A/N: Since we'll be seeing things during the Age of Strife on Terra. Here are a few terms and technologies that might need to be clarified beforehand.
Sciomancy: Determination of fate using the dead, ghosts, or spirits.
Phantasmagorian: Adjective describing a state of constant shape-shifting/changing
Oneirocriticks: Psykers that specialize in fortune telling in general. How they do this varies from individual to individual, so fortunes are usually determined by taking statements from several at once and cross-referencing them against each other and current events.
Murengon: Ancient Scottish term for grimace. On Terra, it seems to be used to refer to a heavily defended position. As for the origin of this term, I guess it comes from the fact that a heavily defended position is difficult to deal with. i.e. grimace inducing.
Wrathskin: This term is not from canon, but it describes the armor used by the berserkers and enhanced soldiers of Ursh. It is similar to Space Marine power armor, but due to the Black Carapace not being invented, the armor is irreversibly melded to the user's body and connected directly to their nervous system. This means that it is almost impossible to remove the armor once it is put on.
On the opposite side of the battlefield, General Shang Khal of Ursh stood on top of a vitrified dune. He was a three meter giant, sealed in the power armor the Urshites called Wrathskin. Both of his armored boots were embedded in red-hot glass. The once polished plates of armor that encased him were rough with knicks and dents. What color the original metal was could not be seen under the black ash that had bonded with it. Vicious spikes jutted out from his knee guards and shoulder pauldrons. The optics on his helmets glowed a fiery red, making them the only thing not covered by soot.
Those burning eyes now watched scores of bestial Red Engines plod across the remains of farmlands. The heat exuded with their flaming breath immolated the buildings around them as well as the land itself, drying out the soil and turning it back into desert. Their brass clawed feet left molten footprints wherever they went, glassing the ground and incinerating what little biomatter was left within it.
Beside the Red Engines walked the factory produced soldiers made from the facilities that had survived the initial atomic war waged by their forefathers. The automated surgical tables and growth vats buried underground had allowed the processing of millions of the weak, the disrespectful, and the heathenous every day.
"General Khal." A figure also in fully sealed Wrathskin approached him. "The last of the Nordafrik's armies has been encircled and destroyed."
"Lord Marshal Anult Keyser." Shang Khal's voice was a calming baritone. Any who heard it for the first time would look around for another speaker; for such a voice could not come from the blackened effigy of war and death. Yet, this was the voice of Shang Khal. The man who commanded armies billions strong, and who had broken the defenses of the Nord Afrik Conclaves.
"That is good news." Shang Khal said without moving. "I believe the Roma were once again responsible for our victory?"
"Their patrol planes give us the advantage of intelligence." Anult Keyser replied. "It is easy to encircle an enemy who cannot hide from us."
The Nord Afrik armies used the desert to their advantage. Snipers hidden under sand covered tarps armed with Volkite Calivers would turn walking columns of infantry into a line of fragmentation grenades made of blood and bone.
Traps would be prepared using the land itself.
Unpurified water unfit for consumption could be pumped deep underground to create temporary groundwater streams. These would erode away the bottom layers of earth, forming quicksands that would swallow any enemy that tried to chase them.
Artificial dunes would be set-up using more dirty water and light resin pipes to allow the sands to stick together. With a couple of cleverly placed explosives added in, the man-made dune could be collapsed with a single button, covering the escape route of the Nord Afrik armies, or sealing in an enemy into a prepared kill-box.
Traveling in armored vehicles was impractical as well. Tracked and wheeled vehicles would break down from sucking in silica into their intakes, clogging their engines and filters.
Yet, the Nord Afrik armies did not rely on the desert alone to take out their enemy's means of transportation and mobile artillery. Mechanized columns had more than once found themselves falling into pitfalls covered by reinforced plastics that could support a couple tonnes of armored humans, but not 50 to 70 ton vehicles. Even when soldiers meticulously stabbed the desert sands with metal poles, all the Nord Afrik armies did was replace the pitfalls with a dispersed array of compaction activated shape-charges. Geysers of molten metal flying at supersonic speeds would erupt directly beneath any heavy vehicle, tearing through the thinner under armor and shredding its occupants.
For many decades, these desert combat specialists kept the border of the Nord Afik Conclaves safe from invaders. Widely dispersed troops traveling in small numbers would whittle down their enemies with traps, ambushes, and other guerilla tactics as they attempted to cross the dry dunes under the unrelenting sun.
Shang Khal knew their tactics, having lost millions of men on forced reconnaissance missions. He knew only a few would return, but he sent them anyway. After all, it was their duty to die so Shang Khal could see how the Nord Afrik Conclaves planned to kill his main force.
He quickly came to the conclusion that there was no way to predict their attacks or find their ambushes. They knew the deserts like the back of their hands, and their Volkite weaponry meant the forces of Ursh would always be outgunned.
So, he decided to trample over them with sheer numbers.
He took billions of slaves, serfs, servants, and civilians from the southern client states, and sent them into the underground factories of the ancients. There, they would be reforged into disposable tools of war that knew no fear. Only boundless anger echoed in their minds, which was kept in control by his Wrathsingers.
These berserkers would serve as the vanguard and sacrificial shield for his more experienced mercenaries and career soldiers.
He had their armor welded onto them, and their blood circulated through the armored packs they carried on their backs so the food and water that the Nord Afrik Conclaves would target would be encased in metal during transit and consumption.
Instead of tanks, he used the Red Engines. They were brass colored fire breathing beasts made of metal that fed on blood and skulls to proceed forwards. These creatures did not care if the dunes fell upon them, nor when the ground opened up into a muddy pit. They vitrified the sand into molten glass and emerged from where the Nord Afriks had buried them. Yellow sands would turn orange, then liquify as the Red Engines burst out of the sea of burning silica they converted the deserts into. They howled with the sound of screaming metal and growled with the crackle of hot sparks as they fell upon Shang Khal's enemies, shrugging off the Volkite beam for there was no flesh within them to convert into bombs.
With their ambushes and traps nullified, their targets covered in thick armor that could not be taken off, the Nord Afrik armies were forced to retreat to rethink their strategies.
But, Shang Khal did not allow them to do so. He had no intention of letting his enemies learn from him as he did from them. Lord Marshal Anult Keyser was key to this part of Shang Khal's strategy. It was his job to ensure all those who fled did not survive.
Keyser was a well connected man. His warrior spirit resounded with many mercenaries and warlords. Yet, none could ignore the importance of his lieutenant, Wilhym Mardol. He was an efficient organizer and procurer of supplies. It was he who ensured whatever verbal agreement Keyser made was reinforced with contracts and sweetened with trade agreements of much needed resources the various mercenary groups required. With Keyser's charisma and Mardol's mercantile mind, many warbands had sworn oaths to heed the call should Keyser ever need them.
The Roma, eternal denizens of the skies, were one such mercenary band. They were bound by honor bargains made with the Lord Marshal, and enticed by the promise of an endless supply of fresh soil and water. These mercenaries lived in the last surviving aerial-carriers from the Dark Age of Technology. Their mobile bases in the stratosphere kept them safe from the radiation storms and contaminated air most other humans breathed. Yet, they were unable to truly cut themselves off from the earth. Fresh soil and water were constantly scarce, for their internalized farms had been operating far beyond what they had been originally designed for.
This was what allowed Keyser to convince them to join him. In exchange for fresh soil and water, the Roma had lent their aid to Keyser. Their patrol planes told the Lord Marshal where the Nord Afrik armies fled as well as the state of the lands before them. Armed with that knowledge, the dispersed defense forces of the Nord Afrik Conclaves were destroyed one by one.
"Did the Roma provide any direct support?" Shang Khal asked Keyser as he continued to watch the Red Engines march forwards.
"No General. Their fighters remain in reserve for the final battle."
Shang Khal nodded to himself. The desert was particularly inhospitable to flyers of all kinds. The sand destroyed them in three ways.
Firstly, it would get sucked into the jet intakes or rotor engines when it was kicked up during take-off and landing. The sand would then melt inside the various components and harden into glass at high altitude or if the engine ever stopped. This glass would then either block or lacerate the various exhaust pipes and fuel lines within the craft. Thus, causing it to overheat or possibly even explode
Secondly, the sand itself would erode the bodies of the flyers themselves. This erosion would weaken the structure of the vehicle over time, and was lethal during combat maneuvers. Aircraft are designed to be as efficient and light as possible. A single invisible weak spot in their frame created by erosion could lead to them splitting apart from the intense g-forces evasion and dog fighting required.
Finally, the sandstorms that occasionally formed rendered large areas of the desert off limits to any flying craft. Even approaching one was dangerous. Microscopic silica traveled at insane speeds high up around the main storm. Any flyers that traveled through these invisible clouds of abrasive crystals would soon find themselves flying blind as their view ports and camera lenses would be scratched up. From there, it would be up to the pilot's skill whether they could manage to crash-land, or dive into the storm itself. The former option had a surprisingly high chance of survival, for the dunes of the desert were quite soft compared to other surfaces. The latter was a death sentence.
The Roma's flyers avoided all of these problems. Their aircraft never landed. The only time they stopped flying was to dock at their aerial carriers to recharge their batteries, and the carriers themselves cruised on the jet streams far above any storm
Yet, it was not out of fear for the Roma's well being that Shang Khal only requested their patrol planes at the moment.
"Good." Shang Khal said as he turned towards Keyser, pulling his armored boots free from the molten glass. "The oneirocriticks spoke of swarms flying through the skies at the start of this campaign. Although the hierophant's armies have had no air cover so far, I fear they may be holding their fighters in reserve for the last murengon."
Keyser's fists clenched and he shook his spike-helmed head to show the sneer hidden under it with his body.
"I do not trust the dream watchers General." Keyser grumbled. "They dabble in majiks and speak with djinni."
The oneirocriticks were psykers conscripted by Shang Khal. They specialized in reading portents and deciphering dreams. They had all spoken of swarms covering the skies when the last defenses of Xozer fell. Shang Khal interpreted this as a counter-push by the Nord Afrik that would seek to take his head. Many losing armies in the past had organized suicidal charges that struck down the command posts of the victor at the last second. This led to chaos and confusion of the battlefield, allowing any remaining forces of the losers to escape. Such an attack using aircraft might succeed, and even if Shang Khal survived, its effects would be devastating in the long run.
Shang Khal had drained the southern client states dry for this campaign. He had to finish this war at Xozer. Otherwise he would not have the soldiers to keep the stolen artifacts safe, nor the sacrifices to satisfy the Red Engines' continued terms of service. If he allowed a large enough force to escape, his remaining forces would be bled dry by the experienced guerrilla fighters and snipers of the Nord Afrik.
The Roma's fighter craft were held in reserve to prevent this final suicidal charge.
"I gave you the oneirocriticks for you to use. Do not take their skulls or spill their blood, for now." Shang Khal's baritone voice stated calmly. "What are their latest prophecies?"
"They prattle about the hierophants' sciomancy, and their phantasmagorian ways. But, all I see is weakness slaved to the falsehood of genetic purity." Keyser growled. "If it were not for the artifacts of the ancients they were lucky enough to inherit, they would have fallen to us a hundred years ago."
"Yet, we did not defeat them a hundred years ago." Shang Khal chuckled. "Only with the combined might of the armies of Ursh and the client states have we managed to gather enough men to overwhelm them." The General walked past the Lord Marshal, looking back at the rear end of his armies. "Only by relying on the strengths of pagans and apostates have we managed to get this far." Shang Khal said as he gestured to the sight before him.
Endless hordes of armored soldiers, Red Engines, and long lines of Nord Afrik prisoners chained together marched forwards. Spiked collars dug into the prisoners' necks, and the manacles were locked between the radius and ulna of their arms by barbed metal rods. Blood dripped down the swaying chains as the heavy links shifted the barb inside their wounds, breaking clots open, and sending fresh drops to stain the sands.
Some of these prisoners were soldiers who were unlucky enough to survive. They were not the ones who surrendered, for the berserkers of Ursh did not tolerate cowards. Those who threw down their weapons were fed to the Red Engines on the spot. These men and women were picked up from the sands, knocked out by chance or left behind to die due to their wounds by their comrades.
The others were farmers and civilians who had failed to run away in time.
At first, these chains held slaves and sacrifices from the southern client states, but the last of those had already been consumed. Now, locally procured blood, skulls, and souls filled the army's mobile larder.
"The Roma do not believe in our God, but they provide our troops with information our Red Engines and berserkers could never give us." Shang Khal continued speaking as he raised both arms, like a conductor before an orchestra; directing the chorus of sobs and occasional screams coming from the chained chattel. "It is only by using everything we have that we can finally liberate the gifts of the ancients from the greedy hands of the hierophants."
"I still do not see the point of keeping them alive." Keyser muttered. "The Nord Afrik dead do not rise from their corpses, nor do multi-colored monstrosities savage us from the skies."
"We shall see." Shang Khal said as he turned his head towards a group of palanquins being carried by several gene-brutes. These slow, ape-like beings with oversized muscles were what remained of political prisoners within Xozer. Their genetics had been overwritten, leaving them with only enough intelligence to follow simple commands. As a society that valued genetic purity, these modifications were the cruelest form of punishment and spiritual exile Xozer could inflict. They had been used as a replacement for work animals; tilling fields and carrying heavy objects like horses or mules. That was, until Shang Khal came. Now, they served him as pack-horses and a source for propaganda to vilify the Nord Afrik Conclaves.
"If they have spoken falsely, they will suffer." Shang Khal turned back towards Keyser. "I will consult my Wrathsingers for the coming battle."
"May the skulls of our enemies pave the path forwards for us." Keyser shouted out, ringing his chest plate with a fist slammed into it in salute.
"May their blood slake our thirst." Shang Khal replied, doing the same.
Keyser turned back to the front lines as Shang Khal did the same towards the rear.
After a few minutes marching, the Lord Marshal reached his lieutenants lying prone on top of one of the highest dunes. Most were using electronic binoculars to look at something in the distance, while the one with the vox equipment built into his armor was talking to someone over the comms.
"Lord Marshal." Wilhym Mardol acknowledged his superior while continuing to look through the eyepieces of the binoculars.
"Anything to report, Mardol?" Keyser asked as he crouched down beside him, head and body hidden in the shadow of the dune.
"The Roma lost a patrol plane near Xozer, and our first ranks have gotten within eyeshot of murengon." Mardol reported back. "We have reports that the Nord Afrik have started killing the refugees they couldn't take in."
"Hah." The Lord Marshal let out a brief laugh, full with amused sarcasm. "The ancients had a saying for this, didn't they? 'Caught between a rock and a hard place, was it'?"
"Out of the frying pan and into the fire is another one, and more fitting considering their predicament." Mardol replied dryly. "Whether it be in the Red Engine's flames, or the blast of their Volkite beams, death is the only fate available for the weak."
"Well said." Keyser patted his lieutenant on the shoulder pauldron, before turning to the others. "Strength is the only measure of worth, and not arbitrary notions of purity or genetics. We are here to reclaim what is rightfully ours from the greedy and the fearful."
"If there is anything left." Mardol retorted bitterly.
Keyser stared at the back of Mardol's helm for a moment, then turned to another one of his lieutenants.
"Report on the situation of the city." The Lord Marshal ordered.
"They have locked themselves inside their walls, Lord Marshal." The lieutenant replied. "We have no sightings or reports of flyers taking off, and the Roma patrol planes report no other forces besides ours for at least a hundred kilometers. We can encircle the city during the night, and attack from all sides with the morning sun."
"Good." The Lord Marshal nodded, then slid down the dune.
"Keep the vox open with the Roma, and delegate the watch of the city to the soldiery." He ordered. "I want you all to call up the troops who will be participating in the attack tomorrow. I wish to address them before they separate out. Our communication methods might become unreliable. They should be reminded of what we fight for, in the event orders no longer reach them. Mardol. You come with me." The lieutenants put down their binoculars and slid down the dune as well, then saluted the Lord Marshal before heading to carry out his order.
The Lord Marshal and his second in command walked away from the main army; away from the front lines. Finally, they stood in the ruins of one of the incinerated farms. What used to be homes and storage silos were smoking piles of ash, and the glassed ground crackled under their armored feet.
"I sense an anger directed at me within you, Mardol." Keyser said as he came to a stop. "What is the matter?"
Mardol took a deep breath before replying. "You've seen what we've done on our way here."
Keyser nodded as he spoke. "We trampled the weak, as we have always done."
"Yes, but salted the ground as well." Mardol replied dryly, gesturing to the burnt farmland around them. "We promised the Roma and many others soil and water. Now, there is nothing left to give."
"All of this came from the artifacts within Xozer." Keyser shrugged. "So long as we secure them, our honor bargains will be fulfilled."
"It took decades for the hierophants to expand their colonies this far. We have no idea how long it will take to learn how to replicate their feats, if we can replicate them at all." Mardol stepped towards Mardol, glass crackling under his armored boot. "Shang Khal has made many promises to gather the resources for this campaign. Kalagann may be the overlord of Ursh, but Ursh herself has been almost bled dry. If we cannot satisfy all those we have bargained with, this army will turn on itself, and we may lose all that we have gained."
Keyser snorted at that. "Do you fear a rebellion by the Southern client states?"
"I do not fear." Mardol said quietly. "I predict what can happen, and tell you that we may be on borrowed time."
Keyser sighed and took his own step towards his second in command. "Mardol… The hierophants have long guarded their secrets of prosperity. It is only recently that we have learned of what they have hidden within their walls. If they had remained barricaded behind their defenses and not sold soil and water to those around them, we may have remained ignorant until they were too powerful to resist. The hierophants must fall for Ursh to survive."
"I know all of that Keyser. I know we strike them down now to avoid having a future foe."
"Then, is it the breaking of the bonds of honor that you fear?" Keyser asked. "If we must fight against our old allies, then so be it. The weak will always be vanquished by the strong. If we die, then it only means we were not strong enough to live. The ones who kill us will be the ones to inherit the earth, and they will create a better world than the one we leave them."
"You do not need to preach to me like the Wrathsingers of Ursh." Mardol shook his head. "I do not fear death, Keyser. When my time comes, my blood will water the soil so new growth can come from it. My strength will have been used to harden and sharpen the swords of the one who slays me. But…" Mardol closed the distance between himself and the Lord Marshal. Their chest plates touched as his voice dropped to a whisper. "That is where my anger towards you comes from, Keyser. You told me… You told all of us that we would make a better world for those who came after us. It was the hope you gave to us, a rabid bunch of thugs and barbarians in the slums of Ursh, that angers me now." He stepped away, throwing an arm out, gesturing to the blackened obsidian glass that covered the ground, the burnt barns and houses, as well as the bone fragments jutting out of ash piles. "Is the world truly becoming better here? This glass is more toxic than the desert sands. The air is gradually filling with the smoke from the Red Engines. Keyser, I have followed you loyally for over a hundred years. So, please tell me. What do we gain at the end of this campaign?"
Mardol turned back to Keyser; his compatriot and leader of tens of thousands of battles. Slaughter and bloodshed were common sights to the both of them, but the destruction of what was once fertile land had shaken Mardol. Until now, the only places they had fought were so polluted or radioactive it did not matter what they did.
"We will have the artifacts of Xozer, and the means to restore life to this world." Keyser spoke slowly and calmly, addressing his friend's fears. "It will be slow, and there will be much strife. That is why we must be strong. We will need to protect ourselves, and the means to rejuvenate the planet. Some of our allies will betray us, but that has been the state of things for a long time. We have betrayed and been betrayed many times when we were just mercenaries. This is no different."
Keyser placed a hand on Mardol's shoulder pauldron, giving him a reassuring pat before speaking in a more jovial tone. "Besides, you worry too much. Shang Khal was ordered by Kalagann to recover the treasures of Xozer for Ursh. Do you think he would allow them to be destroyed?"
"Accidents can happen." Mardol warned.
"That is why you and I will be on the frontlines." Keyser said as he leaned towards his friend. "We will be there to guide our forces to where they will be needed. The berserkers and Red Engines will only take the walls and other defensive installations on the outskirts of the city. The fighting within the central parts will be done by us."
Shang Khal's army had many forces within it. Anult Keyser was personally in command of the Tupelov Lancers; cybernetically enhanced cavalry carrying genetically enhanced warriors. They would come after the berserkers and Red Engines penetrated the walls to fight in the more complicated inner complexes of Xozer. Thus, the collateral damage to the city itself would be minimized.
"Keyser…" Mardol's fists clenched once before relaxing. "Will we have a victory after the fighting?"
"Of course we will. That is, unless we lose." Keyser chuckled. "But, that is the same as any battle. This one is no different to the thousands we have lived through. The strong survive. The weak feed the strong. If we die tomorrow, then it only means Xozer and the hierophants had a strength we did not see. That is the beauty of battle. It defines things clearly into two states. The living and the dead. Should we end up as the latter, our deaths will feed them, and they will write the next chapter for humanity in our stead. Although…" The Lord Marshal paused to snort and his voice took a mocking tone. "After seeing their soldiers, I doubt that they will prove me wrong." There was a darkness there in his voice. An almost instinctive hatred being directed at Xozer and all of its people. Mardol watched as his friend shook his head, and resumed speaking with a lighter tone. "Regardless, win or lose, humanity will be improved. Weakness will be cleansed, and our species will be hardened in the flames of strife and suffering. That is the Truth, Mardol. The Truth of the world, and all existence."
Mardol snorted at that. Keyser always had a dramatic streak about him that came with his charisma, but lately he had taken a far more philosophical slant in his speeches. "I would like to survive this battle." He retorted dryly.
Keyser drew back and let out a laugh. "So do I. That is why I need you with me, Mardol. You think of things I cannot, and I speak of things you cannot imagine. We are both needed here, in this moment, to make our dreams come true. We are the ones who made this campaign possible. Neither General Shang Khal, nor the great overlord Kalagann himself could have gotten this far. Believe in me, Mardol. I will see us through this."
Mardol sighed, then stepped back and saluted by banging his right fist against his chest plate. "As you will, Lord Marshal Anult Keyser."
Keyser returned the salute, and the two of them walked back towards the front lines.