Author's Notes: Well, I hope that you've been looking forward to some battles, 'cause here it is! Lots and lots of action! Yeah!

New updates soon. HAS to be less than two days. In the meanwhile, I am working on subatomic particle research, so there's that.

Have fun! O shar'ra shiel!

CAPTAIN MAX TUNRER

Most of the cities of the nation of Bryton were, unlike its namesake, built upon a jungle.

Literally a jungle.

Sentry towers were posted atop giant trees around the small city. They had tried clearing the trees at first, and had even resorted to TNT before declaring the effort futile and simply building off the treetops.

As a result, a generous portion of the multi-layered city was in the trees.

Which led to a huge hazard with spiders, which tended to spawn quite a bit.

The city, in response, was pretty much fifty percent torches.

Wooden bridges (wood was, by no means, a scarcity here) that looked precarious but were actually safe (due to Minecraft physics) connected the various tree sections and led to everything from bars to businesses to shops. Glass was too expensive, so most people didn't bother with windows. Over time, an unspoken code of not stealing had grown up with the populace. Torches, on the other hand, were plentiful, partly because there was so much wood, and partly because of the cavernous cave systems that ran beneath the trees; caves that had contributed to much of the wealth of Bryton and were, as a result, quite depleted of all resources.

Back in the days, the city of Houston was a very popular one, partly because the riches underground.

By now, most settlers have moved away, the lure of unlimited gold gone. The town had gone from one-time hit to minor city.

Which is exactly why it was such a brilliant spot for an attack. After the onslaught, Bryton would have to decide whether to swallow their pride and turn a blind eye, or to provoke the anger of a nation as powerful as the Grasslynds. Of course, Bryton was powerful enough on its own, and equally matched with the Grasslynds, but warring would leech from their vast wealth.

So will it be prosperity, or revenge?

Such were the thoughts of Captain Max Turner, of company Beta-C-A-2, as he carefully adjusted his armor, trying not to mess up the green camouflage that would protect him from the enemies' sight. He had addressed his soldiers regarding their position and mission a while earlier, and all was silent in the jungle. His snipers were either on the treetops or hidden in the bushes somewhere. Their arrows were meant to take out the posted sentries; after all, they aimed not to lose too many people in the upcoming battle.

The point was not to completely obliterate the place; by doing so, they will have left Bryton no choice but to declare war. They wanted Bryton to be uncertain as to what to do.

Max was adjusting and readjusting his iron helmet (his entire company was comprised of ironclads) when a promising young private approached him silently.

"All is ready," he said. "The snipers are in position. Shall I give them the go?"

Max nodded. "Make sure it's clean." The young man gave a salute and then left.

Max took a pair of binoculars from his chestplate and peered through at the treetops. The contraption was made by Grasslynder tinkerers. They had told him that it worked like any other binoculars, from before he came here. He had thought that Minecraft did not allow for such things, and was quite certain that there were no crafting recipes for it, but he did not delve deep into the matter. After all, he was not a man of inquisitive nature. He wasn't terribly adapt at the Minecraft features either; it was for this reason that he kept his binoculars on his chestplate instead of in his inventory. The pain of battle injuries had, to his experience, often made it hard to focus your mind the way you needed to in order to access your inventory.

He waited, knowing that the snipers were taking care that no arrows went astray. Every shot had to count, lest the foes become cognizant of their presence.

A shimmer flashed through the air, towards the leatherclad guard; then there was an arrow sticking out the forehead of a leatherclad corpse.

Max shifted his hands so he can see the other sentries. All of them met their ends.

He waited for the private to return.

"Phase One is complete," the private panted, once he arrived, "done aiming, ready to proceed." Max nodded at the report, turned, and yelled:

"FIRE!"

Three TNT cannons fired, multiple booms succeeding one another, three blocks of TNT flying through the air –

BOOM

went the explosion as the projectiles exploded above the tree-borne town. The TNT was meant more for fright than for damage; after all, they didn't want to destroy the place.

"READY!" he yelled to the general archers, who shimmered into existence from the greenery backgrounds. They drew their bowstrings, waiting for the next command –

"FIRE!" Max screamed (it was a manly yell!) after two seconds, to insure that all arrows were ready. A rain of arrows blocked what little sunlight there was to hit the earthen floor, but there was enough light to see by. Hopefully, no mobs would spawn.

Hell, if a creeper blew up a fireteam or something…

Max ignored the unbidden thought (creepers weren't that powerful anyway) and yelled, raising his iron sword for dramatic effect:

"CHARGE!"

An entire army emerged from the forest behind and swarmed to the trees of the village. Special squads equipped with ender pearls were given the command to seize control of key locations, allowing for the rest of the army to climb up the trees safely. Snipers were also issued with the order to kill any hostile archers (including skeletons).

Max was amid the sparse swarm of camouflaged ironclads, yelling war cries when a TNT flew from the treetops to explode somewhere to his right. To be sure, no one would have died, but they would have been dangerously low on health. With visible effort (to anyone paying attention), Max focused his mind and reached into the chat channel, wrote "/tell Snipers", and mentally yelled:

Shoot the damned cannons!

There was a hurried apology that Max barely registered as his continued charging with the rest of his army. Showers of purple sparks can be seen everywhere on the trees where Grasslynder soldiers had ender-balled.

There was an explosion and a shower of pretty red sparks where a firework had gone off, indicating that the particular area was clear for tree-climbing. Max motioned to his personal fireteam, who had been following him the entire time, and yelled over the commotion: "Follow me!"

He made his way towards the tree, ignored the piecemeal arrows darting around him, and grasped the vines to start climbing, his fireteam following. The climb was a long one, and it was difficult to dodge arrows while climbing with two hands. He took an arrow to the shoulder but didn't even feel anything, because firstly, he was wearing armor, and secondly, he was wearing two layers of armor, iron over leather.

By the time he made it up, the maroon wooden floors were covered in blood, inventory drops, and real items. He estimated the climb to be about twenty-five blocks long, and it was a twenty-five blocks that he would rather not trek again. His fireteam climbed up onto the platform one by one behind him, and he turned to charge onto the bridge when one of his fireteam members, John Snow, placed on arm on his chest and raised another hand to point at a sniper, just as an arrow twanged into place on the wood. Cursing, Max reached over his back and pulled out his bow. He was not the best of aims, but he was good enough to pass basic training. He was even good enough to pass Doubles training, which meant he was pretty good.

He used an arrow from the ground, pulled back, took aim, dodged another arrow, and let go, watching the arrow fly way over the sniper's head. Cursing again, Max pulled another arrow from the ground, noticing that his fireteam behind him was doing the same thing. "Fire!" he said, releasing his charged bow, watching five arrows stream towards the sniper. He dodged four, but then one lodged itself firmly into his arm. Staggering, he took aim again, only to be shot down by Myrk, who had even better Archery scores than Max.

"All clear?" Max asked his team, receiving a nod from Ervin in response. He then made his way onto the bridge, yelled over his shoulder, "Try not to fall off. It would kinda suck for you to go out this way, of all things imaginable."

Thankfully, he made it across without much incident. Jacko was stepping onto the platform when three leatherclads jumped from somewhere to assault them. "I'll take the archer," one of them said (with a heavy London accent), motioning Myrk, who still had his bow out. Myrk scowled, took an arrow, and plunged it in the man's general direction –

Max turned out of instinct, his sword rising to meet the other, a metallic clang ringing clearly through the area. His adversary's sword jumped back, and he was surprised to see a woman facing him. The blow was very powerful, and so must be this woman.

She raised her sword again and pressed forward in a furious dance, the dull gray of her stone sword flashing in a raging storm. It was all Max could do to parry all the blows, but even then, her sword somehow flashed down on the side of his abdomen and he gave a heavy "oof" in response. Thankfully, his armor tanked most of the damage, but even so he felt an ache where the sword had hit. However, there was now a long scratch where the sword had hit. Quickly recovering, Max raised his sword to strike blows alternating on the left and the right, hoping to strike the girl off guard –

An arrow was protruding from the girl's temples. Blood splattered everywhere, and the girl fell forward on her face. Not even pausing (that was what got you killed in combat), Max turned to face the other assailants.

A densely bearded man with striking orange hair was already lying in a pool of blood, his leather armor turned red from such an amount, but his companion was trying even all four of his fireteam. His sword, like his fellows', was made of stone, compared to their iron, but that seemed to impede him little. His sword flashed even faster than the woman's, parrying blows from left to right. Just as Max turned to join the fight, Myrk took a hit to the shoulder, the sword cleaving through iron in a metallic screech; with a scream of pain, Myrk fell to the floor, his face screwed up. The stone sword broke in two, one half lodged into Myrk's shoulder, and the warrior was taken down quickly, now that he was unarmed.

Ervin quickly bent down to take out the sword fragment, ignoring Myrk's gasps and moans of agony. As soon as he did so, he plucked from thin air a glass bottle with a sloshing liquid inside, opening the flask and jealously pouring a drop or two onto Myrk's wounds. The flesh seemed to heal unto itself before their eyes, although it did provoke a certain amount of yelling and cursing from Myrk, who was in great discomfort. In a blink of an eye, Myrk's wounds were gone, leaving only the dislocated shoulder plate on his armor.

"I'm fine," he grunted, his eyes looking somewhere else. "Push forward!"

The command team was already clearing out what remained of the first level of buildings and ready to move on to the second level when Max felt the chat channel say something to him –

Enemy tangoes, coming from southeast. A whole lot of them. From what I can see, about half a company. Over.

A mere four sentences shocked his soul. He was numb with disbelief at first; then the fear washed over him. To be sure, his company would be able to obliterate the enemy, but –

"Remember, Captain Turner. Your mission is not to obliterate the enemy town. Your mission is to seize control of it. Nothing more. Nothing that will openly provoke the wrath of the Brytons."

He was screwed.

There were times when "Aw, crap" didn't seem to cover it.

So it was with a great sense of trepidation that Max turned open his chat channel, targeted all people in his company, and wrote:

Enemy half-company coming in from southeast. All units from treetops, begin firing at the enemy. Artillery, fire into the center of that army. Special marksmen, aim for commanders and officers.

And get ready to raise some hell.