A/N: The Assault on Albion begins after our regulated review answer segment!

Atsik: I pulled a bit of creative license there. Glad you liked it =)

Sacchin: But of course not, that wouldn't be very fun, would it?

KrazyFanFiction/Guest/Zarbapha: And a codex ye shall have!

Reishin Amara: There's a Def Leppard song in there somewhere.

And Aerosmith. Because Aerosmith and Armageddon tend to go hand in hand.

Without further ado, warfare returns to Halkeginia!

(Minus the theme to Attack on Titan. While fairly awesome let's keep it to that one show, okay internets?)

Hercules Transport 'Solstice'

0216 (T+1 Minute)

Alarms rang across the vessels as their crews readied for battle. Crewman rushed to their stations as those previously sleeping took secondary positions, some clad in nothing but a pair of pants or shorts.

Various blast doors sealed shut as damage control teams began their individual briefings, as did every other military unit aboard.

The First Infantry immediately began final weapon and armor checks. Each suit was checked for a potential rupture or leak; while every weapon and magazine was checked for damage or any other visible fault. Such checks were done in triplicate, all by different individuals and all sealed their helmets upon completion.

A message was broadcast across the cargo hold, "Ladies and gentlemen of Tristain, your mission is as follows. Upon reaching the objective site, the heavy infantry will deploy from the transports by fast roping. After all units have been released, the transports will move off and circle around on both flanks and the rear of the camp. Cavalry will then herd the Albion troops into a killbox. Those who resist are to be eliminated, prisoners are preferred, but not required. Officers should coordinate with their radioman on the use of air strikes or combining with other units. Good hunting!"

Guiche turned to his NCO, "Are we ready for battle Adrian?"

"Yes my lord. We're all good to go, our horses too."

He nodded as he turned to the rest of his men, "To glory!"

A set of faint agreements answered the blonde, which only unnerved him further.

H.M.S. The Prince Valiant

0220 Hours (T+5 Minutes)

As soon as the call to general quarters sounded, crewmen immediately began taking their positions. Marines took up defensive positions inside hangars and exterior airlocks while Dropships began final launch checks. Vehicles had already been loaded hours earlier, with most of the small vessels carrying small teams of combined infantry and Goliath combat walkers. They would act as a rear vanguard for the cavalry and to ensure no Reconquista soldiers escaped the net.

The ship's 180mm broadside guns were loaded with high explosive shells, each cannon's gimbals and gyroscope checked to ensure accuracy. The normally ground mounted weapons had a wide field of fire, and could angle up to 160 degrees in any direction. If the heavy cannons couldn't hit the targets, the medium-sized 30mm Gauss cannons would fire on the enemy at 90 rounds per minute.

"Admiral Kerrigan, the fleet has received and acknowledged your orders. We are moving forward with the Tristainia while the Excalibur stays with the transports."

She nodded, "Very good ops. Do our fighters have firing solutions on the enemy vessels?"

"Aye ma'am. All forward flights have weapons lock and are awaiting the order to engage."

"Very well. Tactical, are all of our weapons armed and manned?"

"Yes Admiral! The forward guns will be loaded with High Explosive Incendiary shells in thirty seconds."

Kerrigan smiled, "Adjutant, sync our firing computers with those of our fighter compliment. I want our first salvo to impact the enemy vessels at the same time as their missiles and torpedoes."

"Weapons systems calibrated and synchronized Commander." A multiple second pause, "Forward cannons loaded and locked. Be advised, course adjustment will be required to target multiple vessels."

She turned to the helm, "Did you get that ensign?"

"Aye Admiral, I am prepared to auto-correct as needed."

"Very well." The Queen of Blades took a deep breath and smiled lightly, "Fire."

The soft, yet powerful voice of Tristain's Champion pulled every trigger as the Wraiths launched their pairs of shortened Longbolt Missiles. The Vikings deployed a quarter of their compliment of Lanzer Torpedoes two seconds later as the massive 420mm cannons opened up in a staggered pattern. With each shell launched, the vessels reoriented and fired another shell at either untargeted, or already doomed ship. As soon as the weapons were launched, the fighter aircraft climbed several hundred meters above to begin their attack run on the enemy fleet.

Thirty seconds earlier, Captain Johnson of Catherby found himself unable to sleep on this cool, summer night. He was a loyal agent of Reconquista, one of the original ship captains to defect from the corrupt Royal Family. After Tarbes, he was one of the many who became disillusioned with the possibility of victory. No one had spoken of such things however, the former head of Reconquista would crush any sense of doubt with that wretched ring of his.

He opened the locket that held the magically created painting of his three children smiling with a tender grasp. 'I miss you little ones. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime soon.'

Not like it mattered anymore, word of the death of both Cromwell and Lady Sheffield came by messenger and proved only to unnerve him further. Defeat was becoming more and more probable with each piece of news, the annihilation of Armaghe, along with the night attacks on several cities caused morale to plummet.

A voice emerged from the horn beside the look-out tower, "Captain, I have a visual on something to the southeast. Looks like several different vessels blocking out parts of the horizon."

He quickly approached the makeshift device, "Size and distance?"

"I'm not sure my Lord. I think they are several kilometers out, maybe fifteen or more. They are massive, larger than the Lexington by my estimate."

Plans to counter the coming fleet began to fill into his mind as sudden bursts of light appeared – and began to come closer. His eyes widened as he ran to the signal bell and pulled as hard as he could. The light approached as he closed his eyes in resignation.

'See you all in the next life.'

The artillery rounds hit first, colliding into the vessels at well over eight times the speed of sound. Even if every shot was a dud, the kinetic energy behind each of the magnetically assisted shells could easily punch through the armor plating of a 20th century battleship – on both sides – and continue for an additional kilometer.

With each impact, the 750 kilogram shells detonated in a sudden burst of concussive force. The wooden hulls of each ship were completely unequipped to deal with such sudden force and splintered in an instant. The crewmen inside fared far worse as the massive shockwave tore men apart from the inside out. Heads exploded, limbs were pulled from torsos and the rest were incinerated as the white phosphorus contained within the shells ignited.

Longbolt missiles launched from Wraiths came in next, each missile's 'expanding rod' fragmentation warhead blasted massive holes into the vessels' superstructure and hull. Cannon emplacements were torn from their mounts as the now awakening crew was turned into bloody confetti, the unlucky ones being thrown from the ship itself while still conscious.

The Lanzer Torpedoes moved somewhat slower, but were able to intelligently seek out the least damaged ships. Each weapon's warhead was a microgram of anti-matter surrounded by a sphere of inert explosives, ones normally used in thermonuclear weapons. Upon contact with the enemy vessels, the explosives detonated in perfect unison, compressing the anti-matter containment capsule into dust. As soon as the anti-matter met regular matter, a massive reaction occurred.

Each warhead detonated with the force of nearly two tons of high explosive, pulverizing the insides of vessels. The sudden infrared radiation burst vaporized anything remotely flammable, and set powder magazines off, resulting in chain reactions that obliterated what remained of the ships. In moments, the entire Albion Fifth Fleet began its fall into the ocean. None of the fighter aircraft had been given the chance to launch a second attack as the fleet turned to ash around them.

A few smaller ships had escaped destruction by their placement alone and quickly pulled back towards the continent.

Tactical spoke up, "Admiral, a trio of small corvettes are withdrawing towards Albion. The Vikings are requesting permission to board the vessels and destroy them."

Kerrigan nodded, "Permission denied, have them return for a systems check and re-arm. Have our Wraiths stay on station. Comms, have the rest of the fleet form up on the Prince Valiant, we're pushing through what's left of the debris field." The communications officer began relaying orders as Tactical finished dispatching the Vikings, "Tactical, did the bow cannons perform well?"

"Aye Admiral. All but two shells hit their targets. Number three had a misfire, but we have ejected the round safely."

An improvement made late in the ship's development was the installation of a failsafe system that would eject misfired shells. Old historical references to old Earth naval combat showed the possibility of a misfired round exploding while inside the firing tube itself. In order to head off such a catastrophe, a set of magnetic coils were installed around the weapon's barrel with the express purpose of hurling a shell out of the cannon. It was also a means for a vessel to lose considerable mass in the event of an emergency.

"Very good. Helm, begin our movement forward."

"Aye aye ma'am. We are accelerating, we will reach what remains of the fleet in 90 seconds."

Comms relayed new information to Kerrigan, "Admiral, the captains of the fleet have acknowledged your command, they will rejoin our formation in 45 seconds."

"Ops, time to target?"

"Just under an hour Admiral."

Aboard the remnants of the Albion Fifth Fleet, chaos reigned as the officers on deck ordered an immediate retreat. With no direct visual on their assailants, the three light ships immediately descended and began to weave back and forth. Their efforts began to pay off as smaller, but no less deadly shells flew past them, some by mere centimeters.

None of the crew had seen ship-based cannon fire that precisely before. A 12 pound smoothbore – while powerful – was fairly inaccurate, due to the cannonball's shape and black powder's inconsistent performance. Most ships used broadsides in order to increase the chance of hitting a target at a distance, not just to put out as many shells as possible.

The small, dart like projectiles had no such difficulty however, as one round blew the first ship's mast clear off. The old, oak structure shattered under the sudden force and sent a half dozen men falling to their deaths. The vessel took an additional half dozen impacts a moment later and was obliterated by secondary explosions across her hull. The screams of burning men and the groans of a broken ship only spawned more fear in the hearts of the survivors.

The two remaining vessels began to fly even more erratically to avoid their inevitable fate.

The Prince Valiant's ventral cannons had immediately begun to send a mix of kinetic and high explosive-tipped shells at the fleeing vessels after punching through the debris field. Those mounted at the bow had to blast pieces of the ships that remained airborne before attacking, some objects literally being held afloat only by pieces of Windstone.

On occasion, the remaining ships would venture into the line of sight of the many Crucio broadside guns. Said weapons randomly sent pre-programmed airburst shells at the enemy, even if they didn't come within lethal range. The constant blasts and concussive waves knocked the ships off course, forcing their helmsmen to constantly compensate, and slowly tire them.

It was the mistake of the third vessel's helmsman that sealed her fate. A lucky round, programmed to detonate at a pre-selected point punched through the main deck and buried itself in a powder magazine. The impact itself had killed two sailors and sent a third flying off the deck, minus his legs. It was only apparent just how damned their vessel was until the Captain peered inside and saw a green light turn to red.

The oversized artillery shell detonated, sending ten thousand pre-formed heated tungsten fragments flying in every direction. The sudden burst rippled through the hull, blasting deck plating off its mount and setting off the two tons of sulphur and powder in the cargo hold. The ship exploded like fireworks, sending its crew to a watery grave.

One cannonball was launched from the explosion straight into the wheelhouse of the second vessel. The eight pound iron ball tore through an entire line of officers and the helmsman, whose remaining body weight pulled the vessel into a sharp dive to port. The sudden shift made all the shells launched at it miss, but the heavy force and shift in gravity capsized the vessel and tore its mast off. Men fell from the deck towards the ocean as the ship tore itself apart. The port cannons fired in unison, obliterating what remained of the small vessel.

"Admiral, the Albion Fifth Fleet has been annihilated, no lifeboats or mounts had time to escape."

She nodded, "Very good. Ops, inform all department heads to send me a short report on their men's performance and problems by tomorrow night. Air Boss, prepare the Banshees for air strikes, and launch the rear vanguard as soon as they are ready."

"Aye aye Admiral!" A set of commands were input as the Yeoman turned to a microphone in front of her. A set of three whistles played, "Now hear this! All Banshee pilots and vanguard units report to your ships at once! This is not a drill!"

EDS Agamemnon – Admiral's Quarters

0230 (T+15)

A loud, repeating tone caused the thirty-something flag officer to groan as he smashed the receiver, "Report."

"Tristain has made their move Admiral. The entire Albion Fifth Fleet has been wiped out, and enemy vessels are approaching the southeastern coast. A sensor sweep discovered an additional Zerg force landing in Northern Albion, not far from Armaghe. This time it's a full on invasion force, a Hatchery has already been constructed, along with defenses."

"Tactical options?"

"Our best bet would be to send a flight of Wraiths with long range missiles to harass the Tristainian Fleet which is on course for Rosais. For the Zerg we believe a small ground-based force would help limit their strength in the northern regions."

Dufay rubbed his eyes, "Very well, do so at once. Wake me at 0730 with the results, provided no new information comes in."

"Aye sir."

A quartet of on-duty Wraith pilots were playing cards in their hangar when the loudspeaker turned on, "Echo Flight! Prepare for emergency launch! Scramble! Scramble! Scramble!" In a matter of seconds, the pilots grabbed their helmets and ran for their warbirds. Two steps up on a ladder and each one was squared away in their cockpit, the bubble canopy sealed tight.

Pre-flight checklists were completed as crewmen replaced the fighter aircraft's original missile payload with a set of Gemini II's with a second booster stage. As they did so, a briefing came in through their headsets, "Echo Flight, your mission is as follows. You are to launch and travel beneath Albion towards with the southeast coast. From there, you will begin to harass the Tristainian ships present by whatever means you find appropriate. Give 'em Hell Echo Flight, Godspeed."

Only ninety seconds later, the four fighter aircraft launched from the capital ship's hangar and flew towards their target.

Brimic Ocean – 25 Kilometers off-shore

0250 Hours (T+35)

Kerrigan looked out onto the bridge, glancing at the tactical uplink provided by the Adjutant. The three battlecruisers maintained a relatively loose triangle formation around the transport vessels, every weapon loaded and ever sensor searching for any incoming threats.

'Where are you hiding? And what are you waiting for now?'

The EWAR officer yelled out, "Admiral! We've been pinged by a fire control radar! We have incoming tracks! Eight of them!"

"Distance?"

"Twenty kilometers to the north! At our Two, coming in from below the White Isle!"

"Activate tier three ECM and set point defense weapons to automatic. Prepare chaff and flares for launch, and Helm be prepared to take hits for the transports."

Normally, chaff and flares were used on fighters due to their small size. A ball of chaff or a set of flares would easily cover their small profile, typically just popped out right behind the aircraft. The battlecruisers used the heavy Crucio cannons instead to propel a chaff or white phosphorous-laden shell to a pre-determined distance. The increased volume compensated for the capital ships' massive size difference.

Both crewmen acknowledged as the missiles came into view. The point defense guns' rotary barrels started to spin preparing to fire. Designed to take on mounts and incoming missiles, the massive rotary guns began to track the oncoming missiles. At five kilometers, each turret belched wrist sized high explosive rounds in bursts of 300 at a time. The first two warheads were turned to confetti as they exploded, while the debris and heat covered the next pair's advance.

The vessel's dedicated electronic warfare suite instantly began to send out jamming signals and junk data to the oncoming missiles' tracking radar. The sudden blast of information caused the second set of warheads to spiral out of control or detonate pre-maturely. The third pair was tricked by the blasts of chaff and flares sent into their flight path. Both detonated harmlessly away from the Tristainian vessels as the fourth pair reached their target.

The missiles impact shook the bridge slightly as damage reports came in. The Adjutant summarized the situation for the Champion as the officers continued their duties, "Hull breach on Deck G, sections 4-9 and 12-16. Fires are being extinguished by damage control teams, no casualties."

"Any reduction in our combat efficiency Adjutant?"

"Affirmative Commander, ventral cannons nine and eleven are currently disabled due to the fire outbreak. Automatic shutdown systems, and targeting computers unresponsive, manual reset and operation required."

"Acknowledged. Air Boss, get our Wraiths down there to engage the enemy, and make sure the transports' are prepared for deployment! And someone get men on those cannons!"

An amused chuckle came in over the UED channel, "Three to Lead, it seems they have sent their own fighters after us."

Echo Lead shook his head, "Fire the rest of your missiles and go dark. As soon as they pass, we make our way back to the Fleet."

"Affirmative Lead."

"Admiral! New contacts, several additional pairs of missiles coming our way!"

"All battlecruisers! Form up on the Prince Valiant and shield the transports! Weapons-free!" She opened a Psi link, 'Mutalisks! Send as many glaives as you can before they get in range of our point defense weapons!'

'Yes Mistress!' An entire squadron of nearby Zerg fliers dove beneath the Tristainian Fleet and went supersonic. 'Time to contact fifteen seconds! All fliers, launch Glaives at the first opportunity!'

Seconds went by at an agonizing pace as the maximum range of the symbiotic organism came. Dozens of the acidic missiles flew into the oncoming formation. As each one hit head-on they bounced off, and hit an additional target before falling to sea. A quarter of the incoming missiles vanished in a matter of seconds as cannon operators began manually sending 30mm shells into the oncoming warheads in a strained effort to lessen the damage.

A handful of missiles retargeted the oncoming Mutalisks, sending half a dozen fliers into the sea below while the others continued onwards. The point defense batteries activated once again, this time spewing shells at fully automatic, creating a veritable wall of lead between the ships and missiles. Even with the massive amount of firepower being sent at the missiles, some managed to get through. The Henrietta class vessels armored underside proved to be a difficult fortress to break however.

A set of impacts were felt across each warship as damage reports came in again. Most were minor hull breaches, but a lucky shot against the Excalibur blew one of her ventral cannons off its mounting, sending three crewmen to their deaths. Casualty reports were uploaded to the Adjutants for future reference as the vessels continued on.

Once the missiles had been wiped out however, Kerrigan let out a breath she had been holding. Every vessel had its weak points, and the Henrietta class was no exception to this rule. Her cannons, while having a fantastic degree of mobility and visibility were vulnerable to directed missile impacts. While the loss of one cannon was not a serious blow, the effects would add up over time. Nor would they be able to replace it until they returned to dry dock.

"Ops, order our vessels to proceed at flank speed and prepare for landing. Launch our attack craft and follow up with the vanguard units."

"Aye aye Admiral, time to arrival now ten minutes and counting."

The head noncom yelled across the vessel, "Ten minutes until deployment ladies! Final checks, weapons, wands and horses! Double time!"

Pre-combat jitters began playing out as hearts raced and fingers twitched nervously. Guiche had barely seen any combat before today, his part in the battle for Tarbes was minor. The officer in charge of his unit had no intention of getting between the Zerg and Albionian forces that day, and with good reason. He was now cursing his former commander's decision however as anxiety exuded from every pore.

"My Lord?"

Guiche gasped slightly from surprise, "Y-yes Adrian?"

A simple sigh responded, "Can we have a word sir?"

A lesson he was taught early on by his father immediately replayed in his mind. "If one of the men under your command – particularly another noble or non-commissioned officer – seeks to speak with you privately, it is best to indulge them to maintain the unit's cohesion. Whether or not you actually listen is of no consequence, but it will make those that doubt feel more confidence in your leadership."

"Of course, let's head to the elevator."

After several steps Adrian's face turned serious, "My Lord, I could sense your anxiety from across the room. Others in the unit are beginning to take notice and I believe you can shed some light on the situation."

The blonde nodded somberly, "You've caught me Adrian, it wasn't well advertised but the unit I was in at Tarbes never saw any actual battle during the invasion. Our commanding officer held us back as the Zerg demolished the Albionian forces in order to keep us from being annihilated by friendly fire."

The brunette nodded, "Fear is a natural part of combat my Lord. If you aren't afraid, that is the worst possible situation one can find themselves in." A pause, "I'll admit my Lord, you seem more humble than most nobles I've met."

Guiche nodded grimly as he held no details back, "The Royal Champion and I had . . . a disagreement while we were both at the Magic Academy. I challenged her to a duel and-."

A short guffaw, "You did what?! My Lord, rumor has it she defeated the Heavy Wind in single combat! With all due respect sir, what were you thinking?!"

A bitter laugh answered, "I didn't Adrian! She annihilated me, my Golems, and very nearly killed me. I watched as she stared down the Water Spirit of Ragdorian Lake and saw the Spirit blink first. Before that she beat down the most powerful wind mage in over a thousand years. Those three events alone made my perspective change, a commoner with nothing became the Royal Champion through power and effort alone. I was raised to believe nobles were superior to all others, Lady Kerrigan taught me otherwise."

Fields of Rosais – Reconquista Camp

0259 Hours (T+43)

A bored sentry yawned as he admired the moons and stars above. He and all of the others knew that Tristain would likely land on Rosais within a day, possibly two based on the information they had received only hours earlier.

As such, nearly everyone was asleep, or attempting to anyhow. A few small campfires had been lit where the restless came to talk and reminisce about better times. While the nobles refused to believe that they would suffer defeat, the common infantrymen knew better. With the capture of His Excellency and the assassination of his replacement and benefactor, the possibility of victory seemed further away than it had previously.

They did have a favorable view of the newest leader of the Republic however. Lord Williams was surprisingly fair noblemen who cared for his fellow soldiers, regardless of rank. He was just one man however, and his impact would be rather limited.

The sentry, like many of his fellow soldiers, was a conscript, a well-bodied man taken from his home to serve in the army of the 'Republic.' It was nonsense of course, no commoner believed that Reconquista was a republic. The nobles were far worse than they were before, and let their men run amok in towns and villages alike. He lost track of the number of times he had been forced to hide his newlywed wife in a hidden cupboard when they came into town.

He despised every single noble there, but a handful shared his opinion on the 'Republic.' Some had become disillusioned after the defeat at Tarbes, which the Regent had attempted to play-off as a draw to the public.

The 19 year old was brought out of his mental tangent by an odd 'whoosh' sound in the distance. The hair on the back of his neck instantly stood up as he glanced off his watchtower, in an attempt to locate the noise. Mere moments later, brief flashes of flight from the south east caught his eye.

"Banshee Flights Torvald, Odessa, and Mack, this is Admiral Kerrigan. You have permission to engage targets of opportunity and provide air support to the troops on the ground. Good hunting!"

Chatter instantly perked up as the close air support aircraft synced their targeting systems together. Each of the twelve Banshees took three different targets – watchtowers, horse stables, and officer tents. In a matter of seconds each pilot confirmed their targets, and twelve triggers pulled in unison.

The aircraft shot three Ripwave missiles from their internal weapons bay and accelerated towards the target. The oversized projectiles sped ahead at over three times the speed of sound as they lazily flew up and dive-bombed their targets.

Alan of Canterbury was both awoken and thrown to the ground by a set massive explosions tearing across the camp. Dazed by the sensory overload and deafness, he threw on his chainmail and boots as quickly as possible. Chaos filled the camp as loud thumps echoed through his rib cage, he was unable to tell if said sensations were the explosions or his pounding heart. He could make out faint screams and calls for help as more blasts ripped into others nearby.

'This is looking real bad, why would Tristain attack at night? And where is the damn fleet?!'

He was a line-class Wind mage; the brunette instantly created a buffer zone to protect him from the massive blasts that threatened to pulp him and those around him. A man's upper torso flew right at him, forcing him to dive out of the way as a dozen flying machines flew overhead.

His non-com, Davidoff, slid on the now blood-slicked ground and sat up next to him. "My Lord! We're sitting ducks out here, we need to spread out!"

Alan nodded, and both ran towards a set of freshly blasted foxholes where several soldiers and noblemen took shelter. The pair dived inside, narrowly being turned into human pincushions. He expanded the wind bubble, "Everyone listen up! We're moving out of the camp and into the trenches around the camp! If we stay here we're all going to die!"

A high noble scoffed as he stood up, "Who are you to order me around-." He was cut off as a piece of silver shrapnel shot itself in the man's skull from behind, and flew out of his left eye socket. The group was silent as his body dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Does anyone else want to object?!" Several shaking heads answered him, "Mages! Use barriers to keep us covered! Earth users dig us a path!" The reformed unit, made up of eight mages and just over two dozen infantry ran their way through the ruined camp. The screams of the dying slowly tapered off as they exited the camp. The pair of Earth mages with them collapsed the ground into several small spider-holes and a few large foxholes. After the group spread themselves out, the Earth users constructed a six inch warded stone lip over each hiding place.

Davidoff turned to his commanding officer with worry, "My Lord, what about sending word out to division headquarters?"

The career officer shook his head, "It's all open ground from here to the tree line, and even if you made it its nearly thirty kilometers to Liverpool. Without a horse. By the time you get there any news will be out of date." He into the distance and paled, "I fear we have larger concerns however."

The non-com turned and couldn't help but let his jaw drop as a massive steel vessel began to hover only two hundred meters away. Both paled further as the behemoth's massive bow loading doors opened, and armored figures began dropping from the transport ship.

"First Marines! Disembark!"

At the Captain's orders, the two hundred men and women roped to the ground, their suit-mounted thrusters keeping them level. As the first troops landed they ran out several paces, heavy rifles in hand to establish a perimeter. They hadn't even taken a knee before the third set of troopers landed and began to dig out small foxholes directly behind the forward guards.

A war orc roared a challenge as it began to sprint towards the Tristainian forces. A pair of Marauders turned to each other and nodded as both raised their arms. Both fired four shots from their wrist mounted launchers, pulverizing the berserker into chunks of sinew and bone. The creature's handlers simply looked at one another and the remains of the orc before running off in terror.

"Oh, it's on!" The pair of heavy infantrymen slowly marched forward and began to launch concussion grenades into the enemy camp. The less lethal grenades detonated with a massive sound blast and blinding light, earning screams and curses alike. Before another salvo could be launched, a dragon knight rushed the pair, and attempted to pick up one of Marauders.

Much to the amusement of those still at the landing site, the dragon was woefully underprepared for the 550 kilogram suit, let alone the 105 kilogram man inside. With two weak flaps the crimson dragon was forced to let go, only to be pulled down as the trooper grabbed its former captor and pulled hard. A set of snaps could be heard as the beast's legs were torn out of their sockets and thrown onto the ground.

With a single mental command, a set of time delay grenades were blasted into both the rider and mount. Casually walking away, the rest of the company saw the enemy mount and man were blown into pieces behind him.

"Mm, chunky." The other Marauder's comment only proved to make the other infantrymen shake their heads in amusement as they continued to disembark. The sounds of another group of war orcs made all turn and chuckle as they all turned their weapons and fired.

Alan and the group of Albionian troops that took cover were only twenty meters from the war beasts as they charged towards the invaders. They were astonished when a massive wave of steel and light artillery fire rushed by and utterly obliterated the beasts. Even the transport ships' own cannons began sweeping lines of fire at the oncoming horde, and those hiding in the foxholes.

"Everyone, hit the dirt!"

The commoners obeyed instantly as survival instinct took over, while only a few mages heeded his warning. A pair of triangle wind mages put up a barrier and were overwhelmed by the hundreds of 20mm cannon rounds that pulped anyone still standing. Warded stone shattered as each round detonated with the force of a small grenade, and with the earth mages exhausted from their efforts it would be impossible to replace.

As soon as it began however, the firing ended. Those still alive looked around and saw the remains of the battle. Several stomachs relieved themselves of their contents as the survivors saw the little pieces of meat and clothing that remained from their dead. The smell of burnt flesh and expended powder filled the air as Alan looked at the coming infantry with dread.

"My Lord, what do we do?"

The brunette looked around him and saw the remaining men looking at him in trepidation. "We surrender when they approach. Toss all of our weapons and wands into one of the spider holes and for the Founder's sake don't do anything rash!"

The Earth nobles were about to object, but the sight of their fallen comrades was more than enough to silence them.

'We've lost this battle before it even began.'

On the northwestern most part of the camp, a set of horsemen and assorted troops watched as a nameless noble barked orders.

"On my signal, every single one of you will scatter and head into the forests. As soon as you are clear you are to make your way to Liverpool and division headquarters. Tell them what you've seen here today, and get us reinforcements."

"What about you my Lord?"

The man stood quietly, "We'll buy you as much time as we can. Now run for it!"

A bugle played as three dozen horsemen rushed towards the great forests of Albion.

At the edge of the plains of Rosais, several squads of infantry and Goliath walkers stood completely still. All were effectively invisible due to a new technology recently developed at the Starbase to supplement existing stealth technologies.

Cloaking devices were expensive pieces of equipment, requiring constant maintenance and replacement. They also had limitations on size and power generation, as they cloaked both visual and thermal signatures. That was the main reason why Battlecruisers and heavy vehicles weren't equipped with them.

Engineers had discovered a cheaper, more widely usable system that replicated a trait used by certain animals to avoid detection. The Tristainian Chameleon was a cold-blooded amphibian which relied on its ability to take on various colors to avoid detection. In an attempt to replicate this, it was discovered that so called 'chameleon armor' could be attached to most ground units and infantry in lieu of a full cloaking device.

While wholly ineffective versus modern sensors and scanning technology, it was more than sufficient to fool the untrained eye.

Warrant Officer Jepson fiddled with his thumbs as reports of the battle came in, nearly all of which were positive in nature. The soft thuds of explosions could be felt through the walker's exoskeleton as the Banshees turned in for another pass. A slight movement on the edge of the camp caught his eye, causing him to magnify the source. The sight of three dozen horsemen rushing towards them made him smirk.

"Listen up Vanguards. We've got incoming hostiles attempting to make it into the forests behind us. I want them to fall into the trap approximately 150 meters from my 12 o'clock. As soon as they reach that point, let them have it."

The tension was palpable as the horsemen approached the forest's edge at a full gallop, quickly closing the gap. At 300 hundred meters the Marines raised their rifles slowly and activated their infrared targeting lasers. The Goliath's auto-cannons loaded high explosive shells and each walker took two individual targets.

'3 . . . 2. . . 1. . . .' "Now!"

On his command, the 80 Marines and 10 Goliaths opened fire as the walkers blinded the oncoming horses with spotlights. Thousands of rounds and shells flew down into the stunned mass of men and beast, perforating and shredding both alike. Torsos exploded as heavy shells tore through them, while the buzzing of 8mm spikes tore through whatever poor fool was in their way.

"Cease fire!" With his command, the vanguard unit ceased its maelstrom as eight of the Marines approached the fallen riders. One of the horsemen stood up and charged the nearest Marine, blade held high. As the conscript brought the great sword down it was caught by an armored gauntlet and snapped in half. Eyes wide and face pale he looked at the once proud weapon in utter terror as the juggernaut approached.

The Marine tossed the ruined blade aside as the bayonet on his C-14 extended nearly eight inches out. The Albionian was still in shock as the neo-steel weapon was rammed into his chest cavity. He had enough time to piss himself in terror before he was lifted up and torn apart as the gauss rifle opened fire. Two uneven halves fell to the ground as each Marine began double tapping the remains of both horse and man.

Jepson looked at his thermal sensors after several seconds and found no further life signs. "Looks like that's all of them gentlemen, leave the bodies and return to your posts."

'Too damn easy.'

The legendary Albionian Dragon Knights proved to be a substantial challenge to the Banshees however as both exchanged spell and cannon fire above the burning camp.

Torvald Two banked hard to the right, engines whining in protest as a set of square-class Air Needles flew by his cockpit.

'I need to dump the rest of my weapons, they're slowing me down.' He saw a group of mages taking cover in a large foxhole and sent his remaining missile payload into their numbers. Without a target lock, most of the anti-armor weapons missed their mark, but a key few impacted directly inside.

His aircraft's computer droned out, "Primary ammunition count at zero." A heavy shudder echoed through the airframe as a large red warning symbol appeared on his HUD, "Cloaking device functionality destroyed, leak detected from fuel cell three."

"This is Torvald Two, I've been hit and requesting assistance with a bandit on my tail!"

Several seconds passed, "We're all committed with our own opponents Torvald Two, you're on your own for now."

"Copy Flight Lead." Two accelerated and began to jink vertically, but found the Wind Dragon perfectly capable of keeping up with him.

'I can't outrun him, not with the damage I've sustained. And the only weapon I still have ammunition for is the cannon.' A crazy thought entered his mind as he slowed down, the Wind Dragon was unable to compensate and flew past as the Banshee snap rolled upwards.

His helmet mounted gun-sight engaged as he raked the dragon rider with 25mm cannon rounds. The first exploded directly in front of the beast causing both to lose control as the rest of the weapon's burst tore through their bodies.

A smirk, "Torvald Two, scratch one. Flight, I'm RTB for repairs and resupply-." A loud bang echoed throughout the hull as warning lights filled the cockpit.

"Port engine failure detected. Starboard engine fire detected. Fuel cell three has ignited. Critical system failure imminent!"

His bird slowly began to shake itself apart as Two directed his aircraft to the north. A buzzing sound filled his ears as his ejection handle began to blink red. "Well, I suppose it had to happen eventually." He opened a comm channel, "Command, this is Torvald Two, I am ejecting!"

Two slammed his helmet visor down and pulled the handle between his legs. The aircraft's cockpit canopy shot off as he was rocketed from the aircraft. Moments later the gunship lost power and nose-dived into the ground exploding in a fireball as it cartwheeled across the field.

The mounted knight that had downed the airman saw him eject and briefly considered going to finish the job. The triangle fire mage knew that his adversary was no longer a threat however and flew back towards the fur ball as he sent a Fireball at another aircraft.

Kerrigan saw Torvald Two's emergency beacon activate as they lost the data feed from his Banshee. "Flight Boss, did Torvald Two eject safely?"

"Yes Admiral! His life signs are still green and he is conscious by the looks of it. He landed about 350 meters northwest of the camp."

"The status of the other Banshees?"

"Most have minor damage, although Odessa 4 had to return to the ship after losing most of her starboard control surfaces. All have expended their primary armament however."

A nod, "Have the Banshees return to the ships for repair and rearmament, send out the Vikings to replace them. Get search and rescue out and retrieve him, we need all of our pilots accounted for."

"Aye Admiral!"

"Helm, begin to accelerate, we're going to park over the northern perimeter and give the cavalry some cover."

A single Dropship, tasked with this very situation loaded up with four Marines, a Marauder, and a Medic and flew towards the battlefield. All aboard checked their weapons as the vessel made its way into the fight, while being escorted by a pair of Wraiths. Sudden turbulence nearly pushed some men out of their seats as the trio made their way onto the White Isle.

A UED Dropship served a different mission however. After collecting several volunteers, the Officer of the Watch ordered them to take four Vultures to Northern Albion to begin performing reconnaissance and harass the Zerg base there. To avoid detection, the group would be forced to land on the eastern coast and make their way to the outpost under the cover of night.

0303 Hours

T+47

"All Marines deployed! Cavalry, prepare to disembark in 9-0 seconds!" Those still aboard the Hercules felt the vessel shift as it accelerated towards the camp's flanks.

Guiche turned to Adrian and nodded as their comm officer approached, "Lord Guiche, Lady Kerrigan has assigned your unit a special mission."

The blonde's eyes widened, "Go ahead."

"One of the Battlecruiser's Banshees was downed not far from our insertion point. We have been tasked to keep the pilot, call-sign Torvald Two alive until search and rescue arrives. We have also been granted special clearance for air strikes on your command."

A vein popped out of the nobleman's head, "They are keeping us away from the battle?!"

"These pilots are incredibly valuable assets Lord Gramont, losing just one could negatively affect the war effort." She paused as she brought a hand to her head, "It seems we'll be assisted directly by Lady Kerrigan's flagship, the Prince Valiant." Another pause followed by a dropped jaw, "She will be partaking directly in your mission as well."

Whispers carried through the men as the nobleman calmed down, "Lady Kerrigan wouldn't put herself in harm's way unless it was important. Very well, tell them we accept the mission." He turned to his men, "Gentlemen, you've heard it first. We're being assigned a special mission by the Admiral herself. Our task seems trivial, but it is of the gravest importance. The man we are protecting, one Torvald Two is a downed pilot, much like one of the mounted Mage Knights in status. The Admiral will be joining us in protecting him before a proper rescue arrives. To glory!"

His platoon cheered with him, and for the first time, Guiche de Gramont felt like he was doing something right.

Moments later, the heavy vessels landed on the plains of Rosais as Tristain's cavalry rushed onto the field of battle. Many were awed by the sight of the burning camp, but were quickly forced to adapt as several Dragon Knights began to strafe the invaders. Men screamed as magic and maw tore them apart, while the transport ships' point defense cannons began to return fire, forcing the mounted troops to pull back.

Guiche saw the burning Banshee airframe a short distance away, along with a single man who had taken refuge nearby. A hastily built foxhole was his only cover as his radiowoman pointed him out.

"We need to get over there Lord Gramont! I can move far faster, let me go over and cover him!"

"Go!" She nodded as her Vulture quickly sped away. The wind blew around her, yet never touched a single flake of skin with her helmet sealed. Explosions could be seen in the distance, along with the sound of heavy cannon fire. An approaching Albionian horseman was blasted off his horse as 8mm slugs tore into him.

She saw the pilot, clearly wounded, blind-fire his folding AGR-14 over the brim of his foxhole. Arrow and magic flew into the makeshift fortifications as he dropped back down. Another burst and its sudden end signaled that he had finally run out of ammunition. The cut-off caused his attackers to rush forward unafraid as the Vulture appeared behind the foxhole.

"Eat 40 millimeter assholes!" The hover-bike's forward launchers made loud pop sounds as they launched rocket-assisted grenades at the charging infantry. The anti-infantry explosives detonated en masse, riddling the enemy with shrapnel and fire alike. Most were cut down as the hundreds of pre-formed fragments turned tissues to bloody bits. A few ignited from the incendiary element and rolled around on the ground in an attempt to extinguish the flames.

"Pilot!" The man turned as she tossed her C-20 at him, and with a single movement caught the heavy rifle. He peeked over the foxhole's brim and opened fire, the weapon's recoil forcing him to fire semi-automatic. Alexandra heard the roaring thunder of galloping cavalry as they came up to her five o'clock.

A stranger's voice came in through her radio, "Search and Rescue to Gramont Platoon."

"Gramont Platoon, go ahead S&R."

"We've ran into enemy mounts on our way to your location, the Wraiths are keeping them busy but we needed to reroute. Our ETA is eleven minutes."

Her Vulture's grenade launchers decided to jam at that moment, earning a curse as she responded, "Be advised S&R Flight, my Vulture's main armament is down, and enemy forces are approaching fast. We have three minutes at most before we're fighting hand-to-hand."

Several seconds passed, "S&R Flight to Gramont, stand-by for Admiral Kerrigan."

A few random sounds came through the connection before it opened again, "Corporal Alexandra I presume?"

The powerful, authoritative voice nearly made the former mercenary's legs buckle, "Y-yes Admiral?"

"Use your psionic painter to designate the enemy attackers' forward elements. I will handle them personally."

"Aye Aye Admiral!" With a few button presses on her gauntlet-mounted computer, an odd buzzing sensation came from her suit. Somehow, she could tell it was targeting the very opponents coming at them.

"Target designated, I am inbound."

Alexandra of Avalon, for the very first time couldn't help but pity the enemy.

The Queen of Blades in her true form walked into the very busy hangar bay as man and machine danced to a rehearsed ballet of efficiency. As an opening emerged from her entry, she began a full-out sprint. In three seconds the eldritch monarch accelerated to nearly 80 kilometers per hour before jumping straight out of the ship.

Her bone wings extended completely and were surrounded by an indigo light as she flew towards the bright red dot visible only to her. Kerrigan accelerated to the speed of a 21st century commercial airliner as she flew upwards, and nose-dived into the ground. Landing feet first, the sudden impact and psionic burst dug a five meter deep crater into the soil as man and beast were blasted into the air. The only sign of her actions was a smirk as she readied herself.

Focusing her energy on her wings and talons, she charged into the enemy formation. Talons tore through the vulnerable joints of armor as they became superheated razor blades. With her wings fully extended she spun herself around and cut a wide swath through the infantrymen. Bolts of lightning surged through the ranks as men were flash-fried in their armor as those in the rear began to run back into camp.

A blast of concentrated wind magic tore a hole in her abdomen as she turned to face its source with a scowl. The nobleman, likely no older than Henrietta shook as the wand fell from his hand, as the hole patched itself in front of his very eyes. She blinked in front of him, bearing an innocent smile as she turned his head completely around with telekinesis. The sound of several snapping vertebrae made her chuckle as she dropped the corpse to the ground. Two nobles who were about to cast spells as they looked at one another before turning back to Kerrigan.

Both dropped their wands as she appeared in front of them without warning. "I hope neither of you are going to cause any problems. Would be a shame if I needed to," she slowly grinded her talons against one another, "Incapacitate you."

"We surrender!"

Little did either of the three knew, that the entire Tristainian contingent on the ground had stopped and stared at Kerrigan's dance of death.

At that very moment, Guiche de Gramont knew he was lucky to be alive.

'I survived that duel how?'

While the cavalry had come to a stop, the remaining infantry and mages had begun to launch a counter-attack on the Marines and heavy infantry situation across the southeastern side of the camp. Arrows flew by and bounced off the suits of armor causing no damage. A handful of rifles and launchers were disabled by lucky hits or magic fire, but ammunition was starting to become a problem.

Most of the Marines were firing semi-automatic to preserve what little ammunition they had left. The limited range of Firebats made them useless at suppressing the enemy at range, while Wind mages deflected the grenades launched by the Marauders.

"Command, we are really starting to need resupply here!"

Several seconds passed as the enemy charged once again under the cover of wind barriers, "This is the Prince Valiant, heavy grapeshot is inbound. Designate targets at will."

Aboard the Prince Valiant, Captain Hugh began to bark out orders, "Guns, load every single one of the bow cannons. Time-delay APAM shells only." A few dark chuckles came from across the bridge as tactical sent out the orders to the gunnery section in the front of the ship.

The APAM (Anti-Personnel/Anti-Materiel) time delay round was the ultimate evolution of the traditional naval grapeshot. When fired, the shell would fly out of the barrel as a whole until it reached a pre-determined point. Upon reaching said point, the shell would detonate, sending out tens of thousands of tungsten carbide balls at well over ten times the speed of sound. The loadmaster had each shell programmed for a point fifteen meters above and in front of the charging Albionian line, and had the cannon's autoloaders inject the shell into the barrel. Green lights came on across a board, showing each of the eight 425mm cannons was ready to fire.

Tactical looked at Captain Hugh, "We're ready to fire Captain."

"Fire!"

The heavy infantry took cover as several bright stars streaked towards them and detonated with the force of an angry god. Man, machine, and beast alike were pulverized by the pea-sized projectiles, as the forward most elements were turned to a dark paste across the ground. Several hundred of the objects flew over the heavy troops, while a few ricocheted off armor plates. As the scene of carnage ended, the Tristainian forces looked up and gawked at the 'enemy' in front of them.

Where nearly two thousand men and women stood, only broken metal and gore remained. Several averted their eyes from the scene as Medics checked their fellow infantrymen for injuries. A dreary silence filled the air as the roar from the artillery barrage echoed into the forests beyond.

Those with strong stomachs trudged into the small pond of detritus, scrap metal and gore to search for anyone unlucky enough to have survived. None of them dared open their helmet visors, lest the smell of death overpower them instantly. A few wounded dragons and gryphons stumbled on the edge of the formation, all missing their riders, or at least parts of them. A pair of Marines began issuing out the coup de grace as their Imaplers barked. It wasn't long before they found and gave the few still alive a quick death.

Several of the infantry took a knee and began to pray for the departed, the sudden carnage enough to make them pity their adversaries. The officer in charge of the entire company sighed, "Burn the remains to ash. We wouldn't be able to identify anyone after all of this, and we'll need to keep scavengers at bay.

As the Tristainian cavalry charged, the remaining Albionian forces were forced towards the now empty killing field. All froze in place as those behind them crashed into them at full speed. A mage levitated upwards and instantly shuddered at the field of death that surrounded them. She could feel her own gorge rising as the fear of death quickly took hold in her heart. On one side, the Tristainian heavy infantry began to slowly advance through the ankle deep gore, watched over by a massive ship. On the other, the Tristainian Cavalry being led by the rumored Queen of Blades.

She gazed at a wounded Dragon Knight who nodded somberly, and could only frown at the situation unfolding. The young woman turned to the 150 survivors, visible only by the flames of the burning camp, "Lay down your arms and armor everyone. This battle is lost."

Tristainian Royal Palace

0830 Hours

Her Majesty, Henrietta de Tristain walked into the war room as her advisers stood up in unison. "As you were everyone. Umbra, you said you had news for us?"

"Yes Your Majesty. Admiral Kerrigan is prepared to give you her report via video-conference. I can transfer her to our screen at your discretion."

She stifled a yawn as she nodded, "Please do so."

A few moments later, Kerrigan appeared on the view screen, "Your Majesty, members of the court. I come bearing good news regarding the attack on Rosais."

Her formal tone made Henrietta respond with the same, "Proceed with your report Admiral."

"Thank you Your Majesty. At 2230 Hours the Tristainian Fleet lifted off from the Tarbes Starbase and began to travel to Albion. While in transit, the fleet's warships and escort vessels attacked and destroyed the Albion Fifth Fleet in a single salvo." Whispers passed through the group while she continued, "After destroying all the stragglers however, we were attacked by forces controlled by the United Earth Directorate."

The room exploded into chatter as nobles grew more nervous, silenced only by a single raised hand from Henrietta. "Please everyone, we need to have order. Admiral, what were the results of the UED's attack on the fleet?"

"We believe were attacked by at least four Wraith fighters, likely cloaked underneath the White Isle. I can safely assume this is the case, as the missiles launched at the fleet originated from there."

"Was there any damage to the transports, or the combat vessels?"

"The transports were unharmed Your Majesty, but each of the Battlecruisers took hits from the missiles launched at us. Minor hull breaches and small fires broke out near the impact sites, but the Excalibur lost a ventral gun and suffered fatalities. After the attack, I ordered the fleet to accelerate, in the event of a second UED attack."

"Was the plan devised by the command staff successful Admiral?"

A brief pause, "No, It wouldn't have been, if I hadn't changed it at the last minute." The silence became deafening, as several career officers looked at one another nervously. "Their plan called for the Cavalry to go first, straight into the maw of the enemy camp. The heavy infantry would've been used exclusively in a defensive role, one that would've wasted their usefulness. It also didn't account for stopping escaping troops or flanking the enemy.

"The heavy infantry were deployed first at the south-eastern edge of the camp to act as the anvil, while the cavalry were airlifted to all of the other sides of the camp. They charged forward and acted as the hammer, forcing the Albionian forces into a kill zone."

Henrietta nodded grimly, "Continue with the briefing Admiral."

"Yes Your Majesty. After reaching landfall, each of the Battlecruisers deployed a single Banshee flight. The ground attack aircraft launched three Ripwave missiles from a distance and began their assault as they impacted." Gun camera footage showed the Banshees began their attack on the camp as Kerrigan continued, "The main targets hit were powder magazines, nobles' tents, and wherever horses were stabled. As they passed over the camp, they continued to launch missiles at targets of opportunity as they were engaged by Albionian Dragon Knights. The Banshees racked up thirteen confirmed air-to-air kills, with only one loss." Video footage played showing the aircraft tearing apart Albion's famed Dragoons with cannon fire, "The pilot who was shot down had successfully downed two Dragon Knights, and ejected safely."

"Was the pilot recovered alive?"

Kerrigan smiled, "Torvald Two was rescued by Lord Guiche de Gramont and his two platoons of cavalry. His radiowoman, Alexandria of Avalon requested assistance as they were overrun by Albionian infantry and I personally aided them and the cavalry in their assault." The sight of several nobles wincing only made her smile grow larger.

The Queen of Tristain nodded thoughtfully, "And the overall results Admiral Kerrigan?"

"In short Your Majesty, the war camp at Rosais was completely destroyed, with a small number of commoners and nobles taken prisoner. More than 90 percent of the Albionian forces were destroyed, with nearly no cost to Her Majesty's forces. In short, an absolute victory."

Henrietta smiled, "Very well Admiral, as the UED has shown themselves, you are now in full command of all Tristainian forces in Albion."

The Queen of Blades bowed slightly, "Thank you Your Majesty. I will have Umbra file a full report for your personal review. In addition, Zerg forces have landed in Albion and established a base in the northern part of the White Isle. They have begun building up their forces and defenses; and will soon begin to assault targets of opportunity and lay siege to cities. When the Army moves farther inland, the Zerg will join them in key battles across the White Isle."

A few curious looks adorned the nobles present, cuing Kerrigan to continue, "The Zerg are mostly unaffected by the poisonous fallout that both covers and floats around the northern coast. The Swarm can operate with impunity, where human forces are incapable of surviving, let alone fighting."

"Very good Admiral Kerrigan, you are dismissed."

A/N: And there is the end of the first battle of the war! I do hope it was enjoyable for all of my readers, and I can say that it was a very enjoyable experience. It is also one of my longest chapters to date, around 9800 words before editing.

Now, for the stats of this month's battle!

Battle of Rosais - Late 2504 AD (6543 Halkeginian Calendar)

Summary: This daring night assault was the first major ground attack of the War on Reconquista. Led by Admiral Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades and Royal Champion of Tristain, the battle was later considered by scholars to be one of the most lopsided military victories in Halkeginian history. Beat only by the Battle of Tarbes in the level of disparity, it was the first of many battles in the war.

Attacking Forces: Primary – Tristainian Royal Army; Secondary – Zerg Swarm

Defending Forces: The Republic of Reconquista

Casualties:

Tristain – 9 naval personnel, 1 Banshee attack aircraft, 6 Mutalisks, 80 Cavalry

Albion – Brimic Ocean: Fifth Fleet – Three heavy cruisers, eight frigates, five destroyers. 5600 personnel

Rosais: 3350 personnel, 120 horses, 40 war orcs, 20 carriages, 15 Dragons, 10 Gryphons

The Victor: Tristain – Overwhelming Victory

Codex Entry – Chameleonic Armor: A cheap replacement for a cloaking device for non-specialized units, chameleonic armor uses cameras mounted throughout the unit's frame to capture an image of the surrounding area. Said images are then compiled and displayed on the modular armor to give the illusion of invisibility. While it requires little power, and is very easy to install, it does slightly slow down whatever it's mounted on, and can easily be defeated by advanced sensors or a sharp eye. In addition, it gives no extra protection from enemy fire, and is wholly incompatible with other exterior modifications, making it a specialized tool. - Elliot

Compatible with Marines, Medics, Goliaths, and Hellions. Incompatible with airborne units, Siege tanks, Thor Walkers, and hovercraft type units (Hammerhead, Vulture).

See you all next time!