Demon Clans of Arnfair & Saurus #7
Ch16: Phantom Fury
"There are hunters, and there are victims. By your discipline, cunning, obedience, and alertness, you will decide if you are a hunter or a victim"
Gen. Jim 'Mad Dog' Mattis
Fort Istrus
Rapun 21, 1037 IC
10:07:52 hrs
Within his chamber's quarters, Legate Proculus leaned with his hands on a table, with a map placed atop, as the other legates stood gathered around him. A heavy atmosphere lingered amongst the men, along with premonitions of defeat.
They had meant to convene to discuss their strategy of defense, as well as how to deal with the latest events, but the news brought by the messenger came as a complete shock.
Now, they were silently contemplating how their current situation had deteriorated.
Several patrols had been killed without a trace, and other patrols had reported hearing disembodied voices emanating from the woods at night. Apparently, most of the voices seemed to belong to soldiers from the expeditionary force warning them to run away and save themselves.
It was bad enough that their troops were being killed silently and with no warning without so much as a trace, but now with the men hearing voices, morale was dropping and fear was beginning to spread among the ranks.
It would be much harder for their troops to perform their duties if these rumors continued to spread.
And now, the supply train they had been depending on to arrive had been completely destroyed. Even with a much larger force to bolster their strength, troop numbers didn't matter if they couldn't keep them fed and equipped.
Foraging for food would take too many of their men simply to sustain themselves. And even if this was done, the land could only sustain so many men for son long before it was stripped bare.
Not to mention that the foraging parties would be vulnerable to attack of those assailants decided to attack.
To alleviate this, they could forcibly seize crops and livestock from villagers and farmers within the region, but there were only a few scattered villages in this region. They couldn't possibly have enough foodstuffs and livestock to sustain a force this large for very long.
And to top it all off, the only passageway into the region, the bridge over the Lycus River, had been destroyed. Meaning that they were now isolated from the rest of the Empire's domain.
Of course, the bridge could be rebuilt, but it would take time to gather the necessary materials, get the, to where they needed to be, and to actually construct it. Time they did not have with potential starvation looming over them.
Not to mention the constant danger those unknown assailants now posed at every turn.
Now, as the officers stood gathered around, they were bickering amongst themselves on how to best salvage their situation.
"How are we to hunt down those assailants!? The men from my legion know that several of their compatriots were silently killed without a trace and fear is beginning to take hold!"
"What about our foodstuffs!? We cannot rely on supply wagons any longer, and foraging would take too many of our men away from the fight! Even if we forcibly seizes local crops and livestock, it would not last us long enough!"
"And how are we to fight those strange assailants!? They have killed several of our patrols without so much as a trace! How are we to fight an enemy we cannot see!?"
"When will Supreme Commander Remus arrive with the full might of the Imperial Army!? Did he not say that he planned to gather its strength before marching to meet the Otherworlders!?"
And amidst all the bickering, Legate Proclus silently contemplated the situation.
Sending out patrols with more men had not worked out like he had hoped. And judging from where those assailants had most recently attacked, they were able to quickly and freely move about.
Then it occurred to him.
That could be the reason why they were able to freely harass the legions. The enemy had the freedom of movement, while the Imperials were settled down in their forts, and only ventured out on patrol.
If they could prevent them from moving about freely, then perhaps they could be backed into a corner and crushed.
This could not be done piecemeal. It had be done with everything they had at their disposal.
Slamming his hand on the table, Legate Proclus gained the attention of the other legates around him, and silenced them from their bickering.
"Fellow legates, now is not the time for squabbling like children…We can longer stay within our fortress walls while our legionaries die by unseen hands."
"Legate Proclus, what is it you are suggesting?" One of the legates inquired, while the othered turned to face him, anticipating the answer.
"…I Believe that we have not been facing our enemy with the appropriate amount of force….We have only been sending only centuries and turnae, while our enemy seems to have larger numbers."
"Then how large should our patrols be?"
"…Simply sending out patrols will not solve the problem. We must restrict our assailants' freedom of movement if we are to defeat them."
"…"
"…Fellow legates, return to your legions and prepare them for a forage through this region. Each of you shall take your legion, and beginning a march from the Gate, shall each take a path of your own choosing into the region."
The others took a moment for the strategy to sink in, then it dawned on them what Proclus was planning.
"Ah, I see…With our numbers, the enemy is sure to refrain from cowardly attacking us from the shadows." One spoke up, breaking the moment of silent contemplation.
"Faced with our numbers, the enemy is sure to be forced back further away from the Gate. With nowhere left to hide – "
" – they will have to come out face-to-face with our legions,…"
"…which would give us a chance of victory."
The men now began to regain the confidence they had grown accustomed to.
With many legions surging through the region, their foe would eventually have no place to hide. If they truly wished to attain victory, they would have to come out and fight them directly.
Seeing his fellow officers regain their confidence befitting their rank, Proclus spoke up. 'Then it is settled…Each of us shall take our legion and march through Arnfair…We shall leave our foe no place to hide!"
"Here here!" The officers heartily resounded their agreement with a small laugh, their fists raised with eagerness.
With their new strategy in mind and the meeting adjourned, the officers began filing out of Proclus' chambers and heading back to their camps to prepare their legions.
Instead of the apprehensive mindsets they came in with, they left with airs of confidence and smug looks on their faces.
Soon, they would hunt down their mysterious foe and put a stop to their cowardly attacks. Each of them wanted the pleasure of being the one of having the honor of striking down their invisible enemy. Some were already dreaming of how they would revel in the punishment.
And all the while, their invisible enemy had seen and heard it all.
Arnfair Region
Rapun 22, 1037 IC
19:37:42 hrs
Legion Legate Vinicius Vel Priscillian, the commander of the 107th Legion, was relaxing in his lavish personal tent.
After convening with the other legates and Proclus the previous morning, he had returned to the fortified camp where his men were staying, summoned them all, and told of their new strategy.
Initially, the men were somewhat hesitant, as some of them had heard the rumors of what befell the unfortunate patrols – namely, being silently killed and hearing the disembodied voices of their doomed companions.
But after they were told they were to surge through the region with all the other legions in a bid to hunt down and flush out their mysterious attackers, they had whole-heartedly resounded their satisfaction at the chance to avenge their comrades.
His legion then packed up and began their march, along with all nineteen of the other legions, and, from their starting point near the Gate, began their march through Arnfair.
They had marched for a whole day, and though they had remained vigilant, ready for an ambush at any moment, none occurred.
Now, the men had found a reasonable site and had settled down for the night, after hastily constructing their fortified campsite.
Although it wasn't as fortified as their usual marching camps, it wasn't deemed necessary as their objective was to surge through the region, and not to hold onto territory as they advanced.
Thus, though their camp did have the basic walls and towers, the fortifications were kept to a minimum.
They didn't particularly bother the arrogant legate; he was sure that even if the walls of the camp were breached, his men could quickly rally and defeat whatever came in.
Putting the thoughts aside, the officer instead decided to focus on the act he was committing right now - namely, enjoying carnal pleasure.
On his bed, he was being "serviced" by a pair of bunny women. Although they were a peaceful race, he had bought these two as his personal slaves when they were very young, and had trained them in erotic ways, as well as being forced to train as warriors.
Although they were quickly broken in, they soon became loyal servants, but a part of them always felt conflicted, and yearned to overthrow or kill their master.
If they failed in taking his life, their master's anger would know no bounds, and they would suffer more pain than they had already had for years.
But as always, those thoughts were interrupted, for as soon as their master climaxed from the pleasure, he quickly switched roles and began having his way with them, as he had done to them for years.
After what felt like another eternity, he climaxed yet again and stained their bodies white, and the two bunnies dropped unconscious on the bed.
Chuckling to himself, he took another moment to savor the aftermath, before turning in for the night, his slaves' bodies atop him.
"Damn, that's a whole lotta guys. I knew there were a lot after watching them march all day, but seeing them spread out is something else."
The commander of the WOLFHOUND unit commented over the radio, taking another look through the full-color night-vision goggles after viewing aerial footage from their overhead drone.
His unit had been shadowing this enemy group the entire time they were on the march for the day, with them none the wiser.
After observing their movements for hours as their enemy setup camp and settled in for the night, he decided to attack and called it in, and after receiving permission, began observing and formulating their plan of attack.
They new that the enemy's multiple legions had begun their surge through the region, and the entirety of JTF Gravedigger knew of the enemy's intentions. Although sound in principle, this particular enemy unit had a bit more distance between itself and the others.
Meaning that this unit was more isolated compared to the others and could be picked off more easily.
Now, after settling in for hours of surveillance, they were finalizing their plan of attack.
Still, it would be a gutsy move. A reinforced company of two hundred operatives against twenty-thousand was insurmountable. Unfortunately for the enemy, they had the element of surprise, and the weapons specifically designed to combat larger numbers.
"Grey Hound 3 to Actual, how do you want to pull this off? Over."
"Overhead surveillance indicated that their camp is in a clearing, with only two entrances to the East and West, with the North and South sides flanked with slopes and dense forests…I'd suggest the main force go through the main entrance with a small detachment in their rear to prevent an escape, and groups on both flanks to rain fire down on the enemy."
"Sounds good. Are we to use the drone swarm dispenser if shit hits the fan?"
"Affirmative, as long as those acoustic interference generators are online and can cancel out the noise." The sound emitters were meant for psyops and could produce a wide variety of sounds or project over a wide distance, either omnidirectional or radial.
"I heard that. So how do you wanna do this?"
"I would ideally like to keep this quiet. We move in and pick off the enemy soldiers in their sleep. If possible, capture and interrogate the commanding officer for intel. His tent appears to be in the middle of the camp, so that's where we'll go first. If things go south, we go loud and deploy the swarm."
"Understood. Waiting on your go."
"Ten-four. All elements, move into position."
After several minutes of silence, the radios crackled. "Assault force standing by." "Flanking elements ready." "Rear security in position."
"Actual copies all…2-1 and 2-2, take your shots." The pair of snipers fired their shots, and the two sentries atop the guard towers slumped dead.
"Clear. Move in." The lead operative ordered, and the assault force moved in.
They were pleasantly surprised at how lax the enemy's security was. As they approached the fort's entrance, they quickly silenced several sleeping guards.
After hiding the bodies, the assault force split up into seven twenty-man teams. They spread themselves out to cover the most ground within the camp.
Covering them on the sloped flanks were twenty-man teams on either slope and a third team at the rear of the camp, ready to prevent an escape, all with their armored buggies and vehicles at the ready.
The teams got to work, moving front tent to tent, silently killing the legionaries in their tents as they slept, either with their knives or their suppressed weapons. As they progressed, the flanking teams on the hills provided cover with their suppressed marksman and sniper rifles.
It was a long and repetitive task, but with they were making rapid progress as the enemy's numbers quickly dwindled as they made their way to the center of the camp.
"There's the enemy officer's tent. Team one with me, everyone else, form a perimeter and cover us."
The others took up positions while the breaching team stacked up at the entrance. "Let's do this quietly. Prep a mute charge and toss a concussion grenade." One operator placed the device near the entrance, and soon silence settled.
Not a moment later, the grenade was tossed and the team stormed in. Once inside, the team could make out a pair of women with bunny ears. They appeared disoriented, yet stared at them and seemed to hesitate for a split-second, but immediately dashed towards some swords stashed near a bed; as such, they were instantly deemed as hostile and were promptly dispatched.
At the same time, a disoriented, rather portly older man in his underwear was wildly flailing his arms about, swinging his sword at an apparently invisible enemy.
It truly was a laughable sight, but the moment didn't last long, as he regained his bearings and charged the team. He too met the same fate as the two women, his bodies collapsing on the floor next to them.
"Damn it, we lost an intel source…" The leader grumbled. "…Better than alerting the rest of the camp I suppose…Sweep the tent, find anything remotely useful."
By now, the effects of the mute charge had worn off, and thankfully, the rest of the camp hadn't been alerted. The team rummaged about before one of them found something. "Yo guys, got some scrolls here." The operator quipped as he held them up. "Bag 'em and tag 'em. We gotta keep moving." The leader briskly replied.
The operator put them into a side pocket before reloading his rifle. "No time to hide the bodies. Keep moving and clear the rest of the camp."
The team exited, where the others were still holding position, and they continued their grizzly task. By now, roughly half of the camp had been silenced, but the freedom of movement didn't last long.
Suddenly, they heard some shouting in the distance behind them, and soon, multiple shadows emerged from the tents in front of them.
"Heads up. Looks like a stray sentry sounded the alarm. It's gonna get hairy down there." One of the snipers on the flanking teams radioed.
"I can see that. Engage all targets of opportunity! Activate those acoustic interference generators and launch the drone swarm! All teams, fall back to the main entrance!"
As more legionaries emerged from their tents, a good portion of them dropped dead thanks to the sniper cover, while the rear security team picked off some stragglers that happened to run too far away.
As the teams retreated back to the camp's main entrance and the horde of shouting men closed in, a muffled sound emanated from the treelines.
Within moments, numerous explosions bloomed amongst the ranks of the uncoordinated mass. The number of the pursuing troops were quickly thinned, and the support teams made quick work of the remaining unfortunate survivors.
And while the cacophony of explosions rang out, the acoustic interference generators ensured that the noise wouldn't reach out to the surrounding areas. The generators had multiple sensors that measured the noise levels and the types of noises in the surrounding environment, while its quantum computing constantly adjusted the counter-acoustic emissions. The emissions themselves were of the ultrasonic variety, making sure that their locations remained masked.
Finally, after the explosions stopped and the suppressed noise died out, the teams retraced their steps, ensuring that none made it out alive.
"…Grey Hound Actual to all elements…Site cleared, no survivors. Pack it up and rally on me. We're oscar mike."
And with that, the operatives vanished into night, leaving behind the campsite, now devoid of all life, to be found by their enemy.
Arnfair Region
Rapun 23, 1037 IC
08:27:51 hrs
Legion Legate Proclus was in his tent looking over a map of the region, and giving instructions to his centurions.
" – and once we pass this fork in the road, I want you to take four cohorts and secure our flanks at these positions to prevent ambushes."
"What about these locations here? It could be used to conceal an enemy group hiding."
"I would not divert men there. That location is obstructed from view from the main road, and the poor visibility means that – "
"Urgent news, milord!" Proclus' train of thought was interrupted by a legionnaire bursting through the tent.
"What is it, legionnaire?" He asked, annoyed at the sudden interjection. However, the man's shocked expression immediately told him something was truly wrong.
"Some of our scouts found the 107th Legion's campsite. It appears there has been an attack, and there are no survivors! Legion Legate Vinicius Vel Priscillian has also been slain!"
"WHAT!?" The shock was almost too much for the other officers. "How did this happen!?"
"The scouts reported that many of the men killed had their throats slit or their bodies perforated with small holes, but had no arrows. There were also numerous scorch marks and small holes in the ground, as if made by fire magic."
That was truly troubling news. Assassins that were capable of using fire magic, and on a scale of that size!?
"Send word to all the other legions immediately! Inform them that the enemy is already in our midst! Urge them to remain alert at all times!"
"Right away, milord!" The messenger scurried out of the tent to deliver the message, while Proclus slumped down in a nearby chair, rubbing his temple.
This was ample reason for a headache. Not even three days into his campaign, and already an entire legion was decimated overnight, just like that.
Just how could their enemy be so effective, and move so fast!? He was beginning to wonder if they were dealing with assassin magicians who were on a level unheard of…or possibly demons.
The only strategy he could think of was to order the other legions to spread out further, in a bid to cover more territory and hopefully allow at least some of them to catch them in their tracks.
It was now nighttime for the men of the 103rd Legion in their fortified camp.
Unlike the 107th Legion's campsite, theirs was much more fortified, with proper walls and additional guard towers built, on orders from Legate Proclus.
He had ordered the other legions to ensure that their camps be better fortified, and urged alertness at all times, even if highly unlikely.
Though if anything, it seemed that the "unlikely" was bound to happen.
Thus, more men than usual were ordered for sentry duty. They would not be caught unawares and be slain in their sleep like their unfortunate comrades.
"Looks like the enemy is starting to wise up. The campsite's defenses are sturdier, and I'm seeing multiple patrols and guards." The JTF13 leader commented to his spotter.
The platoon had discovered the camp was closest to their location, and had moved in for an attack after receiving permission from Walker.
Although considering their unit strength, a direct attack was out of the question.
With their enemy on the alert, it was almost certain that the enemy would soon catch on and swarm their position. Not to mention they would probably send out messengers requesting assistance.
Thus, it was decided to switch their tactics. They would move away from direct assaults to hit-and-run raids.
Now, the small team was planning their daring attack.
"I'm seeing groups of ten patrolling along the perimeters and several guards each on the towers. How do you wanna do this?"
"Shooting them would alert the rest eventually. Should we attack with the drones instead?"
"Maybe we can do both. We take out those patrols, and our armed drones can clean up the guards."
"What about the rest of the camp?"
"We use our silent mortars. Once we take out the sentries, we rain as much fire as we can, then we run like hell to get out of dodge."
"Sounds good. Let's do it." The operatives prepped their rifles and quietly launched their drones, after ensuring their weapons were suppressed.
"Striker Actual to all. Call out your targets and paint 'em. Take out that first group. wait for them to pass that tower and walk into those shadows." Soon, through the leader's IR scope, the infrared lasers from multiple rifles lit up the unassuming enemies' bodies.
"Drop 'em." He whispered. And ten enemy soldiers dropped dead, the noise muffled by the damp grass.
"Group down. Take out the guards on that tower on the right." Three quiet shots later and three guards slumped down in their post.
"Alright, let's finish this. Weapons free, clean up the rest." Multiple silent shots rang out from marksman rifles and their overhead drones, and not a minute later, the entire perimeter was devoid of sentries.
"That's the last of 'em. Mortars out. They're sure to find the bodies soon." The operatives in the platoon unloaded the tubular packages on their backs and loaded rounds.
Silent mortars were a rather novel tool, taken from the Russian Spetsnaz. Although not widely used before, their use quickly became popular after its effectiveness was proven after several devastating raids during the Third World War.
Now, the operatives prepared to rain fire, each opening up a crate of assorted ammunition types for their personal mortar tube, including high explosive and incendiary.
With the signal given, a volley of muffled 'whomps' emanated from the tubes, and not several moments later, pandemonium began to reign amidst the enemy camp.
"What the hell is happening!? What is causing this!?"
"Is it fire magic!?"
"Then where are the magicians!?"
"Don't just stand there you fools! Hunt down those damned cowards!"
In a frenzied panic, the disoriented men scrambled to grab whatever weapons and armor they could, and began running out of their camp. And all the way, the fire magic continued to kill their compatriots at random.
That didn't stop them from scurrying out the camp's gate and into the surrounding darkness, looking for the invisible offenders.
But the strange thing was, as they exited, the magic seemingly ceased. Good, that meant that the cowards were probably scared stiff, and were now vulnerable.
The legionaries, though still shaken from the sudden attack, were now somewhat relieved when the fire magic ceased its indiscriminate assault on their camp and comrades, and they hesitantly began searching the surrounding woods.
However, they could find no trace of their attackers, and the only thing they found were the dead bodies of their comrades who were on sentry duty.
"The guards are dead! They must have been killed first!"
"How could they have been killed without them raising the alarm!?"
"Legion Legate Ennecus Lar Sanga has been killed! It appears he fell victim to the fire magic!" Another legionnaire came running up.
"Damned assassin magicians! How are we to find them!?"
There would be no more sleep for the men of the 103rd for the rest of that night. And in the morning, they sent the grim message to Legate Proclus.
Arnfair Region
Rapun 24, 1037 IC
09:01:32 hrs
The forlorn legion legate was seated at the entrance of his tent, his face etched with apprehension.
Proclus's confidence in his new strategy was waning.
Earlier that morning, he head received word that the 103rd Legion's camp was attacked last night, and that a number of killed, along with their legate.
How, how could their enemy be attacking them with impunity at every turn!?
No matter what strategy he devised, it seemed that their enemy outmaneuvered and outsmarted them at every turn!
They could evidently strike at any time and place of their choosing, and not even the legionaries' vigilance was no match for their cowardly methods of attacks!
It truly was a vexing problem for a commander to deal with.
And yet, even while he mulled over these thoughts, fate seemed ever against him.
As he continued his contemplation, he thought he heard a distance whirring sound. Initially, his reaction was that he must have be hearing things, but then a few legionaries began murmuring and pointing off into the distance, towards where several other legion camps were situated close to each other.
That meant it was not an illusion, and he stood and strained his eyes to get a better look.
The whirring sound was quiet distance, yet he could still hear it, and it was unlike anything he had ever heard.
As the sound grew louder, he could see what appeared to be a great flock of black shapes flying in the sky. A huge gathering of birds perhaps? But why would they suddenly come out now?
As the men stood gazing with slight confusion, it quickly turned into horror.
Right before their eyes, the numerous black birds began diving towards the legion's camps, and from their position atop a small hill, witnessed fireballs began emanating from the camps.
"What the hell is happening!?"
"Those cannot be birds! It looks the fire magic from before!"
"Impossible! How can fire magic be cast on such a large scale!?"
"Are comrades are dying over there! We must go and help them!"
"Help them how, you fool!? We cannot cast magic to counter that!"
Almost in despair, the men could only watch as the massive swarm of strange black birds continue their relentless assault, as they flew in concerted fashion, as if with a mind of their own.
They could almost hear the screams of the dying as the fireballs continued to blossom.
Finally, after what felt like years, the fire magic ceased and the screams died down. Proclus could feel a lump catch in his throat as he struggled to order whatever survivors be treated ad taken to the safety of his own camp.
Meanwhile, in the distant treeline, the hidden COBRA and STRIKE operatives were looking on their handiwork with satisfaction.
"Damn…that drone swarm worked like a charm. I doubt the enemy will continued bunching up their troops like that."
"I hear ya. But I gotta say…getting all those drones sure was easy. With the enemy preoccupied with hunting us down, getting results, getting resupplied from Gravekeeper was a real breeze."
"True that. We'll keep hitting 'em where it hurts."
The following morning was not a happy one for one Legate Proclus.
Witnessing that strange swarm of black birds, and the terrifying display of fire magic that followed, deeply shook him.
There enemy was still out there, always watching and waiting for an opportunity, it seemed.
They take a moment to rest, and they pounce! How could they fight an enemy who did not rest!?
Then another idea came to mind.
It seemed as if their enemy was effective only because they were waiting to strike. And if they were indeed powerful magicians, then it would not be a stretch to surmise that it took a long time to prepare their spells.
If he could attack them while they were still preparing their magic, then maybe his men could finally stand a fighting chance.
With that mind, he had rallied the survivors and told of his plan. All the legions were to form one unified group, with himself leading them, and they would march to face the enemy.
The men were understandably hesitant at first, but after he explained the enemy's magic, and how they most likely needed time to prepare their spells, then that the time they needed to cast their magic left them vulnerable.
Meaning that they had a fighting chance, so long as they struck first.
At this, the men rallied, regaining some of the confidence that had been so battered.
Now, Legate Proclus was mounted atop his horse, fully armed and armored, at the head of a column of the surviving legions.
They would finally force their enemy out into the open with a massive, unified thrust.
Sadly, this would not come to pass.
For hidden in the trees atop the hills, flanking the small valley the column of troops was passing through, was the entirety of JTF Gravedigger.
Walker and his team had caught a break when they had overheard the legate rallying his men, and his intentions to take one last gamble in making a unified thrust.
This was an opportunity too good to pass up, and he quickly recalled all the teams.
Now, as the rain came down and the thunder rumbled overhead, the occasional lighting bolt illuminating the area, the operators gazed through their rifle scopes on the advancing horde, waiting for the single word to come through.
Finally, after watching the enemy troops for what seemed like an agonizingly long time, their headsets crackled to life. "Panther Actual to all Gravedigger elements. Weapons free. Keep the leader alive. Out."
Not a moment later, the valley came alive with the sounds of thunder, and not of the natural kind.
Legionaries cried out in pain as blood gushed from wounds caused by invisible arrows.
Horses whinnied in a panicked frenzy, unaccustomed to the noise, and as their riders were killed, leading to a loss of control.
Officers were quickly felled, their colored helmet-plums and decorated armor distinguishing them from the rest.
Ballistae and scorpion crews were completely baffled at where to fire, and some, whether out of panic or impulse, fired into the surrounding trees, but found they were outraged. They were quickly cut down, and their machines disappeared in fiery balls.
Some of the legionaries tried climbing up the muddied slopes, but quickly became bogged, making easy targets for the special forces troops.
Some horsemen and cavalry officers were bellowing over the noise, flailing their swords and trying to get the men back into formation and maintain disciple, hoping to organize a counterattack, but they too quickly dropped from their horses dead, and the men behind them floundered, losing what little confidence they had regained.
For several minutes chaos reigned supreme, and all the while, Proclus was untouched, but was surrounded by the screams of the dying.
In a panic, he ordered a hasty retreat. As he galloped away with whatever survivors followed, the thunder finally stopped, leading heaps of bodies and a blood-soaked road which he never look back at. Whatever unfortunate survivors made it out somehow limped back behind.
Fort Istrus
Rapun 28, 1037 IC
10:37:47 hrs
Legate Proclus was in his chambers, hungry and dejected.
After the disastrous ambush, he had ordered all the survivors in a full retreat.
His bid to make a unified push had failed, and now ordered whatever could be salvaged from the remaining camps and forts be used to fortify his own, and whatever survivors left barricade themselves along with him.
Out of the two hundred thousand men that were supposed to hold the line, less than twenty thousand now remained.
Over the past few days, as survivors trickled in, they were continuously harassed, and their numbers continuing to wane.
Food was virtually gone at this point, and starvation was hanging over them. Those who tried foraging were picked off, contributing to further loss of fighting strength, and a greater sense of looming hunger.
Others simply abandoned their posts in hopes of food and better shelter, only to be met with the same fate.
It was a desperate situation, one where it seemed to was doomed to fail. It seemed as if they were destined to die here.
Over the past few days, despite many leaving for food and not returning, it was relatively quiet, as there no reported attacks.
That was strange. Had those assassin magicians suddenly decided to stop attacking? Was their dark god satisfied with the amount of blood they had spilled?
Maybe it was the hunger or anticipation of defeat, but situations like this can make you think crazy things.
Now, despite teetered on the edge of total collapse, many of the men simply awaited their fate, even as Proclus tried, hoping against hope, of a solution to save them.
Though that possibility grew ever slim with each passing day and hour.
Suddenly, one of the few legionaries, who, moments before was languishing atop one of the azure towers, called out. "Fellows, Look! I see the standards of legions coming down the road!"
That caused quit the stir amongst the men. The legionaries, who were languishing in their imminent defeat, now stirred with question and anticipation.
"What?...Legions coming down the road?" The mere mention further stirred the gathered men.
"Are those truly legions? I thought the bridge was destroyed?"
"Nay, those are indeed the standards of legions!"
"Truly!? Then the bridge must have been fixed then!"
"On, praise the gods! Help has indeed arrived!"
Hearing the commotion and cheers, weak as they were, Proclus walked out into the gathered courtyard to see for himself. Squiring his eyes, he could make out the standards of at least five legions marching down the road.
And even better, those were veteran legions he had heard about, facing great monsters, powerful demihumans and well-trained armies. With their combined strength and experience, he was sure that they could finally have a fighting chance.
For the first time in a while, he let himself smile, as the men around him ran to the gates to welcome their saviors with open arms.
Then it all went to hell.
Without warning, fireballs began erupting amidst the column of troops as they marched down the road.
Thought they tried to scatter, none of them could escape the fire which rained down upon them.
That was the last straw for the men.
Many of them had survived that ambush and saw what that fire magic could do, and now they were seeing it again.
The could only despair as their supposed salvation literally went up in flames before their eyes.
Now, men began furiously tearing off their armor and running into the surrounding woods as fast as their legs could carry them. Their fates seemed to match those of before.
Others began dropping to their knees and began furiously praying to the gods for mercy.
Still others simply went mad, dropping to their knees and beginning to chuckle, muttering how the demons and magicians were going to kill them all.
"Please…please don't let me die from the fire magic…" One soldier whimpered seems he prayed. "FORGIVE ME!"
"FOOL! THE GODS HAVE FORSAKEN THIS PLACE!" Another responded in a panic, striking his companion.
"Hehehe, we are all going to die…all going to die…" Another muttered, teetering on the edge of insanity.
"In the name of Rhomir, show us your mercy!"
Proclus watched the scene unfold before him dumbfounded….It seemed now that there truly was no hope or chance of winning.
It seemed that whatever horrors the expedition force encountered on the other side of the Gate had indeed followed them back here, and was now intent on wreaking it's vengeance.
The Empire now would pay the price for its hubris in full.
That was his last thought, as a group of legionaries, completely insane by this point, grabbed their former commander and began savagely beating him to death, along with the few remaining officers.
After-Action Report:
Enemy occupation force annihilated; no survivors
Preliminary operations successful; AO secured for main invasion force
Operation: Bloody Eagle to commence shortly…
End Report
A New Power Emerges #00
Bonus Chapter 16.5: Hoc Est Bellum
"You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. … your enemy is well-trained, well-equipped, and battle-hardened. He will fight savagely…I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory…!"
General Dwight D. Eisenhower, excerpts from D-Day speech
New Atlimas - Point Plutonian & Point Beauregard Docks
13 October 2104
07:57:09 hours
G-Day, T-minus 63 minutes to Zero-Hour
The full might of the American war machine was finally ready and poised to enact its vengeance.
Rain poured down relentlessly from an overcast, dark-gray sky. Nature itself seemingly sharing the same mood that permeated throughout the ranks of soldiers selected to cross over into the unknown.
On this day, there would be no speeches, no words of encouragement. The time for words had come and passed when their president made that fiery oratory, stating that America was done playing Mr. Nice Guy.
Now was the time for action.
Gathered beneath the great dome was a great throng of personnel and machinery, ready to give the go-ahead to cross.
Troops milling about, making final inspections before mounting up.
Android grunts in their containers ready for deployment at a moment's notice.
Various tanks and armored vehicles lined up ready to roll, with flatbeds carrying various air assets.
And out in the harbor, the supercarrier and other vessels had their turbines spinning, ready to sail forth.
The plan of entry for the land forces was simple. Once JTF Gravedigger on the other side confirmed their mission successful, they were recalled and ordered to pull security at the agate while the invasion force came through.
The tanks, armored vehicles and APCs would go to through first, followed by the flatbeds, and finally the engineers.
Construction on their main operating base would begin as soon as they crossed over.
With the plans finalized, both main commanders of the task force were ready in their command vehicles. "This is Warlord to all JTF Vengeance elements. Time is T-minus five mikes to zero-hour. Mount up and get ready to roll."
Within moments, soldiers scrambled into their vehicles, hatches were closed, and engines whined to life.
At the same time, klaxons blared as the massive twin doors swung open once more, reversing the gaping black nothingness set between that Roman arch.
And once all set, the troops silently waited as the clock counted down, as if the time had come for an Empire to fall.
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…0
"Warlord to all elements. Time is nine hundred hours. Operation: Bloody Eagle is now live. Start the war clock, and move out."
A moment later, the lead elements surged forward, the gaping maw of the dark seeming to swallow machines and men alike whole. And yet they moved in into the nothing.
Their movements guided by technicians with guiding lights as they maneuvered the narrow entrance.
Meanwhile in the harbor, the supercarrier and her escort group, along with several light carriers, surged forward through the harbor Gate.
At first, it seemed as if the supercarrier wouldn't fit through the entrance. But as its flight deck slowly entered, sighs of relief emanated as the rest of the superstructure slipped in.
The other carriers and various other ships followed in the carrier's wake.
Yes, every American watching the event playing out live on national television felt pride and vindication in those moments.
But while they were watching with satisfaction, another group didn't share their sentiments.
The prisoners taken from the failed expeditionary force were seated in their communal area.
Ever since they had failed to conquer the lands beyond, they were subjected to constant interrogation and isolation from whoever else survived.
They were questioned until they were bled dry of information pertaining to their world, until they had nothing left give.
They were afraid they would simply be executed and disposed of, but instead were kept in confinement.
Now, having finally been let out, their focus was glued to those glowing stones called "television."
They were fascinated by the images and sounded it produced, but when it was explained to them what was being shown in them - namely the American peoples' emotions and demands, as well as their president's pledge in the coming war – their fascination turned to terror.
They had witnessed just what this country was capable of when they came through, and now, they understood that this country was sending a large army to get revenge on their Empire.
They could only shudder with cold chills in horror at the carnage they imagined the Americans would bring upon their countrymen.
Dejectedly, they could only stare at those glowing stones and watch from a distance as those strange beasts and massive iron ships began entering the black expanse.
"So, those so-called 'Americans' are finally going through…" One of the prisoners spoke up.
"Yes…it seems only right for them for their people to demand vengeance…we tried attacking them, they…defeated us…and now they are striking back." Another answered hesitantly. He found it difficult to be even saying those words.
"Even if all the legions and our countrymen were railed, along with the vassal kingdoms and all our creatures we have at our disposal…do you think the Empire stands even a small chance of victory?" One questioned. It seemed to hope against hope to even ask the question.
"…"
"…it pains me to admit…but I do not believe so."
"…"
The confession plunged the mood of despair and dejection into further depths than what had already been lingering over them.
"I suppose the only thing we can do now is pray that their deaths will be swift…"