They didn't have to wait that long.

Morning had crept by, its moments passed in enforced vigilance and tense silence. Few of the men could muster good humor as they awaited anything from a Cryxian warcaster to Toruk itself. Since the dawn of time soldiers have hated being on the defensive, and the men of the Pit were no exception. Even the Preceptors seemed subdued.

The officer core, naturally, did their best to keep morale up. Brucker moved tirelessly among the men, trotting out the stories of the Aces and, Jardon suspected, embellishing where necessary. Gaxxon blessed the assembled military men, dispensing Morrow's favors to the receptive minds. No Thamarites in foxholes, after all. Sansa and Mayet simply took turns at the wall, doing their "just another day" bit. Jardon inclined that way himself. To his turn of thinking no one was reassured by being told to be reassured. You were calm as long as what you were doing was familiar. They'd all stood watch before. It was only the unnatural exhortations of the officer corp that made this any different. Tough to be casual when some well meaning chaplain was busy reminding you that your sacrifice would be remembered.

Despite their wariness, however, what occurred took them by surprise. They had been scanning the plane with relentless vigilance all morning, but few men had kept an eye on the woods. It wasn't clear how the consensus had emerged, but the idea of Scythe Force sending a unit back to do battle with them was firmly enmeshed in the common mind. That their next encounter would be another caravan was entirely reasonable, but nonetheless no one had seen it coming. It wasn't until the front elements had actually broken through the trees that the Ordic forces took notice. What followed was a frantic redeployment across the length of the improvised fortress.

This was no mere supply caravan, that much was instantly apparent. For one thing, jacks marched in escort. A Nomad, a charger and an Ironclad were clearly visible in guard position. For another, the conveyance itself was both smaller and more ornately fashioned. The wagons of the other caravans had been heavy sledges of black iron, visibly the work of Cryxian hands. This was an ornate carriage, more the sort of thing a member of the nobility would travel in. They must have had a heck of a time getting it through the woods. The biggest difference, however, was in the quality of the personnel.

Jardon only saw a small number of thralls. Maybe 10, maybe less, they seemed to be employed for tree clearing, their steam powered fists crushing and smashing the vegetation to clear the way for the advance of the jacks and their precious burden. The remainder of the minders were Steelhead soldiers, riflemen and pikemen both. They had green and black armbands, but otherwise seemed untainted by their choice of employers. They moved with military precision, and drew up short as they sighted the Ordic force.

Among them were men in black, they seemed like military advisors or leaders. Certainly they took charge of the enemy's deployment with a quickness. Even as Jardon's men were shifting to man the section of the wall nearest to them the enemy had begun to alter their own path. Their wagon turned north, while the bulk of the guards shifted to position themselves between it and the threat. The deployment was crystal clear.

The enemy were uninterested in doing battle with a warcaster entrenched. If Brucker wanted to take them on he'd have to advance across clear ground to do it.

Jardon sighed. This one was going to be bloody.