Post 14: A Hateful Present
[Spoiler= "Winning Vote"]
Top choice for next setting: Dresden-Verse.
and
-[X] Storm Hawk Actions:
-[X] Battalion ([b]1 point, [/b]4 companies)
-[X] Modernize Equipment: (default: flight boots, casting device, spear, top 60 with dragonscale, top 19 M4s)
-[X] Basic Modernization ([b]1 point,[/b] give great-war era rifles)
-[X] Personal actions (1 free PA, 3 PA per [b]1 Point[/b], can repeat. High difficulty may require multiple personal actions for even a chance of success. 1 PA is about equivalent to a half day's work/week of timeskip) [b]2 Points[/b]
- [X][X] [X] [X] [X] [X] [X] Learn/practice magic:
Dimensional Magic/Summoning: You have come to the horrible conclusion that Being X will be playing with you in multiple dimensions for eternity if you don't do something about it. Its time to change the rules.
[/Spoiler]
1/1/689 - 13/12/691 of the Imperial Calendar (Age 17-20 years).
Everything had been going so well these past few years. The Empire was entering a golden age, buoyed by the advances that filtered through the Gate. Your own fortunes climbed ever higher as you skillfully instructed yours and your mother's managers on how best to capitalize on the situation and take advantage of the deals you worked out with the GEF leadership.
The Storm Hawks had expanded to Battalion size, with yourself, Aisha, Sasha, and Gerlind each in charge of a company. Unfortunately, though the most recent company, the one that you claimed, was of superior recruit quality and training, there hadn't been any other stand-out troops, and you had been too busy to do officer training yourself.
The mages were all now equipped with flight boots, casting devices, dragonscale armor and great-war era mage-rifles you had had reproduced. The production effort had been fairly difficult, the initial models coming back off-speck, though you were eventually able to sort the problem out. Platoon Lieutenants and Company Captains had modified M4's, further increasing firepower. All in all, your mages were the single most lethal formation on Falmart.
Other than that, you had decided that it was high time to investigate a certain magic. Being X was clearly going to keep tossing you between dimensions for all eternity. You decided to do something about it, to change the rules of this game. And the best way, you thought, was to learn dimensional magics of your own. That way you should be able to flee annoyances and live the good life somewhere safe, no matter what happened. Plus, you had grown somewhat fond of Lucia, and Aisha and Sasha; it would be a shame to lose them. You hoped to eventually be able to bring them to your side, though that would likely take extensive research.
You made some progress. You couldn't really do anything on demand, or even generate dimensional magics, but you were starting to get a sense for it. In the end, you had a decent chance of using the lowest form of magic, power-fueled desire, to achieve what you wanted. But that was basically it. Still, you had high hopes for the distant future.
And then you turned twenty, and Being X, that bastard decided to come for a 'birthday visit'.
"You," you hissed, hand futilely lashing out as X gave that creepy laugh of his.
"Ah̨ Ta͝n̶ya̢," he chuckled. "H҉o͠w ̡n͏ice ̀tǫ ͢se͞e̛ ̧y͝o̧u̢ a͠ǵaìn͝! As͘ it̀'͞s ͜y̸o͞u͜ŗ bi̸r͜thd̡ay, I th̕o͏ugh͠t͝ ̡I'd̴ ̨g̢ive͢ ͢a͢ śpec͠ia͏l prese̛nt. ͠Y̴ou̡ ha͡ve h͢ad ̵thing͠s͠ t͏òo͢ e̶a̵si̸ly̷,͡ l̴atel̨ỳ."
"Don't you dare, you fucking - !" you screamed before realizing that the bastard had already left. Fuck! You thought. That was the last thing you needed.
"Lieutenant!" you shouted, storming into the barracks attached to your villa. "Full kit, use the recall signal."
Before he could answer, you sprinted off for your adoptive parents. You found them in the nursery, playing with you little brother. They looked fearful.
"Tanya," your mother said before faltering. She gathered her courage and continued. "Your father and I have both been visited in our dreams by a god." Oh, that fucking asshole. "He claimed that if you are not killed, he will visit first the Earth, then our world, with earthquake, fire and flood." Oh, that fucking ASSHOLE. "You know we love you, sweetheart, but we can't go with you and risk little Tacitus." Oh, that fucking pestilential ASSHOLE! That DISEASED DICK! That pile of overpowered shit!
Filled with rage as you were, you answered. "Of course, mother. I recommend you all go to the safe room."
"Oh, Tanya!" Lucia cried out before hugging you. Damn Being X for this. You hugged her back briefly, before pushing her away.
"Look after my troops, mother. Those that survive what's coming. Goodbye."
"Good luck, Tanya," Marcellus offered. He was clearly more ambivalent about the whole thing.
Fuck luck. With X against you, you'd have none. No, he should have wished you a nice, good killing rage. Then again, it would have been redundant. You were plenty pissed off all on your own.
[center]===========================[/center]
Aisha was woken up early in the morning by one of her men. She had had the strangest dream. Something claiming to be a god saying it would destroy everything unless her Lady was killed. Ridiculous. As if any divine could possibly wish harm against her Lady. No, this being, if it were real, was clearly a devil sent to test her.
"-ptain. Captain!" her subordinate shouted, shaking her from her grogginess.
"What!" she snapped. She had never been a morning person.
"Captain, the GEF troops are surrounding us and bringing up armor."
"What!?" she nearly shouted. She was wide awake now. Her eyes widened in realization. The dream! If the GEF believed it… she needed to get to her Lady, now!
"Get our mages up and ready. We need to be back at base two hours ago."
"Yes, Captain," her now even more worried subordinate acknowledge, saluting and moving off at a run. Minutes later, her company was ready to sortie.
"Mages, something's wrong. An enemy of Lady Tanya is using demons to twist her allies against her. She needs us by her side. Are you with me?"
"Hah!" they shouted in agreement.
"Good. Stop for nothing. Kill everything in our way."
"Hah!"
"Weapons check. And remember, stay low." And then, a moment later, "let's go!"
The thirteen mages rocketed out of the tent, flying off at a low level. They immediately came under a hail of machine-gun fire. The guns, designed to destroy helicopters and missiles, chewed through their shields.
"Illusions, go evasive!" Aisha ordered. But the fire was too heavy, even with three times as many targets. Her own shield broke. She could see it coming, her death, a tracer moving just too fast for her to dodge. Her last thought was shame that she had failed her Lady.
The bullet penetrated through her goggles and her corpse fell out of the air.
The survivors dropped out of the air, threw down their weapons, and obeyed the loudspeakers' instructions to surrender.
[center]===========================[/center]
Sasha had a disturbing dream and woke with a start. She and her company were at the Aerie, the Storm-Hawk's central base and training center. Leaving her bedroom she walked to a glyph on the wall then poured mana into it. All over the base's rooms lights began to flash, warning her troops of a possible attack.
Minutes later, she stood in the ready room as her troops finished donning their gear.
"Alright, I've had a disturbing bit of information come to light. I'm not sure how true it is, but just in case we're rallying to her Ladyship's position. It's possible we're facing GEF opposition, but they may still be allies so hold fire unless fired upon or until I give the order. Flight pattern is a dispersed wing-delta, and I want all capable of diffusion shields to cast them. Remember your training, and we'll get through this fine. Understood?"
"Yes, Captain!" they called out.
"Good. Lieutenants, ready your men. We leave in five."
Five minutes later, the unit silently left the compound, flying low along the tree-tops and with light-scattering diffusion shields obscuring their forms. In the early morning light they could see infantry and armored vehicles moving up to assault their home. Sasha's eyes narrowed in bitter anger that they would turn against her mistress.
"Traitors," she muttered coming to a stop with her mages around her. Then, louder, "As of this moment, we are at war with the GEF. Platoons, target enemies along a one-twenty degree arc. Hit them hard, prioritize SPAAGs then machine guns. 1 minute, then we move forwards and onto her Ladyship. Execute."
And with that, all hell broke loose. The two SPAAGs came under concentrated aimed fire and were quickly eliminated. Then the aerial mages burst forwards, gunning down infantry in the open with explosive spells. Once they were above the armored vehicles they aimed down on the thinly-covered roofs and slaughtered them with anti-armor spell rounds.
*WWRREEE, WREEE!* sounded Sasha's whistle, the order to break off and continue on.
In the distance a small swarm of helicopters had lifted off of the ground like giant metal beetles swarming forward to defend their ground-bound compatriots. They were too close, however, for their improved rate of fire and long range accuracy to count against the mages' agility and spells. The helicopters, ungainly in comparison, found it impossible to dodge the heavy fire of their betrayed allies and crashed to the ground one after another, their former lethal precision and trained crews turned into burning wreckage and carrion.
The company of mages flew on at their best speed.
Sasha grinned; she was only minutes away from fighting at her mistress' side once again.
[center]===========================[/center]
Alus Gerlind and his company were on a cooperative patrol with a GEF unit when everything went to hell. Soldiers burst into their tents, rifles pointed, screaming at them to get down on the floor. Only half his mages, the paranoid sort who slept with a knife and never removed their casting devices, managed to fight their way free of the initial clusterfuck, bursting past screaming soldiers and booming guns to make a break for it.
Then the jets screamed in overhead and he knew how this would end for him and his troop if they were to fight.
Swearing, he gave the signal to surrender.
At least he kept most of his troop alive. He tried to hold onto that thin consolation while castigating himself for failing his commander.
[center]===========================[/center]
After speaking with your parents, you sprinted back to your company. They were the newest recruits, but had some of the highest initial quality; they'd taken well to their training too. You could do worse.
"Milady, the radio is being jammed," your senior lieutenant reported. Damn! Those treacherous, cowardly GEF must have fallen for that fucking devil's lies. They'd regret it. But that also meant that the security force from the GEF, all veteran commandos, would be coming for you. It was time to move, to get out of the city and to the forest; the air cover and difficulty moving vehicles would serve you well, and it would reduce the effectiveness of aerial surveillance and radar.
"The GEF have turned against, believing the lies of some devil summoned to destroy us," you said frankly to your troops. "They will regret it. This is our promised land, our sacred battlefield. Let us worship it with victory and the blood of our foes." You knew your eyes were gleaming with bloodlust.
"Hah!" they sounded out in exultation. Your mages expressions mirrored your own. You smiled at them, at your loyal and lethal hounds.
"We shall depart in the direction of the Aerie, rendezvous with Captain Sasha, and proceed to the forest to conduct guerilla operations. It is unlikely that Captains Aisha and Gerlind will be capable of joining us. This is to their companies' misfortune; they will miss out on the greatest sport. What is our mission?"
"Kill, Kill! KILL!" they shouted. Your teeth were showing now, in pleasure and in threat. Marching into a courtyard, you rocketed up followed by your mages. But the person leaving the ground wasn't a noble, an enchanter, or even a combat mage. No, today the Devil of the Rhine flew again, and your enemies would scream their repentance.
Clearly the GEF troopers were on the ball, and as you broke the cover of your personal living space's walls you came under fire from their marksmen. The effect was minimal, the GEF troops easily shredded by your counterfire.
"Close formation, C-RAM!" you called out. Your mages spread out nearby you, shields interlocked, scanning for incoming missiles or artillery. C-RAM, or Counter Rocket-Artiller-Mortar, meant to attempt to counter-fire rather than dodge or block incoming attacks. Moments later your scanning spell located a small swarm of long range missiles zooming in.
"Sector three, eight foxes!" you shouted the warning for "fast" super-sonic missiles as you aimed and began to fire at them. As two of the targets were destroyed the rest of your mages joined in the fun. Soon enough the skies were clear.
"Assault formation, counter-helo, on me," you ordered, your squads forming a loose formation behind your back. Then you burst into movement. In the distance, a company of helicopters were charging forward. You met them head on, taking out half including the true attack helicopters yourself while your squads each bagged one or two of the Blackhawks. You barely even lost any speed doing so.
Moments later you and your men were dodging machinegun fire, the tracers stitching across the sky as you destroyed armored vehicles and dismounted infantry that were in your way. They broke, moving off to the side.
You ran a scanning spell and noticed a pair of jets moving in for an attack run, likely trying to save the ground forces.
"Jets, come about to ten!" you shouted, turning to meet them. They should never have thought to challenge you at a height where you could fight back, you thought as you pulled at least ten gravities accelerating to meet them. Your physical enhancement was running full blast and even then you were at your limits; no purely human pilot could match that sort of performance.
All too soon for those pilots you were within assured range.
"O lord, may your righteousness grant us strength to destroy those who would injure us," you muttered darkly, stacking homing, anti-armor, multi-shot and long-range shooting effects. Then you pulled the trigger and watched through your targeting interface as the spells downed the two planes.
You sighed in satisfaction, dropping through the sky and rejoining your troops just in time to see the retreating ground forces caught by Sasha's arrival on the battlefield. The unfaithful GEF mechanized infantry were destroyed to a man.
"Sasha, I'm glad you could join in with our fun," you said as you flew up to her and gave her an exuberant hug.
"Of course, Lady Tanya," she replied. "It would have been worse than torture, to be forced to abandon you to such boorish guests." That's what you liked about Sasha; she was utterly devoted. Not nearly as much of a born killer as yourself, or a born fighter like Aisha, but perfectly willing to mold her personality to your own whims and style.
"It's time to relocate to the Coan Forest," you remarked.
"Yes, Lady Tanya," Sasha replied. "A hunt in the forest seems like just the thing for entertainment in this tiresome winter." You chuckled at her.
"Alright, move out! Stay low, evasive alpha," you ordered, instructing the troops not to fly in a straight line for more than fifteen seconds. It was a reasonable mix between avoiding incoming attacks and not tiring the troops out or reducing speed too much.
Minutes into your journey a massive salvo of missiles slammed into your troop. From previous observation, it probably included a volley from the entire air-defense system within range, and all mobile assets. You had given the order to evade, and shot some down yourself, but it simply wasn't enough. Nearly forty percent of your troops were down with injuries or, for the least powerful or those unlucky enough to be hit by multiple missiles, dead. Luckily many of the injured were recoverable, and in the end only a third of your mages had to be left behind as the rest of you made your way into the forest.
In the distance, beyond even your range, you could see dozens of specks of helicopters and a large cloud of dust caused by the movement of tracked and wheeled vehicles. The GEF wanted you bad. Given that Being X had apparently threatened the destruction of both Earth and Falmart if you hadn't been removed from the world within a week, you could somewhat understand.
Not agree, mind. You didn't believe that the fucker could destroy Earth, and Falmart had its own false gods to protect it. They were doing a decent job of that, as evidenced by the fact that the Empire hadn't had the minor earthquakes that affected both Tokyo and Washington. But you wouldn't go so far as to say the gods were doing a good job; your personal torturer had clearly managed to exert enough influence to affect not just the GEF's dreams but those of your followers as well. The fucking asshole.
Before you could make it to the forest, a pair of jets came in to harass you. They didn't have the same weight of fire, and were unwilling to get close enough to be destroyed. You ended up taking a light injury in your arm, your shields overstressed by covering your subordinates, but you managed to break contact and get into the forest as darkness fell. You found one of your hidden caches of food and ammunition, and loaded up for the following days of hiding and fighting.
The next two days were fraught as you and your men hid in the woods with GEF infantry combing through and searching for you. The first day you actually managed to hide well enough that a patrol passed right by you, allowing you and your reduced force to hide behind their lines in "cleared" territory for a day and a half before they realized their error. Clearly your Storm-Hawks were better at hiding in the woodlands than you had realized.
On the afternoon of the fourth day of Being X's twisted "present" they finally found you, and they came in force. Three companies of infantry and vehicles, two of helicopters, an artillery battery outside of the woods and a fighter-bomber on standby with another on its way for when the fuel ran low.
To face that small army you had yourself, Sasha and a bare twenty aerial mages.
Despite their numbers the battle started heavily in your favor. Their infantry was under supported; the vehicles had trouble in the woods, while the artillery was ineffective against your dispersed formation, illusions, shields and low-level flight. The helicopters were the most useful, operating as floating gun platforms, but even they had trouble with the cover while the fighter was forced to watch on helplessly.
Your troops, meanwhile, had no such issues and descended on the beleaguered infantry like hawks taking rabbits. You noticed in the corner of your eye as Sasha's shields were dropped by a lucky burst of fire before her fellows shielded her. You, meanwhile, were devoted to the slaughter. Here, a fireteam destroyed in an explosion. There, you zoomed through low to the ground, a blade projection slicing through guns, armor and bodies as easily as it would soap-bubbles, a mist of blood and screams spreading in your wake.
You were surrounded by death, submersed in war, drenched in blood. You were alive, ecstatic to once more be on the battlefield, dancing on the edge of death, your body and blood singing with your magic as you forced yourself faster, deadlier, more vicious, more destructive, whirling in a dance of destruction.
You barely noticed as Sasha's squad was unlucky enough to come under a cross-fire of Gatling style machine guns, Sasha herself gutshot and forced to retreat from the battle with the remnants of her company. You, meanwhile, were busy cutting your way through infantrymen and their support vehicles by the dozen, entire companies of troops left as wreckage and corpses by your passing.
Still, Sasha's plight enraged you.
"Oh, lament not of our fate, for the Lord hath not forsaken us. In the distant end of our journey, we shall reach the Promised Land!" you cried out, firing off a long burst of anti-armor shots at the helicopters, utterly destroying them while dodging the jet's missiles in a near-impossible display of mid-air acrobatics. One round aimed at the jet clipped a wing, forcing it retreat while the second climbed out of range. Your mages, those who weren't dead or retired from the field with injury, finished off what few helicopters and infantry you had merely injured. The remainder of modern soldiery at the rear, unused to such vicious casualties, broke and ran.
The field was yours, though the butcher's bill was heavier than you liked. You may have killed fifty for every mage you lost, but the enemy could send in another five hundred far more easily than you could replenish your ranks, especially with both worlds set against you.
No, you were spitting in Being X's eye, denying him his pleasure once again. But that was cause enough for you to fight, for your men and possibly even yourself to die.
Denying that so called god would always be worth the sacrifice.
You broke off, avoiding the jet's attempts to keep you under surveillance with a series of complex illusions, and faded into the forest.
The next morning they managed to find you again. This time the enemy force was far smaller, only a single company of infantry, two of helicopters, and some distant and largely ineffective artillery. There were, however, two jets at the beginning of the fight, and another pair of reinforcement; those were most annoying, as their overhead radar was more effective at targeting you than any ground based system and they could attack, if somewhat ineffectively, from beyond your range of retaliation.
The battle began with a bloody slaughter. You were in fine form, as good as you ever were on your best day in the Great War, and the enemy's widows would weep for it. You had fallen into a battle-rage, and by the time you came out of it the infantry had been destroyed, many helicopters damaged, and a jet killed. Inspired, you troops had performed beyond all expectations as well. Soon enough the second jet too was downed by you, though the crash caused more damage than the enemy had managed previously as it crashed into the region your remaining mages were operating, injuring some and killing others in the explosion.
Then the unthinkable happened. An air-bursting artillery barrage landed right amongst your tattered company of mages. One of the shells went off right next to Sasha. It was a fluke, a moment of terrible luck, but she was heavily injured. You tasked two of the flying wounded, one of them medically trained, to look after her and get her medical attention after the battle. The other survivors were all injured or drained of magic, useless against your foe. You sent them away, and broke off on your own.
That night you ensured that none of those who attacked you survived, ambushing searchers on your way to the artillery battery which you removed from existence.
The smoke smelled of vengeance.
The next day, the sixth of the GEF's ill-considered crusade against you, they seemed to be getting desperate. When they couldn't find you in the morning, they set massive fires throughout the forest by noon. It wasn't the best plan on their part. Your high-altitude breathing spells allowed for smoke-free inhalation, an advantage that wasn't shared by your hunters. Furthermore, the smoke gave you all the cover you needed to get close with no warning, inflicting massive casualties in a series of hit and run attacks on the cordoning force before breaking through.
Unfortunately, the jets caught up to you. One of the missiles broke through your counter-fire, though your flare defense managed to get it to detonate before impacting your shield and you managed to keep flying unshaken. You dropped to the ground, threw up an illusion, and sneaked away. An unlucky infantry platoon searching the area was wiped out in a flash of impossibly fast movement and blade-work, no warning escaping until they missed their scheduled check in.
The seventh day saw further escalation as the GEF began using white phosphorous shells on all possible sightings of you; hell, they were dropping them at random. White phosphorous is, technically, an illuminator round. In reality, it is as much an illuminator as napalm is a defoliant. It does the job, sure, but it also burns the fuck out of anyone nearby. You admired the twisting of the laws of war, but wished that it wasn't being used against you.
Unfortunately, their excessive shelling actually did capture your position, and your shields were never designed with that weapon in mind. You were forced to break cover and pop up above the hazardous smoke, and you were noticed by everything.
It's a good thing you're so good at missile defense. You shot down everything they launched at you, dodged some SPAAG cannon fire, and then broke contact before the helicopters or infantry could arrive.
With the decreased cover and limited search region though they managed to find you again all too easily. There were no ground troops this time, just two companies of helicopters. By their damaged skins and motley collection, it was obvious that these were all the helicopters that remained. They were supported by distant artillery and anti-air, with a jet to provide aerial support.
It didn't help much, as you took the plane out first thing. It must have been a Marine pilot; they trained to support the assault, rather than flying high and dropping bombs on hapless infantry. You suppose he died well; you certainly appreciated the courtesy of an easy kill.
The helicopters came in, guns and rockets blazing. It was honestly impressive, awe inspiring even. The afternoon sunset was streaked with lines of fiery tracers, the forest rocked with explosions and fireballs from missed rocket attacks.
In the face of your aerial movement, they may as well have been standing still and shooting BB guns. You rocketed through the formation, killing helicopters as you went. After breaking past them, they turned to pursue. But unlike when you were burdened with your subordinates, you went full speed, verging on supersonic and leaving the helicopter's behind in dust. The artillerymen were panicking as you came in, so low to the ground that your shield destroyed the occasional mole-hill or patch of shrub.
Not stopping, you flew through the orderly artillery and anti-air missile park, leaving chaos, destruction and corpses in your wake. Then, all nearby radar destroyed, you raised yourself a little higher, went faster, and disappeared into the forest. Clearly if Being X wanted to beat you it should have found some more capable stooges.
And then, at the end of the threatened week, looking at the sun set, filled with bitterness and rage at having your life upended by that sadistic bastard once again, you felt it.
A swell of dimensional magics.
Something grasping onto your core.
A twisting, twirling feeling as you were pulled in a direction which you couldn't even begin to name.
You could hear something giggling, then laughing hysterically.
"FUCK YOU, BEING X!" you shouted.
And you were gone from that world.
You came to in a summoning circle.
AN: And with this, the Tanya/Gate Arc is complete. The next Arc, Tanya/Dresden is in progress. It's set in the Dresden-verse, but in 1942 WWII Occupied Poland where Tanya is attempting to kill all the Nazis. I'll probably put it up sometime after the arc finishes; if you want to read it in real-time, or participate in the quest, search "Further Adventures of Tanya the Evil" and "Spacebattles".
When the Arc is over and posted on FanFiction, I will update this story.