As Fallensteller finished speaking, Váradi noticed that the reflection was shifting yet again. Soon enough, he found himself looking at his own reflection yet again. Apparently the time was up for the conversation. He stood there, gazing at his reflection, as he thought about what Fallensteller had said.
Embrace his lineage and take over the Eisenstrasse? That would likely throw the airship into chaos. Especially right now, just a few days away from a major battle. If he were to do that, it would affect the battle. Things could go wrong. The safer option would be to wait till after the battle to take control. As for giving his blood, the only thing that came to mind was Fallensteller's eyes. The red glow. If he gave himself to Raum right away, his eye would likely match hers. A clear, dead giveaway to any and all that he had aligned with Raum. That would end things before they began, and Mannfred would likely make a move if Krantz or the others didn't first.
He'd really have to think on this till he were able to contact Fallensteller again to discuss it. At the moment, her suggestions would rush him blinding into service and conflict. A smoother transition was needed.
He blew out the candle, before turning about. Minutes later, he had changed clothes and was slipping quietly into bed for the night.
As Vunor and the others stepped into the vessel, the warriors looked around and observed. Some were impressed and openly commenting amongst each other in their native language.
Warchief Sahale himself looked around with a stoic look, but his words spoke differently. ["If they can make ships fly, I wonder what else they have."] he commented to Vunor.
["I expect to see more of their technology in the coming battle."] Vunor stated dryly, still remembering that there were weapons of death aboard this ship.
He then turned to Fontaine again, "I will need to rest in preparation to the coming conflict. As for my companions, they too will need to save their strength for battle."
"Of course." Fontaine looked at Graves, as if he was delivering orders through his mind. The enforcer nodded and turned to the bovines
"We have a few new spaces opened up at the barracks thanks to recent events. We just need to move some of the currents roster around and your boys can get nice and cozy"
"As for you, Mr. Vunor" Fontaine continued "Just follow me. Your quarters are right next to mine." He began to walk towards his cabin, making sure to keep a pace for Vunor to follow comfortably.
Cattapoli, The Fleet
Night was already falling by the time the public punishment had concluded. One man was now dead, and another severely wounded from the intense flogging. It would take weeks for Torsson to effectively recover. He would need almost daily attention for the time being, and he was still at risk for an infection to set into his wounds despite the medicines provided by the beastfolk and the human doctors. This week in particular would be utter agony.
Elsewhere, newcomers were settling into their new vessels as bands of beastfolk joined up with the human fleet to set off into the great unknown, lured in by promises of adventure and treasures. Some recognized a higher purpose to this fleet, but such matters of belief were almost exclusive to the humans themselves, especially those with darker hearts. As expected among a unit that suffered from the poison of corruption, some shadows conversed quietly on matters of faith, empire, and domination.
Onboard the Blitzwave, Captain Jager successfully managed to bind and subdue Raya-kei, his most recent summon. The side effect of the ritual in this state put her into an exhausted slumber. A thin black line had now appeared around her throat to signify that she was owned, and discussion with Therasmus and Yarah confirmed that Raya more than likely had her powers returned. Shalo's knowledge continued to serve well. With the night coming further on, Yarah, now depraved of a target to harass and play with, fell tired as well and crawled into Jager's bed as if she owned it entirely. Raya was left wherever she was placed, given her current unconscious mind.
With the moon rising high into the sky and the hours ticking on, minds mortal and immortal settled in for sleep and rest.
Sweet Dreams
-Vunor-
Once the bovine shaman had settled into bed, his tired and worried mind drifted off into a state of meditation. He had grown fearful over these past few days. Fearful of what laid ahead on their path and the great beyond. Repeated calls to the elements were weak, and calls to a higher power were left unanswered. For an experienced shaman of his caliber, it did not take longer for him to drift off into an advanced state of meditation and sleep.
Gradually, he awoke to a dusty and ashen plain again. His heart sank in his chest as the desolation of this landscape gripped him tightly. What was the meaning of this? So much bothered him, and yet he had so few answers, if any, to turn to. Realizing that he could not sink into desperation and despair, he stood up and steeled his nerves. He would explore this place, or at the very least, try and gain a better understanding of it.
His feet crunched into the ash they laid upon the ground like an inch of snow. It was a dark grey, almost brown, ash. Nothing like the black and white ash that fell from the volcanoes of the Isles. This ash seemed more... unnatural. It was the difference between a pure creation of the fires of the earth, spewing forth ash from charred rock and trees, while this seemed more like a cruel end to a promising existence of life. He thought he could smell charred wood and even the stark smell of dead bodies, but he saw nothing as he trudged along this foggy, ashen hell.
Eventually, he came across life. Or what had been such. A single, wilted plant was choked by the ash, laying helplessly on the ground. It rose only a few inches up off of the ground, and its large fronds were pinned to the ground by the weight of the ash which throttled it. A fairly typical and common looking piece of brush, but alone and dead it was... disheartening. He carried on further and more of these plants littered the ground, all scattered and distant from each other, and all choked out by the ash. His hatred for such an inanimate form of dust was almost irrational. It was a blanket of death which smothered any life out of the elements.
It was hard to say how much time passed before he came across more of these plants, this time bundled close together like animals herding together for warmth on a cold night. These plants were also wilted and dead, but the more he examined them, the more he realized that the plants closer to the inside of this pack were showing a little more life. The ash also touched them and pinned them down, but their fronds were a little greener. In fact, the center of this large patch of shrubbery seemed to be... shielding something. Carefully, he walked through the plants and brushed some dust away from a particularly large frond which was sticking up out of the ground as if it was covering something. He moved it back and his eyes widened as underneath it was a pristine, untouched white flower. It was like a large petaled rose, without any thorns upon its stem. It seemed as if it sparkled, and it warmed his heart to look upon it. All of these plants had someone come together in this hellish landscape, all to protect the one unique plant remaining. A simple flower. Its elegance was refined and subtle, and he gently placed the frond back over it, least he allow the dust to smother a new target.
Something about this moved him deeply, and he settled into this patch of dead plants to think and rest further in his meditative-sleep state.
-Krantz-
Captain Krantz was stirred awake to the sound of waves crashing upon a beach, and he realized with some confusion that he was laying face down in some sand. He raised himself up and noticed that he was on a warm beach, the sky above luscious blue with cotton-white clouds floating lazily throughout. Fortunately, he was laying down on the upper portion of this beach, so the sand here was dry and didn't stick to him much. A simple pat down and brushing off removed most of the sand from his... robes? He was wearing a simple pair of wooden and leather sandals, with his legs covered in surprisingly comfortable tights. His chest, torso, and arms were shrouded in flowing linen, colored dark azure blue with rich green highlights along the hem. This was certainly not modern attire.
He was facing the upper end of the beach where large sand dunes and coastal grass ruled, leading up into a wondrous landscape of rolling hills, golden grass, and in the far distance, white rock cliffs that framed large stone mountains. This was certainly no location he knew of in the Old World, but the land seemed continental. Was this someplace in the Lost Sea? If so, it explained why he was on a beach. Then - a more alarming thought, despite the illogical reasoning - had he been shipwrecked here?
Krantz finally turned around, somewhat unsteadily, and had his breath taken away by the scene before him. A sprawling stone castle dominated the view before him, stretching up higher than any structure he had ever seen. More buildings surrounded it, some domed structures, other tall towers. Most of it was white stone, similar to the mountains in the distance, but there was an abundance of rich red brick, along with what appeared to be gold shrouding some structures - notably the domes. At this distance it was hard to make out much detail aside from the general structure itself, but he could make out numerous large walkways leading up into the center of this massive castle. It took up most of the space of the small peninsula it sat on, which connected itself to land on the other side of a large swath of water which separated him, and the beach he was standing on, from the land connected to the castle. It appeared to be a small inland sea, but he couldn't tell how far it went in either direction. For all he knew, this was simply a small bay to a much larger system of water, or a moderately sized lake.
His eyes finally broke from the castle in the distance to the scene closer to him - the end of the beach. A dozen bodies littered the surf, and a long wooden boat with a shallow bottom was tipped sideways. Most of it was further up onto the beach that the crashing waves did nothing to dislodge or move it, and it seemed that the dozen or so scattered bodies had all been occupants of the now flipped vessel. He stumbled down the beach and stopped at the nearest body. It was a clean shaven young man in white linen robes, with long brown hair tangled with seawater and sand. His eyes were closed but he was smiling, and cradled in his arms was a large glass bottle. The smell of salt in the air was not strong enough to cancel out the reek of incredibly strong alcohol on the man and the bottle. Just then, the man twitched and shifted in the sand, and Krantz realized the man was not dead but instead... asleep. Given the alcohol, passed out was a more accurate descriptor.
The others were all much the same. Well dressed men and women - or, in some cases, undressed - all passed out along the beach, either smelling of alcohol or other stimulating substances. The amount of bottles that littered the beach around the overturned boat was enough to stock a bar, and a well-stocked one at that. One man who was laying upon his back seemed to be conscious, given the smoking pipe he clutched in his hand. The sound of Krantz walking over caused him to open his bloodshot and red eyes. The man looked incredibly hung over, but he smiled anyways with his glassy eyes.
"Ah... ha... someone must have... have been conser...conservo... conservative last night," the man struggled to speak, slurring and hiccuping the single sentence. His utterly relaxed body looked almost lifeless, but he was able to somewhat prop himself up enough in the sand to bring his pipe to his lips. It was made of some sparkling type of stone, with gold and gem colored flecks decorating its surface. The smell of whatever was being smoked was causing Krantz's head to spin, and he was only catching a whiff of it on the wind.
This particular man looked a little older than the others, with a pencil thin black mustache and shorter hair. His skin was smooth and clean like the rest, but his eyes had some wrinkles and the hair along his temples was thin. It was difficult to discern his age exactly, but if this was his kind of lifestyle, he could have been rather young.
When the man took in a deep huff of the pipe, his pupils grew in size so large that almost the entirety of his eyes were black. He giggled somewhat to himself and exhaled, sending out a massive plume of smoke.
"Boatman," was all the man said after a moment. "Boatman, boatman. Thats who you are. Funny driving you did, we ended up here!"
Krantz wasn't so sure that he was the boatman who apparently had driven the small skiff and allowed it to overturn in the surf here, but the man must have thought so.
"Whatta partyyy. Mmmmmmm," the man slurred again, now simply humming to himself. His eyes slowly went back to normal, and his speech improved only slightly.
"This quiet... so strange, is it not? We've ended up rather far from the others, but isn't it so rare to see the palace like this? It so peaceful from here. No music, no drink, no patrons, no smoking... well, a little smoking, but you get my point. You sometimes forget that even this place must sleep, too. Everyday I wake up somewhere different, but this spot isn't so bad. I've had worse. I wonder how many ended up drowning tonight. Whats the usual? Twenty-three, isn't it?" He chuckled, sitting up fully and taking a smaller puff on his pipe. "Thats why we all wear this."
He pointed to a little blue ring on his finger. Krantz realized he had one on, too. "Useful little thing. Master Bartlet was a clever one to pass these around to our group. Keeps you from sucking water when you go overboard, and eventually the waves wash you up here. You're a powder user, right? Must be. I'm surprised you can even walk."
Krantz found that he couldn't even speak, so the man nodded. "I figured. You'd start bleeding if you said a word, forgive me, I'm sill a bit tipsy myself. I've dabbled with the powders before. Strong stuff, they are. Thank the gods my herbs survived, though. I'd have tossed myself from the highest tower had I lost them again," he explained, taking out a small box from the inside of his jacket and waving it around. It looked like a simple, but elegant, snuff box.
"I can never afford them, so I usually end up spending a few weeks in servitude for more. Alas, a man of many skills, yet I'm often confined to the silk rooms. Not that I'm complaining," he chuckled, falling back into the sand. "I can't cook, or fight, or paint, or compete in the games, or help the mancers, or the astrologers... I can't sail, or ride, or...." The man continued on for some time listing several more things that he couldn't do, before falling silent to take a huff on the pipe.
"We all owe so much to her. I dare say most of us can never leave. Not that anyone would want to, gods, they would be fools to ever want to," he said softly as the smoke slowly drifted from his mouth and nostrils, before he finally turned his head slightly to glance up at Krantz.
"What about you? How much do you owe Shalo?"
~Post Break~
Sweet Dreams
-Neustadt-
There must have been a storm outside given the sound of rain against the wooden roof, and the distant growl of thunder. Lighting occasionally flickered through the single window of the room, but most of the illumination was thanks to several candles which were placed around the room and on the dining table. Neustadt was sat at a square wooden table with three other women, all sitting still and staring straight ahead. Before them were white dinner plates which were empty, and a full set of silverware in accompaniment. These woman were dressed in black robes, not unlike nun outfits, with black veils shrouding their faces. All that could really be seen of their bodies were their gray, gnarled hands, resting perfecting on the dinner table. Each one was like a mirror of the other, and Neustadt felt somewhat out of place to be dining with them.
Still, she felt grateful. These kind woman had offered her a place at their table. It would have been rude to deny them.
They all sat there in silence for what seemed like an hour as it rained outside, before finally the woman sitting across from Neustadt began scratching at her plate. Her fingernails scritched and squeaked against the porcelain for several minutes before a door to the room opened. In strode a shriveled up, dusty corpse that appeared to be mummified. It was holding a platter in its hand, covered by a little dome, and it slowly dragged its feet along the wooden floor before stopping at the table. It removed the top to the platter an revealed some kind of... pulsating slop, steaming hot as if it had just been taken off of the stove. The corpse scooped some of this slop onto each person's dinner plate, before simply dropping over onto the floor as if from a heart attack once it was done. The women did not react to any of this.
One of them began wheezing, another shaking, and a third was rubbing her hand. Neustadt, to remain polite, kept quiet and sat idly at the table as the other women did not seem ready to eat yet. Their food was getting colder by the second, but she didn't mind.
Finally, one of the ladies pointed at the one across from her. The woman who was pointed at picked up a spoon in her hand and held it up. Everyone watched it as it began to rust and fall apart in her hands, sending all the little rust flakes onto her food. The other two ladies clapped.
This woman grabbed her food with one hand and began to eat it without removing her veil. It was a sloppy way to eat, since her food fell upon the front of her dress and skirt.
A spider crawled up onto the table, and the woman who did the pointing earlier gently picked it up and let it walk upon her hand. After a moment, she opened up her sleeve and allowed the spider to crawl into her dress, before she, too, began to eat the slop wit her hands.
That left Neustadt and the woman across from her who had not yet started eating. Everything was fine and calm, but she couldn't eat before the last lady started.
Something, somewhere in the house screeched and banged against the walls, but no one reacted. The mummified corpse which served the food had disappeared from the floor and was now standing in the corner of the room, facing it for some reason.
Neustadt was getting hungry.
After the first woman was done eating, the third picked up her knife and jammed it up under her veil into her neck. Dark black, rancid blood spilled out quickly down her dress and onto her dinner plate. The woman collapsed after a moment, and the mummy walked over. It grabbed her by one arm and began to pull her out of the room. The other two ladies were now just staring at each other. One picked up a fork and jammed it into her wrist, wiggling it around and then yanking it up her arm. More blood poured out and she simply watched it without a single sound or care, before also tumbling to the ground. A dozen or so rats squeaked loudly as they appeared from the darkness, and they all started nibbling on her body.
The last remaining woman stood up and then walked over to one of the cobweb covered walls of the room. She scratched at it with her hands, tearing at the wood and destroying her fingernails, before she found what she wanted - a long rusty nail jutting forth from the wall. She leaned her head against it until it penetrated her skull, and she just stood there, lifeless, with a nail pinning her to the wall.
Neustadt was left sitting at the table, slightly perplexed but rather unfeeling. The food was cold now and ants were crawling all over it. Her throat began to itch and she tried to sooth it with her hand, but that didn't work. There was a jagged and bent butter knife on the table and she reached out for it. It was ice cold in her hand, but she figured this should alleviate her discomfort.
Without much hesitation, she slit her own throat and felt as her warm blood washed down her neck and body. She slumped back into the wooden dining chair, eyes unfocused and simply looking out into the room as time went on, everything, including herself, rotting.
-Dobbs-
"Your breakfast, sir," a young butler said, setting down a pristine plate of an omelette, bacon, and sausage. The man poured out a cup of tea beside the plate, bowed, and left the cabin.
Dobbs bit into the sausage, but found it too spicy. Unfortunate. He tried the omelette next, but found the texture unappealing. The bacon was next, but it was flimsy and chewy, and had no substance to it at all. What was the meaning of this? At least his favored portion of the meal remained - his tea. He lifted up the cup and realized it was frigid. He frowned and took a sip. Not only was it cold, but it was half brewed. This wasn't even the right kind of tea. Who the hell was behind this?
The cook. It had to be the cook. That bastard had done this on purpose. Why? What did it matter. The meal was unsatisfactory and utterly ruined. The cook needed to be removed, and he would be off the ship by the afternoon.
Upset, he rose from the small table and went over to his desk where the daily Albion paper was. The Royal Chronicle. One of the longest running newspapers in the entirety of the Old World. It had been deliver just this morning by a polite courier.
The headline was terrible. Albion Falls to Traitors in the Ranks! Glorious Albion had fallen? It was clear it wasn't of their own lacking. Their navy was the strongest in the world. Their army one of the most well trained and professional. Of course they couldn't lose. But traitors... it was all so clear. The only way for them to possibly lose was if they were betrayed. Stabbed in the back. How did he not see this before? There were traitors in the fleet. Traitors on his very ship! A traitorous cook had made him an utterly inedible meal, and had sundered the good name of tea by brewing whatever piss he served up. But what if next time it wasn't a bad meal, but a poisoned meal? He realized the brig was too good for the cook. A noose and a short drop was sufficient.
He sat down upon his officer chair and it squeaked loudly, settling in at an odd angle. He jolted back up in alarm. An engineer was supposed to have fixed this yesterday! How had this not been finished already? The chair could break, and he could fall with it. What if he broke his back from the chair snapping apart? It was clear that some kind of conspiracy was at play here. First the cook, now the engineer, and glorious Albion had fallen all the way on the other side of the wold, thanks to people like the conniving rats of Fallensteller's ilk. She must have been the orchestrator of this all. Who else? Her filthy demon worship led her to corrupting his cook, and his engineer. Who else had she got her bloody claws into?
No more. This was enough. He grabbed his pistol and knew exactly what was to be done. With the gun held firmly in his hand, he stormed out of the room to take care of this by his own accord.
Of course, he never realized that someone had unloaded his gun already as he set off out the door.
-Lunaire-
Lunaire found it hard to stop crying. Her eyes were damp and her snout twitched as she realized that her friends wanted to hurt her. Not only had she trusted them, but she even liked them. They were funny, and nice, and helped her before... but why did they want to hurt her now? She knew she had to get away from them for now, so she had flown off into the darkness of the forest to be alone. She found a little rock to sit on and pulled her knees up to her chest, still trying to hold back the sobs, but failing.
Her arm hurt from where she had done the cut like the human told her, but deep down she felt it was okay. This was a good thing. It meant she was going to be closer to Raum, who was supposed to be really strong and nice. He obviously understood more than Mesahri or Bitare ever would.
Her spine also tingled, as did her tail, but she didn't know what that meant. Maybe she cut herself a little too hard and her body wasn't sure how to deal with that. She did fly away immediately after she did it, so perhaps she was just a little low on blood or something.
For some reason, she started to feel sadder and the tears flowed harder. Why did the other bats have to be so... so mean! The captain was a very good lady. She was strong, and pretty, and knew so many things. Everyone had to be wrong about her. Maybe the bad people had gotten to them first, she thought in horror. What was his name? The admiral? Was that what the captain had said? He was against Raum, which made him bad. That was exactly it. Mesahri and the others... they must have been working with him, and they didn't even know it. Or did they? Now she felt confused. Had... had they betrayed her? Or were they misled? What was she supposed to do? They needed to be helped!
She started to get even more worked up, but something wrapped its arms around her and she felt... calm. She could see pale white hands that belonged to a human wrapped around her front side, holding her gently. This human was shrouded in simple black robes. Since she was being hugged from behind, she couldn't see them, but being in their arms made her feel better. So she hugged back with all her strength, latching on to their arms.
"It will be alright, little one," the human said. Their voice was warm.
"I will teach you all the magic you want to know, and I will make sure your friends are saved. You are so strong to worry about them. Its not their fault. They simply do not understand. Your captain is helping me right now, and together, the three of us will make things better."
She felt like crying again as she realized that the best person in the world was hugging her. Raum.
-Torsson-
White hot, searing pain. Nothing. White hot, searing pain. Nothing. White hot, searing pain. Nothing.
How long would this torment go on? His back was simultaneously numb yet the source of all his pain. He couldn't see a thing, his eyes were refusing to work, but he could feel every bit of the lash as it bit into his skin. Tore it. Ruined it. Each hit brought him nearer and nearer to a point of madness. There wasn't a thing he could do about it, to save himself from this injustice. It was demanded of it him to simply bear it and allow this to occur to him without fighting.
Before he even knew it, one of the bindings on his arm broke. The lash fell upon him harder. No, he didn't have to stand for this. This was wrong. The other binding on his arm broke. The lash fell upon him even harder, but he could tell it was a desperate hit. Lastly, the bindings upon his feet broke, freeing him from this imprisonment, and his eyes opened up to see the square of beastfolk all cheering at his pain. The fleet was just below the platform, so many of them smugly watching him get tortured, while only a few like Jager had any sympathy in their eyes.
He turned around to confront his captor, only to realize it was a Niakoman adult, riddled with bullet holes, holding the lash in a shaking arm. The man was simply a peasant in basic robes, but he could see his own anger and hatred mirrored in the eyes of the dead beastfolk. The dead man raised the lash again to strike him, but faltered and fell upon the floor, weeping.
February 20th, 1898
Nadesh
They had arrived. It took five days of normal sailing to cross the ocean from Cattan to Nadesh, and the lack of wind on the journey made it clear how rare any Cattan or Nadeshi ships would ever meet - or have reason to come this far out. It was all open ocean, and a dangerous ocean at that. It would take many more days for either civilization to travel these waters, but the fleet had no such limitation. Wind mattered little to them, and they didn't need to allow time for galley rowing slaves to rest.
The journey itself had been uneventful. Some strange sightings, disturbing dreams, and small incidents did occur, but there had been no major situations. No freak storms or leviathans. Possibly the worst that had happened was the disappearance of one man from every single ship, all occurring at roughly the same time. Three in the morning, all when a shift change was happening. The man would be last seen leaving his station, and at some point, simply disappear. It had happened on every ship, which made the situation all the stranger for the airships and the submarine. A missing man would easily have been detected if they left the ship, but no searches had turned up anything.
Nerves were, of course, running a bit tight. It was a mixture of the innate stress of being out at sea in this region, which would only get more dangerous the more they sailed into open waters, and the anticipation of the fighting to come. From what everyone knew, Cattan and Nadesh were the last main islands in this entire region. The next land further into the sea were weeks of sailing away. That combined with the anticipation of a coming major fight was enough to make even the veterans a bit jittery.
Nadesh was made up of two main islands, with a few dotted around the coastal waters. The main islands were covered in lush green forests, with large plains and a few mountainous regions. The land looked like a rather comfortable place to live. Resources must have been abundant. Perhaps, in time, more worthy occupants would come to live here.
The fleet was only a few miles out from the islands, which were visible by deckhands with their naked eyes. A few sailing vessels - fishing ships and patrol skiffs - had already been encountered. Orders had been given to dispatch them, with the reasoning that they would bring warning to the islanders of their impending arrival. Of course, every ship in the fleet was far faster than these small wooden boats, and the airships could be see from land already due to their height, and even the sound of the lighter guns would echo around the area loudly. Still, orders were orders, and a few gunners around the fleet had the chance to test their skills on sniping the small vessels out of the water. A single hit by a light gun would utterly splinter and sink any of the ships, and they had sunk several vessels already.
The first Nadeshi folk were spotted on these vessels. Humans of mixed complexions, with fair to bronze colored skin, and dark hair. Those that fell into the waters as their ships were destroyed were simply passed up.
---
<FLEET COMM.TELEGRAPH>
Sound General Quarters STOP
Operation time starting upon arrival of this message STOP
Good Luck to All STOP
The alarm sounded throughout the entire ship of the Dawnbreaker, signifying the coming conflict. Sailors rushed to their positions throughout the ship, whether it be working in the engine rooms or manning the guns, they scurried as quickly as they could. Within minutes, everyone was in position and the bridge read green for all systems. "All systems and positions reporting ready for action sir." Mr. Jones, the helmsman, said. Nellow was on the bridge as well to aid with communications while Dobbs sat in the captain's seat near the center of it all. The radio crackled to life, signal being received from the ship's watchtower.
"All clear up here sir. We will be coming upon the shoreline soon. No hostiles detected thus far." the operator spoke. Jones gave his reply and, as if on cue, turned to Dobbs. "The ship comms are all yours, sir."
Dobbs stood up and walked towards the intercom to speak. The sounds of the intercom buzzed throughout the ship as the men onboard awaited to hear a rousing speech:
"Gentlemen of Her Majesty's Vessel Dawnbreaker, this is Vice Admiral Dobbs speaking. We are approaching the area of operations. Our mission is to provide naval support to the groups working on the ground. If we see a threat, we are to blast it to kingdom-come, no questions asked. Victory here will bring us one step closer to our goal of saving Albion from the evils that lurk in this sea. I trust you all to fight with the righteousness bestowed upon us by our cause and by the grace of our nation.
For Queen and Country! For Albion!"
It certainly wasn't as good as the speeches he gave during the Colonial War, but nonetheless it served its purpose. Men throughout the ship cheered 'For Queen and Country! For Albion!' as Dobbs finished and turned the intercom off. He walked back to his seat and gazed out from the bridge to the islands ahead.
If we see a threat... we are to blast it to kingdom-come... Dobbs thought to himself as he remarked on his words, and gave a small smirk. Just the excuse I need if it comes to that.
---
On the Eye of Horus, the warriors had gathered together to prepare for combat in one of the loading bays. Vunor watched from a distance as he sat cross-legged, keeping a calm mind about things.
["TODAY, WE SHALL SPILL THE BLOOD OF OUR ENEMIES!"] Sahale yelled with a voice that boomed throughout the entire area. ["TODAY, WE SHALL FIND GLORIOUS COMBAT AND FIGHT WITH HONOR ON OUR SPEARS!"]
The warriors started to get rowdy as they cheered and banged their spears and shields on the floor.
["AND IF THE GODS PERMIT YOUR DEATH, THEN YOU WILL FEAST IN THE HALLS OF GLORY FOR ALL ETERNITY!"] Sahale roared as he walked amongst his warriors, hyping them for the coming conflict.
["NO RETREAT! NO SURRENDER! SHOW NO QUARTER! VICTORY OR DEATH!"] the Warchief finished, sending his warriors into a frenzy of cheering and spear banging. Vunor only gave a soft smile as he listened in.
---
The Eisenstrasse was in a flurry of activity and Nita walked amongst the hurrying sailors and marines that prepared themselves for the battle. She eventually found von Strauss near the bridge and walked over to her. "So... what am I supposed to do?" Nita asked.
Feb 15th, 1898. Days earlier.
It was in the early morning aboard the Eisenstrasse, several hours before the ship was set to depart from the Cattan Islands. The sun was just beginning to emerge from the horizon, filling the upper bridge of the Eisenstrasse with a bit of a reddish-orange light. Music faintly played from the gramophone, as two people stood alone inside the bridge. One being Kyndreth, meerly standing off to the side and observing, while the other, Krantz, was preparing the area for a summoning. He had done everything as Shalo instructed, making especially sure that everything was just so. The circle, candles, runes, everything.
One he was finished setting the area, he straightened up and looked over to Kyndreth for a moment. "Well, everything is as it should be." he said, before walking around to where she was. Not even a moment later, he turned to face the circle and began the summoning ritual for Hraban.
-------------------------
Now.
The Eisenstrasse had shifted into battle mode, as the order came in from the Revenant. Troops were moving about, preparing for the coming invasion and assault on the Nadeshi Cardinal's palace alongside Fontaine's group. Armor was equiped, rifles were issued, gear was checked and rechecked. Váradi gave out assignments and orders as the men prepared in the barracks and armory. Meanwhile, the Eisenstrasse's sharpshooters were outside on the catwalks and down in the defensive nests. Using their scoped rifles to pick off any Nadeshi that were down on the boats below.
Von Strauss was giving out assignments and orders to officers near the lower bridge, as she was not going to be aboard the vessel during the battle. Instead, she would be on the ground with the tank crews, assisting the Revenant and Mariner's Boon in their assault on the Inquisitorial Citadel. As Von Strauss waved the officers off to their assignments, she heard a voice behind her.
"So... what am I supposed to do?"
She turned to face its origin, and found herself looking upon Nita. She wore a pretty wide smile, as she adjusted her colored glasses on her nose. "The new recruits will remain onboard the Eisenstrasse to assist with anything the crew needs. You on the other hand...you'll be joining me on the ground. Right in the middle of it." she said, her smile shifting into a grin.
Before Nita could respond, she spoke again. "But!" she said, holding up a finger, "We'll be riding in something special. Let me show you what we'll be using." She then motioned for Nita to follow as she stepped past her, heading towards the rear of the Eisenstrasse.
---
"...You will show these people no mercy, because none will be shown to us. We have orders to kill anything and everything we come across. These are a corrupted people, and we are here to purge this corruption. Understood?" said Váradi, his voice echoing through the barracks. There was a resounding "JAWOHL!" from the soldiers, most fully geared and ready for battle. He had already gone through and issued out the shotguns to those that needed it, as well as the submachine guns they had manufactured. Machine guns were also issued to two-man groups. Squad support.
The storm troopers would be the spear during the assault on the palace itself, equipped with body armor and machine guns like always. Some of them would also bear shotguns or SMGs, slung onto their backs for when they finally entered the palace...or ran out of ammo for their machine guns. He was already carrying one of the shotguns, slung onto his back while a belt filled with shells was wrapped around his torso.
Three days after the Zuflucht left port at Catten, Lunaire woke up from her coma in the ship's hospital, feeling disoriented and uncomfortable from having laid on her back and side for so long, when she normally slept hanging from the ceiling. The nurses had turned her occasionally in her bed, but otherwise, she felt stiff from the lack of exercise and very, very thirsty. She looked around the room and noticed a strange device near her cot; it looked like a hat rack with a large sack hanging from it, and a little tube that wound from the bottom to somewhere in the tangle of her bed sheets. She then spotted movement near the table where Dr. Keseberg and Braam often worked together, and so she called out for her friend. "...Braam? Is that you?"
There was a sound of drawers shut and tools set down quickly before Keseberg rounded the table in a hurried sort of way. "Oh, you're finally awake! Good! Eh... no dear, Braam isn't here right now. It's quite late, you see, I was right about to turn in, myself... But I'm sure he'll want to talk to you tomorrow morning. How are you feeling?" he asked with a reassuring smile.
"I feel... fine," Lunaire replied groggily, stretching her arms and legs. It was all a bit confusing. She actually wasn't sure how to answer the doctor's question. She didn't feel well, but she wasn't sure if it meant anything or if she was simply sore from being asleep. "Can I have water?" she asked him. If nothing else, she would at least deal with her dry mouth.
"Oh, sure, sure..." Keseberg replied. "Are you thirsty? We've been giving you water through your arm while you slept. That's called an IV, little one." The doctor returned a moment later with a small cup full of water from the sink at his desk. "Here you go," he said with a fatherly warmth as he helped tip the glass so that the bat girl could sip the water down.
Lunaire took it all in, and when she was finished, she sat for a moment and simply focused on all the sensations that were beginning to return to her body. She could now feel the needle resting sorely in her right arm, under a wide piece of tape that would doubtlessly tear up fur when it was removed. She clenched her toes and felt them crack with audible pops, and savored the relief this brought her. All around, she felt somewhat weak, and there was a strange, alien sensation at the tip of her tail that seemed almost disembodied from herself. She licked her lips, and then her teeth, and found something else strange: Her teeth weren't just pointed, as they always had been. They were razor-sharp, and she nearly cut her tongue by accident.
"Better?" Keseberg asked.
Lunaire thought about it for a moment. "Not really..." she replied.
"Lunaire!" a familiar voice suddenly called out. It was Bitara. "Me see. Me see! Help with!" she said rather sharply to Keseberg. Lunaire searched for her and eventually noticed her peering from over the edge of a cot nearby in a way which seemed to imply she was sitting or perhaps kneeling on the ground. The doctor breezed past Lunaire's cot and over to Bitara, and from elsewhere in the room, a rifleman with a red ribbon around his arm appeared to help Keseberg with something before getting Bitara onto her feet. That's when Lunaire noticed the shackle hanging from Bitara's wrist. It wasn't immediately clear why, but Bitara had been chained to one of the other cots until Lunaire woke up.
"[Are you okay!?]" Bitara asked as soon as she could get close. "[It's been days, Lunaire. I was worried you'd never wake up...]"
"[I had a dream,]" Lunaire said, suddenly remembering the encounter in her memory. "[I was alone...]"
Bitara reached out, and the rifleman nearly stopped her before Keseberg held out his hand, allowing the bat to give the little girl a hug. "[I'm sorry. You're not alone, I promise,]" she told her.
"[I know,]" Lunaire replied quietly. "[Raum... Master Raum was there in my dream,]" she said, feeling Bitara's body tense up around her. She quickly added- "[please, listen to me this time. I don't want to scare you...]"
Bitara straightened up and looked at her with a mixture of concern and remorse. She hadn't listened to Lunaire before, and the girl ran away and got herself deep into trouble. [If only I hadn't pushed her the way I did, maybe she would have felt safer... we could have talked...] she thought to herself, sadly. "[Okay, Lunaire. I'm ready to listen,] she said.
Lunaire slowly explained what she had been told about the Admiral, his lies, and what he wanted to do. She criticized Shalo, asking why the humans needed to fight the demons on Catten if the islands had their own patron god. Finally, she explained what Fallensteller had said about Raum, and about how he cared for his own followers. In her dream, Raum had comforted her and promised her a role in helping make everything better. She and her friends would be saved from a terrible fate, "[all thanks to the magic Raum will teach!]"
She watched Bitara for a reaction, and the older bat finally smiled, but in a heart-wrenching sort of way. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Bitara's heart was tearing itself in two- on one hand, Lunaire was rushing headlong down a path that was sure to destroy her, as it had already warped and changed her body in multiple ways, as she would soon discover herself. Corruption was quickly claiming her, and in her ignorance, she was blissful. On the other hand, there was nothing the truth could do now to undo the damage. Mesahri had spent the last three days in the brig, sometimes confronted by Fallensteller, and sometimes Pawlitzky as well, but always accompanied by the infernal wire. They had already discovered the purpose of the spirit ring and Fallensteller had taken it and perhaps destroyed it. No one knew for sure. Without it, Mesahri was unable to breathe a word of dissent, and couldn't hope to confirm the stories she herself had told Bitara only days before.
"[Just do the best you can,]" Bitara said, stroking the top of the girl's head. "[...And if you ever need help, I'm here for you.]"
"Ahem," Keseberg interrupted. "Pardon me, both of you. Lunaire, can you tell me more about how you feel?" he asked. He had retrieved a notebook and a pencil and turned on a lamp, revealing his now-red eyes clearly to the young bat. The rifleman led Bitara away, noticeably giving her more space than before.
"I feel thirsty again... and kind of hungry..."
Keseberg nodded, quickly writing something down. "Well, that's normal, dear. You haven't had anything solid since-"
"No, I mean..." Lunaire interrupted, still fascinated by the sharpness of her fangs, "I feel... hungry." She lacked the word in Gren to describe the feeling within herself. It was powerful and abnormal, and her heart began to beat faster as she tried to think about it. There was almost a violence to it, and hiding behind it, an anxiety best described as a vague sense of doom. There was a metallic taste in her mouth, and yet it was delicious. She wanted to suck on it like one of the honey candies Mesahri sometimes brought home from market. She immediately knew that it would cure her hunger if only she could get more of this taste...
And then she realized: she had cut her tongue after all, and the sweet taste in her mouth was blood.
"Why... I want... blood...?" she stammered out.
Keseberg looked up, excitedly. "Blood? Oh, dear... that's quite interesting..." he said as he wrote it down. Meanwhile, Lunaire cautiously pulled back the blankets and sheets to check on herself, and found the reason for her other strange sensations. A long, smooth tail with a spaded tip trailed from her body, wrapping its impish form loosely around her leg like it had always been a part of her. Without much thought, she lifted and controlled it, and realized with some trepidation that she had become a sort of hybrid.
---
Throughout the voyage, Neustadt had repeatedly tried and failed to make sense of her fate. Each day felt exactly the same: she would awaken in the morning silently screaming, flailing her arms before reminding herself of her true predicament. Food would be delivered occasionally, but no one would visit her or even attempt to communicate with her. Anger had given way to complete dejection. At night she would leave her forehead uncrossed, and the nightmares which followed were terrifying but also totally incomprehensible. She spent hours having silent and imaginary conversations which would give way to prayer, sometimes directed at the Pentarchy, and sometimes directed at Raum. Sometimes she was confrontational, other times re-conciliatory, but in the end, nothing changed. It was almost as if, once she chased Fallensteller out of her quarters days earlier, she had ceased to exist altogether in everyone else's world.
She began to spend long hours imagining life at home, in Teutonia. She deluded herself into picturing herself there, around her parents and her old flings, partners she had never been serious with but now seemed so appealing. Fallensteller appeared again, but younger, more innocent. But was she ever? The memories faded into daydreams of things that never happened, but should have happened. Neustadt saying goodbye to Sabine as the latter departed for the Mannfred expedition. Returning home to her apartment and making plans while the Zuflucht was half a world away, dressing her best and heading to the coffee shop every evening to flirt, and one day meeting the perfect girl...
And it was Sabine.
Somehow, no matter how hard she tried, no matter how forcefully she deluded herself into picturing a life away from the woman, she knew, deep down, that Sabine Fallensteller was irreplaceable, her one true pursuit. "Have you been better?" Sabine asked from across the table, a steaming cup of Arabica between them.
"I miss you," Silke admitted.
"Do you?" Sabine said, looking back at her just as longingly as Silke felt. "Silke... are you alright?" she asked.
Suddenly, Neustadt was back in reality, lying on her back in the middle of the floor of her holding room. Fallensteller stood in the doorway guardedly, afraid to enter after what had occurred the last time. Silke picked herself up and, surprisingly, didn't feel the surge of anger she felt before. It was there, but dulled. Tempered. Perhaps she was getting better at containing it, but there might have been something else at play. She nodded quietly.
"Silke..." Sabine said, staring down at her engineer. "You're talking again," she said.
It took a moment for the words to set in, but when they did, all calm dissolved and Neustadt broke into fits of panic. Yes, she had spoken, and the demonic double-voice she had tried so desperately to rid herself of had returned fully. "N-no!" she cried out. "I burned it!"
Fallensteller stayed where she was in the doorway and watched her old friend panic and struggle. Four days had passed since they left Catten, and they were nearing Nadesh. The guards posted at Neustadt's door had reported the engineer talking to herself earlier in the day, but only now did Fallensteller get a chance to see it firsthand. "You healed," Fallensteller said simply. "The Lord has a plan for us, Silke-"
"No!"
"-he gave you back your voice-"
"NO!"
"-and I still feel it's beautiful. Just embrace it, Silke. We aren't alone on this ship anymore. There are many, many servants now. We've inducted more than two hundred and sacrificed dozens of others to the Lord. The rest of the ship has already figured out what's happening, it's just a matter of time before we've converted them all. Your voice could guide the engineers home, Silke."
Neustadt couldn't find the strength to deny it a third time. Deep down, to be accepted again, to be welcomed back to the world outside, and back into Sabine's loving arms was heaven when compared to the monotonous purgatory she was falling into in isolation. Perhaps the corruption in her heart had weakened the rest of her resolve, but there was no point fretting over it now.
"Come on, Silke. I've missed you, too."
---
As the orders came down to begin the attack on Nadesh, Kirsch paused a moment to rub the scar on his wrist. He had managed to avoid induction for two whole days before Fallensteller cornered him and threatened to put his arms through the bars. This truth, like many others, would be reported to Dobbs via Bitara, the designated courier between the Zuflucht and the Dawnbreaker. It helped that Bitara clearly resented Fallensteller. Even if she had been forced to give up some blood to Raum, Bitara wasn't fully honest with the Captain. And even if she knew that the letters passed along were a form of espionage, she likely wouldn't report it.
He sighed. There came a point where he had to decide whether it was worth tearing his soul asunder on death, knowing that humanity would likely never appreciate his sacrifice. He decided it didn't matter. Right was right, and wrong was wrong, no matter what was in it for him. Ackermann was lucky he had avoided Fallensteller's worst tricks, but if he were in a similar position, Kirsch reasoned, he would have done the same.
During the days it had taken to travel from Cattan to Nadesh things had been calm for the most part. The Blitzwave had been scouting the depths, surfacing only once to refill its oxygen. Shock and confusion had been the response to the man- a low-ranking sailor working in one of the pump rooms- who had vanished out of thin air. Kahleen had led the investigation onboard and for an entire day the crew had been searching every part of the submarine untill Jäger learned that people had vanished from the rest of the vessels.
Raya and Yarah had been kept within the conference room and Jäger's quarters. Armed guards at all times. Truth to be told Jäger had spent very little time with them. His mind was far too focused on the battle ahead. Granted, he'd been keeping them company during breakfast, lunch, dinner and whenever he found the time to fill out his Captain's Log and other notebooks.
Torsson was still out of action and was kept under close watch by Sandrina and her team of doctors. Chief Engineer Fyrgårdh had been working overtime to ensure that all the vehicles were ready to deploy. Of course for most part this revolved around attaching extra armor plating to the hulls and cage armor to the windows. The most challening project had been the reconnassaince vehicle damaged by the firebomb at the night of Torsson's tragedy.
As for the rest of the crew the sailors had grown more silent for each day that went by. As had the soldiers. Everyone knew that the battle was coming. There was no way to go around it and like with all battles you had to push yourself to the breaking point- or risk getting cut down.
-----
February 20th, 1898
Nadesh
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9LG1HaBiD-M
Jäger stood idly on the bridge, clad in heavy plate armor and carrying a helmet underneath his left arm. His sword, recently cleaned and oiled, was in its scabbard, his 7mm revolver was strapped to his chest and his 7mm pistol was holstered to his leg. A fine Gothian sawtooth dagger, normally used to gut fish and game, was tucked into one of his boots.
Around him Högborg and the other senior command staff were making final preparations for the battle. The crew was running a double shift and every soldier aside from the injured ones and those detailed to internal ship security had been mustered. Right now Kahleen, Sergeants Dunder and Gråflod and a dozen other officers were gathered at the vehicle bay alongside most of the soldiers.
Jäger looked over to Högborg. "Patch me through to the crew."
Högborg nodded. "You're on."
Jäger cleared his throat and grabbed the headset with his right hand. He strapped it on and adjusted the microphone.
"Sons and daughters of Gothia. Fathers and sons, mothers and daughters. Soldiers. Sailors. This is your captain speaking. As you already know we're about to launch an assault on the Nadeshi islands. The battle ahead will be a difficult one. Our foe is technologically inferior but have numbers and otherwordly powers on their side. We will use our own firepower and hundreds of years of hardened Gothian traditions to crush them. I know that some of you have doubts- believe me when I say that I do too- but we're not fighting this battle for some political victory or to expand our borders, we're fighting this battle because the people of Nadesh have fallen ill. They support dark powers, powers that would see our great nation crumble into dust and be seized upon by Pavlovia.
We're fighting this battle to help our nation. We may be thousands of miles apart but we shall not sit idly as our brothers and sisters fight for survival, nor will we allow these dark powers engulf all that is sacred. If you will not fight for Gothia, if you will not fight for your family and if you will not fight for the rest of the Old World then fight for the people that stand by your side!
Gothians! To arms!"
As the crew erupted into cheers and warchants Jäger removed the headset from his head and placed it down. "Sound the alarms. The troops will be ready in ten minutes. Helmsman, begin our ascent."
Högborg and Smedberg nodded and carried out their tasks. The submarine started to ascend from the depths while the combat alarm started to blare throughout the ship. Jäger walked up to the communications operator. "Send a new message to the Zuflucht. Tell Fallensteller that we will be securing the beach. I want whatever forces she can send to form up on the left flank and focus their efforts there. With any luck we'll reach the city limits in no time."
The communications operator nodded as well and started to dial the Zuflucht.
---
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
BLITZWAVE HAILING ZUFLUCHT <BREAK>
REQUESTING GROUND FORCES <BREAK>
FOCUS ON LEFT FLANK <BREAK>
ARTILLERY STRIKES WILL CLEAR <BREAK>
VEHICLES AND INFANTRY TO FOLLOW <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
The intercoms aboard The Eye of Horus came to life, the sound grabbing the attention of the company men on board. If their captain was going to speak, they better damn listen.
"We find ourselves on stranger tides. A month ago none of us would believe the things we've seen in the sea. Believing it was the wild imagination of some pulp novelist, too poor in skill to write a cohesive story. But as we sail through the air on this ship, working alongside men and women that resemble beasts, but also resemble us, on our way to put down an ancient civilization worshiping an ancient god that has shown his powers all to well...it all starts to seem less and less extraordinary and more mundane. Nobody can even imagine what we will be once we leave these waters. Well...almost nobody. I can.
The men and women on this ship left Columbia with one goal in mind. We left to show the world what the Black River trading company can accomplish. Not just as a force of corporate interest, but as what the Columbian ambition can do when faced with the greatest challenges both on this world and the next. I have worked with each and single one of you and have picked you for this personally. You are not here because of fate or luck, no you are here because I know you will not disappoint.
What will happen today will be just another test for you. Below us is just another group of savages that we will put down like the many that have stood in our way before. Crushed beneath the everlasting march of progress towards the dream. The Columbian dream we all share and follow. And after everything is said and done, you will not only be one step closer to that dream, but have it tight in your grasp when we return home.
Rise sons and daughters of Columbia. Rise men and women of the Black River. We have our destiny made manifest in sight. Today we take a vital step towards it."
The moment Fontaine concluded his speech over the intercom, the bridge erupted in cheers. It took a minute for the officers to calm down and for the captain to begin issuing orders. The only other sound that could be heard was the ocasional firing of the canons to sink another enemy vessel.
"Mr. Vaikar, you are to direct operations here while I am away. Graves, you go and make sure that the men are ready. The gas will be deployed soon and I don't need to remind you what happens if you breathe it in." Graves nodded and left the bridge to tend to his duties.
"That was a fine speech, captain." Karam commented. "You almost sounded sincere." He added quietly, while stroking his beard. Fontaine allowed himself to smile slightly. He motioned for his first mate to follow him.
"Everyone wants to be a hero." He began to talk once outside the bridge and away from earshot of most of his men "Feeding that fantasy boosts morale. Especially when faced with the prospect of killing civilians. Not to mention the recent disappearance that has some of the men spooked. I'm hearing them accuse our new recruits of doing it. A victory here will put them in a different state of mind and allow for a proper investigation to take place while they come down from the high."
"Better to intoxicate them with promises of glory than to tell them what the true nature of their fight is."
"We are putting down a threat to the world at large. Collateral damage is to be expected." Fontaine stopped in front of the lift that would take him down to where his men would be.
"And you will lead them in this monumental task I see."
"Part of the deal, I'm afraid." Reginald checked if everything was in order. His traditional business suit was replaced with a uniform given to the higher ranking officers in the company. Made to be functional and to resemble that of the proper militaries, it also had a very clear style to be recognized as to who they belonged to. Still kept his cane however. "If I wish to maintain that level of morale throughout, then I must be present."
"Occupational hazards." Karam stroked his beard again "I truly do not envy you sometimes, captain." He was candid, but deep down he wished this bravery was not in the man standing before him, but in someone more worthy.
"You won't have it easy either, Vaikar." Fontaine said while checking his pistol "You still have to make sure the guns fire the shells containing the gas." He looked Karam in the eyes as if he was issuing a challenge. The First mate didn't even blink.
"The payload will be delivered as per your orders, captain."
"I know I can count on you not to disappoint." He looked behind him as his enforcers gathered to follow him, then back towards Karam "Tell the Eisenstrasse that we are ready and will be right behind them."
Some days ago
Eissenstrasse
It was still early morning, some time before the fleet would set sail from Cattan and travel to Nadesh. Krantz had spent the past hours meticulously setting up a summoning sign, supporting runes, candles, and everything else he needed to perform his first proper summoning. The bridge had been cleared of everyone and loose items to ensure the ritual went smoothly, and all he had with him at this hour was Kyndreth, who watched by closely. She didn't know much behind the act of summoning, but she knew enough of the basics to know that there was a possibility of something bad coming through the circle as part of unintended consequences.
A few more minutes were spent in reflection and review. Krantz checked everything over twice, three times, even four times and was satisfied that there was no room for mistake. Finally, he spoke the needed words, and watched in awe as the circle came to life. He continued speaking the required phrases and words, and watched as the runes transformed and acted out. The surface of the main summoning circle turned into a dark mirror as a small little figure began to emerge from within. He was expecting to see a large figure - a human sized figure, like Kyndreth - but instead all that emerged... was a bird.
It was a raven, perhaps slightly larger than a normal one, but well within typical size for a bird of such stature. It had smooth, midnight black and almost glossy black feathers that looked like they were well groomed, and it had two beady black eyes that seemed both intense yet soft. The most remarkable feature of this bird was that it wore a large wooden crown atop its head, and a small red heart locket around its neck. It seemed almost sleepy when it was pulled up out of the circle, but after Krantz said the final words to end the ritual, the little bird seemed more active as it hopped out of the burnt out circle and looked around.
"Good morning, sir," the bird said in a surprisingly clear and smooth voice. "I must admit you have me at a disadvantage, for you know my name but I don't know yours. However, for the benefit of a proper introduction, I shall speak my name aloud for you and the lady."
"I am Hraban, King of the Roost. Messenger and watcher of the Pleasure Goddess Shalo. It is a delight to meet your acquaintance, sir," it said with a little bow of the head.
The bird was... remarkably polite. His little feet tipped and tapped away at the ground as he walked about, and Krantz had a feeling he made a good call on his first summon.
Present
Nadesh, Coastal Waters
The War Begins
After first sighting the islands, it took a little less than an hour to steam into the waters around the capital city and lay anchor. The capital itself was somewhat similar to Cattapoli, in that the geology of this larger region had an abundance of light colored rocks. The city sprawled around the beach of the small, shallow bay, and wooden docks jutted out from every angle. Most of the buildings were wood and plaster, unlike the common stone brick buildings back in Cattan. The city looked to be a mix of a medieval Old World city and something the Cattan would have constructed. Plaster and timber frame buildings were the dominant architecture, with the base of most buildings supported by stone.
There were three immediately noticeable structures from the bay. The first was the short walled brick fort which was situated on a little piece of land which jutted out into the water, overlooking the beaches and the coastal waters. From the fleets position, it was somewhat pentagonal, with a few turrets and buttresses jutting out. It was clearly not a professionally made structure and was a mimicked attempt at something more complex than the engineers of this civilization had imagined. A few cannons on the fort walls fired off into the bay, but the range for such black powder cannon was far too short, and round shot landed harmlessly in the water.
However, what was remarkable were the following two structures. The first of these two was the Cardinal's Palace, visible from the water as it sat on what once was a hill that was now a stone platform, raising the palace a dozen or so feet up from the main streets. It was quite similar to some Old World designs, whereas it was a series of large mansions connected together, with a grand ballroom, perimeter wall, and small armory and fortified house. It was primarily made of stone and brick, but there were plenty of flourishes - painted shutters, gilded rooftops, wrought iron gates, spacious balconies and the like. Looking upon it made it clear that nobility, or some family or group of high status, lived here.
The last notable structure was a massive pyramid, built far back behind the city and on the slope of a mountain in the distance. Such a structure was clearly ancient, as its weathered rocks were dulled and pitted even from this distance, but its size and location were surprising. A pyramid on flat ground would have been hard for ancient people, but on the side of a mountain was another feat all together. This was clearly the grand temple of the Nadesh, the home of the real rulers, the priests, and elder council. Skinny towers surrounded it, along with smaller pyramids, and a large walkway ascended the front of the pyramid up to the very top, where there was a large platform which led into the top of the pyramid, and then into the side of the mountain itself.
Now was not the time for sightseeing, however. The ships of the fleet were assembled just off the coast of the city, and all cruisers - Revenant, Dawnbreaker, Caledfwlch, and Valdemar II - were adjusting their turrets to face the city, following firing orders given by the dreadnought. Other ships, such as the Eye of Horus, were participating in a supporting role by firing gas, not explosives, into the city. Gunboat diplomacy would have seen this city in utter submission with even a single ship, but they were not here to make peace or treaties. They were here to kill.
---
<FLEET COMM. TELEGRAPH>
Bombardment will commence at 0930 // 9:30AM STOP
Duration of forty five // 45 minutes STOP
All landing teams to prepare and disembark into water and hold position STOP
Landing will commence at 1010 // 10:10AM under cover of final bombardment STOP
---
The orders had been given for all landing teams to begin preparation for landing, and from the Revenant, dozens of long boats were being lowered into the water as men crawled down into them via cargo nets. Gradually, these small landing craft were being filled up with marines who then rowed a little ways away from the dreadnought to make room for more of the landing craft. After about twenty minutes of this, as landing teams were getting into the water to wait, all watches struck 9:30AM.
The cacophonous roar of four massive 16" turrets - a total of eight barrels - accompanied by a further eight 5" turrets - ten barrels - erupted not a second after the appointed time, joined with the other guns of the other ships participating in the bombardment. The thunderclap of such firing rocked the small boats in the water, causing marines and sailors to instinctively duck their heads as their little boats wobbled. The shockwaves rippled gently over the water as the payload of these death-dealing guns streaked through the air towards the city.
The first shells began to land, detonating into massive explosive plumes, sending up fire, smoke, dust, and debris. Houses imploded into splinters and cobblestone streets were upturned in an instant. A 16" round hit one of the fortress walls and utterly annihilated a section of the brickwork, sending it down in a cascade of grit. Soldiers and cannon mounts unfortunate enough to be here were sent down into a tumultuous frenzy. Some locations were specifically targeted, while most of the city was simply a free fire zone for the guns. It was primarily a general bombardment to soften up any defenses around the city, and to cause chaos and destruction. No targets were off limits.
A forty-five minute bombardment seemed like an eternity against a target that could not fire back, nor even had the defensive capabilities to weather such an attack. The Colonial War back home saw bombardments that lasted agonizing hours which stretched into days, turning the very earth into an alien landscape of churned mud in which nothing could possibly have survived. By the standards of war-making to the Old Worlders, this was a mere light bombardment. They had committed, and many veterans in the fleet, had seen and been in far worse.
Regardless, as the bombardment neared its end, the city was a smoking and burning ruin. Nothing could stand up to even the lighter guns of the fleet. Buildings which hadn't collapsed into themselves or out into the streets were a blazing inferno, and it seemed like night time had fallen over the city due to the density of the smoke. It some places, the very air itself had turned poisonous and people collapsed, frothing at the mouths and wild eyed as they were unable to breath the air around them. The gas killed just as readily as high-explosive.
The clocks struck 10:10AM, just five minutes before the bombardment was supposed to end, and the call went out for the landing teams to make the approach. It was standard tactic to approach under the cover of a bombardment, as when the forces arrived, the guns would fall silent. There had been years of practicing such precision combined attacks that it was basic doctrine.
Bulbous rowboats from the Revenant, packing in loads of thirty marines each, sailed forth to their designated landing area - the center of the city docks, in which they would spearhead an attack into the city. The men rowed with determined ferocity, throats tight and hearts pounding as they made their way to the beaches. It was an eerie and confusing experience to enter into this battle, as had this been the Old World, the unending fury of artillery would be screaming around them, while machine guns would have been chattering away at the landing boats making their way to the shore. There was no such response here. All that could be heard was the ambient crackling and burning of the city around them, raining down ash, soot, and flaming debris. A few gunshots rang out on the beaches from shocked defenders, firing their primitive blackpowder guns, but this was no organized defense. Citizens still caught up in the city were scrambling in the streets as militia and soldiers desperately tried to get into positions to repel the invaders.
At landing zone Powder, the beaches were pockmarked from the bombardment and the fortress was a smouldering ruin. Picket fences laced with thin barbed wire were tangled all up along the dunes. Several sections of the fortress walls had been torn down from direct hits, leaving gaping entrances for the attackers to assault through. However, by the time the first ships were hitting the beach, dazed yet determined defenders were appearing in the smoke to fight for their lives and the existence of their civilization. The fortress had the benefit of being the most prepared for a bombardment, and grimy soldiers were pouring out of their dugouts. The moment the invaders stepped onto the beach, a fusillade of small arms were already shooting at them. The few remaining cannons on the walls fired onto the beach, sending out a scattering of grapeshot and some roundshot.
At landing zone Spyglass, the Revenant rowboats were pulling into the shattered docks, already exchanging fire with scattered riflemen. Fishing ships, barges, and other ships were already loose or sunk in the docks, and the marines from the Revenant, supported by light infantry from the Mariner's Boon, were crawling onto the docks and heading into the coastal streets to take up positions. The attackers had the benefit of initial momentum to push into the city as the defenders were still scattered from the bombardment.
At landing zone Royal, landing craft were landing almost entirely unopposed on a residential beach head, where sand dunes had been cleared away for the view of richer townhomes - most of which were damaged from the bombardment. This was a more affluent region of the city, near the palace, and the avenues here were wide. A unit of cavalry, about five horsemen, were dead in the streets from possibly breathing in gas. These men were lancers and half-plated knights, and if there was a place for them to serve best in a city, it was here where the beach was flat and the streets wide open. The danger here was not immediate, but there was no telling what was lurking on these rich avenues.
The Blitzwave appeared as a dark streak in the otherwise blue ocean at first. Slowly it arose to reveal its armored hull. It was time for the assault. While the larger vessels of the fleet were busy bombarding the city the Blitzwave opened up on the gunpowder fort with the intent of shattering the walls and luring the defenders out.
Once the bombardment was less intense two landing craft- the Raven and the Falcon- emerged from the rear of the submarine. As per Jäger's orders the main guns on the submarine were still raining death onto the fort at a moderate pace to keep the defenders busy.
Slowly the landing craft approached untill finally colliding with the sand. For a moment the craft simply sat there on the beach but then both of the craft dropped their large steel hatches. Standing firmly were two walls of steel: Captain Wilhelm Jäger, Marine Officer Kahleen, Marksman Dahl, Fallstrom, Gavrilov and Yarah-kei, as well as Therasmus all stood ready infront of a dark mass of hardened Gothian marines.
Every single soldier, vehicle crews and the landing craft sailors wore plate armor ontop of their fatigues and uniforms. Everyone were also wearing a gasmask connected to a filter-bag resting on a hip of their choosing.
Jäger took one step forward and unsheated his sword. He raised it into the air and allowed the tip to fall forward. The marines suddenly charged, boosted by their own ferocious warcry.
In the skies above the first five shells carrying gas were on their way from the Blitzwave. Their target was the outer walls of the fort.
Therasmus had been finishing up the last of the library's volumes by the time Jager's rousing speech blared over the submarine's PA system. He would have sneered if he was able to figure out how, such a blaring racket that lead to more commotion. The demon held no scorn for the captain or his words, but it was a rather inconvenient way of shattering his concentration. He shut several of the floating books around him before returning them to their shelf, slowly stepping out of the library and moving toward the deck he would be needed.
He found himself squeezed into a landing craft with the captain and his associates, his own mind abuzz with several errant thoughts and ambitions as he was trying to find the purpose in his own mission. The demon was not too concerned with the danger the primitives might provide, though if they wielded magic he would have something to worry himself with. Perhaps he was here with the soldiers and the captain to be some form of countermeasure, but he had to wonder why Jager's... consorts were about. Curious indeed.
As the soldiers charged from their landing craft he briskly walked and trailed behind the group at a decent pace, though he would quickly fall behind at this rate. He had never gotten a handle on that whole running thing, after all, yet he would keep a watchful eye on his battle companions as the events unfolded.
Several boatloads of men and women were launched from the Eisenstrasse's underbelly, filled with troops moving to establish a beachhead and a zone for the Eisenstrasse to land. They didn't have landing craft like that of the other vessels, so they had to launch vehicles while close to or on the ground. Once a beachhead had been secured, the Eisenstrasse moved into position and lowered down far enough to deploy the rest of its forces and vehicles.
Eventually, hundreds of troops had been deployed onto the beach, ready to move up and into the city towards the cardinal's palace. All wore gasmasks, obviously, so that none of them perished from breathing in the lethal gas that Fontaine and his men had given out or fired into the city. Trucks were also deployed, as well as the four heavily armored tanks that the Ungrians had brought with them from the old world. The mechanical beasts were rather loud, their treads clacking as they rolled across the tougher sand up the beach from the water.
Soon enough, the command crew emerged from the Eisenstrasse. Krantz stood alongside Kyndreth, with his newly aquired demonic raven Hraban perched on his shoulder. Krantz had exchanged his officer's uniform and coat for a combat uniform, wearing an outfit similar to that of his men but with insignia that represented his rank. He wore his field cap, resting atop his head over the gasmask straps. In his hands, one of the standard bolt action rifles that his men used. His revolver sat in its holster on his him. Kyndreth herself was also equipped with a gasmask, specially made just for her. As Hraban was more magically inclined, and likely could simply send the gas away from himself, he was fine as he was.
Von Strauss was dressed similarly, wearing a combat uniform and gear. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, and the sleeves of her uniform were rolled up to just behind the elbow. Her hands were clad in leather gloves, and she had managed to acquire some metal shin guards from one of Váradi's storm troopers. On her face, a gasmask just like the others. Slung low on her waist was one of the SMGs she had made, along with an assortment of magazines for it, as well as one of the semi-automatic pistols. Tucked into her boot, the daggar she purchased back on Cattan. Following behind was Nita, who had been given a gasmask specially made for her as well. It was tricky, but the men in the armory were able to make it work.
Váradi was dressed in full combat kit, armor and all. Steel plates covered a good portion of his body, and in his hands was his machine gun. Just like back at Blackstone Keep. His facemask was the only thing different, as his previous one had been damaged. This one now only had one eyeslot, as he only had one good eye.
They strolled up to the beach where the other men were, and Krantz began wave his hand about. Signalling the troops to get to their assigned positions. Von Strauss motioned for Nita to follow as they strolled over to one of the waiting tanks. "Time to have some fun, dear! I hope you're ready! I'm pretty excited!" she said, grinning beneath her mask as she glanced back to Nita. For some odd reason, there was a bit of a glow coming from the lenses of her gasmask. Barely noticable, but still there.
Krantz looked to Váradi, then up towards the palace. "Two of our tanks will remain here with us. They'll help our forces in the assault on the palace. Von Strauss will take a platoon of troops, and will make her way over to where the Admiral and Tobey's forces are. They will assist in the assault on the Citadel. The remaining tank will also take a platoon of troops and depart for Jäger and Fallensteller's position to assist. Orders have been given to the officers on the bridge to assist with aerial fire support should it be needed." stated Krantz.
Váradi nodded, looking to the palace as well. "I suggest we flank the palace. Fontaine's bunch breach through the north, we come in from this side. We can send one of the tanks to help them out." he said, glancing over to Krantz. Krantz nodded in response. "Alright. Tell the radio operator over there to inform them of our intentions. I'll tell the tank crew to meet up with Fontaine's group." he said, before motioning for Váradi to move out.
---------------
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
EISENSTRASSE GROUND FORCES HAILING EYE OF HORUS <BREAK>
EISENSTRASSE FORCES WILL BREACH THROUGH PALACE WALL FROM EAST <BREAK>
SUGGEST EYE FORCES FLANK AND BREACH FROM NORTH <BREAK>
SENDING TANK TO ASSIST IN FLANKING <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
---
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
EISENSTRASSE GROUND FORCES HAILING REVENANT GROUND FORCES <BREAK>
FRIENDLY TANK AND PLATOON INCOMING TO ASSIST <BREAK>
FIRST OFFICER VON STRAUSS ONBOARD <BREAK>
EISENSTRASSE AIRSHIP ABLE TO AERIAL STRIKE TARGETS IF NEEDED <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
---
<<NEW MESSAGE>
EISENSTRASSE GROUND FORCES HAILING BLITZWAVE GROUND FORCES <BREAK>
FRIENDLY TANK AND PLATOON INCOMING TO ASSIST <BREAK>
EISENSTRASSE AIRSHIP ABLE TO AERIAL STRIKE TARGETS IF NEEDED <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
Nita walked closely behind von Strauss closely as they made their way onto the beach, somewhat out of place as she was not wearing armor or a uniform like all the others were. She only nodded in response to von Strauss, as she was still trying to get used to the mask over her face. I wish I didn't have to wear this. It's pretty uncomfortable...
"Human technology does certainly help." Nita commented as she looked around, though the dead horsemen was a little unnerving to her.
That gas really is something. she thought to herself as she climbed onto the tank. She squirmed into the armored vehicle of war and sat herself inside the compartment, ready for what's to come.
...7...8...9...10
Ten shots of the Eye of Horus raining down the lethal gas on the target area. Fontaine gave orders for the boats to move on the 5th shot, on the 7th the protective gas masks were put on. Reginald tightened the straps of his own mask, making sure that it was on tight. He looked over towards Vunor. In the days between them leaving the port and the battle, the technicians on board the Eye had been working to modify several masks for them to be properly used by their new allies. Whether they planned to use them or rely on the shaman's magic for protection, depended on them.
The boats carried 80 company men and mercenaries for the assault. Professional as they were, the SHIP was not a frontal assault one, so the lower troop number was understandable.
"How long till that cloud is no longer a problem?" Fontaine asked the gas expert on board his vessel.
"Judging by the amount we just hit them with and depending on the wind, somewhere between 50 minutes to an hour and a half." He answered as if he was just talking about repairs costs of a car.
"Better keep the masks for a while then." As soon as Reginald said that the boat hit the shore and they disembarked. "Alright, by the looks of it, the gas made our job easier" he said as he listened to the silence from on the beach, usually a good sign "But stay alert, no telling what they have in store for us."
"Sir, we got a message from the Eisenstrasse. They are sending a tank over to help us breach the palace through the north."
"Tell them that as soon as the tank gets here, we're going to push forwards." Fontaine looked to the city again "Set up a perimeter. If you see something that doesn't look like it's from the fleet, fill it with holes."
---
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
EYE OF HORUS FORCES HAVE LANDED ON THE BEACH<BREAK>
WILL WAIT FOR TANK ASSISTANCE TO ARRIVE BEFORE PUSHING TOWARDS TARGET<BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
Once the message from the Eye of Horus arrived, the troops were given the order to move out. Several platoons began to make their way up the beach, as a few seperated from the main group to tag along two of the tanks. One of them being Von Strauss' tank. Váradi's storm troopers lead the formation, geared in their armor and weilding their large machine guns, while men armed with standard infantry rifles followed behind.
Most were ready for this. During the wars back home, most if not all of them had seen action against the Pavlovians. They knew as much about the ground fight in urban areas as they did the battles in the open fields and trenches. Check your corners. Check your windows. Check your doors. Two to four man clear teams for buildings. Avoid the middle of the street. Watch for sniper fire, molotovs, explosives, and cavalry units. Never go anywhere alone. There was a reason Ungria's army was called the Grand Army. And it wasn't just for their looks or technology.
As the men and women marched on, one tank broke away from the group heading over to where the Eye of Horus's troops had landed. Once it arrived, its commander popped up from his hatch and gave them a simple salute. Meanwhile, the remaining tank clacked along in the middle of the Ungrian troops.
The issue with Von Strauss' tank, and the tank that was being sent to assist Jäger and Fallensteller's group, was that both were rather far from their intended targets. Though that really wasn't much of a problem. As Von Strauss slipped into the top of her tank, she motioned for both units to reboard the Eisenstrasse. They could be carried to their destinations in a matter of minutes. The two tanks rolled back onto the cargo elevator, with their supporting platoons, and they were lifted back into the airship.
Ephraim, whom had been assisting with bringing the troops to shore to begin with via boat, had made his way back aboard with the others boats and crewmen. He'd be safe in the Eisenstrasse, and was tasked by Von Strauss just prior to the battle with watching over the new recruits as well as helping the main gun crew should they need it.
It wasn't long before the airship was back in the sky, floating over towards the other two landing locations. As they neared landing zone Spyglass, they could already see that the group was being fired upon. And that the zone was mainly docks. Von Strauss' tank would have to be set down somewhere else. Landing zone Powder, perhaps. The airship continued to drift, till Powder was in sight. The airship was lowered down down the beach, away from the citadel and the landing crew, so the tanks and men could be deployed safely.
Once off the airship, the tanks proceeded on to their designated groups as the Eisenstrasse lifted off yet. Returning to the sky to provide aerial support. The Powder tank moved quickly to its group, it's defending platoon quickly darting across the beach after it. Meanwhile, Von Strauss decided to take a different route to reach landing zone Spyglass.
---
"Alright! Now, after I say hi to our friends from the Blitzwave and Zuflucht, we're going to head over to where the Admiral and Tobey's men are. When I slip back into the tank, things are going to get VERY ROUGH because we're going to be plowing right through some buildings to get to the Admiral!" explained Von Strauss, looking over to Nita inside the tank's crew compartment. The other men in the tank gave her a thumbs-up.
Von Strauss was grinning widely beneath her mask. "This is going to be so FUN! Also, I'd cover your ears when you hear one of these fine gentlemen shout FIRE, because the cannon can be really loud!" she said, her voice sounding as though she was absolutely giddy about all of this.
A moment later, the tank and its escorting platoon followed after the other group. Heading in the direction of the Blitzwave and Zuflucht landing party.
"That's our ride!" Graves shouted as the tank rolled towards them, saluting the tank commander back when he stopped.
"No time to waste then. Listen up!" Fontaine caught the attention of his men "Follow behind the tank closely, keep alert for any ambushes and don't wander off alone. Any pillaging and looting is to be done after we are accomplish our primary objective!" he looked towards the tank commander "Lead the way, son."
The company men were practically experts for urban warfare. Most of them pulling double duty as peacekeepers in Columbia when not working abroad and when they do travel to work, they would participate in raids and assaults similar to this. For many of them, this was just routine at this point.
The Zuflucht's contribution to the battle was intentionally delayed; the riflemen were not fit for amphibious operations like these and would have to rely on the Blixtvåg to secure a safe landing zone before they could proceed. Lieutenant Pawlitzky, at the head of the boat, instructed his men to keep their heads down. "The enemy doesn't have modern weapons, but you never know when a stray bullet or some kind of magic will catch you out!" he yelled over the sounds of the skiff's engine and the battle all around. The men in the boat were nervous but not altogether scared; they clutched their semiautomatic rifles tightly and waited for the skiff's engine to cut out. Unlike the Gothians, the Teutonic men and women had no form of body armor to protect them, not even a helmet. Instead, they wore brown, hard leather pickelhauben with steel trim.
The officers were easily identifiable to both friend and foe: while the enlisted wore feldgrau-colored uniforms with brown leather belts and trim, officers wore a more authoritative charcoal-colored outfit with black leather trimmings. The peaked caps on their heads were, oddly, more utilitarian than their common soldiers, but were embellished with a wide band of fur. They carried no rifles, instead, a saber hung from their hip. Everyone who took part in the landing at Nadesh was also a servant of Raum, and by the time of the invasion, the simple red ribbons tied around their arms had been replaced with a more permanent crimson arm band.
The skiff cut its engines and turned as hard in the water as it could, bumping several times against an unseen sandbar. "Go, go, go!" Pawlitzky yelled, and the men began leaping over the side and into the thigh-deep water, wading determinedly toward the shoreline at the Gothian left flank. The last few men out of the boat turned around and pushed hard against the skiff, helping it break away from the ocean floor and begin its return trip to the Zuflucht, where it could gather more troops. They held their rifles high above their heads until they they reached the shallows, picking up the pace considerably as they sought to fully establish themselves on land. A few of the men took shots at distant foes, but it was difficult to remain confident while standing exposed on the landing zone. While some men with shovels worked to dig a safe position into the beach, a pair of technicians rigged up a portable radio and got in direct contact with the Captain and her officers.
After some time, the second load of riflemen reached the shore, and they, too, waded across the gap to the safety of the now dug-in position the riflemen had chosen. There was only sporadic resistance from the Nadeshi, as the bombardment and the Gothians had forced them away, and they waited around tensely for movement orders. Their rifles were prone to jamming in dirty conditions, but could lay down a greater rate of fire than almost any bolt-action rifle in service around the world. This meant that the Zuflucht's contribution would mainly be covering fire. Their pistol, however, was still quite reliable and capable in close quarters, and so the more bold members of the landing force would be prepared for a more direct role.
---
Fallensteller and a few officers sat on the top deck of the ship, overlooking the vast scene of the battle as well as a map unfurled on the table between them, showing the coast of the island and the operational scheme. They, too, had a portable radio which would allow them to relay orders in real-time, thanks to a patch-through from the radio room. When the time was right, the Captain would be joining them on shore in order to carry out her labor for Raum. For now, however, she simply watched and waited. Also gathered on deck was the entire unit of bats, prepped as couriers with assigned ships and Captains to rapport with. Like the human servants, the bats had also been given more-permanent symbols of their affiliation: red-dyed leather collars.
Mesahri stood at attention, seething with bitterness but physically unable to express it in a meaningful way. She hadn't spoken with Lunaire since leaving Catten, and had no intention of trying to rekindle the vaguely cousin- or sister-like relationship they once held. She would have been able to forgive her if she had just been manipulated, as she herself had been, but that wasn't the case at all. Lunaire apparently loved Fallensteller and Raum to the point that she was willing to cross lines to show it. Mesahri had overheard her speaking to Dr. Keseberg that very morning, and had admitted that the Captain had arranged for her to come into possession of a key which could unlock any of the doors in the section containing sleeping quarters for most of the crew - not that there were many with lockable doors - but one very important one was specifically mentioned: Braam's. Lunaire had apparently sneaked into the room before dawn and claimed to have somehow bitten the boy without waking him.
She described his blood as "sweet like market fruit from home," and Keseberg offered her praise for exploring her new "needs." She apparently didn't see the problem, since her victim had "lots" of blood and she only took "a little bit." Mesahri shuddered, thinking of how twisted the girl's mind must be in order to be comfortable with this madness.
Bitara was more reserved. Initially, when she had learned of Lunaire's increasing thirst for blood, she had offered to carry the burden of supplying her, to keep her out of further trouble if nothing else. The Captain was adamant, however, that Lunaire's progress should not be impeded for anyone's sake, as there was no point trying to suppress a gift bestowed by Raum. Bitara resigned herself, then, into simply caring for Lunaire's daily needs and reminding her of her home and roots as much as possible, even as the Captain doted on her and filled her mind with fantastic visions of the Zuflucht's return to the Old World.
---
Far away, on the Dawnbreaker, Ackermann was exercising in his quarters, trying to ignore the sounds of the cannons elsewhere on the ship. The idea of fighting on land was unpleasant, especially after his last experience, but the urge to intervene was slowly growing. He wanted to see Kahleen again, at least, and make sure that Fallensteller or one of the other traitors in the fleet didn't choose this moment to "accidentally" injure or kill her. The only problem was: how would Dobbs react if he asked permission to participate?
Going THROUGH buildings in this thing? Jeez, this thing must be practically a mountain on wheels. Nita thought as she gave a thumbs-up to von Strauss.
---
Vunor had made it to the beach alongside Fontaine, although he opted out of using a mask. Instead, he imbued his staff with a simple air ward. This caused his staff to give off a noticeable
look as if a bit of mist and electricity surrounded the top of the staff. As he approached the outskirts of the gas, it began to part from Vunor as if it was being repulsed, leaving the surrounding area around him free to breathe.
The bovine warriors however wore their masks, although some were complaining about the tightness and un-comfortableness of such an apparel.
["Must we really wear these strange masks?"] one of the warriors asked with an annoyed tone.
["Yes, the human's gas would kill us if we do not wear these."] Sahale explained, although he too did not like the mask. ["Until it goes away, we must endure this."]
---
<<NEW MESSAGE FROM HMV DAWNBREAKER>>
FIRE SUPPORT FROM DAWNBREAKER READY<BREAK>
REQUEST VIA DESGINATION OF COORDINATES OR BY FLARES <BREAK>
At Landing Zone Spyglass
Nearly one-hundred and fifty marines, about half of the Revenant's marine force, were spilling into the docks and shipyard. These docks were a mess of wooden piers which jutted out into the choppy bay, with much of the water relatively shallow in some areas. Dark mud that was thick with grass, barnacles, and debris made up a good portion of land beneath many of the docks up against the main stone seawall. The firing patterns had been raised higher into the city, so damage from the bombardment here was relatively light, leaving most of the docks open for the invaders despite a large portion of the area being whipped up in a firestorm from burning warehouses further up the docks and into the city itself.
Admiral Mannfred stepped off one of the boats, flanked by marines of his own special unit - the Archangels. These men had been seen several times already, most notably at the dungeons in Cattapoli, but now they were dressed a little differently. Instead of the usual marine attire of white trousers and jackets, these men wore more infantry like uniforms - red pants with dark midnight blue jackets. Their combat webbing was oriented to better fit their load out of submachine guns, instead of their more typical Marian rifles. They didn't look far off from stormtroopers, but without the helmets and heavier armor. Their white pith helmets were still reinforced with small steel plate shields along the outside, providing about the same protection as some full helmets. The white skull and red tear drop patches on their arms were quite noticeable. Regardless, all men had gas masks already hanging at the ready around their necks. Their area of approach was not supposed to have been gassed, but there was no telling where some shells landed and how the wind moved them about.
"Admiral! First Officer Von Strauss of the Eissenstrasse reports she is inbound with an armor unit and platoon," a signal corpsman said, crouching low beside Mannfred. The soldier had a massive bulky radio box on his back, with a series of thick antenna, a crank handle, and a large phone receiver. These devices were relatively new to the field and had only seen very limited use in the Colonial War, but the intermittent years they had become popular in the smaller skirmishes around the Old World. Almost like the years between then and now was just a time to test new technology before the next war. Airships, tanks, and improved planes were all in their utter infancy when the Colonial War was ending. Now they were beginning to see their first real use in combat, both here and in the Old World.
"Understood, keep her updated on our position," he nodded, then turning to his commanders. "Sergeant Donovan! Organize platoons into a general cross formation, we'll take the top point with Renault's platoon behind us. Keep the side streets clear on our advance, and ensure a clear line remains between our forward position and this landing point. Sailor teams will be here shortly to hold the docks for us."
The Master Sergeant saluted and bounded off, shouting orders with his baritone voice.
Rifle fire, supported by the chatter of the Brunswick submachine guns, began to grow more common. The heavier thump of rifled muskets from the Nadeshi were sporadic as well. Mannfred estimated they had about ten minutes before any real resistance was put up against them, since the bombardment had scattered and stunned the entire city.
Mannfred had a submachine gun resting against his chest as his personal unit did as well, looking every bit an infantry officer rather than a fleet admiral. The regular marines in their white uniforms hurried down the streets to secure their flanks, while a screening unit carried on down the nearest front avenue. After a few minutes, Mannfred and their unit made their advance. Burly brawlers from the Mariner's Boon accompanied the marines, and were directed to clear the buildings as they moved in.
At Landing Zone Powder
Marines and sailors from the Blitzwave made their charge across the large relatively flat beach towards the damaged fortress. The sand here, like elsewhere, was a rather pretty white. Craters were scattered further up the beach near the small dunes, and just further past was a stretch of flat open ground (also covered in craters) before the walls of the fortress rose up. Most of the barbed wire was primitive and scattered entirely, but one misstep could drop a man easily into a tangle of the metal vines. Nadeshi soldiers didn't have the best weapon technology, but a lucky hit would still kill a man easily.
However, the plate armor of the Blitzwave troops gave them a good advantage over bullets from the Nadeshi. Their rifles had heavy thumps to their report, but also a small crack as well, revealing at least some to have been rifled. It was clear that these weapons were still muzzle loaders, which meant their rifled ammunition must have resembled minie balls - a once common and now very outdated form of ammunition when the Old World still used muzzle loaders. Their velocity was not high enough to pierce Gothian plate armor at range, but still delivered quite a kick. Still, a small handful of men went down, either clipped in unarmored spots or hit by the scattering of grapeshot that raked portions of the beach.
The armor also slowed troops down, making it harder to escape ragged volley fire from the defenders - and the grapeshot of cannons. The gas shells from the Blitzwave were making landfall as the Gothian's were already halfway up the beach, giving them cover to reach the dunes and dig in. Gas shells always exploded with a skin-tingling fomph sound, gushing out the poisonous chemicals within all around. The Nadeshi defenders, of course, had no real idea on how to deal with poisonous air, nor did they expect such a weapon. Just as the defensive fire was getting hot, it died back down again as the gas started to reach the eyes and lungs of the Nadeshi troops. Most of the men affected by it were from the lower gun ports in the walls, or firing from the rubble on the ground at fallen sections of the wall. The defenders on top of the wall, however, were almost entirely untouched given their elevation and the basic fact that gas was heavy, and settled close to the ground. It made trench warfare incredibly deadly, but here the enemy was more vertical.
Yarah-kei was just as incredulous as Therasmus was at this entire ordeal, following along behind Jager in her uniform and gas mask. This was, without a doubt in her mind, the most ridiculous thing she had been dragged along in to. A war - and a crazy one at that. She was like the Nadeshi in the fact that guns, artillery, gas, tanks, and airships were simply not concepts in her mind, though she had warmed up to them since her arrival. Her idea of a battlefield still remained with knights, swordsmen, and pikemen all vying for melee superiority. Here, it was a lot of running and taking cover from whizzing bullets. Her bewilderment kept her silent, and she fumbled with her pistol in her hand while she looked between Jager and Therasmus.
The Eissenstrasse had landed a distance away further down the beach, away from the fortress but in an area of rougher sand and higher dunes. It was safer for the tanks to land here, but a few scattered cannon shots were directed towards them. It was unsure if a round shot from a cannon could do any harm to the airship. At the moment, the iron balls were simply skipping across the sand and sending up large plumes of the beach into the air. A hit on one of the tanks, however, would probably do some damage.
Troops from the Zuflucht were making their delayed entrance now as well, as the Gothian's held the beachhead firmly. The effective amount of defenders shooting at them had been reduced by about a third, possibly close to half, as the only men capable of fighting back were the ones on the walls of the fort. The gun ports near the bottom remained eerily quiet as the gas undoubtedly killed many of those on the ground level. For an amphibious invasion, thins were going remarkably well. A beach this wide and open would have been utter hell for the attackers had the Nadeshi had machine guns, and gas masks to protect themselves. Still, death could come at any moment, and the zipping snap of bullets around them kept heads down.
At Landing Zone Royal
The beach here remained relatively quiet. Explosive ordnance did not land in abundance here as it had in the middle sections of the city, so craters and damage was a little more sparse. Most of the beach was easily taken in a short amount of time without any resistance at all. More and more bodies were seen littering the streets, backyards, gardens, and the boardwalks nearby from the gas shells which saturated this entire area. It seemed that the districts of rich townhomes and businesses which led up to the palace were thoroughly poisoned. Few of the bodies seen on the streets by the beach were of soldiers, and instead were mostly civilians who attempted to escape. Columbian and Ungrian troops made their first advance over the dunes and boardwalks to enter the coastal streets.
Many doorways were agape and windows broken. More bodies were scattered about. The gas had done its job, and done it well. Against a civilian population there was no defense, and the soldiers here were most certainly not equipped with the equipment, let alone the knowledge, to deal with gas.
However, just as troops were making it into the wide avenues and luxurious lanes, some activity would be spotted in the northeast - way further down the beach away from the city and the operating zone. Spotters and watchmen made it clear that active cavalry was in the area, but their effectiveness was unknown - gas still permeated the streets, but a charge from the beach could be dangerous for both sides. The cavalry had the advantage of wide open land to charge across, but the Old Worlders had the advantage in firepower. Only a couple machine guns could render a charge stopped in mere moments.
Still, the quiet in this area of the city was almost... disconcerting.
After forming a wide firing line with nearly three rows of soldiers the Gothians hunkered down momentarily. The gas had been used to great effect. "I need to thank Fontaine for that," Jäger thought to himself.
Behind the rows of Gothian troops Pawlitzky and the soldiers from the Zuflucht arrived, as well as the Gothian vehicles. Light reconnassaince vehicles armed with machienguns (now sporting protective gunshields) coupled with jeeps and the heavy drills formed up behind the troops. Several soldiers had deployed simple rectangular metal plates on the beach to aid the vehicles, giving them better grip.
Jäger looked at Therasmus and Yarah-kei. "Follow me. Don't stop." Fallstrom and Gavrilov remained silent.
At the same time Kahleen sprinted over the Cavaliers. "Ready yourselves!"
Then came the thunder. The Blitzwave's main cannons had fired once more. A swarm of high-explosive incendiary shells smashed into the walls. Jäger raised his sword and stood up.
"FRAMÅT!"
The Gothians responded with a deafening warcry as they rose up from their positions and stormed the fortress with the vehicles following quickly behind. Vehicle gunners and marines armed with machienguns paused from time to time to fire off covering salvoes.
Therasmus was not all that familiar with how this form of warfare was waged, in fact he had very little idea how contemporary war was waged in all of the years he has transcended and existed. Like many things the details, however vague or fine, would flash for the briefest moments before fading into obscurity. The only fresh memories were instances of small skirmishes among a single adversary or even a group of enemies, battles of his past. At those times they would be ended rather quickly, as the demon never liked to put himself in a fight where the odds were not in his favor. Perhaps such advanced and tactical combat fluency would come with more focus, or a real threat would give his mind the jump-start it needs to make the unfamiliar familiar.
The thunderous booms and air-splitting cracks of explosives and small arms shattered the peaceful air of the beach as those brisk winds were now taking a far more chilling and ominous undertone, their tranquility gone with the opening shots of this combat. When Jager made the call for him to follow behind him, he gave a relaxed nod as the group's pace increased. Once again he was not too skilled in moving quickly on his legs, but it was a situation that would be remedied.
With his hands still behind his back his strides soon stopped entirely before he began to float several inches off of the ground, feet no longer touching the twisting terrain of the sand beneath them as he returned to his gentle gliding on the cool air around them. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his pace was on par with the charging group, and he thought himself quite safe with all of the bodies around him. It had been some time before he had been struck with a weapon from the waking world, and while they hadn't been fatal he could not say it was an experience he had taken a liking to.
The tanks from the Eisenstrasse closed the distance rather quickly between where they were and the groups from the Blitzwave and Zuflucht, the tank treads kicking up sand as they trudged across the beach. Once they were within accurate firing range of the fortress, both paused briefly and took aim with their main cannons. Once they locked onto their targets, which were cannons on the walls of the fortress (that were still around), they fired one at a time. Von Strauss' tank fired behind the other, unleashing 75mm shells upon the enemy.
75mm shells were perfect for taking down fortifications and enemy armor, as they had been used in field guns for several years now. The trick was getting the power of a field gun into a moving armored vehicle. After some extensive testing and work, the Ungrians had achieved that ability during the Colonial War and the war against the Pavlovian. It was further perfected over the years, achieving higher calibers which were used in later models of tanks. These tanks that were sent with the Eisenstrasse, however new they might be, were of a lighter class and still using the 75mm loadout alongside its standard fixed machine guns. It wouldn't stand up to any of the larger tanks back home, but it'd certainly stop musket fire and grape shot. The cannon balls were still cause for worry, as a couple of direct hits would likely cripple one of the tanks.
Once they had fired, they moved up. The platoons escorting the tanks hid behind them for cover, stepping out and taking shots at the defenders when they were able to. Eventually, they were among the forces of the Blitzwave, Von Strauss poking her head out of her hatch.
"Why, hello there! Lovely day for a slaughter, isn't it?" said Von Strauss, as the tank stopped next to where Jäger and his command group were. She tugged her mask up for a brief moment, revealing her trademark grin. "The tank over there, we call her Carmilla! Feed her well, and she'll take very good care of you and yours!" she stated, before looking to Kahleen and giving her a cute wave.
---
Krantz wasn't happy to see the dead civilians litering the streets and doorways. Not at all. But obviously, he had a battle to focus on. He looked about as the group made its way up one of the many wide streets, keeping an eye out for any stragglers that the gas might have missed. "If you see any Nadeshi suffering, show them mercy and finish them off." said Krantz, glancing to Kyndreth. He then looked to Hraban. "See if you can get a good aerial view, please. If you see any Nadeshi in waiting, let me know." he said, moving his shoulder up a bit so that Hraban could get a nice launch off.
The other Ungrian troops had moved to the sides as they entered the streets, leaving only the tank (nicknamed Siegfried) moving up the center with some moving behind it for cover. It created a nice firing pattern in the even they were attacked from the other end of the street, the tank providing sweeping fire across the width of the street with its cannon and machine guns, while the soldiers on both sides of the street could simply shoot any stragglers. Krantz, Kyndreth, and Hraban were on the right side of the street, while Váradi moved up the left. The entire group heading straight for the eastern side of the palace.
The wall of Gothians hunkered down into covert, still analyzing the result of their charge. Unlike before there were now large pieces of rubble to be used as cover. They were getting closer. Once the tanks arrived Jäger raised his sword to cheer with several of his men doing the same.
"We'll take good care of Camilla, don't worry," replied Jäger. Kahleen, who was hunkering down nearby simply nodded towards Von Strauss. She didn't like the woman but tank support was undeniably a welcome gift. Von Strauss also appeared smug. Too smug, even. "What was she up to?"
She looked at Jäger. "Captain, permission to go with Von Strauss. She could use an extra rifle."
Jäger looked up and glanced between Kahleen and Von Strauss. "Whatever it is you're up to I hope you know what you're doing."
"I have no objections, assuming Von Strauss doesn't mind." He nodded. "Go."
Kahleen bowed her head and then got up. As she moved she tapped Dahl, her right hand man, on the shoulder. The marksman nodded and followed.
Quickly Kahleen and Dahl climbed up onto the tank, seating themselves right behind the turret with Kahleen on the left and Dahl on the right. Both were armed with scoped rifles. Kahleen nodded at Von Strauss. "Ready."
Von Strauss gave her the two of them a thumbs up. "Oh, by the way! We'll be plowing through a few buildings on the way over to where the Admiral is. Watch your heads!" she said, her voice sounding rather cheerful. A moment later, she turned and slipped back down into the turret, closing the hatch behind her. The tank jerked as it started moving, heading towards buildings nearby to the west. Supposedly there was a street somewhere on the otherside that would lead straight up to where the Admiral had landed. And driving straight through to it was the quickest route!
Meanwhile, the tank known as Carmilla continued to fire upon the fortress, targetting cannons and any large clusters of Nadeshi troops.
"Good work, gentlemen." Fontaine commented as he observed the street in front of him. "You've earned your pay." He used his cane to push a body that had fallen on it's side to roll it on it's back. "Maybe even a raise."
"Don't hand them out yet, boss." Graves tossed in his two cents "Most of these are civilians. Not exactly the dangerous sort."
"You forget that everyone above the age of 13 is considered a threat." Reginald chastised him "We're in a land of zealots." He motioned for the men to keep moving behind the tank. Slowly they moved through the dead streets, shotguns and SMGs gripped in anticipation for something to jump out of the smoke or from behind the corner.
"Zealots... but not by choice." Vunor muttered as they continued on through the street.
At Landing Zone Spyglass
Admiral Mannfred's unit, supported by Lieutenant Renault's, pushed down a wide cobbled avenue that led deeper into the city. Numerous buildings were burning, and debris littered the street. Most shells ended up hitting the tall buildings around them, but some craters pocketed the streets in places where they could get through. Riflemen and submachine gunners worked in tandem as they advanced down the street. The one-shot Marian rifles were surplus that boasted reliability and stopping power, but their very design was slow to fire - even in experienced hands. Men armed with the rifles kept to the middle of the street while the marines armed with the submachine guns kept near the sides. Every once in a while a few men would peer through a broken window or shattered doorway and spray the interior with a few rounds. The screams of the people within - civilians or soldiers - were often loud.
After making it through three major intersections, the first real line of defense had materialized. Rubble had been quickly organized, or rather, dumped, into the middle of one street and the nearby alleyways. Several dozen Nadeshi soldiers in long coats and cotton caps were waiting here, having formed a ragged line behind their barricade. The Brunswick forward scouts kept the main units from walking into the line of fire, but as soon as both sides saw each other a firefight erupted.
The Nadeshi fired at the order of their commander, firing a single large volley down the street. Marines took cover in doorways and among the rubble in the streets, returning fire. Only about three or four volleys could be managed by the Nadeshi firearms in a single minute, while the Marian guns got off nearly ten shots in the hands of the experienced Brunswickers. Bolt-action rifles would have managed an even more impressive rate of fire. As it was, the submachine guns helped to make up for this lapse, and the Nadeshi soon were firing at will as their command broke down.
Already, two marines were dead in the street. One was crumpled over awkwardly and another was thrashing about wildly as he held his bleeding throat, his feet kicking around and his eyes wide. A couple men were wounded, and one was having a bandage tied tightly around his red-stained arm from the shadow of an empty cafe.
"Pioneers!" Mannfred shouted, pointing out a small team of three men with his black gloved hand. "Under cover, advance and grenade their position!"
These men were not actually pioneers, but fulfilled this role, along with that of infantry grenadiers. They were in fact veterans of such units back home, but the marines had no such formal positions. Their bodies were weighed down by grenades and more bulkier equipment made for construction or demolition work on the go, so such distinctions were rather moot.
They heard their commander loud and clear and readied themselves before moving down the street.
"Covering fire!"
Submachine guns opened up frantically, accompanied by fast but not particularly well-aimed rifle shots. The fire was meant to keep the Nadeshi down, and it did. The trio of pioneers sprinted down the street, guns slung over their backs, while they grasped their stielhandgranates - imports from Teutonia. All three of them tossed small grenade bundles with the practiced arms of grenadiers, sending them towards the Nadeshi barricade. Once the grenades had left their hands they flung themselves to the ground and covered themselves.
The resounding detonations tore apart the barricade and sent the Nadeshi around it into chaos. Mannfred ordered a follow-up assault and within seconds the Brunswick marines were charging ferociously down the street. Some of the Nadeshi held, and some were up in windows, and return fire took down a couple marines. Regardless, even a single man with a submachine gun was worth more than a dozen with muskets, and the fighting was close and brutal. Many Nadeshi threw down their guns and pulled out swords, axes, and other pole arms and charged back. Bayoneted rifles clashed with spears, and submachine gunners eradicated everyone who crossed their path. Mannfred was no stranger to combat, and he waded into the fight with experienced ease, clutching his own submachine gun firmly in his hands and dispatching Nadeshi as they appeared.
At Landing Zone Powder
The fight here remained tense, even with the amount of casualties the Nadeshi had taken in the opening bombardment and gas attack. Hundreds of men lined the upper walls of the fortress, firing at will and laying down a fair rate of fire. Casualties on the Gothian and Teutonian side were guaranteed regardless of their method of assault. The heavier cannons on the walls were beginning to reach their limit of depression and couldn't fire down at the invaders below, so they continued to launch grapeshot and roundshot at the more distant troops still moving up the beach further back, most notably Von Strauss' armor as they rolled down the beach.
Heavy distant thumps of cannon marked the next firing of the Blitzwave's guns, launching forth a volley of incendiary shells. It sounded like a freight train barreling overhead as the shells approached, but astonishingly they suddenly detonated in mid air, just over the Gothians and Nadeshi alike. The air shimmered like water as some type of sorcery had clearly appeared, and based on the downwards push of the explosive incendiary shells, some type of shield must have been produced. Fire and concussive air was forced rapidly down between the walls of the fort and the dunes where the invaders took cover, showing the area in fire and scorching air. A few unlucky Gothians too far ahead were caught in a rainstorm of fire, and some portion of the Nadeshi wall was showered in a wave of flame. The defenders couldn't be heard screaming over the battle, but their torched bodies tumbled over the battlements like falling meteors.
Had the magic not been used, the walls of the fortress would have undoubtedly been utterly incinerated, with everyone on it roasted. The intensity of the fire attack stunned many of the Nadeshi and caused many to cower, but the gunfire kept coming as best as the musketeers could manage. It was hard to pinpoint where this magic had come from, but it was clear that there had to have been a sorcerer somewhere. Curiously, the lower firing tanks from the Eisenstrasse still managed to get their rounds down range without any magical obstruction.
Both Therasmus and Yarah could feel it like a vague buzzing energy in the air. They could taste and feel it, but they couldn't find an exact location for it. Therasmus' senses were far more attuned than a simple succubus', and he could tell that it was coming from the direction of the fort - likely from within or very nearby. Sensing magic in many cases without seeing it, depending on the type, was like feeling the heat of an invisible fire. It was hard to tell sometimes where its center was exactly, but you could manage its general area. Once the wielder or source was actually seen, however, then it would stand out like a candle in the dark.
With the incendiary attack foiled, the land between the fort and upper dunes was smouldering and choked in smoke, making it hard in many places to see. The Gothian's were weighed down by their armor and further hindered by their gas masks - protective against gas and foul air, but an absolute horror to fight in. They were hot, cramped, and difficult to see well out of.
Supported by their vehicles, they charged into the no-mans-land and advanced on the fortress. Some men dropped as they were hit or clipped by the rifled muskets, many simply being knocked over or startled as their armor stopped the bullets, but some going down as lucky shots hit them in weak spots where the armor couldn't protect them. Yarah hurried behind Jager with her pistol in her hand, her head down as she tried to watch her footing on the sandy crater marked landscape. Patches of ground were burning from the incendiary attack, making the advance all the more treacherous.
The charge made it to the wall quickly, but more than a couple dozen men were scattered about, wounded or dead. One jeep which had crested the dunes at the wrong time was hit square on by a cannon shot, smashing the front of the cab and pulping the driver and dashboard, but leaving the gunner in the back still alive.
Once against the walls of the fortress, it was hard to shoot up at the Nadeshi, and they likewise had difficultly shooting directly down. The air was smoky here from the gunpowder, and there was a strange tinge to it from the gas which had seeped out around the fort. It didn't take long for the defenders to start dropping bricks and rubble down upon the attackers below. Not typically lethal, but a brick to a helmeted head or shoulder hurt like hell. The real danger were the few clever souls dropping cannonballs down, which would shatter a man's skull and break his neck regardless of what he had on his head.
At Landing Zone Royal
The misty gas filled streets were a terrible sight to behold. Smoke from fires burning further up in the city was already drifting down in their direction, drenching some streets in an even worse haze. Bodies of citizens and soldiers who had tried to flee still littered the streets, but most were crumpled up inside buildings when troops went through them. Having took cover from the bombardment, most ended up dying where they cowered when the gas arrived. Despite their firepower and general tactical superiority, the troops here were in a dangerous position because the gas and smoke mixed haze would make it difficult to determine when it was safe to take the masks off. Even with an estimated hour of time left before the gas would dissipate, it was still very dangerous. Someone, naturally, would have to be the first at some point to check the air if they didn't come across any living Nadeshi, but even then veterans of the Colonial War knew the trouble with gas - one side of a street could be safe, the other toxic. It was a hellish environment to deal with.
Hraban had taken flight and scouted out above some of the streets. Every once in a while his black form could be seen soaring above the hazy streets, before finally after a little while he returned promptly to Krantz.
"It appears there are numerous independent sources of magic in our vicinity. I approximate seventeen sources. They're keeping back but following our advance," Hraban said in a raspy voice, unlike his typically smooth tone. It seemed the gas had an affect on the demon, too. "I can linger with you if you desire, sir, but I can also harass some of them quite easily. I will not be able to protect this area from sorcerous attacks if I leave, however," he pointed out, careful to let Krantz know his options.
Before a decision could be made, there was a curious rumbling sound that seemed to come from all around them. Hraban squawked and took flight immediately, rushing down the street and performing some sort of spell which caused a bright flash of light.
The street before them, and the other nearby streets, were collapsing downwards. A sewer system must have existed beneath the city, as the center lanes of the streets imploded downwards as something collapsed them. There was no sound of explosives, and given Hraban's sudden activity, it must have been a magic attack. The streets plummeted about a dozen feet downwards, turning flat cobbled lanes into a mess of crumpled rubble. The sidewalks nearer the buildings were still up, but some were slanted downwards towards the center of the streets which now formed canyons between the buildings. Several seconds after the streets had all fallen inwards, a building two blocks in front of them slumped forwards and collapsed down into the destroyed street. Still possible to advance down, but not easily, especially if some buildings were prone to collapsing inwards. It was an ultimate scorched earth tactic.
Hraban had stopped the collapse from going any further in their direction, and he had created a proverbial spot that could be coined where-the-side-walk-ends. He had flown in front of the advanced troops and stopped them from going forwards, and kept the street behind him from collapsing downwards and sending everyone and the vehicles crashing down in a heap. There was about a three foot gap from the street here downwards into the rubble filled canyons before them, which slumped even more downwards further down the block. The tanks would manage the bumpy landscape, but wheeled vehicles were not going to have an easy time of it, and for some it may not even be possible. It looked like all the blocs around them had imploded streets. The men would have to crawl their way through, and their speed would be hindered greatly.
One the other hand, any fears of the cavalry in this area were cleared. It would be impossible for horses to traverse these collapsed streets. The only place they could effectively come from was from behind them and on the beach they had landed at, but all around them in the direction of their advance, the streets had been destroyed, thus making it a foot-only approach aside from tracked vehicles.
Hraban swooped back over to Krantz. "An impressive and clever tactic, but a costly one for some. Two of the magical sources have perished. This is common among battle mages. Death from overstress when performing powerful spells is not unusual. I would caution our advance. A ploy such as this displays that they will go to great lengths to combat us."
He paused for a moment and seemed to twitch. "I can sense some more activity already... what would you like me to do?"
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