"The battle mages need to be eliminated if we're going to get any closer to taking the palace. Hunt them down and eliminate them, please. Lady Kyndreth, since you're a far better warrior than we are, go with him. I'll be safe here with my men for the time being, and the two of you together likely could take the battle mages out quickly. Return to me once you've killed them all. Also, try and stay out the gas. Its deadly to us mortals, and it seems to be affecting you too." stated Krantz, looking between Hraban and Kyndreth. He then looked back to a radio man behind them. "Radio the others. Tell them that we've encountered battle mages, and they are attempting to impede our progress."
The radio operator nodded, before squatting down and getting to work. A moment later, Krantz looked to the others. "MOVE SLOW. STAY ALERT, AND WATCH YOUR STEP." he shouted. Other troops relayed the orders back to the rest of the troops, and the soldiers pushed on.
---
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
EISENSTRASSE GROUND FORCES HAILING REVENANT GROUND FORCES, BLITZWAVE GROUND FORCES <BREAK>
ENCOUNTERED SEVERAL ENEMY BATTLE MAGES <BREAK>
TWO DEAD, REST ATTEMPTING TO HALT PROGRESS TOWARDS PALACE<BREAK>
LIKELY MORE AT OTHER LANDING ZONES <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
---------
Von Strauss chuckled as her tank plowed through several buildings, eventually arriving near the docks where the Admiral and Tobey's forces had landed. Kahleen, Dahl, and the escort patrol followed through the rubble behind Von Strauss, since riding on the tank would have been a bad idea while it was crashing through these stone and wood buildings. Once the tank stopped, Kahleen and Dahl hopped back on. Once everyone was ready, they continued on till they arrived at the mass of friendly forces engaging the Nadeshi.
"TIME TO GO TO WORK, BOYS AND GIRLS!" said Von Strauss, with a cackle. A moment later, the fixed machine guns on the tank opened up, cutting down any Nadeshi that happened to be caught out in the open.
Jäger slammed into the wall with his shoulder. One by one his troops did the same. He cursed underneath his breath as he checked the magazine on his gun. Glancing back towards the beach made him curse further. So far they hadn't suffer any major casualties but for Jäger any casualty was too much. Then there was the magic which had nullified the incendiary barrage.
"Therasmus, take Gavrilov and Fallstrom with you. Find that sorcerer once we are inside. We're not taking any prisoners."
With that said most of the Gothians were now huddling next to the fortress. Metal shields were raised above the heads of some troops while others aimed upwards to shoot any enemies that may expose themselves. At the same time the three heavy drills were now arriving and began to work on the wall.
Assuming that everything worked as intended there would be three tunnels. Flamethrower soldiers, followed by machinegunners, stood ready to move in and clear the first rooms once the drills were through. The rest of the soldiers made sure that their bayonets were still secured and that their swords, daggers and other sharp melee weapons were still on their person.
The comapany men stopped dead in their tracks. The large gap that suddenly appeared before them had that effect. Fontaine pushed his way through to the front of the line to get a good look. He stopped after he saw the street wide canions.
"What now? What happened here?"
"Well" On of the soldiers began "The streets collapsed and it looks like it was right above the sewers. They might have just lit a fart on fire. Pardon my Corsou." Some of the men couldn't help and laughed. Fontaine wasn't in the mood however. Before he could say anything, the radio officer spoke up.
"News from the other group, sir. They say that this was done by enemy mages? Only way we can go forward is to find them and kill them."
"I see." Fontaine looked to where Vunor and his warriors were "Mr. Vunor, can you help with these threats?"
Therasmus pushed with the Gothians and their retinue at a good pace, any gunfire coming his way getting him to casually change his course by casually dodging what might hit him. Yet the magical countermeasures of the Nadeshi forces was enough to rouse him out of his relaxed trance, his head twisting and turning toward where the source might be. It was somewhere near this fortress, and as they pushed to the wall he placed his hand on the structure and spread its palm, the demon trying to place where exactly the interference had originated. This wall would be simple for him to scale, if need be he could leave the group and start attacking those posted on the fortress walls before finding a way in...
But then Jager's request broke him out of that thought process. "Certainly. I take those machines and their racket will be our passage way inside? Yes, I could quite easily find the sorcerer after that. Potentially." the demon replied, soon looking toward Fallstrom and Gavrilov. Their assistance would be welcome when it came to dispatching the forces they might encounter but it did mean that he would have to take the less direct approach, given that they couldn't fly like he could. Positives and negatives... Therasmus looked up at the wall as the drills did their work, doing his best to halt the falling rubble with his own wall of telekinetic force, keeping the command group safe.
Vunor nodded to Fontaine and readied his staff. "Of course. I will do all I can." he said as he looked around.
"How close are they raven?" Vunor asked Hraban.
The radio on the deck of the Zuflucht buzzed and popped as numerous other sets in the area created interference. With careful calibration, a technician kept the signal focused on the Teutonic operators on the beachhead, who were now reporting sorcery at LZ Powder. Fallensteller reached out and set a special marker on the battle map, and then a moment later, did the same for another section of the city where, a few moments earlier, a different message had informed them that the Admiral was likewise encountering magical resistance. She then stood up and took a long, long look at the map.
"What do you think, Captain?" Schuster asked her.
She looked troubled. "Wilhelm..." she said under her breath before answering the question. "Captain Jäger is there with his men, and I'm concerned for his welfare if there's magic involved. The others will be safe as long as Calcifer is present."
Schuster glanced at the curtain of smoke rising from the somewhat distant fortress. "He has the demons with him, doesn't he?" he asked.
Fallensteller nodded, and then smiled mischievously. "He has demons, yes, but whether they're really going to do him any good is quite the question, Commander. He would be better off with a sorcerer at his side, don't you think?"
Kirsch cut in. "Your magic is that powerful, Captain?" the helmsman asked.
"I've yet to test the limits of my abilities," Fallensteller said idly. "And besides, my power grows at the Lord's whim. This trial would be quite the opportunity to show Him what a servant I can be. Perhaps He'll bring me to new heights."
"...Right," Kirsch replied, trying to appear undisturbed.
"Right indeed. Where is Miss Neustadt? I'd like her to bring out her latest fabrication. Also, has the skiff returned to the launch, yet?" While an attendant sprinted away to locate the chief engineer, Commander Schuster used the radio to request the skiff's location. A moment later, the answer came through, alerting them all to the fact that the boat was rapidly approaching the skiff launch and would be available for use in mere minutes. "Ah, good," Fallensteller said, and her smile only grew as the attendant brought out Neustadt with an armed guard, keeping the engineer at gunpoint as she waddled along in leg irons, carrying a wooden box.
She wore a deranged smile of her own, and the other officers avoided eye contact with her as she spoke, all except Mesahri, who couldn't help but notice that Neustadt hadn't been given a red stripe around her arm, like other humans, but had been given a collar just like the bats, and felt an immediate sense of indignation on her behalf. But Neustadt didn't seem to mind; she had lost some weight over the last week and looked as if she wasn't entirely there, anymore. "Y-your massk, missstresss" she hissed, holding out the box for Fallensteller's approval, her newly red eyes pleading from behind matted tresses of blonde hair.
Fallensteller walked over and took the box, setting it on the table and opening it. Inside, a one-of-a-kind gas mask stared back at the Captain with a red gleam in its fathomless eyes, reflections of Fallensteller's irises as she gazed down on it. Unlike the universally-sized and cloth-covered masks issued to the troops, this one had been created using a special mold of the Captain's face, taken the previous day while en-route, and was covered by black leather which was stitched and shaped to give it the shape and appearance of a face belonging to one of the ship's bats. The filtering apparatus, located inside the "muzzle," was actually non-functioning, but that didn't matter much as the Captain had no need to breathe. The mask was meant mainly to keep the gas out of her eyes, and to maintain appearances with the crews of other ships.
"Silke, dear," Fallensteller said with an astonished shake of her head and clapping her black-gloved hands. "You've outdone yourself!"
Neustadt was so overjoyed to have Sabine's affection again that she nearly broke down in tears. The Captain stepped up and embraced her as she nearly fainted, and held her a while as she sobbed into Fallensteller's shoulder. "I'm ssorry, I'm ssorry..." she begged, ashamed that she had doubted her love for Sabine over something so trifling as her hesitation to serve. No, Raum was great, and now that she had finally embraced him, Sabine would love her like she always wanted.
Sabine smiled as she reassured Silke, but underneath she felt nothing. Like the pleasures of dining and drink, she hadn't felt an ounce of arousal since her undeath had settled into her bones. The dance she shared with Captain Jäger had been a farewell to that life, but perhaps there were ways to reignite the flame that she could consider another time...
---
Pawlitzky and his soldiers trudged up the beach, carefully avoiding the pits of flame resulting from the botched attack, trying to keep up with Jäger and his men. Aside from their gas masks, however, the Teutonians were proving to be far more mobile than the Gothians thanks to their relatively light uniforms. Once they arrived at the fortress wall, Pawlitzky himself ran to Jäger and saluted. "Sir, we've got radio confirmation that Fallensteller's coming this way, ETA ten minutes! She said she wanted to arrive after the wall was breached... Sir, if we keep running into sorcerers like this, she'll be good to have on hand!" he said, confident that Jäger would understand what he meant.
Jäger nodded at Theramsus. "Indeed they are. Once the flamethrowers have secured most of the rooms in proximity to the hole we'll be able to move in. You can take a squad with you as well, although Gavrilov and Fallstrom are both very competent soldiers."
Jäger was then greeted by Pawlitzky. He returned the salute and shoon his head. "Glad to see you made it. If Sabine thinks she can aid us then I trust her judgement. We'll make sure she gets here in one piece. In the meantime I want you and your men to form up one one of the drills. It will be easy for you to clear out the battlements as you are far more silent and agile than my own men."
With that said Jäger looked at a nearby radio operator. "Get Camilla on the line! Tell the crew to keep pounding the battlements! Send a fleet message as well..."
-----
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
BLITZWAVE GROUNDFORCES HAILING FRIENDLY FORCES <BREAK>
BEACHHEAD SECURED AT LIMA ZED POWDER <BREAK>
FORCED ENTRY INTO FORTRESS IN PROGRESS <BREAK>
AT LEAST ONE CONFIRMED SORCERER <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
Carmilla, the tank supporting the Blitzwave & Zuflucht groups, continued to shell the battlements of the fortress as ordered, obliterating any and all heavy firepower that it could spot from where it was parked. The platoon supporting the tank had dug in next to it, carefully taking shots at any Nadeshi troops that attempted to drop cannonballs on those beneath them next to the walls of the fort.
"You wont be going alone." Fontaine reassured Vunor "Graves, take ten men and go with Mr. Vunor. Follow his lead in this matter, as we are not well versed in magics just yet." He paused for a second before pointing with a thumb behind him "And take the jokester here with you."
The man panicked from the orders "Sir?"
"You made an impression on me. Now go."
At Landing Zone Spyglass
The street fighting was as fast as it was brutal. Mannfred strode over burning debris and rubble, gunning down the few Nadeshi which still stirred within the mess. Several had thrown down their weapons in a plea for mercy, and the admiral placidly watched as eleven men were lined up against a wall. Several marines were herded them into position, while three with submachine guns raised at their hips fired upon these surrendered men. Within a few seconds, the brick wall was cracked and pock marked, and a dozen Nadeshi now were laid out in a crumpled heap against the wall. There were a few men who looked somewhat displeased at these turn of events, though their uniforms were not marked by the emblem of the Archangels, and thus were not part of the more elite unit which existed on the Revenant. While the vast majority of marines and sailors aboard the ship were veterans of numerous expeditions, and were well aware of the things they were to do, some of the greener servicemen had yet to fully understand. Some were also more ethically opposed to such actions, but they followed through with their orders regardless. Those which were fundamentally opposed were no longer in service on the Revenant.
"Admiral, sir," the radio operator announced, bounding up beside Mannfred. The man had a cloth cap shading his sweaty face. "Messages from both the Eissenstrasse and the Blitzwave respectively. They report encounters with mages and sorcerers already in their AO."
Mannfred pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it, using the light from a nearby burning building to illuminate it in the hazy environment. "It would seem our enemy is eight minutes ahead of my estimations. Impressive, I suppose. In that case we should be encountering sorcery soon as well."
He turned away from the man and waved down two troopers. "Dietrich! Lebowski! Keep a close eye on your monitoring equipment. Make sure the tuning crystals are properly suspended. We'll be able to get a read on any sorcerers before they even begin to cast, though I can taste something in the air already. Everyone else - be ready. Remember the lessons we learned at Point Zero. Your initial response to a sorcerer will set the flow of battle."
It was apparent that the men and women of the Revenant were dedicated to their line of work. Some men were boasting small trinkets or totems, others were making quiet prayers. Some soldiers were performing a type of ritual on a Nadeshi corpse, cutting it in certain intricate ways. A couple of marines were emptying vials of blood into their mouths. In private, the clinical Old World style of these men became much blurrier, and their general projection of orthodox behavior was clearly a front to more... curious actions.
The few men from the Mariner's Boon who were around this unit were most certainly out of the loop, and while their own captain was one of arcane methods, seeing them in action was disconcerting.
---
Von Strauss and her armor units continued their drive into the city to meet up with the admiral. Little heed was paid to the buildings they drove through, or the materials they crushed beneath their tracks. Civilian Nadeshi who were trapped or in hiding fled at the very sight of these vehicles, and were gunned down en masse at Von Strauss' command. The scattered bands of soldiers fired upon the tanks, but the realization that these armored wagons were invincible to their firearms was utterly terrifying.They, too, fled from the tanks. The zealousness of some individuals stood out in the face of this adversity, and at least a dozen Nadeshi at some point charged the tanks, screeching wildly and brandishing sharp swords. A simple squeeze of the trigger turned them into shredded meat as the tanks rolled on.
At Landing Zone Powder
The three drilling tanks from the Blitzwave crawled up to the disheveled walls of the fortress. It was not long before the mighty drills were up to speed and began to push against the brick and stonework. Drill machines in combat were notoriously dangerous simply because they did not know where they were drilling exactly. The mighty battles of the Colonial War, in which massive fortress complexes were the center of combat for years, brought forth the necessity for such drills. If one couldn't fight through wall breaches, from above, or below - they would simply drill through the concrete with heavy troopers following.
Here, the drills set into the stone easily. This was not the reinforced, modern concrete of Old World military and construction designers. Many parts of the fortress walls had already tumbled from the power of the bombardment. There was nothing which could stop the drills from going through the walls. However, despite the ability to utilize the drills, there was still a danger of the unknown. What lurked past these walls? Would the walls collapse on top of the drills and the following men? What if they hit a powder room and detonated it? There was nearly an instance of everything which could go wrong, happening at some point in the Colonial War - hundreds killed in an instant when a fortress magazine was set off by a drilling machine, doing more to damage a fortress than six months of constant barrage.
So far things were proceeding well enough. The soldiers were mostly protected when up against the walls of the fortress, and some fired up at any exposed Nadeshi. Most of the defenders were smart enough not to lean their bodies over the ramparts, so bricks and cannon balls plummeted without anything to stop them. Even with metal shields, hits from the heavier debris was painful and stressful. It wouldn't be long before the drills reached the center of the fort, though already, some brickwork was crumbling down in the tunnels they created.
Therasmus placed his hand against the fortress wall and did his best to visualize where the opposing sorcerer was. It was still difficult to pinpoint, but by magically constructing an outline of the fortress in his mind, he could sense that the sorcerer was almost certainly within the confines of the fortress somewhere. There was more interference in his image towards the far back of the fort, which may have meant the sorcerer was near to that section of the fortress wall. That would place them almost directly in front of them on the opposite side of the entire fortress.
Not long after, the drills had finally managed to safely breach their way into the fort. They had drilled through solid wall and rooms before reaching the open center of the fortress grounds. Grounded up dust from the drills choked the air in chalky white smoke, which was mixed with gunpowder and poison gas. The visibility in these tunnels was atrociously poor. However, while nearly all Nadeshi on these ground levels were dead from the gas, the fortress itself seemed to be fighting against the invaders as the tunnels began to fall apart faster and faster, making entry on foot very hazardous. Advancing through them and into the center of the fort without good visuals, with a collapsing tunnel overhead, made for a tough situation.
At Landing Zone Royal
Lady Kyndreth was posed to argue with Krantz, but against what she felt was her better judgement, she acknowledged the order from her master and ran down the street following Hraban's flightpath. She was rather fast on her feet, and as she ran, she drew the large sword from her back. It was visually dull and reflected no light, but to mistake the blade itself for being dull would be a deadly mistake. Not that, even if the edges were dull, that it couldn't kill a man. Kyndreth's muscular arms showed that she had the strength to cleave limbs from men even with a dull edge blade.
It was not certain how long it would take for them to dispatch the mages, or how long it would take to find them, but they didn't hesitate for a moment as they disappeared into the city to perform their orders.
Back among the main body of troops, the collapsed streets proved treacherous and slow to move through. Rubble constantly shifted and slid inwards, and exposed shards of wood - and some metal - made any slip a potentially fatal one. Every once in a while, a building would settle and then collapse into the gaping canyon before it.
---
On the beach, where the gas had not touched, the landing zone was mostly quiet and secure. Gear and equipment were still being shipped in and positions were dug into place. Sentries had spotted horsemen earlier, who had quickly disappeared from sight among the coastal streets and tall dune grass. It came only partly as a surprise when a horseman clearly appeared again, urging his mount up a dune so that he could look down the beach. Beside him, more heads and horses appeared, until finally there had to have been a few dozen cavalry assembling a few hundred meters away down the beach.
A red pennant fluttered in the wind. A man waved it quickly back and forth, which set the cavalry into a charge. More and more horses and riders crested the dunes and stepped upon the beach proper until what had to have been almost two hundred horsemen were galloping at full speed on the beach towards the rear lines of the landing zone. They had avoided the coastal streets, knowing there to be gas and collapsed streets. The only feasible location for attack was from the beach where the ground was clear and the air breathable.
These men were not plated knights, but lancers and hussars, wearing coats and cloth caps. The thundering hooves of over a hundred horses would certainly reach the ears of the advance groups of troops in the coastal streets as they navigated the destroyed roads, casting confusion on to where the cavalry could be. At the landing zone itself, it was clear that he position was in peril if the cavalry made good contact. Thousands of Old Worlders had perished in the deserts and plains of distant lands to primitive warriors and cavalry, even with their advanced weapons.
As the horses could be heard by the troops still setting up on the beach, the radio operators that stayed behind quickly sent messages off to the Eisenstrasse, which was still floating overhead above the city. Should they be charged by the cavalry, the cannons and machine gun fire from the airship would prove useful in breaking up the charge and possibly repelling them.
<<NEW MESSAGE>>
EISENSTRASSE FORCES AT LANDING ZONE HAILING AIRSHIP <BREAK>
ENEMY CAVALRY ATTACK INCOMING <BREAK>
REQUESTING AIR SUPPORT <BREAK>
<<MESSAGE END>>
The Eisenstrasse recieved the message, and promptly moved into position above the beach to provide support. The airship turned sideways, so that the various machine guns that lined the sides could be manned and used on the cavalry. The main cannons also swiveled around as well, their crews loading shells and awaiting the order to begin shelling. Some of the crewmen took up positions, using scoped rifles in order to try and pick off some of the riders. Hopefully with the air support, the beach could be held with minimal casualties.
As soon as the cavalry neared, the cannons and machine guns opened fire. On the ground, machine gunners and riflemen waited till the cavalry got a bit closer so that they could maintain accurate fire.
----------------
Von Strauss's tank continued its push forwards, cutting down any Nadeshi that happened to be caught in the streets. All the while, Von Strauss giggled in her seat. The Nadeshi, caught by surprise and being slaughtered like pitiful little insects! It was all just beautiful! And the way the tank was simply plowing through their homes! Running over anything and everyone!
"Hehehe! These people just don't know what to do! A behemoth of steel and gunfire just charges through their houses, leaving destruction in its wake! Even the soldiers are clueless! Perfection!" she said aloud, following it with a cackle. She wondered how the sorcerers and such that the other groups were running into would fair against a tank shell? That'd be glorious, and messy to boot! Maybe she'd get to see once the group got to the citadel?
Her mind paused on the citadel, and her grin got wider. Why didn't she just go to the citadel now? Put it under the guise of clearing a path for the Admiral and his men with the tank? But Kahleen was with them, riding on the back of the vehicle. She could find out the real reason that she was going there. To get the mask shard. Hmmm...
It was several hours later in the morning than Braam usually awoke when the boy finally stirred in bed. Turning over in the comfortably cozy single-bed room, two things occurred to him simultaneously: the door to his quarters was very slightly ajar, and his neck was bothering him. Immediately, his heart began to race as he shot up in bed, the mental cloudiness of excess sleep shaking off of him immediately as he tried to come to terms with the unshakable conclusion that someone had entered his room during the night. The wound felt like a single island of icy cold in the middle of a wide patch of numbness extending nearly from his collarbone to the underside of his jaw.
He let out a sort of panicked yelp, finally noticing the dried blood on his bed sheets, and tried to imagine what sort of terrible thing had happened- and there was no reservation; Braam had seen enough and heard enough during the preceding days to know that the ship was rapidly descending into an unholy place, and evil was all around him. Fallensteller, the witch at the center of it all, had tried to present herself and her vessel as benign at first, and the Zuflucht had seemed mostly livable if not fantastic to his unaccustomed eyes. Those first days, en route from Blackstone to Catten, had been almost boring aside from Commander Ackermann's sudden murder attempt, but Braam had never been able to feel comfortable in the Captain's presence. He had seen her face before, and those horrid red eyes, in his nightmares long before his arrival, and time had only further cemented his fear that she was none other than the Devil herself.
But the agonizing days since Catten really pulled the veil away and revealed the true face of this terrible vessel. It started with the curfews, and the division of the entire ship into Fallensteller's red-adorned "favorites" and the mortified onlookers. Eerie happenings and group nightmares plagued the night, and disappearances and blatant murders began to occur at an increasing frequency. Now, it wasn't just forbidden to walk the halls at night, it was outright dangerous, and of course the ones the Captain held dear were the rulers of that darkness, figuratively, and possibly even literally, consuming those opposed, room by room, deck by deck, trying to paint the whole vessel in Fallensteller's demonic image. Braam waited and wondered each day when they would come for him. He locked his door every night in hopes that it would spare him from the insanity of the world outside, while knowing deep down that there was nothing he could actually do to escape it.
There were no more Captain's Table formalities. According to rumors, she never stopped to eat, anyway. There were no more medical lessons with Dr. Keseberg. The doctor was heavily immersed in his experiments and Braam hated him for what had happened to Lunaire. He was also too fearful of entering the hospital, as lately it reeked of blood and candles, and a chill always hung in the air. No one seemed alarmed when he stopped showing up, and they didn't seek him out. Perhaps they knew that time was on their side. Perhaps his time was already out. He itched at the cold, numb spot and disturbed the wound. Blood trickled down his neck.
What have they done to me? is all he could think as he crawled out of bed, claustrophobia setting in. His room was no longer safe. There was no safe place to run away to, and all communications out of the ship were closely monitored. The bats were designated couriers, but they were only allowed to accept mail from high-level officers who were part of Fallensteller's circle, and presumably, since they were illiterate, the officers would read the letters before approving their departure from the ship. No one could rescue him. He searched for something reflective. What have they done!?
He froze. There was a small mirror inside of a standard-issue shaving kit that he had never used, and now, finally, he recognized the dual rows of punctures for what they were. This was not done by a knife. Something had bitten him. He closed up the kit, silently breaking down as he fell to his knees, tears forming in his eyes. Never before had he hated his life and circumstances more than at this moment. He wanted to call out to a mother that time had long-since taken from him. There was no way out. For a while he simply grabbed hold of himself with both arms and cried, desperately as he rocked back and forth on the wooden floor. There was no way out.
When he had finally stopped his sobbing, he wanted to continue lying there on the floor forever. He wanted to disappear. He now understood why some men took their lives, and his heart ached for his lost innocence. But he needed to get himself off the floor eventually; he was too scared to even consider ending his own life, at least not yet. And with nothing else to do, having missed breakfast and his morning lessons once again, was to seek out something to satisfy his growling, empty stomach.
Jäger gritted his teeth. "Engineers! Secure the tunnel! Flamethrowers! Advance!" He turned towards Therasmus. "Do what you need to do."
Then there was alot of commotion as groups of combat engineers entered the tunnels. Metal struts with support beams were quickly placed throughout the tunnel with even space as soldiers equipped with wrist-mounted flamethrowers advanced out onto the fortress grounds.
Soon machinegunners and marines carrying metal shields followed as well. The Gothian marines formed up on the drills and established a perimeter of shields around the vehicles. Jäger marched out onto the grounds slowly with gun and sword in hand. The Cavaliers followed closely behind.
Meanwhile Fallstrom and Gavrilov followed Therasmus like armed shadows. They remained silent to avoid disturbing the demon.
Jäger looked around the grounds. "Secure the lower levels first! We'll force them over the walls! If you find a sorcerer; shoot him."
Once the troops were on the move Jäger marched on, hoping to locate a command room or something of similar nature.
-----
Kahleen and Dahl ignored Von Strauss' giggling from inside the tank. They had their mission and sought to outperform everyone else in precision and lethality. Anyone who was armed or appeared to be armed were struck down by precision fire and after a few minutes the top of the tank, as well as the trail, was littered with shell casings from their rifles.
Kahleen peeked up from her scope. "How much longer, Strauss?"
Therasmus floated through the tunnel with the same halfhearted gait as the tunnel through the wall was completed. When Jager gave him his orders he gave a nod as he pressed ahead of the group. He made sure to break off to a point where the soldiers forcing their way through would not see him and his battle companions for what was about to take place. 'Do what you need to do' was a simple enough command to be sure, but if he was going to detect this sorcerer better he needed every ounce of his mental faculties available. His illusory form wasn't exactly straining, but it meant that he had to make a mental link to every pair of eyes that gaze upon him, and in a large battle such as this it could become quite bothersome to focus on so many things at. That meant it was time to put an end to the charade he was putting on, the demon looked between Fallstrom and Gavrilov before bringing his arms out from behind his back, bowing to them lowly. "Do not be alarmed." Therasmus stated. "But what I am about to do is an absolute necessity, I assure you."
At those words his features began to sink into his face, as if the pale and aged skin was quicksand that rapidly swallowed up anything it touched. The contours and wrinkles of his face and entire body began to smooth out, his hair falling out rapidly while a large fissure cracked its way across his face - the rupture splitting wide open as it revealed a swirling pool of energy behind the creatures head. Still bowing, his clothing unraveled thread by thread, pulled by some unseen force while his body started to take random slashes across his body, the deep gouges cutting up blocks of skin that lifted off of him before evaporating suddenly. There were no internal organs to speak of, and beneath that fake dermis was his blue skin, appearing as wrappings to the regalia that he was more often 'clothed' in. Those tentacles unfurled from his back, lazily flowing behind him as he raised from his bow. In this state, gazing upon him brought on a numbing headache, as if needles were poised to stab into the brain - their tips sometimes gently scratching at the surface every now and then. Now he was able to seek out unprepared minds, and with new understanding of the area he sought out the sorcerer with greater clarity than before.
"I am getting some interference within the fortress." Therasmus spoke, countless voices of different timbres and pitches whispering, speaking, and shouting all at once. "We will move inside and find our nuisance."
At Landing Zone Royal
The thunderous roar of a cavalry charge was a sound lost to the early years of the Colonial War, when cavalry had not yet met the clash of machine guns and vehicles on the battlefield. The veterans of that war, those who had survived from those early days, had been the witnesses to the death of cavalry. Many had seen entire regiments of cavalry break upon the open fields, eviscerated by well-placed machine guns. Horses and men alike turned into minced meat. There had been limited success with smaller hussar units, acting as scouts, couriers, and skirmishers in the harsh landscapes of the Old World countryside, but a cavalry charge such as the one occurring on the beach was, by all means, archaic. It was certain death to commit a charge against a modern Old World force. Not only were rifles and machine guns excellent killers, but the very nature of air support - coming from the Eissenstrasse - would render any type of mass attack in the open utterly futile.
The airship was the first to open fire. The heavy thud of cannons and the darker chatter of long range machine guns opened up in unison, aiming down upon the mass of charging cavalry. Yet something peculiar happened. Above the cavalry, the air shimmered with blue light, catching and stopping everything that was being fired down in mid air. The bullets hit this bubble-like shield and lost all momentum as they were forced down into snubs. They skittered down this shield like lead rain, but without deadly speed. Explosive shells from the cannons detonated on the surface of the shield, sending all concussive blast and power harmlessly across the shield. The cavalry seemed to be, in this case, practically invulnerable from an attack from the air.
Yet from the ground, when the infantry began to open fire, cavalry started to take hits and collapse. Horses rearing up and riders being shot in their stirrups, sending both man and beast into the sandy beach as a flurry of tangled limbs. This shield was not omni-directional, and it only seemed to protect from one direction - from above, not from the front or potentially sides.
Spotters from the ground and air, and those with keen eyes, would be able to see a small blue light from near the center back of the cavalry mass. A man was standing in the stirrups of his horse, hands raised high into the air like a circus rider. His form jostled and shook with the momentum of his horse, but he remained firmly attached to his mount. Streaming blue-white energy engulfed his hands and eyes like fire. The sorcerer's body looked both young and frail, and had any been able to see his face up close, would note that he looked incredibly gaunt and malnourished. His skin was ashen and his cheeks sallow. A man of his appearance didn't look capable of walking without a cane, let alone ride a horse as he was. But there was a clear power in his posture that revealed his appearance was not a complete hindrance.
The defenders on the beach had made decent, albeit temporary defenses. Foxholes, machine gun nests, and impromptu bunkers made from supplies that had been offloaded all became bastions of defense, as no man would dare stand in the open during a cavalry charge. Even cover behind a simple crate or barrel was better than nothing. Rifles cracked and needn't have been aimed well to hit, such was the size of the cavalry force. The heavy clacks of machine guns, light and heavy, began to open up and shred large groups of cavalry.
Hundreds had to have been dead by the time the charge had reached the defenders, many of the horsemen frantic and wounded as the momentum of the charge carried into the defenders positions. The overall size of the attack must have numbers somewhere around a couple hundred cavalry - easily one third of that already dead from the infantry on the ground alone. Had the attack from the air not been repulsed by a shield, the cavalry never would have made it even half the distance they had alive.
Even in the midst of the charge, the Old Worlders were capable of dealing a terrible toll. Bayoneted rifles acted as spears and submachine guns spit death like hail. More and more riders perished in the frantic charge. Still, the cavalry did not die without taking some with them. Uniformed soldiers were split with long lances, their bodies lifted from the ground. Men were skewered with lances and slashed by swords, or trampled in the near unstoppable charge of a warhorse.
Without mere moments, the defensive position on the beach had been overrun with cavalry. From the sky, the ground looked like a heaving anthill of motion. Old Worlders fought in condensed pockets against cavalry armed only with melee weapons, but a few carbine cracks and black powder smoke revealed at least some horsemen were armed with primitive guns. In the past, the defenders would have been on the verge of collapse and death, but modern weapons were such a miracle that they not only held against the cavalry - but were winning. Cavalry without momentum were simply massive targets. Even shooting the horse and not the rider could incapacitate a mounted man. Many did dismount, but were still only hussars and lancers with sabres and blackpowder-like pistols. A rifleman who was quick could dispatch at least three men if they charged him, but just as easily a sword could come slashing in from behind.
---
Vunor, along with the men Fontaine sent with him, carried off into the destroyed streets in search of sorcerers. Likewise, Hraban and Lady Kyndreth were doing the same elsewhere, to a currently unknown degree of success. For the non-demonic kill team, traveling was just as treacherous as it was for the main advance party. The streets in their direction were also turned into rubble canals, with buildings on occasion collapsing inwards into the streets. Dust and soot was quick to choke the air, with the poisonous gas still undoubtedly lingering around as well.
A couple blocks into the devastated city, amid more stricken bodies of civilians, Vunor could sense some kind of magical disturbance not far ahead. Indeed, to the others, the air felt like it had been charged with electricity, as if lightning was soon to strike. The skin would prickle slightly and long enough hair would stand up on its own. Just down the block and out of sight, there must have been a sorcerer or some kind. Vunor was vaguely aware of the pinpoint spheres of energy which had to have been Hraban and Kyndreth much further away, but these nearby readings were more like misty orbs of power, not like the candle-bright but distance readings of the two friendly demons.
Something was moving in the powdery mist, and not magically detected. An impossibility, given that the gas should have killed all living creatures in this area that didn't have magical protection. A black form was crawling along the ground near an alley, darting along between the rubble and staying out of clear sight. It was like a shadow that didn't stay in one spot for long and always moved when eyes reached it. The group, naturally, went on the alert.
A few seconds later, the black figure pounced. It shot out like a bullet from within a destroyed building, heading directly for one of the armed men Fontaine had sent with Vunor. The figure at first appeared to be some kind of hellish dog, but it was soon apparent that it was, in fact, a twisted grotesque human. Vunor knew the vile scent of necromancy when confronted with it. Even at Cattan, the cultists occasionally dabbled in such dark arts, but here the power of it was so much stronger.
The ghoul was incredibly fast. The poor man who had been targeted had his throat bitten out and slashed in an instant after having been knocked to the ground by the weight of the ghoul, and as the man was writhing in his death throes, the beast leapt across the street back into shrouded darkness. Even the faster men in the group only managed a few panicked shots. Had they shot it when it was on top of their comrade, they likely would have shot their friend, but once it was in mid-air as it was leaping away, it was far too quick to keep track of, let alone shoot accurately. They were being hunted.
At Landing Zone Powder
Utilizing the temporary metal struts for support was not a fast and certain process. As they weren't under immediate fire within the tunnel, the work was able to go more or less freely, but the brickwork of the fortress was such that the struts had a hard time keeping some of the walls up. Had the interior been mostly cement and cemented rock, it would have been easier to support. But the interior brickwork was crumbling like a poorly made cookie. Bricks and chunks of rubble still fell on occasion down at the troops, and at least a couple were hit. One of the tunnels - the one which had been falling apart from the start, was utterly impassable as it finally began to collapse entirely. An entire section of wall collapsed downwards, sending out a plume of brick dust and debris into the Gothian and Teutonic troops. The drill which had made this tunnel was trapped on the other side, facing the courtyard, but it was unharmed - only cut off. The other two tunnels were stable enough for the time being for troops to advance through despite the poor visibility.
The gas still lingered on the ground levels, making the removal of gas masks impossible. Jager's search for a command room was difficult due to the sheer amount of bodies littering the interior battery walls which stretched to the left and right. Easily hundreds of men in the immediate vicinity were dead, all stuck in various poses of terrible death. Some were slumped over unfired cannons, others had died clawing at their throats on the firing steps. An entire pile of bodies were mangled near a doorway to a room as a stampede had forced the men to try and escape, but their panic and mass of bodies ended up clogging the door, trapping them all in to suffocate. A few had clearly shot or stabbed themselves to end the pain of the gas, as their bodies were the few with any identifiable wounds.
A barracks room was nearby, also littered with dead soldiers and junk discarded all around in the panic. It was clear from rubble, and aside from the bodies and bunk beds, they could probably be pushed aside and cleared out for a command room. It was only a few dozen meters from one of the tunnels which had gone through the wall, making it conveniently placed, but the stability of the fortress above them was uncertain given the occasional crumbling of the brick work. No amount of struts would hold this place together at this point. It was only fortunate that they didn't drill into a powder room.
Enemy contact was made in front of the drills, on the ground level, to the surprise of everyone. The flamethrower equipped troops, along with any shielded marines, were met by a ferocious charge of plate-armored, bellowing knights. The thickness of powder from the crumbling fortress, blackpowder smoke, smoke from fire, and gassy haze, made the visibility in these tunnels remarkably low. It was like standing in a collapsing coal mine, and for any men who had been miners in the past, the feeling of dread being in this environment was difficult to overcome.
These knights were clearly magically enhanced and aided, for numerous reasons. All had shining sun-like runes on their armor chest plates, helmets, and vambraces. Their ability to survive in a gas-enriched atmosphere was obvious, though it was unclear if their helmets were required for that, though it was suspected to be the case. Bullets exploded on impact against their armor, the inertial force of the bullets clearly staggering some knights, but not penetrating. Each bullet exploded like a miniature starburst, sending out brilliant sparks. Any knight caught by a machine gun was clearly staggered or stopped, but the rounds never penetrated. They reacted as if the bullets were nothing but a strong wind, pushing them back, as the energy of these rounds were still retained on impact. Fire from the flamethrowers seemed to heat the armor up externally, but the impact of the heat was clearly not lethal, though still perhaps painful.
All of them wielded two handed swords, not shields, and not one-handed swords. Some possessed daggers or hooks on their belts, but the bulk of the knights that were charging into the two tunnels were scything their longswords around. These blades also glowed with sun-like runes on the blades. The power imbued into the blades allowed the swords to cut through guns, and in some cases the metal shields some men were holding up. A panic was forming as well over several dozen hulking rune-knights met the Gothian troops, but they were not invulnerable - already, two had been dropped once they had been shot enough, causing the sun runes on their armor to apparently overload and fail. These two dead knights looked like shredded aluminum cans once the runes failed, as the higher caliber bullets tore into them.
But for the majority of the knights, if they weren't targeted with heavy consistent fire, they were almost impossible to take down alone. It was unclear if the runes had a threshold limit to the damage they could prevent, or if it took an abundance of damage all at once to cause the protective runes to fail. Regardless, the initial attack of the knights had claimed at least a dozen Gothians, but in efforts to regroup, the knights were struggling to charge in the open as they had earlier. Under pinpoint fire, they were weak, but if they got close enough without taking enough hits, they were effectively shielded behemoths.
It was apparent that these knights weren't so chivalrous, for they took advantage of the rubble and hiding spots, concealing themselves in the dust. Their armor runes glowed where the dust was thin, but the drills had caused too much powdered brick to permeate the air, making the tunnels into foggy madhouses. It was hard to hunt down any knights, for the tunnel was small enough that any men who dared approach the rune-knights were likely to be cut down, even as the Gothians in the back leveled enough firepower to drop the attacking knight. If casualties were acceptable, they would be able to flush the knights back out with enough losses, but if lives were more precious, it was clear that a counter-attack would have to be precise and measured.
Therasmus and his two compatriots were lucky, and the concealing powdery air worked in their favor. They had advanced through a crumbled section of the tunnel and entered the far flank of a group of attacking knights, who were entirely focused on the main Gothian force. The drill machines were safe, even as some knights tried to hack at the machines or get into the cabs with no avail. But Therasmus and his men were out of sight, making them a dangerous force now behind the enemy. Therasmus could turn back and likely hurt the knights with his magic, or push forwards to hunt down the main sorcerer somewhere in the fortress.
Already, having changed forms, his clarity of mind showed him that there was not one sorcerer, but several. They were all near the strongest sorcerer, making it initially appear as if it was one very strong sorcerer - instead, it was one still strong sorcerer, but surrounded by several weaker ones. Possibly to boost his power. The knights on the ground level seemed moderately shrouded to his probing magic, their runes clearly strong in his eyes, but further above him and out of sight were the unshielded minds of the Nadeshi musketeers, still on top of the walls and shooting at the Old Worlders out on the beach. With fighting now occurring in the tunnels, they couldn't do much to assist - especially with gas still in the air.
Therasmus and his team would have to push out through the dust and into the open courtyard, or potentially try to sneak around through the interior of the fortress to stay out of sight. Alternatively, they could turn and assist the soldiers with the dangerous rune-knights, who by now had claimed more lives than the Nadeshi guns.
-P-P-P-POST BREAKER-
At Landing Zone Spyglass
"Admiral, the block is clear of survivors," one of the marines saluted hastily, patting away dust from on his jacket sleeve. "Some tough guys from the Boon, they found a cellar full of civilians. Packed in there like sardines in a can. Need us to take care of them?"
The soldier spoke casually, as if there was no implication of atrocity in his words. Mannfred seemed to think on the matter, but finally shook his head as he reloaded his submachine gun.
"Lock them in. It'll keep them from getting in our way. If they make it out, then we'll already be gone from here. Its a little too early to start any complicated sorcery, especially with the men from the Mariner's Boon around. We don't want to go scaring our comrades now, do we?"
The marine chuckled. "Understood, sir. We have an advance team already clearing the next block, it should be clear for us to keep moving.
"Understood. Rejoin your team, and good work."
Another hasty salute, on the marine scampered back off. The radio operator, and the couple guards around Mannfred, were lingering on a pile of rubble overlooking some marines looting the Nadeshi corpses. Anything like jewelry was stripped away, especially if it was silver or gold. Amulets and rings were popular trophies, but the more practical uses could not be ignored. Gemstones made for decent channeling crystals or objects for imbuement. Likewise, any of the more thriftier men may find some extra cash in their pockets by selling such items away, or alternatively, as additional gambling money.
---
Just a couple blocks away, a screening team of marines were holding a large avenue when Von Strauss' tank and support platoon appeared.
One of the marines removed his white pith helmet and waved it at the tank, holding his rifle out to the side to signify he clearly wasn't a Nadeshi. The squad was holed up in a corner store, with a couple men on the ground floor windows, a few on the second and third floor. Their armored white helmets were visible as the men peaked out the windows at the newcomers below. These marines were wearing their typical white uniforms, while one of them was wearing the red trousers and blue jacket of the elite marines and general Brunswick infantry. This particular marine also had a submachine gun slung around his neck, and he seemed to be in charge of the small unit here.
He stepped out of the building and waved down the tank and platoon.
"Glad to see you could make it. The Admiral and the main force is a few more blocks up ahead," he explained, pointing down the avenue in the direction the tank was traveling in. "Head further down this avenue, then make a left on the next large avenue - it has a wide median with planted trees. Its not any of the small side streets. Its only two turns past this position. You can't miss it. Watch your fire in this area, since we've got marines holding some streets, along with mercs from the Mariner's Boon. There may also be supply runners making their rounds. Most of the Nadeshi should be off these streets, but civilians are still in hiding in the buildings."
Outside the corner store, anyone from Von Strauss' group who peered into the building could see some dead civilians against a wall in the back, having been clearly executed given the bullet holes in the wall behind their bodies. The marines seemed fairly settled into the building and not particularly concerned, though at least one marine had some red staining his chin, which he wiped away after a moment with a handkerchief.
Once the group got back moving and followed the directions given, they would end up on the main avenue described to them. As suggested, a squad of marines carrying equipment was already hurrying down the street. A few riflemen were guarding about a dozen men lugging around ammo crates and other gear needed for any modern military force. They waved at the tank and platoon as it carried on past them, until finally, Mannfred's group was met.
His group was at a small intersection, cleaning up after another small firefight. Gunshots still rang out in some buildings, dispatching whoever was found within. Mannfred adjusted his red kepi cap and strode over to the tank which had arrived. He glanced around at the supporting infantry platoon casually, but looked back up at the tank to those riding on top and Von Strauss.
"Looks like you had quite the ride here," he remarked, nodding at the debris and dust gathered on the tank from going through some buildings. "Good to see nothing held you up. We'll only about six blocks away from the Citadel. So far, only small engagements with infantry, but we've spotted troops retreating to the Citadel. It is likely they are regrouping there, and with support from sorcerers. Once we assessed their defenses, it may be best for your group to hit the citadel from behind. We'll know soon enough."
Von Strauss and the others could see that all of these men were wearing blue jackets and red trousers, showing that this entire unit Mannfred was commanding were not standard marines. In fact, most of them had that peculiar patch of a skull and red tear drop on their sleeves, showing many to be part of Mannfred's own special unit - not just advanced infantry.
Therasmus floated quietly amidst the chaos and cacophony of the battle, far too enamored with the details of the situation to be worried over the large picture that was the battle at hand. His vision came like a stream of steady pulses, the slight unrest to absolute discomfort his form brought others proving to be a heightened sense of vision that the demon takes advantage of. Like a rapid heartbeat, brainwaves were both being emitted and absorbed by him in every direction. Looking through his perspective would also be a death sentence for any unprepared mind, for concepts such as color and shape were consistently in flux; details such as the halls and bodies of the fort and courtyard itself flickered and flashed in instances of proper hues and geometry at one point, and something completely alien in the next. To say that something was 'hazy' to him meant that the flickering was met with periods of complete invisibility for long stretches of time, an outlier in the chaotic realm that was the way he processed visual information.
He didn't need to turn his head to look at his targets, blissfully aware of the situation at hand as it was unfolding, to the point where he would interject the moment Fallstrom and Gavrilov turned their heads to witness the commotion. "Do not mourn the loss of your comrades, at present and in future. We have our task, and I have the inkling that all of those sorcerers are gathering for reasons far more pressing than these armored ruffians. Or perhaps... not. Even still, I am not one to turn down the weaves of fate." he explains, floating to an entrance to the fortress. Therasmus sat there suspended, waiting for his escorts to follow as his tentacles levitated and curled with gravity having a delayed effect on their colorful translucent forms.
"We will proceed through the hallways of the fortress - I estimate the bulk of the forces are moving out to deal with the breach in the courtyard. You seem more equipped for... tighter encounters as well, yes? This will see a benefit, that is certain. No line of sight to their weaponry increases the odds of your survival." he projected to them. At the moment he seemed more convicted in his words than ever before, not caught up in the series of questions or postulations he would often do with himself. Perhaps it was the chaos of the situation? Or perhaps this was the first time the men could observe the demon determined to see a projected fate through?
"Let us embark."
Vunor was surprised to say the least, as he was unable to do anything to prevent the man's fate from the aberration. He gave a look of pity to the dying man, knowing he could not save him, before moving his staff forward. He had to be prepared, for this surely was not the only time they would be attacked. "Be on your guard, warriors. The stench of necromancy is near." The soldiers with him gave nervous looks among themselves as they fixed bayonets and held the guns at the ready as the group moved on. The gas continued to part around Vunor thanks to his stave's ward, allowing for a clearer look of the area around him. However there was no sign of the foul creature nearby. It was fast, and extremely lethal... so he would need to set a trap.
Vunor brought his free hand at level with his head and muttered a few words of incantation, summoning a ball of lightning into his hand. It crackled with energy as it condensed itself into an orb and floated gently in his hand. If the creature went for another attack, he would be ready to stun it.
---
*Watchtower to bridge, do you copy?* the radio buzzed to life on the bridge of the Dawnbreaker.
"Go ahead watchtower." Mr. Jones spoke.
*We are seeing heavy action at LZ Royal... looks like a cavalry charge! The lads down there might need some help!*
"Understood. Vice Admiral, what should we do?" he asked Dobbs.
Dobbs pondered for a moment before speaking: "Tell Wollisfend he's about to see action."
...Later
The skiffs and rowboats carrying the marines of the Dawnbreaker steadily moved across the water towards the beach of Landing Zone Royal. Some of the marines were excited, talking amongst themselves while others prayed and counted their blessings before combat. One of the younger lads looked as if he was about to piss himself. Wollisfend himself hadn't seen much action, but this was indeed his chance to prove himself, not only as a commander but also as a soldier. Admittedly, he was nervous too, but a good speech was all that was needed to get the mood up. He stood up on his end of the skiff he was embarked on and spoke as loud as he could:
"Sons of Albion! Together we march into battle on our righteous quest to defeat the evil that plagues this land. Blood will be spilled, and God willing, the enemy will be driven before us. Fate works on our side my friends! Now, lets show these savages the might of Her Majesty's marines! For Queen and Country! For God and Glory! For Albion!"
The marines perked up and cheered as they traveled ever closer to the battle until finally they reached the shore and disembarked quickly, getting into their formations and firing at the enemy, seeking to rendezvous with their beleaguered allies ashore.
"Push through! Give those horse-riding cunts no quarter!" Wollisfend yelled out.
---
"Did he say sorcerers?" Nita asked von Strauss curiously. Apart from those in the shamanic circle, she didn't know of any others that could wield magic. And what kind of magic I wonder...? she thought to herself.
The marines were taken back at first as the enchanted knights appearead. After a while the initial shock was wearing off and the marines realized that the knights had gone into hiding. Platoons split into squads with each squad spearheaded by marines with shields. Those who carried shields hae switched to their swords while those following behind stood ready to rid the enemy with bullets.
Slowly the Gothians ventured forth, attempting to establish a perimeter around the tunnels that had already been secured.
Meanwhile Jäger clung to his sword as he and the Cavaliers moved deeper into the fort, still looking for a command room.
-
Gavrilov and Fallstrom were a bit unnerved by Therasmus' true form but did their best not to stare too long or think too much about it. When the demon mentioned close quarters both soldiers nodded as they were carrying rapid-fire Gothian SMGs. Gavrilov also carried a shotgun on his back.
-
With most of the forces pouring into the castle one of the Gothian officers ordered Camilla and her nearby soldiers to secure the left flank and- if possible- find an alternate way inside.
---
Kahleen checked her ammo. Good for another battle or two. Same for Dahl. She nodded at Von Strauss to signal that she was ready.
"Did he say sorcerers?"
Von Strauss's grin widened. "Indeed he did! My my, this battle is getting ever more exciting!" she said, a jovial tone to her voice. A rear attack using the tank would be rather efficient, and would allow the group to get inside the citadel without much to worry about from Mannfred or Tobey's men. The issue, though, was still Kahleen. Von Strauss wanted that mask shard, and Kahleen could try and prevent her from getting it. Oh well, if she tries to stop me, I'll just stab her to death and say one of the locals did it.
She looked back to Mannfred, then nodded rapidly. "We'll provide fire support and cannon fire when needed!" she said, with a bit of a salute.
-------
The Carmilla began to move from where it had been sitting on the beach, driving around till it was approaching the fortress from the left side. An entrance could easily be made. Just a single shot to the wall, and drive in. Or just plow through the wall anyway using brute force. The crew inside chose the former. A shell was loaded into the cannon, and the order was given to fire a moment later. The cannon sounded off with a thunderous boom, and the shell blew a massive chunk out of the fortress wall. A section collapsed, sending dust and rubble everywhere. And now was the moment to move in.
The tank rolled towards and through the rubble, as its supporting platoon readied for combat. Bayonets were affixed, rifles were reloaded if they had been already fired, and nerves were steeled
-------
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_ebd7k_R_M
At Landing Zone Royal, it was mostly chaos. Though the Old Worlders had the better weaponry and tactics, soldiers on horses were always a large threat. Still, they seemed to be winning. One soldier in particular, though, was more interested in a certain member among the cavalry's ranks. The enemy had a sorcerer, and it was preventing the Eisenstrasse from attacking the horsemen from above. He needed to be eliminated.
Sergeant Victoria Reinhard, one of the infantry tasked with defending the landing zone on the ground, found herself peering across the sandy beach. Scanning the group of cavalry as they attacked the landing zone and its defenders. She was sitting several yards away from the actual battle, barely visible over the edge of a sand dune on the beach. There were two reasons for this. One, she had always been sort of a loner. Off to herself, reading or sketching...or really just people watching. The other reason was she was the best shot in the Grand Imperial Army. Unofficially, of course. All because she hunted often with her father while growing up in the forests of Ungria's northwest.
She had been given a scoped bolt-action rifle, modified with a folding bipod just under the barrel and a trench magazine. It took four stripper clips to load the weapon, instead of just one. Twenty shots, twenty kills. And she had plenty of spare ammo for later. The rifle was already ready to fire, but she just needed to find her target. That sorcerer. Where among the chaos was he?
She briefly scanned each of the troops that came across her field of view through the scope. Then, she finally spotted him. Such a pale, frail man would never be riding a horse like that. But, of course, this one was. And she had a bullet for him. She brushed a few strands of black hair out of her eyes, and adjusted her field cap before peering through the scope again. She adjusted for windage, and slowly exhaled. A moment later, she pulled the trigger. The rifle cracked, and the bullet was sent on its way.
Landing Zone Powder
Therasmus, Fallstrom, and Gavrilov carried on through the outer perimeter of the interior fortress walls, hurrying through hallways and rooms alike. The number of dead dwindled as they carried on away from the battle. Wounded men from the bombardment had clearly been lain out in some areas in the halls, lined up and awaiting care, but they had all perished when the gas asphyxiated them all. More Nadeshi were crumpled over in various places, having also fallen victim to the gas. Visually, the air looked fine here as there was no gunsmoke or powdered debris, but along some places on the ground there was a slight smoky haze - large pockets of the gas itself, showing that it had yet to dissipate in these parts. It made trench warfare utter hell, and indoors without anywhere for it to go, it lingered.
They passed through empty bunkrooms, showing the disarray the Nadeshi had left it in when they scrambled about during the naval bombardment. The interior looked relatively medieval - it, of course, was after all - but there were a few surprisingly modern designs and layouts that were not used in contemporary Old World times. Sloped ceilings and vaulted pillars showed an aptitude for structural engineering that did not match their level of technology, and there were even some strange cut outs into the wall that would have been perfect for electric or oil lights, but were curiously empty. It was as if they had taken the designs of an Old World fortress and rushed through the plans, but kept some things and melded it into their own. The overall structure of the fort was clearly modern, as it was pentagonal with gun ports and batteries. It was by now an older design to the Old World, as they had moved on to even more hulking concrete behemoths, but even thirty years ago a fort of this design would have been modern. Plenty of its like still existed across the Old World.
With Therasmus' otherworldly sight, the trio managed to circumvent the majority of the fortress and end up nearly behind the sorcerer gathering that was only a few dozen meters away outside. They had reached a roadblock within the fortress, as the interior doors here had all been closed and locked, likely to prevent attacks from approaching from behind, but they didn't have enough men to man the full walls. Of course, manning the entirety of the walls in this situation would have been a waste anyways, as locked doors sufficed for now. Any of the pickets who were left here were dead from the gas - they had already passed a couple sprawled out on the ground at their posts.
Finding themselves at a doorway which led into the courtyard, there was an open gun port alongside it which allowed for them to peer outside unseen. About twenty, maybe a little more, meters away stood the sorcerer cabal. There were a total of eight sorcerers - one standing in the middle of a circle of the remaining seven. The seven who were surrounding the sorcerer were sitting in various conditions around the central sorcerer. Already, four of them looked dead, meaning there had been a total of twelve at some point before the battle. The living sorcerers all looked strained, their skin pale, drenched in sweat, and their bodies shivering. A couple were bleeding from the eyes and ears and looked like they were near death themselves, while a couple were already clutching at their heads and groaning in agony. One's head had apparently burst into flames, as their skin was scorched and hair burned away. Another's skin was going translucent. Only the central sorcerer, a woman with long brown hair that danced in the air from the sheer amount of energy pull occurring around them, looked unharmed. She was wearing a dress covered in shimmering gold or copper plates, which reflected light nearly like a mirror, making it difficult to look upon her. She had a staff in both hands, held vertically before her. There was an orb at the top of the staff, grasped by wooden fingers to hold it in place, and it pulsed like the beacon of a lighthouse. The energies here were blue, but constantly shifting to other colors before blue static would occasionally erupt.
Therasmus could sense the power well here, and it was incredibly strong. But the pull of magical energy was simplistic to his refinement - and clearly recklessly dangerous. Perhaps their methods of drawing were normal to them, but they were using their mortal bodies as chambers to channel the energy into the master sorcerer in the middle, essentially acting as human batteries to overcharge her. Her power alone would have been strong, but the magic capability she had now was immense. It seemed like they were preparing for another spell of some kind, but one which took a lot of power. As it stood, they were utterly focused on their own efforts, so a demonic anomaly like Therasmus didn't even register to any of them.
-
The engagement with the knights had ground into a near stalemate, with no clear winners identifiable yet. For every knight killed, a Gothian or two perished as well. The soldiers who now used swords instead of shields had become sacrificial lambs against the far more proficient and magically aided knights, whose swords sliced through Gothian metal like butter. Only when the knights were occupied with their kill would they realize their own mistake and die in a hail of focused gunfire from supporting soldiers. The gunfire caused their armor to glow brightly before the runes "popped," removing all sorcery from them and making them normal. The gore of knights shredded by sustained gunfire was more gruesome than the usual deaths.
Still, the Gothians had succeeded in preventing the knights from pushing them out of the rubble and from among the fortress walls. They had resecured the drills and once more had an open line into the courtyard, though assailants still lingered within the interior of the fortress and among the debris. The haze had by now started to settle, and the Gothians would find that the courtyard was a cratered hellscape, marred by the bombardment. However, Nadeshi riflemen had regrouped during the knight attack, and gunfire spattered out on any Gothian's who made their way into the courtyard. This was a surprise - they were on the ground and unaffected by the gas. Clearly seen past this ragged line of perhaps a hundred musketeers was the sorcerer cabal, shimmering with magical energies.
Any Gothian's who stepped foot far enough into the courtyard would notice the air feel different at some point, like the air pressure had altered greatly. There was some kind of forced at work here pushing back the debris haze and gas from pouring into the center of the courtyard, like a bubble. Everything outside it - such as the fortress walls - were subject to the gas and smoke. But the heart of the courtyard had clean air. A product of the sorcerers, no doubt, and one that should collapse if they are taken out. The air pressure or whatever was at work was physically strong, as the unprotected Nadeshi seemed sluggish. Even the Gothian's would feel their ears pop and heads ache when they crossed this invisible threshold into the courtyard. However, the Gothians with their superior armor and weapons, meant that the Nadeshi musketeers were only more of a last nuisance than anything else - including the ones on the walls, shooting down upon them.
-
The Ungrian tank and its supporting troops carried on around the fortress, under fire from muskets and on occasion a cannon, but the vehicle was too fast for the hand-turned cannons to track effectively. With the chaos unfolding within the fortress, it made the tank and its platoon a rather less important target. Already, hundreds of Nadeshi were dead, and the fight was still heavily in the invader's favor despite some momentary speedbumps.
They found one of the gates to the fortress - a large, reinforced wooden and metal door. It was mostly untouched from the bombardment, though some wall nearby was crumbling from the damage. Their earlier attempt to blast their way in with their turret proved ineffective, given the general size of the fortress walls. They would have to shoot at the walls numerous times to even make enough damage to attempt to drive over, as going through was impossible given the width of the walls. But here was a door, and something that should be easy for them to breach. There were barely any Nadeshi around, and their meager muskets did little to stop their approach.
At Landing Zone Royal
Vunor's group carried on, this time armed sufficiently with defensive magic to protect them from whatever beasts were lurking around them. The lightning sphere would serve well to zap any attacker that tries to approach them again - and it worked. When the ghoul returned, it leapt through the air again, but was soon screeching when the orb exploded against it. The monster twitched and spasmed on the ground, making it a sitting target. Everyone nearby with guns shot the creature thoroughly, riddling it with lead and silver. It was dead within seconds, but that did not stop some extra gun fire.
A call of alarm went up - there were more of these things out there. A pack of them had been spotted running through the rubble up ahead, but they had dissipated into the debris when attention was called to them.
-
On the beach, the cavalry charge had long ago fizzled out into a prolonged melee. The initial losses to the charge were notable, with a few dozen Old Worlders dead, but the fight was fast on their side when the cavalrymen tried to carry out the attack on foot. Rifles and various machine guns annihilated sword and spear armed men instantly. The sandy beach was becoming a muddy mire of blood, as so much was being spilled among the landing zone.
The fight was coming to a painful close as two things happened. First, Albion marines made landfall. Their skiffs rode up hard through the surf and ground to a stop, allowing the soldiers to disembark quickly and dispatch the remaining Nadeshi cavalrymen. Some had turned to flee and were cut down by the Albions, and this new wave of infantry crushed the Nadeshi's hopes of securing the beach. Hardly any even managed to process the need to attack the Albion troops as they were shot from behind, or caught in the crossfire between Albion, Ungrian, and Columbian soldiers. Despite the slaughter of these men, none asked for quarter or tried to surrender. It was a clear fight to the death. Among the wounded, two had already detonated their powder horns to maim any nearby Old Worlders, forcing the invaders to shoot the wounded.
Second, the sorcerer was killed. The shot was quiet compared to the battle and went unheard by all except the sniper herself, but she could feel the almost supernatural power within her, the rifle, and the bullet. Everything had lined up perfectly for her. It was an intoxicating thrill to see her prey through the scope, and the sorcerer was just another notch on her belt. The gun bucked comfortably against her shoulder, and a few moments later the bullet ripped through the neck of the sorcerer, who had lingered near the back of the battle and had provided only a token assistance on the ground. She had expected a headshot - she was certain of it - but perhaps the magic around the sorcerer had caused the bullet to drop for his neck. Regardless, the force of the bullet tore him from his horse, turning him into just another mangled body on the beach.
At Landing Zone Spyglass
Admiral Mannfred nodded to Von Strauss, and stepped aside to allow the tank to carry on with the full unit of Brunswick, Ungrian, and mercenary troops. There were a few more scattered gunfights on their advance through the city streets, but every once in a while they would see Nadeshi civilians and troops fleeing in the direction of the Citadel. It was apparent they were going to be putting up a strong fight there.
When they reached the outskirts of the square in front of the Citadel, they were met with musket fire. Old World troops fanned out into the perimeter buildings, taking up opposing positions immediately. The square which separated the Citadel from them was, within seconds, turned into a no-mans-land. The defenders of the Citadel were firing from the windows of the hulking building. It was made of grey and brown-red brick, with imposing square windows every few feet. There were four floors based on the vertical window count, and the entire building looked more like a prison with windows than anything else. It was devoid of any flourishing or embellishments and was rather ugly to the aesthetic of the eye, except in the most brutal utilitarian perspective. A cathedral like entrance was all that had any semblance of architectural decor, in which a tall set of stairs led up to a closed set of double wooden doors - in which an iron gate had been closed in front of, just like an old castle's keep.
There were also basement level entrances, which were only apparent when they finally opened. Small wooden doors that looked like service tunnel entrances burst open once the Old Worlders had taken up positions in the shops and homes around the square. From these small doors came the militia. They charged with an intense ferocity that was unbecoming of anyone charging into open land and into a defended enemy position. None were armed with guns, bust instead were carrying clubs, meat cleavers, pitchforks, swords, and whatever else they had access to. It seemed like a couple hundred ragged civilians had poured out into one massive human wave. This militia was predominantly made up of men, all able bodied, but some elderly and children were joining in as well. Whether this was a serious attack or something to slow down the invaders was a matter of debate, as the Old Worlders turned the square into a shooting gallery.
Machine guns proved to be the great equalizer. The fast firing, belt fed guns scythed down the militia as if they were nothing. The charge had a zealous start, but by the time they had reached the middle of the square, the charge had faltered as so many died or fell among them to take cover from the gunfire. Even trained soldiers had difficult charging defended gun nests - Nadeshi civilians were utterly hopeless. Bodies were piling up several high in some places, with many all huddled around the one lone fountain in the square. The water there was dark red from the blood.
In fact, once the charge had stalled, so did the gunfire, as ammo needed to be preserved. Only those that got up and ran were cut down - so many others were simply cowering in the square, no longer so sure about charging the invaders. It was easy to speak of defying death, but putting it into practice was something else entirely, even for the devout.
The pitched fight had began, and after several minutes, a runner made it to Von Strauss' tank to rely orders - go around and attack the citadel from the back. There was a rear entrance similar to the main one, and they could apply some pressure there. The signal to attack would be obvious - the admiral was planning some kind of sorcery, and when he had performed the spell, it would be their chance to push into the citadel. Until then, they could fire as much as they want, but approaching before then would be dangerous.
The demon felt nothing as he slowly hovered over and around the collapsed bodies of the defenders in the hallway, only concerned with his mission and the promise of uprooting a group of interlopers. He could sense that the ritual was growing stronger, and he made haste as quick as he could manage once he was certain that the only defenders of this area had long since left to perform other duties in the battle. It was indeed fortunate, but also something Therasmus had calculated prior, his body tilted forward as he flew fast enough to kick up a gentle wind around him. Fallstrom and Gavrilov would have to jog through the halls to keep up with him, but it was nothing he considered too taxing.
Once their goal was in sight, Therasmus tilted his head to the side ever so slightly to address his companions, a formality he felt the need to do to ease their minds. "The gathering is too intently focused on their work for our presence to be known immediately. We shall use this to our advantage." he relayed to them and only them, his voice having the uncanny ability to telepathically project to those he wishes. "We will advance slowly, and I will deconstruct her mental blocks as you focus your efforts on the lesser sorcerers. Many of them have perished, but some still have yet more power to give. Eliminate them quietly and quickly. You have blades, yes?" He turned his attention back to the sorcerer cabal, extending his spindly fingers to the door as he slowly fiddled with the locking mechanism. Therasmus' pace was hurried but still focused, each spring raised a puzzle that he quietly fiddled with until the proper combination was discovered. Creating a key was relatively simple when he was able to telepathically move such small parts, after all.
With the door opened after some time, he swung it open slowly and silently as he drifted toward the sorcerers at work, doing his best to observe the nature of the spell. He did not gesture for his companions to follow, certain that they knew what to do from his instructions. If they were reliant on locked doors and dedicating so much power to this single spell, he couldn't imagine they had a ward in place to prevent physical attacks. Like a wraith he progressed nearer and nearer to the ritual, steadying himself on the turbulent energies that wracked the air as he began to ascend to stay out of line of sight to the remaining live sorcerers. This process appeared so volatile that he questioned if simple startling them would be enough to get the spell to backfire, but with such unpredictable results he decided to go for a more... surgical method. If he were to make it through the sorcerers without being spotted, he would gingerly produce a few tentacles, their ends fixed on the front and back lobe of the woman in the center. Slowly and gently they would move, like vipers preparing to strike just out of view. Once he saw the opportunity, he brought them back and stabbed into her skull - hoping to create a forceful link to her mind! He was under the impression that he would be able to take any excess power and feedback, and he was prepared to subvert this woman's mind into the collective that was his own.
While the Gothians dealt with the brunt of the attack on the fortress, the agile Teutonians waited for their moment to strike. Once the dust had cleared enough for them to see the enemy and the state of their fortifications, Pawlitzky ordered their advance and they charged in. They had been ordered to clear the less accessible defenders, and they sprinted forth with grappling hooks and ropes with which to rappel up to whichever levels the musketeers were still holding. The defenders would doubtlessly have an advantage based on their position, but the Teutonic riflemen displayed their key advantage here as well: those men and women who weren't climbing were laying down ample covering fire using their semiautomic weapons.
Pawlitzki himself fired off a number of rounds from his sidearm before ducking into cover to reload. There, he found a technician and ordered him to relay a message back to the station on the beach. The young man saluted and sprinted away to what appeared to be safety behind the Gothian line. Minutes later he had emerged to the sandy landing zone and easily spotted the radio station hunkered into the makeshift earthworks the landing party had left behind. The courier ran along, ignoring the distant sounds of gunfire as best he could before sliding, breathlessly, into the sunken station. "The fortress walls are breached," he huffed.
"Good to know. The Captain will be here any minute, so we can let her know that the way is clear."
---
A few minutes later, the skiff bobbed up to the shoreline again, and Fallensteller stepped out on the beach, feeling the powerful currents of magic in the air like distant, exotic bizarre smells hanging in the air. The sky rippled with it, although it was hard to say where and from what the currents were originating from. With her frightening new mask adorning her face and surrounded by her bats, freshly landed from their flight to the shore, she appeared far more threatening than the Nadeshi opposition. She smiled at the desolation ahead of her.
"Captain," Commander Schuster said as he entered the scene, "It just occurred to me that the other demon- Therasmus, might be involved in this operation. He might be the one sent to dispatch those sorcerers."
"Hm?" Fallensteller hummed, unconcerned. "Oh, dear. Mr. Schuster, we aren't here to lead the charge; I thought that was obvious. I'm here to lend direct 'assistance' to Captain Jäger and protect him from this supposed magical threat."
"Ah, I see now," Schuster replied a bit grumpily. "So what should the rest of us do?"
Fallensteller gave a guffaw. "The heretic swine are dying in droves, and this city is set to burn, Commander. I want you and Pawlitzky, and anyone else available to plunder everything occult they can get their hands on while there's still time. That reminds me- Chiri!"
One of the bats stepped forward nervously in an ill-fitting mask. "Yes, Captain?"
"You remember what I told you, what Mesahri helped you understand? That is your task."
The bat gave a reluctant salute before flapping away, taking off down the beach toward von Strauss's position. With limited Gren, he would lend whatever aid he could to recover the mask shard she wanted.
---
Braam sat at the cafeteria table and tried to avoid rubbing his neck. The food looked and smelled bland. It tasted poisonous and rancid. He looked around the room in a fit of paranoia and was amazed to see the other sailors picking away at it, apparently indifferent to the atrocious taste. He watched their mouths moving, the teeth grinding, and felt as if he could hear every crunch and gulp. There was something else, too. The man next to him, eating and reading his newspaper... Braam could sense the blood pulsing through his neck and thought a very strange thought: "It must be good," he found himself considering, "if they were willing to... if my blood was... maybe I could..." and he thought these vague, disgusting thoughts until the man got up and moved. Braam's heart sank as the true meal slipped away, and resumed his bleak dining experience.
It took a few minutes before his ego would allow him to even acknowledge that such terrible things had gone through his mind. At first he tried to convince himself that he was only thinking of strange jokes to cope with what happened, but soon it became crystal clear: "I want blood. I want to drink people's blood. I'm a monster," and the more it repeated itself, the more he became convinced it was true. He hid his head in his hands and hoped that someone would come along and talk to him, help him limp away from this delusion. No one came to talk, but one came to sit and eat. Braam looked on him hopefully, and could swear he felt his teeth moving in his gums.
"Eins."
Victoria strangely found herself smiling. The sensation she felt when she fired upon the sorcerer...that was new. Never before had she felt anything like that, even when she was shooting at an animal or a person back home. It felt oddly wonderful. Still, she had to focus. She cycled the bolt of the rifle, ejecting the spent shell into the sand next to her and replacing it with a new one, then took aim yet again. Stragglers would need to be picked off. Those that had strayed from the mass of fighting and were off to themselves.
Soon enough, she sighted one in and pulled the trigger. Chest shot, straight through the heart. "Zwei." she said softly. The man collapsed, forcing another nearby to quickly look to him. He was next. Another crack, and the man's head exploded. "Drei."
A moment later, another shot. A man still on horseback, the shot ripping through his spine at the base of his neck. He slumped over and slid off his horse, surprising the Ungrian and Albionian pair that he was charging. "Vier." she continued. As the enemy ranks were thinned out farther, her count rose. Fünf...Sechs...Sieben...Acht...Neun...Zehn.
Soon, the beach had quieted down. There were still gunshots here and there. Some yelling. Moans from the wounded. Victoria sat up, cycling another spent cartridge from her rifle and loading two stripper clips into it to top the rifle off. She then took the time to pick up the brass and the clips. Both could be reused, thankfully. She slipped the ten empty casings and two clips into her great coat's inner chest pocket, then stood. The bipod was folded, and her cap straightened. Her job was done. At least for now. Still, what was on her mind wasn't the battle.
That sensation she felt. That she was still feeling. Renewing itself after every man cut down by her rifle. It was absolutely intoxicating...and she wanted to know just what the hell it was. It couldn't have have been actual pleasure in this, could it? She had done this before, and it never felt like this. Eventually, she shook her head and drew out a cigarette. Maybe it was a one time thing. She slipped the cigarette into her mouth and lit it, before watching as the Ungrian, Columbian, and Albionian forces mopped up the remaining troops.
----
The driver of the Carmilla quickly adjusted their course, moving towards the gate. An easy breach, considering the gate was just wood and metal. They opted to put a round at the base of it, to blow the gate apart and make it easier to push through for the escorting platoon and other troops that decided to follow them inside.
This was actually the perfect flanking chance. With the Gothians and Teutonians proceeding in through where the drills had bored through the walls, the tank could easily just drive right into the courtyard and lay waste to the defending Nadeshi and other defenses they may have.
A shell was loaded, and the cannon was aimed. A moment later, the shell launched out of the cannon and detonated at the base of the gate. Splinters and boards flew in various directions, as the cannon was reloaded. Once they were ready, they pushed on through the new hole in the gate, the escorting platoon following close behind. They fired upon any Nadeshi firing down upon them from the walls, thinning their ranks a bit.
----
Once the order was recieved, Von Strauss and her group made their way around to the rear of the citadel. The trip wasn't all that difficult, as most of the enemy forces were simply cut down by machine gun fire or shots from the supporting patrol. Once they reached the rear entrance, they stopped. Von Strauss poked her head up out of the tank, and looked back to Kahleen and Dahl.
"I'd suggest you and your friend find a nice spot to snipe from, seeing as you have a scoped rifle. Sniper support is always valuable!" she said with a grin. "Plus, you likely could pick off any sorcerers that may try to stop our tank!"
Fallstrom and Gavrilov hunkered down once Therasmus entered the room. Both soldiers slung their SMGs over their shoulders and unsheated their deadly blades. While not curved or equipped with razor-sharp teeth, these traditional Gothian military daggers were made for puncturing targets and killing its prey with one single blow.
Fallstrom focused on the translucent sorcerer while Gavrilov approached one of groaning sorcerers. Once Therasmus engaged the lead sorcerer both soldiers knew it was time to strike- a single upwards sweeping blow into both targets should do the trick.
---
Taking heavy losses, the marines formed up into tight groupings which used the warm fire from the flamethrowers to keep the magic knights at bay while bullets were unleashed en masse. It was clear that no matter the casualties the soldiers would push on untill the knights had been defeated.
At the courtyard the shields were put to use again as pairs of soldiers attempted to locate the surviving musketeers up on the walls. Through their slit holes the shield carriers called out their targets while the riflemen set out to engage them with lethal precision.
---
Jäger and his escort continued deeper into the castle. By the look of things there weren't much opposition around and as such the search for a command room and officers- alive or dead- continued. Infact anything detailing the military structure and resources of the Nadeshi were of great interest and at the very least Jäger hoped to capture at least one surrendering soldier to buy some favor with Yarah.
-----
Still suspicious and weary of her intentions, Kahleen simply nodded towards Von Strauss. "You'll get your support. But we'll stay close. If anything we can scout the entire citadel for safe passages once we're inside seeing as we're trained pathfinders and not just marksmen."
Dahl nodded as well before resuming his sniping against shadowy figures looming within the small citadel windows.
"Cease fire! CEASE FUCKING FIRE!"Graves shouted until the last of the Columbian men stopped firing on the corpse. "Don't waste ammo on a corpse." He took a few steps forwards to examine the corpse. The mask was making it hard, but he could make out the disgusting features. This thing was a corpse alright, but it was one long before the filled with lead and silver.
The call grabbed his attention away from the creature and towards the group. More of these things were sculling about and were something that had to be overcome if they wanted to get to the sorcerer.
"Form up!" He shouted as he went back to the group. "Vunor, if you can make more of those light bulbs to knock those things out, we can make short work out of them." He stopped for a second and checked his shotgun "Willing to bet my left nut that those things are coming from their voodoo doctor or whatever they're called. So we can't stay in one place to get picked off one by one."
---
"Do you think they are alright down there?" One of the men asked as he observed the small canion where Vunor and Graves went in with their squad.
"Graves is a professional and Mr. Vunor is highly skilled in the ways of magic in these islands." Fontaine answered behind him, sending shivers down the man's spine. "If there's anyone that can survive the things down there, it's them." The captain sounded so sure in the things he was saying, that it gave the men a small boost to their morale. Even a small one was welcome. "Besides, should the unthinkable happen and Graves gives us the signal, we have other means of clearing the streets." Behind him a few of the company men had finished gearing up. Those around them took a few steps back, not wanting to get caught anywhere near the things they wielded. A few short burst were let out from the throats of their weapons into some of the empty houses to make sure they were functioning correctly.
"Need a light?"
The guns of the Albionian marines sang a deadly song as they discharged like a symphony of destruction onto the Nadeshi cavalry, delivering swift death unto the enemy. Wollisfend himself managed to pick off three of those that fled, a respectable number. As the fighting began to die down, some of the Albionian marines began to celebrate their success and began hollering some wartime hymns. Wollisfend was more reserved as he and a few of the marines at his side approached their allies on the beach.
"Are you alright lads?"
---
As it became apparent that more of the aberrations were nearby, Vunor recast his orb to renew its strength for another use. As he held the orb in one hand, he put his hand to the ground and muttered another incantation, attempting to speak with the earth to find where the source of magic was. However, this dual usage of magic was extremely painful to him, which was made all the more apparent as he visibly winced.
"Are you alright lads?"
"Yes, sir. We lost a few, but thanks to the maschinengewehr, we were able to cut down most of the horses. We're glad you showed up, too." said one of the soldiers, squatting as he held his rifle out next to him. Rifle butt pressed down into the sand. Another soldier nearby tipped his helmet back and spoke. "That sorcerer went down fast. I bet it was Sergeant Reinhard over there. She's almost inhuman with that rifle of hers, from what I've heard." he said, motioning towards a lone figure standing on the crest of a sand dune several meters away.
I'm cursed. I'm a monster. They've turning me into some kind of monster. Oh, mother, I miss you...
Braam fidgeted in his seat, trying to avoid thinking about the blood, trying to avoid touching his tongue against his slowly changing teeth. He had heard legends about bloodsuckers from his uncle, once, when he was a young boy: cursed people who lurked in the forest and would abduct him and make him one of them if he strayed too far from the village or the road. Of course it was all just foolishness, a tale used to keep rambunctious young boys from wandering alone and getting lost. Not that Braam was ever really the outdoorsy type. He was always quiet and sickly, and spent most of his time reading anything he could get his hands on, even if it was one of the substandard tabloid circulars that peddlers would sell for cheaper than dirt. No, he didn't believe in such things, and he carried himself like a young scholar, aloof and weary of the world.
But now, in his heart and his soul, all his brain's erudite fortitude was receding, revealing his innermost, wide-eyed boyhood. Vampires were real, and he was becoming one. Already, he was finding it impossible to close his lips comfortably, as his small triangular canines had slunk out of his gums over the previous few minutes and sharpened themselves magically, and now they threatened to cut him if he didn't open his mouth. But doing so... that would alert everyone around that he was cursed, and he knew that might mean death if they panicked. He quietly stood, hoping to leave the room without being noticed.
"Hey boy, are you alright? You look a little pale," the adjacent officer grumbled.
Braam froze, nodding nervously without saying a word.
"Alright, well..." the man said, "you work with Keseberg don't you? Just make sure you didn't catch anything bad from that hospital. Good luck to ya," he said, and as soon as he turned away, Braam bolted from the room. He turned in the hall and entered the first water closet he could find, which had a large mirror along one wall where he could take another look. Tugging on his collar, the wound on his neck did look a bit infected; perhaps he was hallucinating. That has to be it. I must have gotten injured somehow, and all this monster stuff is just paranoia. I'm going to be fine. I just need to look up at the mirror and grin, and my teeth are going to be normal. Okay, see?
His teeth were not normal. As soon as his lips parted into a smile he could see them, white daggers at the corners of his mouth that flashed with devilish mockery, unwanted invaders in the middle of his face. He hated everything about them, and about himself and his first instinct was to find something hard enough and heavy enough to knock them out as quickly as possible. He settled on the doorknob. Taking a knee, he found that his head was roughly aligned with the brass fixture and took a couple of practice swings, stopping just short of his face each time before deciding to commit.
But the moment he was certain, the moment he was about to pull the door against himself, he realized with a start that if he really was a bloodsucker now, that knocking out the teeth might not cure him. In fact, it would probably starve him. As he sat there on his knees, thinking it over, another officer opened the door and was startled as he nearly tripped over Braam. "Fuck, kid, what are you doing? Get up off that floor, it's disgusting down there!"
"Uhm, yes sir!" Braam said, trying to hide his teeth, but it was too late. The officer, who lacked the red stripe on his arm, froze as he saw the fangs in Braam's mouth. "I- I have to go," Braam added, trying to get around the man, but he was grabbed by his collar.
"Oh no you don't!" the man yelled, yanking him back into the restroom and socking the boy in the stomach. "You're one of the captain's freaks, aren't you? What were you doing in here, huh? What's wrong with your face, kid? Some kind of black magic, isn't it!?"
Braam couldn't believe it. All this time he had been fearing the cult, and here it was one of the few good men left on the Zuflucht who seemed most likely to kill him now. He wanted to fight and run away, but there was no chance. The man was so much bigger than him. On the other hand, maybe the officer would shoot him with his pistol and give him a quick and easy death, compared to the utter nightmare that awaited him if he continued along this path. Just as Braam felt convinced he would be okay with the latter outcome, however, he felt a surge of instinct take over him, and with a speed he didn't know he was capable of, he turned and bit the arm of the officer with such force that his teeth punctured the uniform sleeve and went deep into the flesh within.
Braam heard an alarmed cry, but the officer didn't seem to react. The taste of blood on his tongue was delicious, like the most pure spring of water in a wide desert, sweet and life-giving, like nothing he had ever tasted. He couldn't control himself. He sucked and gulped at it until the source ran dry for the moment, the punctured vein having been closed from the suction. As he lifted his head, the officer seemed to crumple around him, landing on his knees as Braam backed away.
"My arm..." the officer moaned, "my whole arm is numb... what the fuck did you do to me?" he cried.
The boy looked at himself before leaving, anxiously and furiously wiping the blood off his chin with his hands and shamefully licking at the residue. He stumbled into the hall, his feet carrying him at a wild pace and his mind wheeled, having no idea where he was headed. All he knew is he wanted to be alone, somewhere dark and safe, where he could have time- time to think of his next move.
---
Minutes after arriving at the beach, Fallensteller and her entourage approached the fortress walls and linked up with the units already operating there. She entered the tunnel in stride, arrogantly unconcerned with the battle unfolding around her. She continued marching along, occasionally demanding directions from the Gothian and Teutonic soldiers, until she came right up on Captain Jäger from behind. "Wilhelm," she said quietly. "It is good to see you again."
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