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The weeks from the triumph at Camp Golf passed slowly. Every day, more and more legionaries from across the Mojave, and parts of Arizona were moving east, making their way to Camp Golf. Every ranger station in this desert had been cleared with the help of the information gathered from the last Ranger Chief. With all the rangers in the Mojave either dead or in disarray, now was the best time to move the Legion campaign forward - before the NCR could call in more reinforcements from California.

Taking McCarran was the next step. The last couple of days had seen Centurion Titus Vulcanus locked away in Hanlon's old office, trading various messages with Caesar at the Fort over the radio, planning the assault, asking for more men, leaving the room only to eat and shag.

About a week before the attack was due to begin, the numbers at Camp Golf and Forlorn were in excess of the six hundred men. Caesar had even sent the Legate to command the assault. Titus was not overly please about being second in command to a man he considered to be a poor leader, but he had to accept the son of Mars' judgement. One thing Titus would not do was allow this animal to take credit for all the hard work he had put in.

The days before the march to McCarran saw the legionaries training hard every day and night. The sounds of clashing blades and war drums echoed from both taken camps as they prepared for battle. The blacksmiths issued ground away at metal, while the centurions and decanii barked orders at the men.

Finally, the day had come. The NCR must have expected this, but they expanded too quickly to have enough reinforcements to hand. Good. That self-righteous, hubris would be their downfall. At the crack of dawn, the men at Forlorn Hope marched west, approaching McCarran from the east, while the men at Camp Golf marched south the attack from there. Lanius first suggested a full frontal assault, but was discouraged by his centurions. The man was a fool - everything he did had to be honest and purchased with blood. He'd run headfirst into a disaster the same way the Burned Man had.

The newest of the recruits were on the front lines. Their poor equipment and basic machetes would not do them much good until they were up close and personal with the degenerates they sought to cull. On the long march, Titus noticed that no traders or merchants were on the roads today. Surely word of his success had shook the foundations of the perceived NCR security.

The southern attack force went through the Fiend Territory near vault 3, but the fiends, even in their jet addled stupor, knew better than to try to fight a legion cohort.

When both sides were in position, they would fire a flare. Then the bloodbath begins.

The sounds of the Four Winds, the Wind-callers beating the large kettle drums with the heads of four deadly creatures called to her, Aurora opened her eyes.

Her sixteen year old body stretched, welcoming the Dawn for which she was named. Her grandmother was out with the other Wind-Callers, welcoming the Dawn, one day it would be Aurora's duty to rise before the others of the Semi-Nomadic Wind Dancers and take the heavy mallets with their Brahmin-skin coated heads and beat the Welcome of the Day with the other appointed Wind-Callers.

She got up and left her grandmother's tent and watched the sky lighten. Her heart soared with the sounds of the drums; they represented the freedom of the heartbeat of the Tribe. She heard the flutes, hand carved by members of the Tribe, begin their haunting melodies representing the dawn's winds coming together with the heartbeat of the Tribe.

She couldn't help herself, she stepped out barefoot, toes pointing with each step like the natural dancer that she was born to be. With grace and litheness she moved like the winds for which the Wind Dancers were called.

The hard training that she had undergone through her short time with her grandmother's tribe and the visits that they had made to her family's farm had made her into a graceful athlete. She twirled on the ball of her left foot, gracefully bringing out her right in a lazy pirouette, and raising her left arm to the sky while her right curved around her hips.

Ba-Boom, Ba-Boom…

The Drums continued her grandmother's mallets rose and fell to thunder across the tightly stretched animal skins of the drums. The old woman and still as lithe as she was when she was a young woman, she smiled at her granddaughter,

"You'd better get up, Little Dawn, your master needs you." She continued to beat harder at the drums before her.

"The Drums of War call to all who hear them, you have a service to perform as you promised."

The noise of the war drums sounded louder and louder until the skins of the drums split and she awoke on the floor at the end of Titus' bed.

She sat up and rubbed sleep from her eyes, the sound of the War Drums penetrated the walls of her master's room in the resort at the former NCR installation.

Titus slept soundly; their encounter last night had left her sore, as he had been rough with her in many of their recent times together. She could tell he was stressed, as his actions towards her had shown. She was slightly bruised but not so badly damaged that she couldn't work.

She quietly arose and prepared his armour, and finished packing the items he had requested be ready for the morning. Her dream of her younger days with her Grandmother's tribe faded slowly, she remembered the joy of the dance that she felt again in her dreams, the pulse of her heart synchronised with the beat of the Tribal drums.

She went down to the kitchens and prepared his breakfast, it had taken a few weeks for him to allow her to go near his food again after she had drugged his water and attempted to escape.
The collar on her neck had stopped any further thoughts of running.

Titus arose and she helped him dress in his Armour. She smiled softly at him.

"Today will be a good day, Master." She said to him, he grunted in response.

Aurora turned to one of the little girls who was also a slave and took the heavy box of food that would be taken on a cart hauled by more slaves. She smiled sadly, knowing that the little girl would be with the rest of them behind the main lines of the Legion's army, working with the other slaves to keep the army watered and fighting.

It was time to march.

As the war drums roared, Lupe stood up straight and tall. He had been preparing for this battle for a very long time. Even before he was told that he would even been in the city of New Vegas, her been preparing.

In truthful, Lupe was scared. Not of the bear, but of what would happen to him after the fight. Today could be the last day he'd ever laugh with his fellow legionaries, today could be the day he ever seen the sunrise or smell the burning villages of the profligates who dared step up towards the legion. But Lupe would do his best to make sure that he wouldn't fall in battle.

Lupe snapped out if his thought as his Decanus, started to speak to him and the 10 legion recruits next to him in the front lines.

"You guys are one of the first to advance towards the profligates camp. Treat this camp no different from any other ranger station we cleared out" said his Decanus

Lupe had grown to respect the leadership of his Decanus. Even when they were taking to the task of clearing out ranger station Echo, which seemed like they wouldn't make it out alive with the low supplies they were given, they all made it out alive. Lupe doubted any other 'fool' the legion called a leader could have done a good job like he did.

Lupe strapped his stands red issue cowboy reaper on his back and make sure his freshly sharpened machete was on the hip of his makeshift holster on his uniform. Once everything was in check, he put on his mask, tucked in his bandana, and out on some dark shades.

He then started to march on towards the Bears main camp.