave the order to retreat down the otherside of the ridgeline.

Another Acolyte was stiched alongst his back, the bullets puncturing him from the spine to the nape of neck as he ran up the ridge, dropping the lightmachinegun and collapsing downwards, to slide back down the face of the ridge and end in a crumpled fetal position. Jan narrowly avoided the same fate, ducking just at the last moment, his launcher taking the bullet for him as it was slung across his back. The hit made him stumble, but he kept on as the explosions in the village itself began to reward their ears with Canini shrieks of pain and anger. Claymores, and kneecapper bouncing betties had been placed wherever they could be placed.

The goal was not to kill the enemy forces outright, but to slow them down with casualties. That would give them more time. More time to do what was necessary in keeping the enemy at bay. Deskin would have preferred to stay and fight, to avenge her comrades, but her superior, Champion Effin, needed to know about the vehicles and the measures they had taken.

[The Batorys]

The Euxine Vipers were officially the Batory 27th Army, though few ever called them their official name. A force that most foreign militaries would call a "corps," they were a relatively new unit, having their origins in an abortive border war almost a decade prior to the battle of Karthay. Curiously, they were initially formed from garrison units, partly explaining an appearance and unit culture that could most diplomatically be described as "colorful." Still, by Karthay, they were legends in their own lifetimes within the Empire, though it seemed they themselves were the only ones in the entire domain who didn't know it, as they seemingly always had something to prove, something they had demonstrated over and over again to everyone else, leaving no one but themselves unsatisfied, perhaps owing to their ignoble origins, and explaining much of their infamous ferocity.

-Ilona Batory, Imperial Political Historian, later Empress

At Sea, just off the southern coast of Karthay

Thousands of missiles streaked overhead like a suicidal airborne army, their exhaust mostly absorbed and hidden by the clouds of smoke billowing overhead from oil fires and burning ships, but occasionally visible where starlight poked through at the fall of what promised to be a hellish night. Minutes later, the sailors not too busy with damage control or combat operations to observe the tumultuous world around them saw the result as explosions lined the distant horizon in the general location of the fleet of Haruk. Those well-versed on naval tactics and armaments knew that most of the missiles were likely knocked of the sky or detonated mid-air by the enemy defense systems, but some would get through, no doubt.

Thus, the Vetokites made their entrance, announcing their presence and intentions in suitably grandiose fashion. Svatens let himself smile just a bit. The situation was still dire, yet it was good not to be alone. At that point Lieutenant Novikas further reinforced the idea. "Sir, message from the Xukuthite fleet... they're repositioning to come closer in to the shore, it looks like they'll be joining us!"

The old admiral did fully smile at this. "Ah, good." It had been the hyperboreans' intention to link up with their Xukuthite allies, though ironically the original idea had been to provide relief to the allied fleet that had been holding off the UFA for so long, and now it appeared that it would be the other way around. Such was war. "Inform them that we will continue towards their expected destination at our present course and heading and will link at the earliest opportunity." Of course, likely the Xukuthites would cover more distance in heading towards the rendevous, as Svatens' fleet now moved forward very cautiously, the water they traversed so shallow so as to necessitate caution against running aground. With their own submarine forces decimated and the protective cordon of trawlers and ore haulers having taken heavy losses, the hyperboreans had needed such a tactic in order to protect against Rhydinian attacks, though it appeared that the RIRN had pulled back somewhat, having suffered significant losses themselves.

Looking through the bridge's binoculars, adjusting them for maximum magnification, he could make out the Xukuthite fleet. In the middle was the obvious flagship, a dreadnought enormous yet at the same time, sleek and quite dangerous looking. From his own estimation, it seemed somewhat larger than his own flagship, the Sarkany, and if he had to he'd guess it might be armed a bit more heavily as well. "Looks like our allies can build some fine looking vessels," he said, idly.

Hyperactive machine gun fire could be heard in the distance, a steady buzzing like a hive of angry wasps or the drone of power tools at a construction site, but somehow more maniacal. Tracers arced through the sky like some nightmarish fireworks show, occasionally illuminating their targets... paratroopers.

"Sir," Novikas spoke. "The Adjunct commands that we provide artillery support to the Tagmatine paratroopers who are dropping in."

Svatens nodded. "Affirmative. Hel's cunt, I imagine they're getting torn to shreds up there. Do we have any target coordinates for the anti-aircraft batteries?"

After a moment, Novikas looked up. "Yes, the batteries are mobile, but the Viper sappers and light infantry as well as Dragon's Claw acting as scouts are trying to keep track of them."

"Excellent," Svatens said. "Have the fleet open fire as soon as coordinates are received."

Only a minute or so later, the naval rifles of the couple dozen or so battlewagons swiveled around, hungry for more victims after hitting an enemy firebase. Somehow, now that night had fallen, the fire of the great steel behemoths' muzzle flashes was all the more spectacular and horrible to behold. Again and again they thundered. The fleet of Empress Vereba Batory may have been a wounded beast, bleeding heavily from its injuries, but it was standing tall as it limped forward, snarling, and quite capable still of delivering a powerful bite.

After several salvos, Svatens gave new orders. "Should be long enough by now that some survivors are probably crawling out of their cover in that firebase by now, so we should hit 'em again. Divide the fleet's armaments so we can continue hitting that AA where it shows itself and put some more ordnance on that base."

The lieutenant relayed his order before giving her commander a razor-bladed grin, fangs shining in the low light. "You know something, sir?" the moroii asked.

Her commander looked at Novikas. Svatens regarded the lieutenant as generally a kind-hearted sort of person most of the time, but here he saw the feral bloodlust that lurked just below the surface, present in all of the woman's kind. "What's that, Novikas?"

She continued grinning. "We're complete bastards."

Svatens chuckled. "I suppose we are, indeed."

Sarkany's 450mm guns adjusted their position and the entire ship rumbled slightly as she fired again.
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On board Adjunct Siras Vuun's command ship, the Glorious Dream

The Adjunct was silent as she watched the flames erupt from Kabor, where the Empire's Haru allies were making a thrust. She hoped it would be enough; from what information she had, it was proving costly. The burning evidence of battle in the distance illuminated parts of the city and cast unsettling shadows in the night. The Vipers' armor was now unloading from the RO-RO ships, having been prepped while still aboard. Perhaps not the most efficient way to do things in terms of space or cost, but handy in a situation like this one where rapid deployment became necessary.

"There is no need to bow, Symbatios," Siras said eventually, her tone calm yet not quite as cold. "I am not the Empress, merely her voice." Another pause before she addressed the rest of what the Tagmatine had said. "I imagine that there are large gaps in your knowledge, as a soldier with specific tasks to complete," she continued, watching the paratroopers hurl themselves out of aircraft and sail down towards the city. "Still, you have at least been in the vicinity of the battle and so I had hoped there was some better chance you'd have information that I did not, as I am only recently returned to the front, having returned to the Empire with my Empress, and taken command of the 27th Army en route from their last engagement. Recent developments are therefore mostly unknown to me. My question about such was a request, not an order, the latter being something I could not give to a Tagmatine pilot, given that you are not under my command." The Adjunct finally turned her gaze away from the unfolding drama in Kabor to regard Symbatios, calmly, but without accusation, apparently indifferent to the reproach of the latter, as if unconcerned about unflattering opinions.

However, the battle once again grabbed her attention as anti-aircraft batteries opened up on the Tagmatine paratroopers, and explosions signaled the start of an enemy counter-offensive in the city, as expected. Her brow furrowed in apparent concern, and then she turned to her radio operator and said something in her own language to him. "I have ordered that those anti-aircraft guns be shelled by our fleet," she informed Symbatios. About a minute later, more explosions could be observed in the distance as Admiral Svatens complied with the Adjunct's order.

Calmly, she ordered the radio operator to request that the newly arrived Vetokite forces hold back the enemy counter-offensive as much as possible to allow the Batory 27th Army, the Euxine Vipers, to execute an altogether different maneuver.

She turned slightly toward the pilot again. "I suppose we should let your countrymen know that you're not dead, captured, or wounded." Siras looked Symbatios up and down. "You aren't wounded, are you? If you are, we can have it tended to. In any case, who shall I contact to report your status as among the living?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
At the Tagmatine drop site

The Hekatontarkhes was looking around him for a second. Just before he reached the low broken wall, four hyperborean soldiers rose slightly from behind it without making a sound. A voice behind the Tagmatine sounded, low, and would have been somewhat rumbling if it hadn't been restricted to a whisper. "Hello, friend," it said in broken and heavily accented Greek.

As the Tagmatine turned, he would be able to observe four more hyperboreans behind him. More illuminated by the flames than those behind the broken wall, their ragged appearance could be clearly seen, the uniforms so individually repaired and altered as to make a complete mockery of the word. The only things uniting the appearance of these men and women, of which there were roughly equal numbers, were the general disdain for professional appearance only broken by the badge, a black serpent upon a red field, that all wore, and the dangerous look that bespoke of experience in killing. This was emphasized by the casual way they held their weapons, almost an afterthought, as if the use of them had become no more remarkable than the use of their boots.

One, a tall man with a scraggly beard, stood in front of the others who had appeared behind the Hekatontarkhes. On his person could be seen far more of what looked to be grenades, of several types, than one would think was anywhere approaching normal, and on his face for all to see was the crazed grin of someone who very much enjoyed the use of such weapons, and in his hands was what appeared to be some sort of grenade launcher. It was he who had greeted the Tagmatine. "Sorry, not especially good at your language," he said, guiding the new arrival behind cover. "But better than these fucks," the man said mirthfully, indicating his comrades. "Name translates to 'Scamper' in your tongue. I'm Sergeant of this squad."

As they drew behind cover, a woman with complex and savage looking facial tattoos whispered something to Sergeant in an incomprehensible language. The woman didn't look as if she ever smiled. "Captain 'Sunshine'," Scamper said. If he was going to expound on the irony of the dour captain's name, he was interrupted by the barking of anti-aircraft fire. Sunshine grimaced, revealing a very sharp looking set of fangs, apparently a moroii.

Various soldiers swore. About a minute later, the ground shook with the force of the bombardment that the Batory fleet had responded to the AA with. Scamper smiled again. "Our orders are to secure drop area. Rest of you should be nearby."

As the squad and Captain Sunshine moved out to find the rest of the Tagmatine paratroopers with the Hekatontarkhes in tow, sounds of renewed and ferocious battle. The captain said something to the Tagmatine, gesturing towards the distant sounds. Scamper translated. "The enemy, the rabbit and weasel people, are making an offensive against the masks' offensive," he said. "But it's expected."

As they spotted more Tagmatines, Scamper continued, though no longer translating for Sunshine. "But they don't know about the sappers," he said, gesturing to indicate that he himself was a sapper. "Bit of surprise waiting for them."

A sudden chorus of explosions added to the cacophony of the night.
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Kabor, just after the Haru offensive

As the Haru had thrust into enemy territory, some of the Euxine Vipers had moved in behind them, scuttling to and fro between buildings. As the Haru thrust disintegrated, these soldiers, the most ragged and unprofessional looking in the entire 27th Army, most looking similar to Sergeant Scamper in the armaments they bore, set the final pieces in their preparations into place.

Now, the Batory military was very old, and had been organized in something close to a professional army for over a thousand years, owing to the Empire's long-term stability. It had always been the doctrine of the military to re-equip and reorganize existing formations, units and even adapt old terminology as times and technologies changed. Thus that while officially dubbed the Engineers, in common parlance these soldiers were most commonly referred to as "sappers," and while much of their job consisted of the construction and maintenance of fortifications, runways, roads, etc., in combat they remained the army's explosive specialists, as they always hademploying a wide variety of munitions, including the standard fragmentation type, incendiary types that erupted into fire that was somehow sticky, much like napalm, chemical types that erupted with various burning chemicals, and the largest type, of which the originals had been based upon satchel charges and explosives used in demolition work. These were the ones that required the sappers to carry the launchers they used in addition to their sidearms, as the blast radius of the largest type was considerably wider than the distance most grown men and women could throw them, though the use of such launchers was a good idea for the rest as well. In addition to this murderous collection of mobile devices, the sappers also employed a wide variety of mines, anti tank rockets, flamethrowers, and other trap type explosives.

As the strange enemy soldiers arrived, having wiped out the Haru thrust, the hyperborean sappers set their operation into motion as various explosive devices were armed and then detonated, and not a moment too soon, as the enemy, the strange rabbits and stoats and other creatures, had brought out tanks. As their opponents came towards the sappers, a stream of rockets flew at the enemy. More came on, and more, until the range was quite short.

The sappers then showed off their trade and detonations cracked the night air. It had been a rush job, but it would have to do for now. They had rigged many of the buildings to collapse onto the streets, though not nearly as complete a trap as they would have liked. Joining this horror would the various combustible materials they'd laid just in front, now alight with the detonation of incendiaries. This would not stop the enemy, but it would hopefully kill or wound a great number, and also distract them long enough to give the sappers breathing room to carry out the last bit of their mission, which was simple enough.

As buildings collapsed into the streets, on top of the advancing enemy and combustibles ignited into a small firestorm, the sappers leapt forward and rapidly launched their smorgasbord of munitions, adding to the nightmarish din as the fragmentation, incendiary, chem and even their largest grenades rained into the enemy amidst the flames, gunfire, and occasional anti-tank ordnance.

It was still a relatively costly operation, as the enemy force was disciplined and not prone to panic, and hundreds of sappers paid for their audacity with their lives, partly because when one got killed just before launching or hurling a munition, the resulting explosion ended up taking his or her fellows as well. The Batory military had a reputation for often being heavy-handed, and this display was just one such example. But all the rulers usually cared about were results, and so how expensive or heavy-handed an operation was, well, that was quite irrelevant to them. After continuing to pelt the enemy with explosives so long as to be considered overkill by some, the hyperborean engineers disengaged, their work done. They would leave the rest of the job of handling the enemy advance to the Haru and Vetokites, who they saluted as they made their way back to the rest of the Vipers.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Near the Tagmatine Drop Site and Batory 27th Army assembling area

"You know, it's really hard to tell what you're thinking," Giggles said as Alhazred approached, his eyes having taken on that familiar distant look that he'd always had, even before the southern foray when, like her, he was just some runaway kid, as he rejoined the squad, having secured more munitions from the quartermaster.

As if startled out of a trance, he looked over to the small northern woman with surprise, and shrugged.

Giggles sighed with annoyance. "You'd think that perhaps you might have something to say after that shit, but nope, as usual, nothing to say. You'll probably say something about it later when everyone's talking about something completely unrelated."

"Maybe it's only hard to tell what he's thinking because you're too busy yapping, since you always have something to say and make sure none of us are ever in any doubt as to what passes for thought in that tiny brain of yours," said the squad's sniper, looking up from his candy bar.

In an instant the candy bar was no longer in the sniper's hand. The snack was pinned to a nearby tree; the knife holding it there, of course, belonged to Giggles. "I wasn't fucking talking to you, Kazinsky."

The man's mouth was still open, as he'd been about to take another bite. He closed his mouth and made a sheepish look. "As I was about to say," he said, turning to Alhazred, thinking it best not to provoke Giggles further, "Looks like you came out of your trial by fire unharmed. Hope you gave 'em hell." He patted Alhazred on the back, gingerly, cautious around the new sapper, while Giggles retrieved the knife and the chocolate that now apparently belonged to her, smiling, apparently pleased with herself.

Alhazred nodded. He had been volunteered for re-training as an engineer to replace Frisky, the squad's popular, or rather, beloved, original sapper. After nine years with the squad, she'd been killed in an ambush not long ago in Yohannes. The losses from that conflict had been relatively light, but the squads felt each one intensely.

As the Haru advance had been a diversion, the enemy response to it was expected, even hoped for, but it had been Alhazred's first major operation in his new role as a sapper. It had helped that he'd been close enough to Frisky in the last nine years to learn a few things, she having taken him under her wing when he was but a 16 year old runaway, helping him stay alive in the chaos of the Southern Foray when most 17 year old recruits would have likely gotten a fatal bullet. But that made the loss all that much harder, and the experience of being Frisky's replacement all the more surreal.

The rest of the squad straightened, and he looked over to see Potshards and Bright Eyes striding up. Bright Eyes was one of the new recruits. Though he was twenty years old, he looked no older than fourteen, and perpetually either curious, surprised, or terrified. The fact that he now carried the gear of a machine-gunner, having replaced Alhazred at the job, made it all the more amusing.

"All right, get your gear in tow, we're moving out. We'll be advancing up to that firebase that our friends out on the water beat the crap out of not that long ago, up through that pass." At first, nine years ago when the old sergeant had been shot dead on the beach, Potshards had been awkward upon assuming the role of leading the squad, but no longer.

"We'll be riding up there? On the transports?" Anndat asked, one of the few to keep her original name.

Potshards smirked. "Not the whole way. We'll be part of a contingent with slightly different orders, which I'll explain on the way."

"Will Sunshine's company be joining us?" Kazinsky gestured over to where the grim captain was going between squads picking up Tagmatine paratroopers.

"Not sure about that. You know they never tell us everything," Potshards responded. "If she is, she'll be following along as soon as she's done herding paratroopers. And before you ask, no, I don't know if the Tagmatines will be coming with us or staying here to help the Vetokites and Haru with that enemy advance in Kabor. Further questions'll have to wait until we're on our way." Renewed shelling of the enemy firebase punctuated his remarks.
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Hills of Karthay, Shelled UFA Firebase

The majority of the combat units among the Batory 27th Army, known better as the Euxine Vipers, now raced up Karthay's winding hill roads. Having gotten in a few solid punches, to speak metaphorically, they had left their allies to deal with the Orycto advance in Kabor in order to complete their true objective. The enemy had for the time being seemingly overlooked their presence, and this could perhaps prove dangerous, as if anything, the Vipers were swift, more like Berserkers, though an army unit rather than part of the navy. Unloaded and operation by now, they were finally joined by their cavalry, their armor, though some had been left in reserve. Lighter tanks comprised the majority of such for this operation, given the terrain.

With frequent communication between army and navy assets, the hyperborean fleet had ended their bombardment of the firebase only a couple dozen seconds before Vipers assailed it, using similar tactics as the sappers had earlier, though offensively now, preparing the way for the onrushing rifle and machine-gun wielding troops.

[Machina Haruspex]

Fists of the Emperor
7th Black August Royal Tank Regiment
Colonial Legionary 7th Aero-Legion
Kabor City

An armor piercing high explosive round crumpled a section of the nearest building structure. Since the building was probably already weakened by artillery strikes, and not meant to be a hardened structure, it was easy prey for the S-94A Jelduno Main Battle Tank that crashed through another building. Mortar blocks, cement dust, and other debris trailed down the beast's form as gunfire rattled from the beast, cutting a red swath through the UFA forces that it encountered and or just laid down suppressive fire for good measure.

Gout's into the flesh of the earth were made by the roars of the armored column, throwing plumes of smoke and a spray of dirt in the form of fine mist and clods. Augustinian Caedalus, Sengar d'isto of the 7th Black August Royal Tank Regiment, waited, guarding a position that held a canal and had been a defended position before his arrival. The UFA would be sure to send troops this way, and he was to defend against such. The allies of the League were taking quite a beating, supposedly he might just find his own death, or so his commander had said. Promises, promises.

Nestled within the cupola of the great beast, the S-94a, he watched the one sided battle of a UFA unit being picked off. A rakish grin formed as he saw a rabbit of some kind with a light machine gun get his head split open like a watermelon and an M80 firecracker going off. The concrete dust and shrapnel littered the area as the support gunner keeled over and twitched a bit from still active nerves.

Yes, this was going smoothly. As long as they kept the spread out enemy infantry units from aiding their brethren, the purge of the enemy forces could be done in a methodical and precise fashion, allowing them to refocus their attention upon the advancing their forces northward to aid the Xukuthites position. A hand gesture to his junior ranked officers and the regiments engines rumbled to life.

The horizon was an orange and red mix, it was dark in this morning, and yet the sky was beautiful in it's most horrific of ways. The light, that mixture that burned the heavens was from the war. The constant barrages, rockets, airstrikes, that were pounding the city of Kabor and it's surrounding areas made for a sort of surreal experience in his eyes.

Not to be outdone, the HAF sent it's aerocraft screaming forth from the few colonial legionary carriers available, jet streams carved swathes through the blue sky, followed at times by crumpled metal spinning out of control spouting flames and dark smoke towards the ground in ear shattering explosions from the impact. Advancing, Siet-Khan Ke'Bar was playing a deadly game of hide and seek with the animal peoples of the UFA ground forces and their deadly mobile anti-aircraft vehicles and so forth.

Quickly pushed against the pedal with right foot while hand gripped the stick. Left hand against throttle control while Kenyet Altro adjusted the tracking and guidance system as the Mil-24E Hind thundered along, barely twenty meters above the ground. The 20mm Gatling cannon blazing spats of hate towards the enemy lines, assumed positions and like the tank regiment below, adding suppressive fire to the mix. Of course either side was trying to outflank the other. Ke'Bar's orders were clear though, drive the enemy soldiers to keep their heads down while the League forces advanced.

Altro broke him from his daydreaming however with a panicked scream, he blinked and looked at the tracker. A solid pinging sound of a beep echoed throughout the cockpit. He had only moments to close his eyelids before the gunship exploded outwards. The victim of a ground based R4 SAM, that had been fired from the courtyard of an abandoned apartment building.

0145
Sixty kilometers East of Karthaian Territorial Waters
Two hundred meters below the surface.

The amphibious-transport submarine HIN Ynnuf 12YD-SSN (Arrow), skippered by Prata Khan Calu. The Ynnuf, formerly a Crehehk Cuh (Shining Son) class submarine, had been converted in 2008 to support clandestine operations. The diesel-electric submarine was modified to carry approximately 60 troops plus four Eel delivery vehicles (EDVs) in two "wet" hangars on her bow. The EDVs were small, cylindrical shaped mini-submarines equipped with global positioning navigational equipment. Each one carried ten Haru Eel Kommandos, the elite of the underwater specialists within the Haru Legionary. Assisting them and accompanying for the first time ever, was an outside force. The Batory's Dragon Claw were welcome, if somewhat for the sake of the mission and to further learn more about their erstwhile allies.

Calu was currently standing on the cramped bridge, with the head of the Eel company, that of Sengar d'isto Naris. The man was his superior, but about the same age. Mid-twenties, and sporting the same shaven head look coupled with the re-breather. Unlike Calu, Naris had the 'masker' look with the goggles that emitted a halogen like bluish light. An artificial arm on the right, and plenty of scars. Unlike Calu also, Naris was Tagnik Zun, where as Calu was of the Mzil Velven House. Usually there was a high degree of animosity between each respective house, but this wasn't the place for such. Also Calu respected the senior officer, which was a different turn of events.

Naris had noted the junior officer and submarine commander was rapt when he spoke and well mannered. It meant he'd spare his life in the politiking that happened between the houses and out of the limelight of the public at large. The Dragon Claw officer was an unknown, but they would come to rely upon each other soon enough. Once we reach this position, we will need to launch. How much longer can this boat stay underwater Prata Khan Calu? A bit of a glance to the Khan of the boat, and the chief engineer. I'd say no more then eight hours tops, after that, we must surface. So plan on having seven hours for your mission. Naris nodded. For the Emperor and our Houses then.

Naris took stock of Calu then, the blonde hair, the slightly ruffled submariner uniform, the bridge crew, and then nodded to the other officer, The Dragon Claw officer, and then stepped through the hatchway into the open corridor. So many variables for this mission. The Rhydinian listening post was naturally stationed underwater, at the stem of a small atoll, it was said to be lightly defended. From the same sources who said the Rhydinian Navy could be handled. Wonderful he thought.

Occasional RIRN patrol submarines plied the waters, and enemy submarine fighters were always a possibility. There were other concerns, including a night underwater lock-out and launch from the Ynnuf in an under-powered EDV; a cold, submerged transit to the listening station in the confined and totally dark hold of the unproved free-flooding Mark VII vehicle; strong currents and tidal conditions; and the need for precise underwater navigation, of which even the global positioning system might or might not have. Forty men and women of the Emperor's and their allies Empress were preparing to risk their lives for a mission that could potentially change how the conflict at the moment went. Or it could be a grand trap or something could fuck up and go completely sideways.

He absently muttered his ideas on the subject to his counter part from the batorys special forces. The atypical wear of the Tagnik Zun was meant to survive all land conditions, even nuclear war, they could survive for a period of time in high rad conditions, enough to get the task done anyways. For the underwater aspects, the Eels were of the same equipment and functioning. They were highly trained professionals, who were ultimately expendable.

Naris looked over his command group and then took the moment to inform all. We are on the precipice of an event. This conflict has the potential to become a global one. Our enemy is dedicated, technologically advanced, possessing a will akin to a zealot. If I didn't know better, I'd say we were fighting our brothers and sisters of the House. In a way we are, as we all know amidst the exiles, the Renor Xun House left to stand by it's masters. He paused. There is a chance, they will be at this post. I am told it is a sensitive area, and they are usually in sensitive areas. Be mindful, be on your guard, take no prisoners.

He spoke the oath, for all to hear. Pa dra pmyta du dra ihcicbaldehk halg, pa dra ryhtc dryd pnayg dra femm, pa dra faybuhc uv dra Asbanun. (Be the blade to the unsuspecting neck, be the hands that break the will, be the weapons of the Emperor.) That serpentine speech, the heavy accent flowed forth and the heads of the officers bowed in unison before lifting up, illuminated eyes of blue that radiated a fierceness.

One by one they arose, and gathered their gear, heading for the EDV's of assignment. The Batorys Dragon Claw Officer was to accompany Naris, as were ten of the allies forces. He suited up and then plucked up the CBAR-N01. The naval version of the bullpup assault rifle that could fire underwater if need be. Climbing up the ladder rungs to the EDV, he took his seat upon one of the benches and nodded to the pilot after everyone was aboard. Begin.

0230
Kommando Launch

Hult'ah Kasin nodded towards his superior and adjusted his headset, then his diving controls before communicating with the submarine itself. The free-flood locks disengaged and the craft bounced upwards a moment before the propellers engaged. Launching the vehicle, of which was a seven-knot EDV in a four-knot current was extremely challenging, and required not only excellent driving skills but also a fine understanding of navigation as Kasin soon learned. The other mini-submarines were also in this situation, but their training paid off. Silent running, with no lights, the quartet of transports headed for the beacon.

Said beacon wasn't really a beacon per-say, but Haruspex External Security Services - HESS, had uncovered a man made signal originating with a clockwork regularity from this location. Preliminary recon had discovered a facility but the underwater ROV had been destroyed by an enemy sub-fighter after transmitting.

The trip wasn't long, forty minutes passed and then it was visible on the video screens outside the hull of the mini-subs. My lord we are passing through the magnetic field, and will be in hard docking range in eight minutes. There was a violent jump in the mini-sub, as passing through the field made the vehicle quiver as if it had been pounded on by a giant hammer or some such. Then it was over. Naris looked at the mini-sub pilot. Any damage? The pilot shook head no as maneuvering the submarine to the hatch dock.

There was a mild thump, and then the sound of the locks clicking one by one until a warning light showed on the pilots dash. My Lord we are secure. The lock on the docking portal has been over written and should unlock now. Naris nodded and slid from his position, the Dragon Claw soldiers were already at the ready and opening the hatch. Dribbles of water issued forth and then the hatch opened. Light spilled forth, blindingly so, Naris glanced about as he slowly stepped through the hatch, rifle stock to his shoulder, left hand tight against the forward hand grip, the silencer screwed on previous to disembarking.

It looked like a cargo area, several stacks of boxes and a double door hatch at the end of the area. Two man teams were advancing, and he quickly made hand gestures. Two to the right, two to the left, two to follow, the rest to cover as he advanced towards the doors. Methodical if slow approach, cautious as sliding up towards the door and then placing hand over the sensor. The door opened with a hissing sound of hydraulics and then he was out into the corridor, weapon at the ready, only to be greeted by nothing but recycled air as it flowed past. He motioned again, four to head behind wherever the corridor led, and four to advance with him to the next docking portal.

It was fortunate he ducked for a moment, as a sound whizzed above. It wasn't a bullet, but he could see what it was. Flechettes. The bastards were using Flechette rounds. Ambush! He yelled as he ducked against a bulkhead. Apparently not all quiet on the front as entry might have led them to believe. The rattle-hum of his rifles response, and then the staccato coughing sound of the hostiles weapons. Bloody good start he thought.

[Gratislavia]

War, it was inevitable, unavoidable, and entirely omnipresent in the current geopolitical spectrum that had enveloped the world. Yet still it eluded Kradenmark, a state content to sit idly in the northern confines of her Gholgothian domain. A state that tried to close out the world, content to watch nations obliterate each other on a whim. Yet isolationism created stagnation, economically and militarily. Discipline began to slacken, competition over markets was at an all time low and the economic situation had begun to show signs of recession. It was time for a re-entrance to world affairs, and the League provided a wonderful opportunity.

Determination was a wonderful thing, especially when it was attributed to an intelligent man. In saying such one could not argue that Crown Prince Friedrich Strauf was unintelligent. A mere twenty two years old the Prince had been around the world, serving in various foreign legions and extra-national organizations; all of which attributed to his military prowess. Now he would set his wit to battle against his own father, in a desperate attempt to end the stagnation that enveloped the Kradenmarken Kingdom.

"Hail König Strauf, your glory is unfading and eternal." Friedrich spoke in a loud voice as he strode into the inner confines of the Imperial Cabinetry Building, taken back a bit by the reverberation of his own voice against the massive dome-like structure. "I come before you humbly on this day, to address the conflict that is enveloping between The League of Imperial Nations, and The Unified Front Alliance; on the island-nation of Karthay."

The elder Strauf merely waved his hand, gesturing for his son to continue. "At current," Friedrich continued in a softer voice, "The League has shown that they will not be leaving the island easily in their occupation of the southern portions of the nation. However substantial submarine and generally maritime casualties have been reported by League outlets. While the exact numbers are not known we may assume that the devastation of League Submariner forces was complete." Friedrich paused, allotting full effect to the ominous statement. "In saying such, I would like to call upon the Kradenmarken nation to honor it's League membership, and aid in the assaults on Karthay!"

A tense air enveloped the room as all attention was turned towards the König himself. "Tell me my son, why should I devote the lives and resources of Kradenmark towards an organization who has not contacted us in over two months?" Lukas Strauf spat the words in anger, showing his general dislike of the idea.

"Father let us be completely honest, the lack of communication from the League rests on our shoulders and our shoulders alone. We cannot blame the League for our own inability to communicate, they are the ones if you remember, that are engaged in a multi-national conflict on foreign soils!" Friedrich spat back at his father.

Lukas thought for a moment, attempting to recollect his thoughts that had been scattered by his son's retort. "My son," he began again, "I have for the longest time attempted to test you militarily, politically, and economically all of which you appear to excel at. You not however, the leader of this nation, and you will be keen to remember that yet! In saying such," Lukas smiled slightly, "I shall grant you this boon. Assemble the forces you so desire and go in good faith. Bring glory to the Königreich, lest you be shammed upon your return to the nation."

---

121st Airborne Brigade, "Banshees"
3rd Paratrooper Regiment
Approaching LZ Uidmuug Buehd (Outlook Point)


It started as a clap, a loud call in the distance that barely reached the small squadron of aircraft that cut through the clear blue skies around Karthay. But as the planes grew nearer and nearer to their designated drop zone, the clap became a roar as artillery scorched and devastated the island nation. Scattering shells, shrapnel, and body parts all across the once peaceful terrain of Karthay. Kradenmark did not expect an easy battle, but none had predicted this level of decimation or the mass amounts of resources the enemy was pouring into the conflict.

In saying such, speculation began to run through the ranks of the Brigade, especially within the unit of one Sergeant Jonathan Rusheim. "I give us two days, if we don't get killed jumping into that shit, those bunnies will see our end." Remarked the sergeant with a laugh, ribbing at his companions who sat in stony silence around him. "What, you guys never heard a joke before?" The sergeant laughed again, "Look we'll be fine, all we have to do is wait out the storm until the main force relieves the League task force here in the south!"

Silence came again, this time being broken by a lowly private pale-faced private. "I don't know sir, I heard stories about them animal-people, heard they like to eat POWs that ain't true is it?"

"Course not, that's just a myth the intelligence officers spread around to mess with ya!" The sergeant responded a little too quickly, revealing his own lack of knowledge on the situation. "Look, just hit the ground, get into a defensive position, and hope to god the LZ is secure enough to accommodate our untimely arrival! Knowing our allies in the league I'm sure it wi-" A loud call from the pilot broke the unit's banter, and caused minor degrees of distress among the men.

"Twenty seconds to drop, I repeat twenty seconds to drop, initiate final equipment checks and prepare for front-line deployment, red light is on." The red fluorescent light attributed to all paratrooper aircraft filled the deployment compartment as men everywhere went through their final checks.

"Alright, into formation men, as soon as we get clearance to jump I expect you to get the fuck out of this plane, understand?" The sergeant staggered towards the planes exit, smiling with satisfaction as his men responded.

"Green light it on, initiate fast action deployment!"

The sergeant barely heard the call as he slapped his men on the back praying for deliverance as they jumped into the hell around Karthay. Just as the last man jumped from the aircraft he himself received a good to go pat from the load-master, and in an instance he cast himself into the mass conglomeration of bodies that filled the air between the LZ and the transport aircraft. Air struck his face violently as he plunged towards the LZ that awaited him, finally finding his ripcord he gave a valiant tug.

He seemed to hang suspended for a moment, then the gradual pull of gravity began to take effect as he and the men around him floated towards Outlook Point. With a thud he struck solid ground, and gave one last look up towards the heavens, laughing as the final men of his brigade struck Karthay for the first time.

[The Batorys]

It was a good thing that Dragon's Claw were trained to tolerate uncomfortable environments, for the cramped conditions of an EDV certainly would be one. Claustrophobia-inducing spaces were familiar territory for a long-serving Dragon's Claw, however, so the lack of space aboard the small craft they'd have did not faze Lisak. The lithe woman stood behind her Haru counterpart, Sengar d'isto Naris, while he discussed the operation with the skipper. Upon her briefing for the mission and then later upon meeting Naris, the Dragon's Claw had found it interesting that the Haru seemed to use their real names, even in this line of work, or at least they used pseudonyms that sounded like they could be real names. It had been decades since anyone except Roka Darvul had called her by her own birth name, which obviously was not Lisak.

Silently, Lisak followed Naris through the hatchway, her feet not making a sound even on the cold, hard deck. While the Haru thought of them as special forces, in truth the Dragon's Claw were not actually even soldiers, though most of them had been, before being invited into the ranks of the Dragon's Claw. Ranks which were, like so many other things, a closely guarded secret, known only to those inside the organization and to the Empress. Lisak smiled inwardly, as she knew that the information given to their Haru allies did not even specify her own rank, only that she was to be in command of the Dragon's Claw present, and that should she be killed in the course of the mission, a new commander would make him or herself known, though of course such had already been specified. The Haru would have to take their word for it, as there was nothing to visually distinguish Lisak as ranking above any of the other Dragon's Claw. They had no uniforms as such, though all wore drab clothing, mostly grey, but that was because each thought with cold practicality. A Dragon's Claw was free to choose any equipment he or she liked, including clothing, and it was quite rare for any agent to choose exactly the same gear or garb as another. Ironically, the mistress of the Dragon's Claw, Roka Darvul, had been one such exception during her more active days.

She mentally logged Naris' misgivings about the mission, and how risky it was, and responded in kind. "It is true, we could well already all be dead, and none of us would know it." Lisak left unsaid that she was already as good as dead, and so it didn't particularly matter if she came back. If anything, a death here might even be somewhat preferable to what lay ahead of her. During the last minute, extra briefing, she did not speak, having already informed the four Hands under her command of what lay ahead. Likewise, she remained silent during the Haru's oath.

She briefly checked her weapons, before following Naris into the EDV some of his Eels and her Hand would be sharing. Like most of the assassins under her command, she carried a modified SMG, altered to work better in wet conditions as well as to reduce noise, in addition, of course, to the myriad small melee weapons that the Dragon's Claw tended to prefer for their silence. The rest of her Hand followed her. Unfortunately, joint operations like this would expose to the Haru that the Dragon's Claw tended to operate in groups of five, but that was something that couldn't be avoided. Only three of her own Hand carried the SMG's, with the last two toting a shotgun and a rifle, respectively, to round out the group's ranged capabilities. Like the Haru, they had chosen a bullpup design to save space.

As the EDV launched, Lisak's melodious but slightly raspy voice gave a whisper before returning to usual silence. "The sun is dead, long live the night."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lisak reflected on the odd paradox of her life as they forced their way through the magnetic field, finally feeling the bump of touching down to their target. Her willingness to endure both physical and psychological discomfort for the Empire justified a lifestyle for which "comfortable" would be quite an understatement, when not on missions. But soon the time for contemplation ended, the hatch was open, the bright light eliciting groans of displeasure from her Hand's moroii members, and down they went, immediately seeking the shadows.

The room was well lit for a cargo storage area, but this sort of thing was expected. An assassin could not count on always being fortunate enough to work in low light levels, as anyone who wasn't an amateur at security would keep things as well lighted as possible to counter such covert operations. As they prepared to move forward, some of her assassins drew veils across their faces. In some situations it was advantageous, and had become somewhat customary, but Lisak didn't bother. It didn't matter if she'd be recognized.

Their small force edged out of the room and into the hallway in silence. In the light, as they moved between what shadows there were, the Dragon's Claw could be more closely observed by their Haru allies, if the latter were given to such. While they seemed to be an example of the wide ethnic variation in the Empire, almost all seemed to have the lean but strong bodies one might normally associate with dancers.

Just when it appeared that the Eel and Claw entrance had gone unnoticed, flechettes hissed through the air around them. Apparently the enemy was either prepared or they'd made too much noise upon arrival. And just like that, they were pinned down.

Lisak sidled up to Naris. "I'll see what we can do about this..." she said, followed by rapid hand signals to the other members of her Hand. As the rest put up covering fire, one reached forward and planted a small item just ahead of the bulkhead corner. "Don't look directly at it," Lisak advised Naris, before moving ahead.

An instant before it appeared that she and two other Dragon's Claw were about to walk right into the enemy line of fire, the item began emitting flashing pulses... a small, highly directional strobe light, a rarely used trick, but an effective one when darkness was not available to shield movements. Right after the first flash, the three assassins whipped throwing knives towards the enemy and then were themselves among them, and the reason that so many Dragon's Claw looking like dancers became apparent to anyone who could see what was going on as they darted from one enemy to another with near perfect efficiency of motion, agile and graceful, somber as if taking part in some ancient and sacred, albeit macabre, ritual.

Though the Dragon's Claw embraced technology these days, they still made heavy use of that ancient and ever-so-versatile tool, the knife. Certainly, its range was limited, but it was ever so effective at killing with relatively little noise, a skilled wielder being able to sever the windpipe and jugular vein all in one motion, or puncture a lung, or even both. Some few, more sadistic practitioners of the Dragon's Claw's variety of killing arts, often went for the groin, finding most victims unable to vocalize much through such pain. But specific methods did not matter, so long as with cold efficiency the missions were completed, with a minimum of fuss. Security personnel were obstacles. Bypassed when possible without endangering the mission, eliminated when such was not possible, no matter the difficulty or cost. The Empress expected results.

While Lisak was indeed skilled at the traditional art form that the Dragon's Claw had made the use of knives, she was not overly sadistic, unlike the infamous Darvuls. Whichever wound would take the opposition out of commission the fastest, whichever method of removing such road blocks could be most easily implemented. On what would be her last mission, she held nothing back, her now-bloodied knives moving in a blur, tearing through her enemy, and then while that one dropped to the floor, another, as her two fellow Dragon's Claw did likewise, engaging in just the sort of work that their profession existed to complete.

[Holstria]

The battle raged on this foreign beach as Holstrians and UFA forces bled each other to death. As Captain Van Dorn took cover behind a disabled AAV he grabbed his radio man and began screaming into the radio for aid. It wasn't long after that two Tornadoes were launched and sent forward, several flak rounds flying past them as they came in from the distance. The massive crowd of men around him were sending rounds down range or firing off grenades into the distance, suddenly Van Down could hear the roar of engines.

Just as Van Dorn saw them a mortar round came in and sent three men to their deaths. The rounds and artillery were taking their toll, small sections had been set up and were responding greatly but were obviously not providing enough firepower, the occasional single round killing a soldier. The engineers had done their part though and had cleared several sections for the tanks, as for now the Schwarze Garde could only fire back and pick off as many defenders as they could, who were still bombarding the beach with artillery in order to save themselves, already several nested positions and pillboxes had been supressed or blown out, only after a great sacrifice on the Holstrians part.

As the two Tornadoes came in they opened fire with rockets, sending down towards the lines and positions of the defenders. It was clear they were dug in deep, but with Air support the Holstrian landing forces may be able to shake them off and send them back towards the rest of the UFA's positions, the only question being, how many lives would it cost?

[Oryctolagus cuniculus]

Defense of the Line

The enemy ordinance landing on the fire-base and the surrounding areas of the first defensive line was deafening and awe inspiring really. Sergeant Major Dadro had lived through two of them so far. From his estimation, the rounds now landing amidst the leftovers of his command were coming from the sea or near enough it. Land based artillery wasn't capable of hitting them so roughly, nor were the calibers right. No definitely not, he thought, this had to be the result of battle-wagons being turned upon them. The Haru must have called in for reinforcements during their last shelling of the outermost fire-base to the sea port.

The level of shelling had eventually subsided however, which meant an army was on the move. Hard to tell which, it could be the ubiquitous Haru and their odd combat stylings, or it could be the Batory, or any of the League allied nations for that matter. His job was not to wonder which, but to kill any who came. Even with his forces in disarray, he could still fight. He to could call for reinforcements, and had done so during the most recent shelling. As salvos landed against the wreckage of the line, he'd been in contact with Karthay military command.

Two regiments had come down the supply road, one of infantry of the 167th Tuurs (Stoats) and the 11th Rhydinian Armored Corps. The rather nasty looking Black Jack main battle tanks, accompanied by a host of mobile anti-aircraft and infantry fighting vehicles packed with orycto legionary had arrived just a bit ago. With orders to his command, as well as receiving a new officer, and much to his surprise a battlefield promotion to the rank of Leftenant. A salute to his new Captain and then began an on the spot tour of what was left.

" Sir, we have lost the main artillery line, most of our anti-tank defensive vehicles, most of established anti-aircraft pits, several pillboxes, and a fair number of the line itself has been completely lost due to the precision naval shelling from the enemy fleet near the sea port." Captain Avalus nodded his head, like the newly appointed Leftenant, he was a rabbit, more appropriately that of the mountain hare variety. His coat was an off brown where visible from beneath the uniform, and he already had more then a few recent scars. He addressed Dadro as looking on. " Well, we have begun as you suggested to position infantry and anti-infantry weapons, as well as anti-tank teams in key positions. The armor will support and engage enemy forces, luring them into artillery range of the guns the 167th managed to bring with them."

Dadro nodded his head, one ear cut in half, though that was the least of his worries at the moment. " I have seen them sir, SRH-2's. Light 75mm cannon, good for suppressive fire and when concentrated can take out enemy tanks. Though for the most part they will be used as suppression, to keep the enemy infantry at bay. " Avalus nodded as he clambered about a bit, through the muck and mud and what have you that surrounded this dirty little position of the line. " Mobile artillery further north is also deployed. Katushka's and the like, they will rain rocket fire on the port and the valley between. This should set the mood for the enemy, and keep them disorientated. With forces holding the urban line, we must hold the route to the central districts and the airport. Our enemy must not be allowed to reinforce what is left of the Xukuthites."

Dadro nodded again, glancing over the line and the distant valley's flatland and brush. " We've about two hours at maximum sir, before the first advance of the enemy will be in range I'd imagine. " Avalus chuckled a bit. " Indeed Leftenant Dadro, I wonder, where has such a capable officer like you been all this time? Hmm..instruct the armored corps to maneuver into position. Don't want the League catching us in a bad light." Salute came up. " Roger that sir, off I go."

Avalus watched a moment as the older scrub hare bounded about, heading towards the Rhydinian tank commander that was poking his head and frame out of the Black Jack's cupola with a map in one hand and field optics about the neck, hanging against chest. Attention soon wavered towards the line however, and what lay beyond it. Swagger stick smacked against jackboots as he spoke to himself. " Well then you bastards, come on then."

[Canini]

Colonel Savren's reinforcements had run into a bit of a snag so to speak. Pressing through the foilage of the jungle like terrain, something of an enviroment that was not at all to their liking, especially that of Lt. Colonel Ryune. He hated this land, these people, and more then anything, he hated the sweltering heat. On top of that, now they were engaging an enemy that had never been fought before. Takhisians.

Supposedly they wore armor that made them look like knights, yet carried assault rifles. Probably the most technologically behind people in this war, save maybe the Tagmatium miliary forces, of which had the good sensibility to try and land para-troops on the island, amidst meat grinder anti-aircraft fire, well that's one way to thin out the population he reckoned. Aside from the interesting makeup and attire of his new enemy, was their fierceness, and apparently a skill in this sort of warfare. It was partisan in likeness to be honest.

Where they pushed, they evaded, when they pulled back, they struck in force. Neverending back and forth, which made one wonder about the true size of the enemy force more then once. As the regulars of the 77th regiment pushed ahead of their brothers and sisters, the stattaco of weapons fire became apparent. The burnt ozone of numerous matchgrade weapons releasing rounds. The earth and the vegetation pockmarked by rounds, grenades, and more. Bodies, bodies were everywhere. Some were slumped over their positions, others where they had fallen, either advancing or retreating.

He had to give them their courage. Such fine enemies indeed, to give them all their beautiful deaths as they so desired. The warrior heart in Ryune surged forth, beating with renewed vigor at the display. They fought to the last, no surrender asked, and in the case of the Canini, it would never be given, for those were the orders of the UFA Command. No prisoners, no mercy, crush the enemy.

As his command vehicle pushed through the thick jungle, the digging blade perfect for aiding the pushing and or cutting down of the growth of the jungle itself, forging a path not only for itself but for those behind it. Creaking, clanking, shrieking of gears as treads clawed, groped, and mashed the earth into a path towards the holdout of the enemy. A temple ruin, once bypassed by his forces had become the battleground for several hours.

A buzzing sound, and calls for alarm as heavy machineguns rattled away. He had to see it to disbelieve it. A push-prop fighter danced away, cork-screwing into the heavens after a strafing run. The silver hued airframe glinting in the morning light as it vanished into the clouds. Who by the gods still used those, and then a call for alarm as another strange vehicle appeared on one of the logging roads. It was an armored vehicle of some kind, a tank, he was sure it was a tank, but it had two cannon. One in a top hat like turret,a nd the other in lower and just off center. The vehicle recoiled a bit, as the top most cannon fired! The whistling and impact of the shell tore apart a light jeep, splintering the area with hot metal and fragments.

Swooshing sounds filled the air as rocket propelled grenades struck the strange tank and it buckled a moment before turning into a burning wreckage. Coming to a stop off the side of the road, and into a loose ditch of which it went into at an angle and heaved sideways, left hand track raised into the air still churning for a few moments.

Madness he thought. Who would use such designs, still, in this day and age! Glanced at his infantry officers and waved them ahead. It was time to put the Takhisians out of this war, and the first step was to take the ruins and then the sea-defensive line again.

The Ruins

Infantry officer Nev advanced through a section of the ruins. The air was not silent, nor quiet. The steady buzzsaw of heavy machinegun fire. The crackle of assault rifles, the sharp retort of rifles and so on. Now and then the crumping explosion of a mortar, or the lesser banging of a grenade reached one's ears. He motioned his troops to be alert and the rifle at the ready, advanced.

Corner of his eye he spied movement and swung his assault rifle round, bead eyed and trigger pressed. A short burst and a muffled yell as the body staggered and then dropped. However this attracted attention and he found himself finding cover behind stones as opposition return fire was given back. A trooper caught several rounds to the head, slumping down and into a fetal position as his troops dispersed and responded in kind. The joys of war indeed..

[Vetok]

1st Company
Kabor LZ

"Shit shit shit!" bellowed Elliot Thompson. At twenty he was one of the youngest in 2nd Platoon, which itself was just forty metres away from McHale's own 1st Platoon. The stout blond was trying to hold in the guts of his friend Terry, stomach opened by a frag grenade's scything shrapnel. His hands were already stained red from his desperate grip, as he called out. "Medic!" he shouted in a voice cracking with fear, desperate for Keithen, the attractive redhead who was their medic. Where the hell was she? "Elliot, shut it boy! There's other casualties the medic has to deal with," growled his squad sergeant. The grizzled veteran leaned over anyway, his hands guiding Elliot's. "Now you keep pressure there, and there. Yeah, that's it boy. You're doing good." He got up, moving along the line of the squad as he directed their fire, leaving Elliot to hold down Terry. The older man's eyes began to glaze over, and Elliot screamed again for her. "Hold your hair Thompson, dammit," She cursed as she scrambled over the loose rubble of what had been a warehouse's wall, tumbled along the road in which Elliot tried to shelter, hand scrabbling to open her bag. Tugging out a vial of morphine, she fetched a needle then stopped. "Shit," she murmured, "I can't give him morph. It'd fuck his pressure up." By now Terry had begun to thrash, arms flailing about while his eyes rolled back in their sockets and he wailed piteously. It was a piercing sound and distracted Elliot while he tried to hold his friend's arms while the medic grabbed dressings to pack the wound. "Hold him down dammit!" she snarled at Elliot. As he grappled with the desperately wounded man, he reflected that under any other circumstances he'd be pretty damn glad to see Keithen, since she had a nice smile when she had a mind to it. Right now that nice mouth was curled up in a grimace as she tried to save Terry's life.

Overhead shells began to wail in, plummeting down onto the street, the concussion knocking troops down while the explosions and shrapnel killed those close enough. He grabbed Keithen, pulling her down to shelter her before she slapped his hands off. "Screw you, I'm working here!" He said nothing, simply covering his head with his arms and leaning over Terry as more went off. Finally they stopped, the ground finally ceasing its fervent tremble. He leaned back, watching in confusion as Keithen rocked back on her heels, wiping a bloody hand down her dirty face. She never wore her helmet, always keeping it cinched on her belt. "He's gone, bled-out. Sorry Elliot." He just looked at her tidying her triage kit as she got ready to leave in silent disbelief. "I'm sorry sweetie," she said, a sad smile on her face. Unlike him she was a combat medic, and a veteran to boot. This was his first battle, and it showed. "I need t-" she was cut off. A shell whistled in, killing two of Elliot's squad. A single, small piece of shrapnel spun off, whirling end over end, slicing straight through Kiethen's throat. Blood spurted out, covering Elliot and the body with its spatter. She fell on her side, twitching as her mouth contorted in tortured efforts to make a sound, her heels drumming on the asphalt, before she died with a sigh, hands falling from the crimson ruin of her exposed throat.

At the far end of the street the smoke began to swirl as the enemy pushed through it. The thud of artillery far-off was quickly replaced by the sound of gunfire as the platoon rallied, gunners with their LSW's pushing forwards to volley rounds as if on the range. Others joined in, the heavy crack of the E1-M62's firing alongside the LSW's. A large swarm appeared, human figures through the haze like ghosts. Then their true nature was revealed as the smoke rolled back. Elliot had his rifle in his hands, scanning downrange. He leaned back, turning to his surviving squadmates. "They're rabbits. Rabbits."
"Yeah, didn't you hear?" called Daniel, their machinegunner. He turned back, squeezing off a few more rounds, gun bucking into his bruised shoulder. "They're walking rabbits. And stoats and shit. Weird huh?" He just shrugged it off and turned back to the killing.
Elliot didn't say anything, just staring at Daniel and the enemy. He envied him. He'd just accepted that Terry and Keithen were dead and now he was machinegunning the...things, as if they weren't walking animals. The absurdity struck him, making him laugh as he clutched his rifle. It wasn't the laugh he'd known at home, laughing at a friend's joke or a comedy on television. This was fear and panic grabbing him, forcing him to laugh because he just couldn't cope. He looked over at Terry, stretched out on the ground with his guts slowly oozing out, Keithen lying there, looking at him with dead eyes. That was all he could see, dead eyes and the bloody ruin of her throat. Tears ran down his face inside the mask of the helmet, body shuddering as he tried to contain the manic laughter.

On the far side of the warehouse, Sergeant-Major McHale was desperately trying to hold his men together as the Orycto pushed forwards with armoured support. They seemed to be thronging around the border of the Karthayan countryside where it met Kabor's buildings. Most seemed to be IFV's, with a few light tanks supporting them as they pushed through rubble-strewn streets, pushing back the Vetokites. The irony that the Orycto were using the same Hoplite tank as the Vetokites did wasn't lost on him. One of them, its hull scraping the buildings on either side at shoulder-height, was nosing its way down the narrow street, its lean cannon recoiling as a house exploded in a cloud of dust and rubble clattered to the ground. "Gunner!" he roared back down the ranks. His squad's missile operator rushed forward, one hand holding the M15 ALAW on his shoulder while the other kept a firm hold of the reload bag. He knelt down, hand reaching into the bag for a AT warhead before pitching over backwards, body armour punctured over and over by a machine gun concealed ahead. The tank began to fire its co-axial, brief spurts of chattering fire killing soldiers.

McHale cursed, sheltering behind the corner of the warehouse's door that opened into a small office. Inside were another five troopers. One of them was Jen, the third squad's sharpshooter, the other four a mix of troopers from the first and third squads. "Well boys and girls, how's it going?" he grinned, the helmet hiding the expression behind its smooth appearance. Deadpan, enthusiastic, all the responses had one thing in common. That underlying note of panic, hidden in every nuance of every word. Hell, who wouldn't be scared with the enemy outnumbering them and tanks pushing down the street? Dust shook loose from the ceiling as the room was shaken, the cannonfire closer than before. He turned to the small remnant that was gathered with him, knowing he had to raise their spirits. "So, you lot here for the scenic warehouses?" he carried on. It was vital to get them motivated if he was going to do what he had a horrible feeling he'd have to do. A burst of static interrupted him, and he pressed a finger to his ear as if to make the earpiece clearer. "This is Charlie-Sierra-Oscar, repeat your last, over."

This time the signal was clearer. "Charlie-Sierra-Oscar, this is Whiskey-Sierra-Tango. Target's eyeballed, requesting forward obbo adjustment." McHale whooped. "Fucking A. Whiskey-Sierra-Oscar, fire target round." He leaned out slightly, one 'eye' of his helmet peeking around the corner in anticipation. One solitary mortar bomb, thrown from the company's attached 57mm mortar section whirled in overhead, the sound lost in the overwhelming din of gunfire and the rumble of armoured vehicles. It landed just ahead of the Hoplite, the close impact of the blast making the light tank shiver. "Adjust fire Plus Five metres, fire for effect," he ordered. Now they came in faster, each of the five mortars firing a round off every ten seconds. The Hoplite's crew did the sensible thing and simply buttoned down, trusting that their armour would hold off the force of a mortar round if one landed square on top of it. It was about fifteen metres down the road, and the body of their AT gunner was three metres away. It was a gamble, certainly, but McHale reckoned wars were built on those. "Cover me!" he ordered, running out of the office at full pelt, still crouched over. In any other circumstances, it'd be hilarious, but in war the most stupid things, as the saying went, weren't stupid if they saved your life.

Behind him he could hear the others opening fire, the intense crack competing with the rainfall of mortars for what was the louder sound. Bullets began to pock the round as he ran, random shots from the Orycto soldiers as they tried to bring him down. He dropped, skidding on his knees towards the body, quickly grabbing the ALAW, checking it over to make sure the tube hadn't been dented or the weapon would just kill him instead. The few Vetokites lifting their heads out marvelled at the fact that not one bullet had hit him, hoping that he would succeed. Slinging the canvas satchel over one arm, he settled the launcher on the other, shaking his head out like a pianist before a performance. "Suck it you rabbit bastards!" he bellowed, hoping, no, praying rather that it'd make him feel better to be doing something so stupid. He slapped the trigger, the tube bucking upwards as the missile leapt out and flew right into the tank, seemingly as if straight down the fat barrel of the warmachine. It was a miracle shot, some would say in years to come, the fact that McHale hadn't properly compensated for recoil lifting the rocket up like that. He grinned behind his helmet as it exploded into a blazing fireball, right before the bullets tore into him from one of the Orycto soldiers, pitching him onto his back. Still grinning, he raised a lazy middle finger, whispering to himself, "You sucked on it." His head lolled as he lapsed into unconsciousness, hand still grasping the ALAW as desperate calls rang out.

Apologies for the fact that I've not covered any other areas, such as the aerial battle, my landing on another beach, and my response to my failed missile barrage, but I've felt a lack of effort on my part when I tried writing other parts of what were to be a mega-post, so I leave you all with this. I will endeavour to have those parts of the RP up later.

[Ser Di Haruk]

Karthay Seas
Vice-Admiral Ulan's Flagship, Krumlov
Harukian Republic Navy.

As the missile barrages went back and forth between strike fleets at the forefront, it had been noted that the mainstay of enemy forces appeared to be frigates and or heavy cruisers. A vast majority also appeared to be specialized in the fashion of being guided missile vessels. With ten Cbayn class dreadnoughts, his pocket battleship strike fleet had a strong punch to it. Supported by cruisers and frigates as well, the fleet had close to fifty vessels within it, made purely for the push in likeness to something a ground army was more familiar with what with their tanks and so on.

He turned to his subordinate, Tadal (Rear Admiral), Venik Farn of whom was already at attention waiting for an order in the white dress uniform that could blind a man if a light was shown upon it. A faint nod, no words needed to be given, such time had been served together that his bodylanguage was more then recoginizable. He waited for it and soon enough the fiery Tadal yelled orders that nearly made he, himself wince.

" Signal the Tystalaes (Captains) of the vessels in support to our commander's and give them the order to move forth! We are to crush the enemy! " Venik was of the southern breed of Harukian who had an almost indiscernable accent when he got excited or angry for that matter. Almost a brogue if you will, and his face would go bright red from his shouting and yelling at crew members to do their jobs and do them properly. Cock of the walk and terror to the junior officers was that of Venik.

Ulan continued to stare through the imaging optics towards the distant enemy fleet, that would not be so distant given enough time. The waves crashed against the hull of the command ship, as he lifted his right arm, noting that they would be coming into extreme shelling range soon enough for the frontal force composed of four Cbayns. Their two-hundred-forty millimeter electro-thermal cannons werent as new as the later series dreadnoughts that had come after purchase, but they were deadly enough.

A Shasal Orolaes (Ensign) reported, with headset in place, from the weapons command and control station. " Sir, we are at maximum range and ready to fire. All ships report readiness! " Ulan nodded a moment, waiting as the seas invited him to a picturesque pause, the sky filled with plumes of smoke, fire, ash, and the ocean itself drowning sailors from either side alike as so much sacrifices to gods old and new. He stared for a time as the crew went quiet. He didnt turn around to give a speech, or motiviate them any, thats what adrenalin was for. " Fire! "

" All ships firing Sir! " The Shasal Orolaes reported the confirmation order and the big guns caused reverbrations throughout the whole of the ship and the fleet as they barked, launching a first strike salvo against the combined League fleet that was in the prcoess of regrouping and the trailing Xukuthite naval vessels as his naval force breached the gap between forces, pressing into the combat area with a fierceness unbecoming. As the frontal group expended munitions at maximum range, this was to be the same for the secondary four and the support cruisers who also let loose their anti-shipping missiles and or anti-aircraft missiles. The remaining two in the contingent were already breaking from the main force, attempting to lead a small contingent of heavy cruisers towards the coastline. The plan was to form a small pincer and harrass and or crush the forces already making landfall near the defended coastline.

2nd Support Carrier Fleet
Jhoraelal Tystalaes (Commander) Tyrul Halva
Flagship, Havasu
Harukian Republic Navy

Watching as they trailed the dreadnought push force, he whistled softly watching the lead ships began to fire their main guns. Weathered face suffered a crack as he smiled somewhat, remarking offhandedly to his friend and subordinate, Jhoraelal (Lt. Commander) Ghans Tyvim. " The old man is really doing it, alright, signal the pilots and the other ship commanders that we are launching aircraft to begin low level strikes against League naval and land based targets." Ghans nodded as he replied. " Aye sir, passing the orders on."

Tyrul's contingent of four carriers and a smattering of cruisers, frigates and corvettes were to support Vice-Admiral Ulan, as well as begin preperations for anti-shipping/anti-ground forces runs seeing as they were amongst the closest carrier borne forces besides those of the north port occupation forces. The slight quake felt in the command tower as the catapults hissed and ka-thunked at the end of the flat top's expanse. Single engined HAD S37 Nyddman Naval variants were lifting off from his own vessel as well as the others in timely fashion.

While not as new as the fighters borne of the League, the HAD S37 Nyddman-N was exceptional at it's task. Modified to carry a typical bombload of sixteen Rb-04 solid-fuel antiship missiles plus a centerline tank. The Rb-04 was a BSM clone of the more popular HIA P-800-C Anti-Ship Missile with more or less the same results but utilizing a visual guidance system. For ground saturation, the same fighter that weilded this anti-shipping threat, also carries unguided rocket pods of the Bofors M70 type and series. Six 135 millimeter (5.3 inch) rockets, these can be fitted with high-explosive or fragmentation warheads and the HAD S37 can carry four such pods, with two on the pylons under the inlets and one on each wing. For added self defense, the S37 carries four ASRAAM air to air missiles which are still quite effective against even newer aircraft, especially interceptors.

While the interceptors, especially the Batory ones were troubling, the multi-roles could handle their own, and with their defenses would more then prove troubling. Aided in this aspect, were RIRN fighters joining the push, and as such, more advanced fighters were being put to the skies to in turn hunt down the problem that he worried over. Still, low level attacks were hard to defend against, especially if enemy interceptors were also in the air. Speaking of the RIRN, a trio of LY909A Sparrowhawk's darted past.

Cup of coffee handed over by Ghans as he nodded thanks, the push was going to be dramatic, for either side. He hoped he'd live through this experience personally, getting all that much closer to the League naval forces was not an idea he was overly keen on at the moment. They'd been hurt, but not enough, and especially not the Xukuth despite the pounding the first wave had given them, surprisingly they were still afloat and stinging away. Uncalled for he thought, they should at least have the common decency to sink.

[Tagmatium]

It had been quiet for the five or so minutes, or at least it had been relatively quiet. The background noise of a warzone was fairly distant, not really going above a vague crackling and nicely distant sound of explosions. The fact that it had been quiet meant Peltastos Vandopoulos was able to cut himself down using his hemi-paramerion. His parachute had caught on a street sign just as he landed, so he had to spend a few painful minutes hacking through nylon cords with his overlong knife. The paratrooper hated to imagine what would have happened had this area been hot, or the Batorys had been pushed back towards them. He shivered slightly to himself when he heard the rumours that had been going around his kentarkhon about those barbaroi. Bloodsuckers…

He shoved his knife back into its sheath and kicked his feet out of the remains of the straps before legging it towards an open shop door. The man who had exited the aeroplane in front of him, his fire-team’s machine gunner, had fallen on the other side of the fence that was next to the shop. He crouched and worked his way inside the building, rifle ready. Vandopoulos moved slowly, picking his way carefully through the detritus that was scattered across the shop floor. Some sort of heavy ordnance had landed nearby and had thrown the shop’s contents from the shelving and displays. The Tagmatine stopped for a moment, trying to hear noise from the outside of the shop. He strained to see anything moving deeper inside the store. A movement in the dark made him curse and he flipped on his night vision with one hand before moving it back to the rifle’s fore-grip.

The movement was the machine gunner rooting through a pile of merchandise at the back of the store. He looked over towards Vandopoulos and nodded at him, gesturing with a hand towards a couple of bottles of booze. He was already wearing his NVGs, making Vandopoulos feel like a moron for walking around without them on.

“I’ve stuffed as much as I can into the bags, but I don’t think I ought to dump anything to make room for more.”

Sure enough, the machine gunner was laden with bottles and boxes. There was even a wine bottle shoved into his belt. Vandopoulos shook his head. The machine gunner was a thin man, whose uniform hung off him and he tottered under the weight of his gun and ammunition at the best of times. Now that he’d added a few more kilos, he looked as if he might fall down at any moment. The machine-gunner grinned at the other Peltastos through his beard.

“Just dump that shit, man,” said Vandopoulos, banishing the smile from the other man’s face. “Chuck it away. We’re not in some garrison or anything, we’re in some shithole city that’s getting blown up. We might even be behind enemy lines.”

He shook his head, wondering at the machine gunner, whilst helping to pull bottles from the man’s webbing. It had seemed like some sick joke that they’d made his fire-team’s MG armed paratrooper from the ex-clerk, the only one who’d never fired his gun in anger. Vandopoulos made sure that the machine-gunner was looking away when he shoved a bottle of rum into one of his own pouches. Both men then move towards the shop door, taking up position and covering the street beyond.

“You seen anyone else, Vando?” the machine gunner said, fiddling with the chip strap of his helmet with one hand and cradling the weight of his MG with the other. “I’ve been listening to the ‘net, but I’ve not heard much.”

“Not had the chance to check yet,” replied Vandopoulos. He set down his rifle and pulled up his PDA. “Cover me, I want to take a look.”

He checked the tactical map and the GPS, trying to work out where they were. In his brief spell outside, there weren’t any landmarks that he recognised. Judging from the artillery that was being thrown around, they could well have been exactly where they needed to be. The landmarks themselves could be gone. The map showed that they were about a kilometre off from where they should have been, however. Vandopoulos pushed his bowl-helmet up and itched at his head before pushing it back down.

“Damn, we’re well off.”

Both men looked up as the gunfire outside became suddenly immediate and intense, lighting the street outside up with strobing effects. The air was full of tracer fire going up towards the third wave of Tagmatine aircraft above. Bigger explosions marked planes getting hit, plummeting towards the ground. They watched for moment in silence before exchanging glances. Neither man said anything as they pulled themselves up and headed out of the door. They skulked along the street, using the cover as they moved towards the drop zone, ducking as cannon fire roared over head.

By Vandopoulos’ estimation, it was the 12th Droungos that was getting mauled by the gunfire. He shuddered under his body armour and uniform, thanking Christ, God, all the saints and anyone else that he could think of that it wasn’t him who was dropping through this. A noise to their right caused both Vandopolous and the machine-gunner to look around. A parachute had landed in the middle of the street, covering its user. They exchanged a glance for a moment, seeing who would break first. Vandopoulos sighed loudly, almost theatrically.

“Cover me.”

At the terse command the machine-gunner unslung his firearm and slid into a firing position, trying to cover both ends of the street as best as he could. The other paratrooper broke from the cover afforded by the walls that lined the streets and moved towards the parachute. He could feel his heart pounded against his ribcage, his palms sweaty against the grip of his assault rifle. Vandopoulos was a veteran of Eastea. The territory had been conquered in 2006 and was barely pacified. He wasn’t unused to the carnage of combat, but he really didn’t want to see what lay under that parachute.

Gingerly, he reached out and grabbed the fabric, pulling it towards him. He took one look at the ragged mess underneath it before letting the parachute drop back, an impromptu funeral shroud. Vandopoulos silently pulled the bottle he’d stashed away in his webbing, unscrewed the cap and took a long pull before shoving it back. He shook himself like a dog and then moved back towards the machine-gunner, who didn’t raise any comment about the bottle of booze.

Silently, the machine-gunner moved from his covering position and behind the other Tagmatine as they trudged towards the DMZ. He was glad that Vandopoulos had checked under the parachute. He’d never seen death at close quarters, even though he was a career soldier. The short but bloody Civil War of 2005 had passed him by without much affect on him and he’d spent the intervening years dealing with the paperwork that an army produced, quietly working away. It was only when a new superior had noticed that he was drawing pay for two entirely fictional soldiers that he’d been given a choice – either join the Parachute Peltastoi or get kicked out of the army. Tagmatine society was fairly militaristic and being drummed out of the armed forces was almost unthinkable. But the Parachute Peltastoi seemed like the best option at the time. Now, like so many others, he doubted whether that had been the right choice to make. He looked up at the tracer fire and shook his head. It was probably the last thought of so many of those poor fuckers.

Neither man spoke for a while. Vandopoulos had sunken into an uncommunicative silence, only directing his section-mate with wordless gestures. The machine-gunner was glad that the other paratrooper hadn’t decided to keep taking swigs from the bottle; the last thing he wanted was the more experienced soldier to be drunk.

Vandopoulos’ right hand snapped up and both men dropped into a crouch. Not a word was exchanged, but both were ready with their weapons, scanning the street with their NVGs.

“Bats.”

The machine-gunner looked up and around. It wasn’t the time or the place to comment on the local wild life. Personally, he was surprised that there were even any of the creatures around at the moment, but then where else would they go? They probably were as scared of the war as the human occupants of Karthay.

As if he knew what the machine-gunner was thinking, Vandopoulos extended his arm again and give the man a knock on his bowl-helmet.

“Not the fucking animals. The barbaroi. Batorys.”

At least they kind of looked like Batorys soldiers. The machine-gunner thought they only had a passing resemblance to the recognition images they’d been shown in the debriefings before getting on the planes. These ones truly looked barbaric, inspiring an odd mixture of contempt and apprehension in both Tagmatines. Nonetheless, they followed them when they were directed to.

---

At the sound of explosions, the Hekatontarkhes flinched. Everything sounded loud outside the armoured shell of a main battle tank. Urban fighting like this meant that he was a bit happier about being outside, on foot. The Batorys ambush, and the orange glow of the Haru attack, showed how ineffective armoured vehicles could be cooped up in a city. He allowed his assault rifle to drop on its sling and he took off his helmet, rubbing a hand across his brow. He was glad that the Batorys had taken on the job of herding the Tagmatine paratroopers back together – he didn’t really think that his compatriots were necessarily up to the task. It was almost a farce, really. The barrage laid down by the Batorys’ naval support seemed to have slackened the metal storm that was beating against the rest of the Peltastoi as they attempted to land, but he held little hope for the coherency of those units.

“Sounds like your sappers are doing a good job, Scamper.” Weird, weird name. The Hekatontarkhes wondered why the man had bothered translating it for him. Probably because the proud barbarian would be offended by the civilised Tagmatine butchering his heathen name. The Tagmatine officer winced to himself and made a mental note to try not to think like that. Barbarians they may be, but they’d shown themselves to be more effective than his own forces so far.

“Thanks for herding my lads together. I know you’ve probably got better things to be doing than holding our hands.”

More movement towards the outskirts of the DMZ. More Tagmatines either making their own way or being guided by Batorys soldiers. He shook his head at it. He was damned glad that his unit had been in the first wave. The third wave was being shredded. He wondered if the high-ups had even considered they might hit dug-in anti-aircraft positions. Probably not. The Peltastoi had only been used as air-delivered infantry support during the AdSoc War, dropped in to hold ground so that the front-line infantry could continue advancing in the wake of the cavalry.

He moved away from the Batorys, towards his own soldiers. He pulled out his PDA, checking through the identifying markers of the soldiers. It looked like most of his own company was down. This DMZ was that of his own unit, the 10th Droungos. The Tagmatine had been listening with half an ear to the command channel, listening to the chatter as it came in. By the sounds of it, the Droungos and his command staff hadn’t actually made it down – they’d been unlucky enough to catch a stray round at least twenty minutes before the AA barrage had opened up. Shit happens, he supposed.

The high-ranking surviving officer, the commander of the Hekatontarkhes’ battalion, had issued orders saying that the 12th Droungos was to ‘give aide to the forces of the League as best as could be done’. What the fuck did that even mean?

“Well, Scamper. I suspect we might be with you for a while.”

The Hekatontarkhes shrugged to himself and walked over to the rest of his unit. Damn, but he wanted a smoke. He still pulled an unlit cigarette from a packet in his webbing and shoved it into his mouth, taking a drag as he did so and ignoring the looks he got from otherwise pre-occupied Tagmatine paratroopers. He wanted to know who amongst his officers and NCOs had hit the ground with the rest of them.

“Oh, Hekatontarkhes Heraklides, I’m glad that you made it down.”

The upper class accent, so unlike the rest of the unit but so like his own, cause the officer to turn around.

“Ah, Kentarkhes. I see that you’re in one piece,” replied the Hekatontarkhes, wishing that the man hadn’t been so lucky. “Have you had a look around at any of the injuries my men have suffered?”

The Paramonai skribones looked flustered for a moment before he obvious thought of some excuse. “Oh, no, sir. I’ve not yet had the chance to do so.”

“Ok, then.”

The excuse was weak and the Hekatontarkhes chose to ignore it. He didn’t know what the man was playing at, or why some high-up had decided to attach an Imperial Guardsman to his unit. Whatever it was, he’d let the man get on with it for the moment, so long as it didn’t seem like it was interfering with anything that the real soldiers were doing. Real soldiers… the officer shook his head at his own thought as he moved across the DMZ. Most of those here had never seen combat until today, let alone a combat jump. He was glad that it seemed like most of his company had hit the ground in one piece. Speaking of which…

“Rob! You got your mortars?”

The NCO, the only one amongst the company that knew the Haru language well enough to act as a translator, nodded and grinned at his CO.

“Yessir. All my lads and ladies managed to hit the ground fine and we’ve got our kit, too.”

Heraklides nodded to himself. At least if Scamper and his freakish captain wanted fire support, they could get it to them quickly. The Hekatontarkhes nodded to himself. He spotted both his kentarkhes and his molaghos herding their platoons together and he grinned to himself, taking another pull at his unlit cigarette. Out of the corner of his eye, he could still see the Paramones following in his footsteps. The only one of his own officers he had yet to see...

“Sir, sir!”

Right on time.

“Isaakios, glad you made it here in one piece.”

[Oryctolagus cuniculus]

The Sappers & The Paras
Kabor Outskirts

Grinding down the Haru legionary had not taken long, that most of the enemy had been in a failed armored push had made it quite easy really to kill them all. They had not gone down easily of course, such enemies hardly ever went quietly into the night. Still they had gone down, in flames and smoke, with the burning of flesh and the cries of agony. Most had quick deaths, such as the enemy panzers, the wreckage littered the area of the area where industrial sprawl met the urban.

Armored personnel carriers lay skewed to one side, infantry fighting vehicles smashed or upended into buildings by the force of explosions. Recon vehicles gutted by flame and more, the blood burned from the now metal frames devoid of their reactive armor and spall linings. Corpses in pieces or full kits slumped and scattered like so many grisly decorations. This was the Haru aftermath, into the grinder that was the urban defensive line.

They had not been alone however, the allies of the Haru, the Batory had come into the fight, like thieves in the night. Burying their charges, and setting their mines in place. Scores of troops and vehicles had been lost to the sappers presents. Though retaliation was swift, and many a stoat and rabbit alike delighted at punishing those sappers caught. More died for their gifts were unstable in the situation of war, and before they shambled into the depths of safety provided by the guns of the port, they died enmasse several times.

In all retrospect though, a few hundred sappers was an acceptable loss if you were destroying full companies and precious vehicles that would be difficult to replace. Such as it was, the 9th Mechanized Infantry had lost nearly half of it's light armor and troop transports to Batory sapper incursions before they had apparently pulled out. Replaced by the Tagmatine para's and what could be possibly termed special forces of the Batory.

The anti-aircraft mobiles were reporting under siege broadcasts as during their lighting up of the skies, enemy ground forces were engaging their perimeter defenses. Some pushes were successful and mobile command had lost contact with several tracked and wheeled units, alongst with their infantry cohorts. In response mobile command had ordered light armor to support the remaining anti-aircraft units, and for the remaining 9th and 8th mechanized infantry to also provide cover for the mobile AA and SAM units on the outskirts of the city.

This would both be a boon to the survivng AA crews, as well as a further deterrent against enemy forces from pursuing. With the regular UFA units being pushed to other areas, it would seem like the UFA was retreating, which was not really the case. Instead, the UFA Specialists were being deployed to counter Tagmatine and Batory forces that were known to be in the area. A key to drawing them in was to keep attacking the paratroop transports above, and artying the pushing Batory forces in the suspected areas. This would both be suppressive fire and a way to bring the enemy towards them and into their waiting cannon.

Colonel Dask, of the 22nd armored had been given the command and orders to defend the anti-aircraft and anti-vehicle mobiles outside of the Kabor outskirts. Resting within the cupola of the main battle tank he commanded, his field optics were towards the vale and valleys that stretched forth into the begining of the urban sprawl. There wasnt much natural area left on Karthay, but here it was. Behind him and situated in defensive positions were about a half dozen TAC-12 155mm cannon, with GSH-30mm multi-barrel AA cannon as both anti-infantry and aircraft defense as overwatch. Over two hundred infantry were situated on the line, manning machineguns or mortars.

The signal given as he slid the cupola hatch closed and settled into the command chair of the tank, eyes paid to the periscope as the vehicle rattled and quivered when the cannon began to fire. Arcing their shells over the line and into the suspected areas of enemy troop build ups or massing points for survivors. His orders were clear, defend the line, defeat the enemy, and bring them forth to be crushed.

[Machina Haruspex]

Fire from the sky,
It hunts us,
Fell is their laughter,
As our bodies burn,
and our bones become black by their touch.
Excerpt, Refugee's of Jethnea'la

Prata-Khan De'Raz settled himself within the interior of the S-94a Main Battle Tank, that was a successor design of the S-94 and it of the S-90 and so on down the manufacturer line. More veteran units utilized the MCA-7H which was working quite well in the Liberation of the Occidental back home. At times he would spot an enemy tank, but such were rare. Most of the times it was that of an infantry fighting vehicle or some sort of armored personnel carrier. Both the forces of UFA and those of the League were more or less on equal footing when it came to hardware, it was just that the League had more personnel to land upon Karthay then the UFA did or had.

A rumbling thunder issued forth, and from beyond the earthen and concrete works of the defensive border of the Porty City Kabor, into the outskirts and old townships that had sprung up after the walled city had filled up, came the armored fist of their Emperor. Treaded beasts lumbered as a spreading black wave, crushing vehicle and wall alike. The sensation of rise and fall was felt first in his stomach and then the rest of him as the tank drove over the smoldering wreckage of an AT-70 armored personnel carrier, falling about half way and pretty much halving it at that point. The metal flattening with a screeching sound, compacted into the pavement by the weight of their steel and chobim armored beast.

The sound of anti-infantry weapon's barely registered within the cockpit of the beast, the roar of the main cannon firing a tremor easily forgotten about as buildings were knocked asunder. The futile anti-tank rocketry flicked aside as if but childrens toys. Hardly a scuff mark shown on their home and protector, numbered one-twelve on right and left turret sides. Deftness of it's operators shown as the vehicle spun about upon whirring treads, blazing a path through the occupied areas, death was theirs to deliver and deliver they did.

Overhead, whirling rotor blades brought forth the gunships that tracked and dispensed the Emperor's justice where the panzers did not succeed. Running figures slain in mere seconds, gouging the earth in explosions of brown and grey while fire blossomed about. Swooshing sounds filled the air atop this deathly chorus, followed by the crumping sounds of exploding concrete, mortar, metal, glass, and so on. As panzer and gunship methodically cleared block by block, armored carrier dispensed the faceless hazmat suited shocktroops, the Imperial Templar Purifiers. They who could not be swayed, bought, or pleaded with. The foul, fell, language that carried the true Haru forth echoed forth as cleansing the land of resistence. Bullet surgeons, ceasing the last defiant pleas of the inhumans before them.

It is here that Khan Graer would emerge into the soot covered day. Templar squad spread out, cautiously moving forward into the urban jungle of the breached foreign port city's urban and industrial sprawl. CBAR-01's positioned, flick of three fingers from upraised left arm sent a few of his unit forward. Providing cover fire from their underslung forty millimeter grenade launchers, phospherous and high explosive rounds were lobbed with ka-thunk sounds echoing into a suspected spot. A wet crumping sound, bodies of soft clothed defenders sent twirling outwards, ragdolls to the whims of gravity. Screaming figures trying to shed their clothing as the phospherous rounds had impacted amidst them, burning them alive only to die in withering hail of bullets. Each body given an additional round, just to be safe.

Maybe just over two hundred meters away from where Graer was cautiously edging out into the urban sprawl, Pra'Non, First Ji of the Second Regiment of the 9th Legion Tagnik Zun, had advanced with a contingent of Templars further into former UFA territory, and was now hiding behind a low and often crumbling retaining wall that had protected a garden once. CBAR-01 clutched and a slight peek around the corner, allowing the display of the vision piece worn over left eye to gather findings. A hail of bullets from small arms and other weapons tore shrapnel from the wall and once pristine street. He gave the hand gestures to the rest of his squad, no more then ten to load the 40mm grenade rounds. Shouting towards the machinegun nest setup during their distraction. Nin! Ser l' karliiken d' nindyn auflaqui harl!

As the UFA forces scrambled towards a better position while soldiers who had been advancing were caught in the bursting of that weapon, explosions of entrails and organs splashing against the streets and what once were the walls of buildings, Pra'Non and his men rose up and the " Thunk " sound echoed loudly. Grenades arced from their position into the now exposed lead element of the UFA Regulars caught out in the open. The result terrible in it's beauty. Limbs ripped free of their home, bodies tossed about like rag dolls and now retribution came.

Pra'Non found the first survivor as they advanced, some sort of rabbit like creature missing portion of leg below the right knee. He leaned down and whispered in that dark tongue. Gaer orn neitar tlu natha gre'as'anto tu'fyr udossa kaoveh. Usstan plunge ussta velve ulu dosst end, lu' dos zhaun, aster d' elghinn zhah a ussta rahi. Whol ib'ahalii, whol bel'la, whol l' elghinn d' jal nindel zhah dos. With eyes wide, Pra'Non withdrew the ceremonial blade, a weapon long associated with brutality as it was double edged and serrated wickedly. Raising it above his head with both hands, grip forming, the swift strike down rewarded with a splash of his enemy's blood across the bottom half of chin.

A slow rise, looking at the corpse as his men did what was necessary. Bayonet thrusts to the living, while doing such. He hadnt seen the armor approaching, the tanks that led armored personnel carriers and so forth. Not until the rumble and that sort of look one takes when in a dream. Blade in hand, his rifle upon back there was nothing to be had but death, raising the blade, he screamed at the tank.Ulu E'et Elghinn! Ulu Nar'hethi!

The shout made the others turn or look up from sending their foes to the next plane of existence, where the next war would be fought between the souls of the ages past. The first of many shells struck home, knocking many backwards, cartwheeling into rubble when explosive might did not kill them outright. It only took a few seconds of massed firing, the first of many units of Templar to be annihilated by Armored Cavalry breaking through, pushing their lines ever further into Kabor.

This of course was distraction, much like the armored push earlier, this time the sting was more then just a bit of a prick. It was a full onslaught by the Haru legions so as to sway the attention of the UFA military command so that the Batory military forces could proceed towards the mountain passes and the UFA positions there, now weakened and or in turmoil as the Haru legionary zealously pushed, pressed and assaulted enemy positions.

[The City State Rhydin]

Atoll Research Facility

Raithatthath (Lieutenant) Natr awoke slowly, raising from the flat bed in quarters, dimly aware of the chiming sound that came from the wake up alarm. Given enough time it would cresendo throughout his room, pinging off of the bulkhead walls. Adamantly muttering occured then. " Alright, Alright..I'm up. By the gods I'm up.." Shuffled a few feet and clicked the alarm off and then stretched some with a yawn escaping. Light back scratching with left hand, and then ambled to the small basin and sonic shower.

The vibrations that eminated from the shower head scrubbed him clean, that awake feeling came to and then he set about trimming facial hair for a moment before snagging a cup of Halt Vlos, a type of thick, syrupy like coffee drink. Adjusting his uniform slightly, he then stepped from his quarters, opening and closing the hatch as doing so. Boots fell against the metal girder walkway, passing by a few of the security forces stationed on the listening post.

Recently, they'd become standard on facilities like his, stationed in the vastness of the world because of the war that had started, or was to have started. He'd complained at first, they got in the way, but his labor representative told him if he didnt like it, he didnt have to be the head of operations. Well, as a man of the sea, the bulking plates, and the passing waves, isnt a hard puzzle to figure out that Natr had taken it with a grain of salt and continued on.

The security forces in general weren't all that bad though. Managed by a Corporal by name of Tavn, fifteen were stationed on board the facility, along with a three man squad of subfighter pilots. Nice enough fellas, off duty at least. On duty, they were serious and did their duty, plus side they didnt get in the way which is always good for the morale of the regular sailors and the twenty or so odd researchers that were normally present. Normally anyways. Most of the research staff was gone, the facility had become occupied by the central government so as to maintain observation of the Karthay region.

Some sparks from a wielding job showered down from above, as he closed the distance to the bridge the rumbling of the incinerators and the engine became paramount. Crossing an expanse of girder, one could look down and see others just like it above the main burner and it's capacitor's. Mild hum escaped them and he observed for a moment before stepping through the hatch leading into the suspended bridge and nodded to his deck officers, Lada and Dorsi. Fellow Sanjororan's of the Kai'Mai province. They like he, were deeply tanned, weathered looking and aged. Lada and Dorsi were within a few years of fifty and he was nearing sixty himself. The rest of the sailors present were fairly young, though a few hit about thirty, lifers in the salvage and hauling merchant marine force.

Sian, a petty officer managed the navigational station and handed a data-pad without looking or even noting he was there. " Raithatthath, we've a squall headed our way towards the expanse. Could be a rough'n. " A slight nod on his behalf. " Alright, make note of it to the crew, and make sure we're ready for it. Don' wanna loose our lunch like the last time. "

Nod's from round the bridge and then Mors took another drink from his mug as watching the sea charts and wave patterns denoting a storm clearing the edges of the Tirani Province, and headed towards the Aeriaon Trench. The notable difference in terrain was that of the ground really. Tirani was snow, ice and sub artic temps. Water chill cut to the bone and had been the cause of deaths for many, even in these days. Submarines had to be specially made to go there, to survive there. Aeriaon on the other hand was more regulated, it was still cold as hell but had thin wisps of warm jet streams amidst it's areas.

Navigational beacons lit up, the facility was expecting a support submarine in a few hours, and the navigational array sent out notifications so that friendly vessels adjusted to follow these coordinates and transmitted their 784 bit security clearance code to each one. At the third beacon, still four hundred kilometer's away, they would pick up their new tender.

A klaxxon sounding through the bridge was not what he expected however as he nearly spun on a dime. "What is it? A breach!?" One of the worst ways to die, was to drown in your own home. Sian glanced at the report and shook head no. " No sir, we have intruders, preliminary security patrol says major incursion..but I cant reach them anymore! " Natr cursed and then smashed his right palm into the large round, red button near a fire alarm. Bulk head blast doors began to seal, at each cross section and more as revolving orange lights littered the corridors. " Inform all personnel to arm themselves and be directed where security personnel need them most. Secure the command and control core for dump. " A nod from Sian as Natr looked on the video-phone to a rushed looking Tavn. " Hold them as long as you can, no unecessary deaths. Retreat when applicable to the lifeboats."

Tavn simply offered a smile. " Make sure your crew escapes Raithatthath Natr. We will hold them."

Loading Bay 2

Two sailors of the rank of Tilore had been accompanying an Ohtar ranked security officer by the name of Tal. Together they were doing the usual patrol round of the launch bays when sounds of something docking echoed about. Pulling from standard slings, their EE-12 Flechette shotguns and positioning them in proper firing positions, they advanced. It was then that forms readily identifiable so as to be Haru could be seen and the order didnt need to be said at all. Fingers depressed triggers and the shotguns offered savage volleys towards the enemy that ducked and weaved.

The EE-12 is a Rhydinian indigenous version of the DAO-12 drum fed semi-automatic shotgun. It carries 22 rounds in one magazine and is more then capable of going through wood, glass, light ceramics and so forth. A plus one would suppose that hiding behind a bulkhead wall would offer distinct cover. Tetra, one of two Tilores on the scene did what was natural, though in a hurried voice as hitting the panic alarm klaxon control panel, explained what they had seen.

He died soon after however as being blinded by an object that had begun to pulse a strobe light. The three were then unprepared for the graceful and predatory dancing style of attack that the enemy ventured forth with. One by one they slumped over and fell into fetal positions, nerves still offering twitches here and there as the body bled it's life force across the metal surface of the floor.

[The Order of Takhisis]

1210
Forefront of the Ruins Line

Dark Warrior Deskin had arrived at the command area of the line. Saluting a glowering Champion Effin no less. Her report brought the glower, though her dedication to the Knights had brought a smile as well. " Deskin, return to your Contubernium, aid us in the battle at hand. Your honor has not been sullied, though you disobeyed, it was for the greater good. Go, now."

The younger woman postively beamed a smile and then dashed out of the makeshift bunker, her subordinates who'd been waiting outside, quick to follow as Effin herself turned to her own subordinate, Veral. " Clever bastards, they could be flanking us even now." Veral nodded some though it was of a slower nature as the battle beyond the bunker was still ongoing. Even as a wet crumping sounded nearby, neither flinched as the dust and dirt rattled free to decorate the air about them. "If they had, they wouldnt be making such a racket. Shall I send word to Ferin to commence? "

Daya smirked a bit, and then nodded as she began checking her rifle, once done she spoke. " Do so, we must return to the line my friend, best that our forces know that we are still here for them." Veral saluted and quickly ran over towards the field phone, turning the crack rapidly until the battery was charged and a signal was sent with rapid clicks and breaks. A response of such was a short whistle. " Ferin's on his way my lady! "

Daya offered the barest bit of a coy grin before she stepped forth from the bunker and into the exposed trenches. " C'mon then Veral, it's time we pushed these bastards back!" Veral smiled like a giddy school girl and followed, plucking up her rifle from a nearby footmen who then also followed suit as the war raged on, never stopping.

Secondary Offensive Line

Well this was a fine how do you do, there he was minding his own business and then orders came from on high. He..he was going to be stuck with committing to a siege against enemy armor in a jungle scenerio and assorted infantry who looked like big wolves. Not that the enemy wasnt bad company, well maybe, but who knew. Maybe, just maybe, they could give him the great death he'd always wanted. Still being at the beck and call of Knight Protector Daya was not how he envisioned it. He was sure the other branches were just giggling themselves like schoolgirls over the Master of the Lily's latest assignment. It was all a little much.

A slight place of right hand against forehead and then alongst scalp in a smoothing over motion while kneeling down a bit, surrounded by his fellows, the Hounds of the 3rd Centuries, 9th Legion of the Lily Knights. The heat of the jungle made it unbearable to wear a helm within the area, let alone armor of which he by duty and law, had to wear. Annoyed sounds slipped forth in native tongue as plucking up a leg of some unfortuante creature taking a bite soon after. A glance towards his own subordinate Vagner, Warrior of the Lily, and a seasoned sod of whom had seen many a battle and war with Ferin.

Vagner Vek Hedrich, on the rare occasion that he slept, slept very little. It was good then, especially for scenes like this. His commander looked absolutely miserable, as well he should being at the call of Daya. Fierce woman. Whatever Ferin had done to get on her bad side, well he was now looking at the prospect of enjoying that particular slice of heaven as well. The Hounds would persevere however, they had been through worse and more after all, such as they were meant to. " So, we are going to hit the right flank of the doggies eh?"

Ferin perked up and snickered a bit as he eventually stood up. Motioning to the others to mount up in their vehicles and the rest to assume the tactical advance marching positions. He stretched a moment, followed by a yawn and shake of head after a time. " That we are friend, that we are. Should be fun. C'mon then, the war wont pause for us." He turned about. " Survivors get mead, the dead get a box, Hounds, to war we go! " This cheering slogan of theirs was repeated by his men and woman, and then Ferin was climbing aboard the halftrack command vehicle. Easing himself into position as Vagner did so as well. Rumble of diesels engulfed the area, and the armored column that was the 3rd Centuries Mechanized Infantry armed with digging blades to the jungle shrubbery and trees, began to advance.