Before anything else, I own nothing but the original characters, and content therein related to them. RWBY is owned by RT, and any mentioned creator's work belongs to them, and them alone. Rest in peace Monty, your vision lives on in us all.
"Throw your soldiers into positions whence there is no escape, and they will prefer death to flight." Sun Tzu, The Art of War.
CHAPTER 10
"THAT AIN'T FANG! IT'S GRIMM IN THE WOODLINE!" Pale shouted down to the village defenses. Everyone was scrambling to their battle stations, save for the improvised cavalry, and the two vehicle mounted guns.
"Start flinging the dust!" Antonio shouted to the crews of the home-built trebuchets, who ignited the wicks, then let the crates full of fire dust go flying into the fields and meadows beyond the village. The crates exploded on impact killing the hoards of grimm that were rushing towards the village walls. Setting the meadow on fire was a gamble but if it deterred their opponents for just a little while it would be a well made sacrifice. Thankfully the village was built right at the fork of a river, leading to a natural barrier on roughly three sides, forcing the attackers to come right up the front.
"Halc you got that message out yet?" Pale asked, between dropping grimm with precision shots from his rifle.
"I can only transmit so I've got no idea if anyone's responding to us, but I've been sending a message on Morse code loop for the past hour. Roanoke village under siege, send air support and evacuation." Halcyone said.
"Keep sending it, someone's gotta' show up." Pale said, before letting another shot rip.
"PRESENT!... FIRE!" Antonio shouted to the improvised line infantry atop the village wall, as the bolt action and lever action equipped men and women picked off grimm all the while.
"More munitions!" A few ammo bearers not even age 13 said, as they ran down the line passing pre-made paper cartridges to the women of the line infantry, and steel ammo to the repeaters.
"They're too close!" Pale shouted down to Clayton.
"Fire the machine guns!" Clayton shouted to the gate. As ordered the men on the Gatling started loading and cranking, lighting up the night sky beyond the sandbags stacked at the front gate.
"We need more light!" The maxim gunner shouted down the stairwell. The message was carried to Clayton who ran over to the lanterns. Lighting and releasing them, the paper lanterns rose into the sky, and illuminated the fields and meadows turning night into day. Not a second later did the maxim gun start shooting.
"You got the receiver working?" Pale asked Halcyone.
"Think so, but all I'm getting are radio station frequencies." She said.
"Fuck it, better than nothing, find some music, make this last stand a little bit more worth it if nobody's responding to us." Pale said, picking off another grimm.
"We've beaten back the majority of them, they're starting to thin out." Antonio said from the wall.
"Don't jinx us yet, we're more than likely going to be facing the Fang in a minute." Dare said.
"Then they'll be met by dragon breath." Antonio smirked.
"We're running out of metal balls sir." One of the ammo bearing teens said. Antonio quickly looked over at Clayton's shotgun.
"Then have the lines load anything they can into their muskets, screws, nails, nuts, bolts, if it fits it'll fire." Antonio said, as the kid ran off to relay the message.
Within the next two minutes the last of the grimm had finally tapered off.
"This is the part where we start gettin' shot at." Pale said from his spot in the bell tower.
"We've been firing for over an hour, they'll know where everything is, and try to flank the right wall." Halcyone said, as she cocked her rifle.
"And that's the point." Pale said with a smirk.
"Cue the music." Halcyone said, pulling up the Vale Metal Radio, and connected it to the village's warning alarm. (For Whom The Bell Tolls, the Sabaton cover.)
The units of White Fang had an idea of what they were getting into when they let the grimm out of their cages in this test against walled defenders, but were not so sure if this was the fight they were looking for. The village defenders were playing music, which was disheartening to see that not even in spirit were they broken. The first wave of infantry charged when the machine gun fire up the center stopped briefly, only for many of the new recruits to be mowed down by line infantry unloading what remained of their ball ammo, along with old nails and bits of scrap iron.
The second gun seated atop town hall also began cutting into them. Using the trebuchet craters as defilade cover was in theory useful, until cast iron, fuse lit, hand grenades started raining down from the walls of the fort, thrown or launched by slings. Not even the officers were safe. The sniper in the bell tower picked off anyone who stood to shout orders as if they had no aura. Ultimately this led to flanking the fortress. Two groups moved up the sides, hugging the riverbank, with only 200 feet of space between the fort walls and the edge of the river. They were able to avoid the gunfire being focused on the centerline troops, but had no clue how long that would last.
"FLANKERS!" Pale shouted down to Clayton, giving the cavalry the signal. Clayton mounted up, and readied his shotgun with one hand, and the Gatling gun was wheeled out of the way of the gate.
"CHARGE!" Clayton shouted, and as ordered, his 5 fellow cavalry, and their Tachanka as Siniy called it, rushed out of the gate, hopping over the sandbags or rolling over them in the mule drawn carts case. They made a large loop, rushing into the center groups lines, slashing as they veered left, moving to cut off the left side flankers. The Tachanka rattled off bullets at point blank range. The left side flank didn't even have time to retreat until the thunder of hooves were upon them.
The right side flank thought they were safe. The cavalry had been dispatched and there was no way they could asspull anything else. Moving up in small bounds, as the lanterns above them started to burn out, the Fang grunts believed they would be inside of the walls any moment… They believed wrong.
With a groan, the cargo truck that had been used to move supplies, crawled over the sandbags of the gate. Slowed by the steel plates riveted to the truck, and the ton of a giant in the back, along with more fire dust suspended in lantern oil than should be necessary, "CREEPING DEATH" as she'd been named came around the corner of the village wall, and started unloading bullets from her turret and gun ports. Finding whatever cover they could, the Fang grunts believed the vehicle to have run out of ammo when there was a 12 second break in the bursts of fire. And again they believed wrong.
The second the majority of the right flank stood up, a short compressed hiss came from the vehicle and what looked like fluid spewed out of the turret. Then there was fire. Liquid fire. Though not a new weapon by any means the flamethrower was considered a barbaric weapon of war not seen since before it was banned under the Vytal treaty after the Great War, and even before then it was a scarce weapon in the arsenal of Mantle. Seemingly unending, the fire swept across the field, setting everything alight. Nowhere was safe… Not even the village. The gunfire, flamethrowers, and improvised explosives had taken their toll. The fields were burning and so was the meadow, it would not be long before the forest caught, and the village walls too.
Withdrawing all of their forces both the Fang and the villagers hunkered down. The defenders were now simply waiting to be rescued. Fortune would favor them it seemed. At midnight, an Atlesian airship, a small cruiser appeared in the night sky, and descended over the village, allowing the battle-worn civilian militia to escape with their families and their pride. Though their homes were burning, their lives had been saved, and the people of Roanoke evacuated safely… Leaving Team SPGL and Antonio behind.