Major Benjamin Holyfield, codenamed: Spearhead obsessively downed his fifth round of Arabica as the clock struck 6am. He had foregone sleep the night before, instead meticulously reviewing every bit of detail of his area of responsibility of Operation Haymaker with concordance with the elements consisting of West Army Group for this Military Offensive. He had familiarized himself deeply with the capabilities of his Marines, his Armored Units, his Assault Carrier's Aerial Wing, his Engineers and the Infantry in addition to the help of the Native Auxiliaries and so-called Partisans under his command. They reciprocally know what the Major, in all of his many years of Battlefield Wisdom would tell them to do:
Breakthrough in all of the UFEAF's roaring might.
For the Prize beyond Marnia's Bluff or more geographically correct saying Marnia's Isthmus (as his Recce would debate) is a direct road leading straight into the capital of the Empire, Haringpoint herself in all of her Imperial majesties. The terrain as his scouts and intel would suggest would be rough with swampy sands, jagged rocks and many places of significant elevation the Empire would use to their advantage to repeat the same fate 'the Battle of Marnia's Bluff' of old fell upon Alboen and his heavily armored vanguard. Studying what little history he could of his predecessor's mistakes. From what Holyfield had gathered, the previous Battle was a case of overconfidence getting the better of the old Demon Lord as his previous victories were won through sheer superior strength in open scraps rather than through cunning acumen. Still, he did have the same rational why he would walk through the trouble passing over the Isthmus in the first place and that was the shortcut to Haringpoint. He did not expect his men to be bogged down so easily by the swampy and rough terrain the area was known for. Caldell Slaegiac, the Empire's founder used it to his much lighter footed Warbands, Longbowmen and Mages to wash out the bogged down Demon Army into dust, defeating Alboen and gaining total victory for the First Alliance of the Light.
Reading back the details, Major Holyfield now knows what to do, in order to turn his disadvantage around.
For a start, the task of getting his men and their Mechanized Elements that they need to break through the hunkered down defenses in Marnia's Bluff will need to have the terrain's slowing effects be as mitigated as far as possible. Armored Vehicle Launched Bridges, Constructor Drones, chopped wood, some Alteration Magicks from the Goblin Shaman Ho'don and sheer ingenuity should suffice. But there is some terrain where Infantry would be force to get their feet to up to their thigh's wet thick with swamp and sand-water. This will leave them vulnerable to enemy ambushes and traps but even then, Holyfield has calculated his answer to those. He had deployed several Reconnaissance teams hidden out of or within Enemy sight that records all possible ambush points the Empire's troops were planning or constructing to create. With their info, Holyfield and his Marines would know where to avoid passing over the Isthmus or if they must pass over, send in an Airstrike or a Sapper Squad to neutralize the enemy defenses. His advisors suggested that they eliminate the Traps as soon as they know its there but Holyfield argued that if they do that, the Empire will just make a new trap somewhere else or find a means to adapt to their countermeasures in which they will have to restart their planning efforts all over again. The Major simply could not afford to have his enemies learn he and his men methods by observing his actions, preferring to decapitate them before they realize what had happened. He had given all of his men strict orders to retain the masquerade of the UFEAF's impending assault for Operation Haymaker by not engaging the Enemy forces unless they scout out too far ahead over the Northern Hills of Souviel.
The Major himself was quite flabbergasted to say the least of how Prince Clovich, who he still retains his scrupulous stipulations about having him and a Three Regiments worth of Tyr Rianni modernized Riffelwyrs of the newly formed Laniyea Army, managed to secure Souviel (formally Speaking under the wing of the Federation and Clovich's Tyr Rianni Amelioration).
Technically speaking, the UFEAF and the TRA were militarily trespassing over what is still considered Imperial Lands. If it were not for the huge amounts of subterfuge and seduction by both the UFE and the Aparo Corporation this unique avenue to vector an angle into the heart of the Imperial Heartlands would have been a Fool's Errand, yet somehow someway, the strange miracles of Espionage works in equally mysterious ways. Even Clovich's recording that he is listening to when he allowed his cousin Duke Thibault was a curiosity of artful diplomatic work over the past months bare into fruition.
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(About an Hour Earlier)
The Duchal Palace, in all of its palatial and fairy tale magnificence had barely recovered from the wear and tear that was last month's Chwartiadd festivities. The refuse of the parties was being removed to make room for a return to normalcy for the daily lives of the locals to its mercantile and laid-back self. The Harbors were reopened, importing and exporting the goods of the Empire and beyond whilst the Vineyards and Farmlands reinvigorate their fields for the next harvest. Prince Clovich, and his newly dressed Entourage of his newly reformed Laniyea arrived at the Duchy moments before sunrise, taking care not to alert their presence to the inhabitants as visitation is a delicate affair. Still, the Palace staff were more than ecstatic to see the Prince return to his ancestral homeland, especially when they heard of the news he just came back from a 'special journey':
"Cousin! I had just read your letter the other day! Forgive me, I was drained from the festivities I hosted weeks ago." Thibault approached his dear fraternal relative with familial glee. His arms stretched wide with welcoming gesture.
"I am glad that I see your eyes again dear cousin." Clovich returned Thibaut's amiableness while he carried several bags of souvenirs he had acquired and reserved for his cousin from his travels from Earth. "I bring you many great gifts from my travels."
The Prince gently dropped down his lavish bags before fraternally embracing his Cousin. Thomas Sight, Clovich's liaison with the awaiting UFEAF Soldiers stand by as he allowed the two their familial moment together. After letting go, Clovich began to present the his many Earthly Gifts to Duke Thibault and his newly awoken entourage whom some are still in their nightwear and have yet to eat breakfast, perfectly speaking, there was a few snacks within the pile of presents that Clovich brought home: Japanese Melons, Sake Rice Wine and Jamon Iberico to name a few.
""These are extraordinary gifts cousin." Thibault beamed splendidly. "The wine… the so-called 'Saa-Kay' and 'Wis-key' tastes as fine as the wines of Souviel." He marvelled as his tongue greeted the alcohol's sweet yet earthly flavors.
"And the melon tastes as close as I can get to Heaven!" a Noblewoman swooned.
"That is not all but I also bring these too… for each and everyone of you." Clovich smiled.
He began to pass along the non-edible of gifts, one per person, to Thibault and his Entourage. Golden Watches, Jewelry and Bonsai Tree's all made by some of the finest Artisans of their respective crafts. Even the Guard Captain was not exempted when he received a Katana from the Prince too.
"It moves! My new bracelet is moving!" a Nobleman squealed delightfully at his newly acquired Watch.
"We thank you greatly again Cousin. Your generosity knows no bounds." Thibault bowed.
"I hope you and the rest of your courts love what I brought from Earth." The Prince smiled, but it faded as he transitioned his visage to a weighty portrait. "But alas, I am not here for more of your parties for we both have important business to attend to. Everyone, you do all know why I am here do you not?" Clovich cautiously asks them.
"Of course, cousin! My hundred and most sincerest of apologies to disappoint you but I am fear as my honor as the Duke of Souviel, I cannot submit Souviel to your newfound Patrons." Thibault professed his stance. "I know all of the terrible circumstance that had happened in your realm by those Adventurer vermins and the Sefydliad crows much like when they tried to overthrow me for Jodent. However, even if the Empire had done such underhanded dealings, I think we shouldn't directly...." - Thibault states his protests of Clovich's plans as stated from a Letter he received from him about a week ago of what many happenings had occurred during the residuum of allowing the UFE to appear as a particularly quirky group of guests during Souviel's Chwartiadd.
"Retaliate? Fight back? Demand justice? Is that what you will you say? You know me, that I know you well Cousin. I know you would say that." Clovich shouted frighteningly at the Souvieli, disbalancing their normally decadent demeanors. "This cannot stand, there is a better way, a better world out there and you and I cannot just sit idly by our thrones whilst a newer and better path is open for us." He pleaded.
"Prince Clovich! What you are imply to impose to us is both madness and treachery! You ought to know that the Slaegians are the largest and most powerful Empire in the whole Ysanigrad, their unending Legions, as vast as the sands of the Draguitoise coast. Not to mention they Control the College of Magi, the Navy and the Adventurer's Guild. Opposing them is equivalent to death." A noble stated the most obvious of opposition that he and Duke Thibault will face when they fall through unto the rhythm of what is in their eyes, Open Rebellion against the Empire.
"If you say so, do you remember what we did to those 'vermin' that tried to overthrow the Duke? Those Land Sharks and not to mention our warriors against those Elven Elites who tried to ruin the Games?" Thomas Sight intervened.
"By the Gods! You must be the Otherworlder known as Ser Sight are you not?" Duke Thibault recoiled at Thomas' cybernetic appearance. Even his Entourage too were equally revulsed by him. If he wasn't disarmed, his hands raised upwards unthreateningly and his rather humble clothing of a simple black red suit, the Duke would have ordered his guards to kick him out.
"Please…. A-allow me to e-explain what I-I will have to go through if I am to follow my Dear… Ka-Cousin's orders word… for-word." Thibault swallowed his fears as he stuttered to explain his predicament. "I know that you people have powerful magic to kill a Legions worth of adventurers in a blink of an eye or kill whole packs of Bulletes, but we are talking about a the whole entirety of the Empire's Legions, hundreds of thousands strong of the finest of knights, footmen, war beasts and mages in all of Ysanigrad. And what have you? You will only have less than about seven thousand or troops, us included against them? Even if you have both the Shareholder and the Scholar at your side, how will you and we be able to stand against the Empire's wrath?" a Noble inquired.
"So, are you saying you do not believe of our superior power based on the letter the Prince had dispatched to you?" Thomas pressed on the Noble's inquiry.
"If I can confess Ser Sight, me and my court find it ridiculous to believe that you have the ability crush the Imperial Army and their allies 'within a week' and your people wielding the power 'to wipe out the whole of Glisea in a massive firestorm in a blink of an eye' as so you claimed. The Federation are just as only humans… from another world after all. There is just simply no sensible way any human could wield the power to match only of the Gods." Thibault defended his entourages opinion. "Even with your… eccentricities…" he added, cringing on Thomas' uncanny appearance.
"Failing to mention…" the Guard Captain interjected. "The Empire had faced off against similar to far worse threats in the past ranging from Necromancers, Dragons, Vampires, Barbarians and Beastmen. Even the Black Elves find great difficulty in taking down the Empire. The Slaegians are just to powerful to fall so easily against your new Patrons Prince Clovich."
"Is that… a Challenge?" Clovich twitched his brow, implanting his hands firmly on his hips.
His Cousin was as naïve as it could get, but then again, despite his decadent heart he always tries as much as he could to appease and protect those whom he considered his friends or those under his responsibility of care.
"Indeed, it is. It seems you require, additional persuasion to help you see things 'our way'." Thomas Sight nodded at the Duke. He smirked as he knows, confidently that now comes the more, hard lined of approaches in order to exact the Federation's will towards these Natives. Concidentally, there is an angle the Bureaucrat could use to exploit the Souvieli's self-indulgent priorities.
"Perhaps I can convince you that it is wiser for us to be… partners rather than enemies." Thomas whispered.
"How so?" Thibault asked.
"Fortress Brynbach? Little Hill you call it? My men can bring it down within the day." He proposed.
"You people gonna topple Little Hill by today!! Even a child can make up a better lie" - a noble man scoffs
"This is outrageous. Cousin, I think you should get rid of these people!! They are going to get you pointlessly killed without Honor." Thibault implored Clovich.
"Dear Cousin of mine, everyone! I know it is hard to believe and I admit that even I cannot fathom what Ser Sight said if your eyes were mine. But I have seen how overwhelming the destructive powers these Otherworlder's possessed during my trip to Earth! Yet, I have also seen what wonders they can bring to the Realm. They cured my sister, fed my people and brought order to where there was Chaos. I would be a fool to not tap into this new power, not for my own sake but for the Subjects of Tyr Rian themselves too. It is too late now for me to withdraw my patronage. But it is not too late for you to see the writing on the wall Cousin. One way or the other, this War is inevitable that the Empire foolishly brought upon themselves. I have a people to protect! So, I will not withdraw my Patronage with the Federation. But I give you my word that if you accede Souviel peacefully to me, I will do everything I can to protect you and your people as if you were my own. I have a duty to Protect to not only defend the Empire from enemies from without but also from within. Don't you see, my new Amelioration and upcoming reforms are our only defense against the coming tide ahead? I will not stop until all of the Empire, Ysanigrad and all of Gliesia comes through the new age." Clovich states "Forcefully if I have to." He added.
"However, I have a single request, Souviel will submit temporarily to the Federation so the UFE army west can pass through and set operation base peacefully until we can show the destruction of Little Hill." Clovich asks
"What would happened if they lose the war?! The Emperor will have our heads stuck on pikes from here all the way to Haringpoint and back!" Thibault protests.
Despite his Naivete, Thibault remained stubborn. His self-indulgent partying was fueled by the prosperous and stable economy the Souviel is famous for attracting. From its Galleon Trade, Winemaking and Textiles all tariffed and/or taxed by his hands. Separating from the current Status Quo is a huge leap forward that Clovich honestly thought, the intimidating might and their attempts of seduction by the Federation would be enough to steer his cousin to his side. But alas, it has seemed the Duke is standing on his ground.
Now was the time, albeit regrettably as he had discussed over the plan with Major Holyfield and Thomas Sight over the possibility of enacting the back-up plan in case the Military Access of Souviel were to be put into jeopardy. It was time for to enact the foreboding 'Plan B'.
"Then I will have to make you allow my Soldiers to march into Souviel Duke Thibault. Under Duress..." Clovich he pulls out from his pocket his 9mm Pistol, a personal purchase from his trip to the Tahoe-Reno Industrial Complex, He aimed the firearm at his Cousin with a grim but determined discipline. He was always taught that as a ruler, he will have to make many difficult decisions, this being one such crossroad.
"Cousin of mine! Have you gone mad? Have the Otherworlder's 'corrupted' you as they say? There is only you and Thomas and I have my Guards surrounding the two of you. Your brash display will be surely punished if you move a step closer to me!" Thibault fearfully threatened Clovich. He knew what the metal wand he held on his small hand is capable of as demonstrated during the Chwartiadd, it was surely a more frightening affair when the device, that seems to be powered by Killing Magicks be aimed at his direction.
Dutifully, the Duke's guards rushed into formation, protecting the Duke and his Noble Entourage with their bodies as they aimed their swords towards the Rebel Prince and his Alien companion. Yet Clovich and Mr. Sight remained calm, knowing this is the exact reaction they predicted will happen when 'Plan B' was being executed.
"I don't think so." Thomas smirked.
With a snap of his fingers, a squad of UFE Navy SEALS suddenly decloaked from their invisibility suits emerged from the refraction of their specially designed armor. Pointing their Black Staves threateningly back at all of the Guards in the room. The rifled barrels of their guns, aimed leeringly over each of the Duke's men, ready to curse them off of this mortal coil by the squeeze of the trigger.
"Took you all long enough Team Night-Gaunt" Thomas crossed his arms at the SEALS Team.
The Sea, Air, Land and Space Special Operations team had infiltrated the deepest pockets of the Duchal Palace to shadow Prince Clovich and Thomas Sight when they had their fateful meeting with Duke Thibault, easily weaving through the primitive security measures thanks to their oceanic infiltration experience and the cloaking abilities of their Hanjin-Shibusawa Shade Suits. The Prince had ordered them prior that if they must engage with the Palace's staff and tenants, they must do so non-lethally and under no circumstances they are to lay a deadly finger on any of their persons knowing the intense Political Sensitivity this clandestine operation would bear on the Federation's grand political aspects in the Gliesian Pacification Campaign.
"By the Gods!" one Noble Man cowered. "Ghosts!"
"Impossible! Ghosts appear during the Night! Not when Malynaris still gazes upon the land!" one of the Duchal Guards shivered.
"Th-fi--this is I-I-Insanity! This is Ma-Ma-madness!" Thibault stuttered. "I cannot let these Rogues march over my Lands. You know what you are asking me is Treason." He reminded him.
"Then you can just say to the Emperor if we are to somehow… miraculously 'fail' as you feared that you were under Duress when I made you allow my Soldiers to march through Souviel, for one way or the other, they WILL march through Souviel." Clovich gritted his teeth.
Thibault froze silently, tearfully crying for his Cousin to see the folly of his overbearing request. But Clovich remained determined to see his dream push through.
"Perhaps you need more convincing…" Clovich told Thibault. "Look over to your Garden's Arbor" he pointed to the outdoor gazebo that overlooked Souviel high atop of the Palace's lofty knoll where one can see the Harbor and easily discern each ship that comes and goes from the Duchy's Port.
"Remember your prized Galleon cousin? The one I hated going to have feasts with because of how easily my stomach would churn against me?" Clovich asked as Thomas discreetly radioed from his phone to execution of the next phase of their 'Plan B'.
"The Fertile Nereid? Why?" Duke Thibault confusedly inquired.
"It will be ashes at an estimated: Five Seconds…" Thomas stoically informs the Duke.
"Impossible! My personal Galleon is one of the largest and most durable ship in all of the Draguitoise Coast. It is made from the finest Ironbark in the entirety of Ysanigrad rivalling only by the Slaegian's Pride of the Ocean! Only a Dragon can even dare fight against it! Surely you are only feinting doing such a repulsive deed!" Thibault cried.
"I am not jesting cousin." Clovich firmly rebutted with a concise beckon.
"Sledgehammer your clear to engage the Target. Unload Strike Package Bravo." Thomas ordered.
A Jericho Missile is then fired from a Ullr Missile Battery from the Aurora Carrier. It cruised towards the land of the Draguitoise Coast, locked on to the Fertile Nereid as it sped through the kilometer-long distance between the Aurora and the Galleon in about three seconds. Upon the missile making contact, the Galleon exploded in a large detonation of smoke, wood, and fire, the ship instantaneously disintegrating into driftwood before his eyes.
"My Ship!" Duke Thibault wailed. He, his entourage and his guards were left utterly speechless by the sheer destruction that his Cousin had just demonstrated so brazenly to him.
"You see now with your own eyes Cousin? If they can sink a Galleon in seconds, just imagine what it can do to Haringpoint? Tyr Rian? Souviel if we invoke their wrath? What chance do we have if we are their enemies or simply get in their way?" Clovich pressed Thibault. "All they ask is peaceful coevality between our banners and their five-ringed azure flower. Nothing more and nothing less."
"But… how can… but… but…" Thibault quivered.
"My Cousin," Clovich carefully held hovered his empty left hand over Thibault. "My new Empire, my Amelioration is the only defense we have against the total destruction of the Empire. If we learn their ways, we can come out of this terrible cycle of adversity with our heads held high. So let me tell you once more, the faster I end this pointless War brought forth by our thought-to-be 'Noble' Emperor, the sooner peace can return to the realm. You have my word that your people will be protected as if they were my people." He reassured him.
"I… I…" Thibault quavered as he sees the smoking remains of his once resplendent Galleon.
He now sees clearly the writing on the proverbial wall. It was either flow with the new current of the river or be washed aside to oblivion such as the sad fate of the Fertile Nereid.
"I… Yield… you will have your troops march in Souviel Cousin." Thibault's rotund frame sulked.
"Thank you, cousin. I assure you that you have made the right choice. By my honor, these troops will only March through your Lands and nothing more." Clovich smiled as he rests assured his cousin.
Duke Thibault immediately, grabbed his Seal, his Quill Pen and a parchment of paper and through the guidance of Sir Thomas Sight, wrote a decree that allowed every Unit of the Western Army Group to beg given Military passage through Souviel that the Duke dispatched to all of his heralds. News of the Grant of Military Access spread fast across the Duchy as Clovich personally saw to the disembarkation of the UFEAF Soldiers from the Aurora who marched through the streets of Souviel to an astonished citizenry as they made their way north from the Harbor unto the Northern Hills of the Duchy's territory where Marnia's Bluff lay between them and the grand prize of Haringpoint.
All without firing a single shot from the Federation Troop's rifle, nor sliding emission of a sword being drawn from its scabbard from the local Guards.
True to Clovich's words, the UFEAF Soldiers did not harass nor levy any of the shocked natives whom they passed by during their march. Never stopping as they were given peering looks of weary suspicion as they marched northward. After about thirty minutes of drive past the rolling hills of Souviel, the main force of the UFEAF's Western Army Group for Operation Haymaker arrived at Marnia's Bluff where their preparations, just as scheduled await them for the grueling cross ahead.
With all of his cards in play, Major Holyfield took one final deep breath when his subordinates on the ground radioed him that they are ready.
With one final meditation, the Major grabbed his radio and in one phrase, forwarded his commands.
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"Climb Mount Denali." Major Holyfield's voice echoed on the 7th Marine Corps radio.
"Ah-righty ladies! Let's get some!" a Marine Sergeant psyched his brawny, armor cladded self-up, his mouth frothing barbarically for a fight.
"Lady?" Kimora abashedly furrowed. "Are you all women? Get what?" she asked around.
The Western Army Group scrambled off their feet and wheels around the Centaur Warmaiden as UFEAF and their Native Collaborators worked in tandem to get ready for the big crossing through Marnia's Bluff. At first, upon hearing of what the grand design the Otherworlder's schemed crossing the marshy isthmus, the Yoshadinyudi Daosne and the Goblins thought that they were insane, repeating the same mistake the Dark Lord Alboen had done centuries before. Yet Major Holyfield was a studious man, he had done his research and fortunately (and terrifyingly) he has the tools and foresight to rectify his predecessor's mistakes. Using great mechanical golems and another eldritch power the Natives were astound to see. The Otherworlder's War Carriages called 'Am-Fib-bee-yus Fire Support Vee-He-Kills' swam through the swampy terrain of Marnia's Bluff. It wasn't as slow as the Natives initially doubted the Carriages abilities but it was still surprising that those Horseless Carriages did not catch themselves trapped under the Isthmus' despondent sloughs. Yet another great mystery these Otherworlder's pridefully demonstrated. Speed, Deception and Volume of Fire was the plan for the crossing as Holyfield wisely reserved the heavier elements of his Army; the Cataphract Main Battle Tanks, Mechanized Troops and his BWP's in reserve until the more lightly armed IFV's, Motorized Infantry, Assault Engineers, Marines and Native Auxiliaries can secure a beach head to properly deploy them from the Air of his giant flying galleon floating above them now quite serenely named 'the Aurora'.
"More of their Alien Language Beastfolk. You will get used to it." King Martainne, the Lich casually brushed off the Centaur's confusion. "Come now, Ser Mendoza and Ho'don are ready to move up." He incited her.
The two galloped towards the Goblin and the UFEAF Captain who were currently busy making stable foot grounds for the Invasion Troops to walk over safely the more treacherous areas of Marnia's Bluff. The Centaur, slightly off footing her balance thanks in no part to her additional carriage of equipment and supplies attached to her back. Her fellow Yoshadinyuddi were given the rather low-brow task of carriers for the Invasion Forces various equipment ranging from spare ammunition for their Black Stave Crossbows, their Rations and First Aid not alongside her Archery Bow and her handy Handaxe. She was normally not comfortable carrying such a heavy burden personally speaking despite her people being more than physically capable of carrying such additional load onto their herculean backbones as Centaur Warriors were known to favor heavy armor when they march or rather gallop to war. She much preffered to fight almost in the nude, using her mobility and ferocity rather than endurance to win her battles as the Invading Forces she and her former slaves find themselves in were given the order to advance.
Using wood from the nearby forests supplemented by Ho'don's Shamanic Alteration magicks to adjust the size and width of the logs, several foot paths were created to allow the West Army Group to be able to cross over the quagmire areas of the Isthmus safely. His was supplemented by the cooperative work between the UFE Combat Engineers and several reanimated Skeletons the Lich King Martainne provided to create this road network nicknamed 'the Marnia Express' over the swampy marshes. All of these paths nearly stretched over half of the 6.3-kilometer-long Isthmus of about a several hundred meters shy of the Imperial Defensive lines and were worked on clandestinely under Empire's noses during the nights before the assault. However, due to the rough terrain, the troops will be forced to have to waddle through some isolated pockets of unstable ground in order to reach the next foot path. Either way, unfortunately, the Infantry who are either single filed to cross the foot paths and those squads who have to shuffle through the unabridged areas of the Isthmus will equally be vulnerable to enemy ambushes.
"Come on! Go!" Mendoza shouted as he pulled the end of the logs with rope over a rock to stabilize the wooden footpath before them.
Scores of soldiers, queued up the make shift bridges as they dashed through the logs with expeditious speed. Kimora's and Ho'don's sensitive ears tinkled feverously as they heard the legions of footsteps the Otherworlders emitted from their rubber shoes as they step foot at the marshy Isthmus of Marnia's Bluff. Terrifying roars bellow with the rhythm of their procession from their War Machines echoing ambiently around them as they marched under their escort. Meanwhile at the skies, the great flying Galleons the Otherworlder's brought from their skyward worlds and yes 'worlds' with plural released their armada of Metal Dragons who soared through the clouds at gallic agility as they made their approach to the Draguitoise Coasts.
"Smell the Wilderness boys this is Cowboy Country and its populated by a soon to be dead Dragon Beast… or Knights… or Griffins… or whatever I come across first." A Fjord IFV Commander bombastically declared.
"Not if I kill one first yeah? I want to kill me something while 'Soviet March' is on full blast on my Player." A Raijin Gunship Pilot challenged back to the IFV Commander.
It was the typical Jar-Headed banter the Marine Corps of the UFEAF's Navy were (in-)famous for.
"You listen to that Commie crap? Don't you know the lyrics are shit when translated?" the IFV Gunner protested.
"Ride of the Valkyries is so last year!" the Gunship Pilot scoffed dismissively. But soon his eyes caught something curious on his Aerocraft's hud. "Engarde! Thermals on my camera, fifty meters on your fronts. Bring'in the heat!" the Raijin Gunship Pilot cheered as he yawed his heavily-armed VTOL Aerocraft forward the moment his ship's Thermal Camera highlighted the signatures of approaching tangoes inching closer towards the first waves of West Army Group's Infantry.
"Oh, it's game on Flyboy! Buckle up driver! Take us forward!" the Fjord IFV Commander ordered.
The IFV let out its warcry as exhaustive smoke belched out of its mirage-producing heat sinks…
Before suddenly collapsing below underground, its orthogonal body sinking six feet to the ground.
"What happened?" Mendoza raised his voice.
"A Pitfall Trap!? Shit… gimme a sec… going to push this baby out of here." The IFV Commander informed him.
"Let me help you with that." King Martainne proposed as he ordered his Skeletons to grab a shovel and begin to dig out the War Carriage out of its earthly bastille. The undead creature increasing the size of the hole greatly to be able to allow the Fjord IFV to ramp itself out of the hole.
Despite this singular setback, the UFEAF advanced continued forward albeit with several soldiers less trickling down the Isthmus' gauntlet.
Kimora the Centaur War Maiden, couldn't help but feel slightly unease by just how well this advanced into an otherwise hostile terrain was going. She stared ominously with her naturally acute eyes into the distance over the horizon looking towards the Isthmus natural shrubbery as the western seabreeze brushed the verdant leaves eastward…
"Ambush!" Kimora yelled. But not before an arrow struck one of the UFEAF Marines on his chest, his armor plating however saving him albeit he was forced to recoil his body back from the attack.
"Gwefru!" another Warcry was heard amongst the bushes.
Kimora and Ho'don steeled their hearts as their ears heard that one-worded shout. It was the Battlecry typically used by the Imperial Legion to signifiy the start of their attack.
"Defend yourselves!" the Lich Martainne called forth his Undead Servants, souls from generations and centuries from when he was still alive who dedicated their bodies upon death to the former indigenous king of ancient Cenhill Kingdom of old Tyr Rian as both his foot soldiers and as manual laborers. Thanks to their inexistant need of rest and clothing (albeit Holyfield forced him much to his bother of having each of his Skeletal Servants be subjected to a deodorant bath in which is he is more bothered by his undead nature preventing him from smelling said deodorant rather than the three hour long hindrance of soaking himself and his Skeletons in the refreshing scents for sanitation purposes when interacting with the rest of the Western Army Group.) the Skeletons were quick footed enough to confront their centuries old nemesis albeit at a much more fragile state. They were essentially screening troops, but neither Holyfield, King Martainne and even the said previous owners of those bodies cared if their job was to be hammered, slashed, fall or be shot in place of their more precious allies, then it is an exploit that they will expend to the fullest as it can be.
"They're in the trees!" Kimora cried as she fired her bow and arrow towards the tree lines where their Attackers emerged from.
"Twelve-Oh! Suppressing fire!" Mendoza flung his orders, as tried to remain calm.
"Take cover!" a UFEAF soldier gritted his teeth.
Several Slaegian Legionnaires, assisted by irregular Adventurer's and Dwarven Warriors whom had camouflaged themselves within the marshy bogs of Marnia's Bluff emerged from their hiding spots, a small pit sizeable enough to fit 5 to 7 people sealed with a deceitful canopy of brushed together foilage and mud to give them a rudimentary yet surprisingly effective ambuscade to counter most of the Federation's advanced technologies and when it comes to concealing specially picked warriors who have experienced fighting in the rough terrain. All over the Isthmus, similar traps were sprung as the valiant natives unsheathed their weapons as soon as the invaders were busy crossing Marnia's Bluff and being hampered by the marshy terrain. Revealing themselves when the invaders were mere meters away from their hiding spots, the Alliance of the Light invoked the spirits of their ancestors who a long time of mythic pasts, defended the Marsh against Alboen the Dark Lord. Meanwhile, similarly hidden skirmishers emerged from the anonymity of the Swamp's blanketing mask thanks to the aid of the Imperial's Battlemages providing Invisibility enchantments to the range fighters of the Alliance.
"Fight them back!" Ho'don bestirred them as all around him the men of the United Federation and their Native allies fought in close quarters and under a barrage of heavy arrow fire from the fantastical defenders of Gliesia. Using his shamanistic magicks to conjure Spirit Wolf Familiar to his aid. These Summons, faeric in nature, were spiritually manifested through the Goblin Shaman's Will that he unleashed to the aid of the UFEAF Soldiers. Their semi-ethereal nature allowed them to pass through the marshes easily albeit they can never stray too far away from its conjurer as their corporeality is inversely proportional to the distance from their summoner plus their poise.
But even with his talents, the Impeiral Battlemages were just equally skilled in negating his edge. With a few Banishment spells, they could with moderate amounts of concentration, hold still a Summoned Creature and dispel the magical enchantments from the mental construct to render them inert.
"We need Fire Support!" Mendoza crawled to cover as radioed for help. "Roll in an Airstrike at my Mark!" he shouted as he threw his IR Flare towards the tree line where the enemy skirmishers were firing from.
It was absolute Chaos, fighting was so tightly packed that some resorted to melee combat, using their rifles, E-Tool or whatever a UFEAF soldier can get his hands on to defend themselves from the ambush.
"Die Monster!" an Imperial Halberdier thrusted mightily his bill-shaped spear onto the slowly drowning Fjord IFV.
But as the instant his blade made contact with the IFV's Composite Carapace, the War Machine suddenly erupted itself from its despondent trap, instantly shattering the spear and running over the Pikeman under its titanic threads. It would take more than a simple pitfall with wooden spikes hidden underneath to best what is the latest in the line of decades of Military-Industrial research and savoir-faire. But the effort was commendable in reasonably slowing down the Otherworldly Tide.
"Shoot them all down!" the IFV Commander seethed as he grasped his radio intensively as his Verdun Chain Gun return a torrent of 7.62mmx51 Bullets at his attackers.
It was a rough ambush, that had its initial shock from the sheer surprise but like fire, it quickly burnt out. The Ambushers now either retreated deeper into the Swamp's forest or lay dead before them but not before taking down several of the Invasion Forces men with them of mostly of Prince Clovich's new Laniyea Soldiers known as the Ymasiad Fireteam consisting of six freshly-trained Tyr Rianni Crossbowmen converted into Riflemen or Rifflewyrs, and two UFEAF soldiers attached to the Team, one being the Squad Leader and the other the Squad's Radio Officer.
"This is Angel Squadron, Strike Package Bravo making its Attack Run." an A-25 Dragoon pilot calmly acknowledged Captain Mendoza's IR Flare as he lined his Aerocraft and readied his explosive payloads and 30mm Gatling Gun.
BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!
BBBBBBOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!!
Unleashed from its breath, clusters of bomblets deluged towards the Imperial forces evaporating what remained of their defenses.
If some of the Slaegian Generals, Warband Leaders and Mages had foreseen the impending the invasion of the Otherworlder's through Marnia's Bluff, all were shocked by the sheer violence of the Federation's assault when it was unleashed on that early late-autumn morning. Like a heavy knockout punch, the Federation's Artillery, Aerocrafts, Gun Drones and Rockets devastate the Imperial first and second defensive lines over the Isthmus. Worst was the horror stories the survivors would tell of the Metal Dragons that flew as fast as hawks, yet screamed like blood thirsted Banshees who swoop into their lines to spread their deathly worded curses from its terrifying screech. Yet for those who still have shreds of courage left in their hearts, they adamantly chose to weld themselves to the original plan of using the terrain to its advantage. But even then, for the Defenders, their lines very quickly overwhelmed by the unending and unyielding march of the Otherworlder's advance. All that remains were the Chalk Cliffs and the Salt Mine that hang over the Slaegian's side of the Isthmus where the Alliance can funnel the invader's advancement much more tightly than they could within the Isthmus' marshes. The Imperials knew, that if the Otherworlder's managed to break through the Salt Mine that they established their field headquarters on, a direct route to Haringpoint would open easily like a street crumpets legs for the Invaders to ravage on for their conquest. They must stand their ground for the nation, their homes and their families for they must, they shall not pass. As of their recording of the time lapsed on their defence, they had only managed to delay a still downpouring wave of Invaders for an abysmal eight hours, not even a day had passed at the least as the sun began to set down as their defenses were slowly crumbling before their eyes. They could not give any quarter, yet their relentless assault well passes before Malynaris retired across the horizon for the night came, to make matters worse from a practical perspective, tonight was a new moon as Calyriel refuse to strip herself nude of her radiance that night making the soldiers rely on their torches more for visibility.
"They locked the place tight!" Mendoza cursed.
The Chalk Cliff's, their white faces illuminated upon the shine of the Imperial's torches separated the Invasion Force from the other side of the Isthmus was sealed heavily corked by wooden barricades enchanted by Magicks that prevented the entry of the armored spearheads of the UFEAF Mechanized Vehicle over, through and under them. These enchantments either require exorbitant amounts of damage short of rigging each individual barricade with half a dozen kilos worth of C4 to reliable breakthrough or be disenchanted with the same logic in mind. Turning the climb up the slope into a painful slog. The Cliffs themselves were navigable via a series of three slopes that in peace time were the northern pathways through the Isthmus when approaching from Haringpoint and vice versa. The ramps were only wide enough to allow at a time one of the UFEAF's vehicles plus half a dozen or so infantry at a time, a perfect chokepoint. Defending atop of them were more enemy skirmishers who are being protected with shields from the Imperial Battlemages from the Federation's Air Strikes with mixed success, able to injure several of the Invaders with their Bows. In response, the UFEAF's unleashed their UAV Combat Drones upon those enemy firing positions. Controlled by ISAC, the Drones assaulted in waves of swarms against the secondary lines of the Imperial's spraying down light machine gun fire from their Drones to harry them like locusts. The Mages reacted by casting Magic Missiles upon the enemy Drones, being able to swat many dozens of times as the same reciprocation as the Drones shot them down. But unlike, the Mages despite all of their talents, they lacked ISAC's Quantum Deep Learning capabilities and his transcendence from human limitations such as self-preservation and stress. The AI felt no tears whenever the Mages valiantly brought down one of the 'Metal Fairies' for another can easily take its place. Through layers of attacks, ISAC records the behavioral patterns of the Battlemages and transmits them back to the AI for collective analysis to transmit new adaptive orders to the next swarm. In essence, in a white-room scenario, Battlemages must quickly outsmart them each time as the AI quickly learns how to predict their moves and defenses.
"Keep the advance going everyone." Holyfield urged the soldiers. "We have them on the run. Don't stop now."
"We need more time Major. Get these enchantments off of these!" Mendoza radioed. "Ho'don! Get rid of these!" he ordered the Goblin Shaman.
"I cannot! I must… retire…" Ho'don sighed as he collapsed from Mana exhaustion. All the hard work he had done with the bridges and summoning those Spirit Wolves finally taken his toll on him. The UFEAF Soldiers near him, realizing that there's nothing more he can do at his current state hurried him away from the fighting to safety so he can recuperate leaving Martainne and Kimora with Mendoza.
"All falls to me then! Fear not!" the Lich declared as he sailed his bony frame across the white sands of the beach head towards the Enchanted Barricades.
Passing by the heavily suppressed IFV, the Lich began to concentrate his Magicks to disenchant the arcane energies within the wooden caltrop shaped barricades the impeded his allies' progress. He was vengeful, wishing to see the Empire be humbled by his Necromantic Legend, to show them what it felt like when someone intruded upon his lands and to destroy all that he had built and scatter his children. The Imperial's knew of the once powerful Necromancer King of the old Cenhill Kingdom and now soon they shall see the legend with their own eyes of how Martainne all feared the name of 'the Lich King Cenhill' once more. But even with his vengeance in his unbeaten heart, the advancements in Arcane Enchantments were still a significant challenge for him. 500 Years being stuck inside his Tomb did not do much in acquiring new knowledges from the outside, only regarding the basic or obsolete inscriptions of his library of ancient texts of those where the advancements of Enchantment Magicks were based upon then expanded from.
The Lich frustratingly jiggled the locks of these Enchantments as he attempted to defuse them, losing his peripheral awareness of the battle burgeoning around him.
"Hurry up!" the IFV Commander told him. "I don't know how much longer she can take---Ahhh… Shit!" the Commander cussed as his Fjord IFV was blanketed with boiling pots of oil that were instantly ignited by an Archer's careful fire arrow igniting the IFV in flames. Thankfully the flames only managed to cause cosmetic and temporary sensory disablement of the Vehicle as the crew were left temporarily blinded by the Alliance's innovative attempt to halt their advance.
"The fire is screwing with my Camera's. I can't see shit. Gotta button up!" the Commander shouted as several Engineers frantically put out the fire on his IFV.
"Someone paints those Slegs up there!" a UFEAF soldier shouted.
"Martainne, we'll cover you! Get that Barricade down now!" Mendoza urged the Lich.
"A Lich! It's the Lich King of Cenhill is here!" cried one of the Imperial Footmen.
"Yes indeed! I have risen from the grave and all shall fear my name again! Ha! Ha!" Martainne playfully teased, indulging them on his old legend to shatter the resolve of those peoples who destroyed his Kingdom and scattered his children.
"Holy Spells! Now!" a Sergeant ordered a Battlemage.
They knew that with such a powerful adversary would overwhelm them the longer the likes of Martainne can roam freely to cast his spells with impunity. Liches, those of borne of Unlife and otherworldly Demons were most especially vulnerable to the radiant effects of the Holy Spells that many devoted Clerics and several of Battlemages have learned to cast when confronting with such monstrosities.
The Battlemages whispered to themselves a silent prayer to their Patron Gods as they rushed towards the barricades, preparing their exorcisms to cast off the Lich and his Undead Minions back from whence they came.
"Watch out!" Kimora cried as she used her wooden shield to protect Martainne from the Holy Spell's cast by Imperials that would have otherwise incapacitate him gravely.
"Curse you Imperials for trying to smite me!" Martainne roared.
"Get that FUCKING Barricade open!" the Fjord IFV Commander blindly yelled as his vehicle was still being continuously harassed by the Imperial Skirmishers.
"Gah! I cannot concentrate with these Mages trying to banish me!" the Lich closed his fist.
Martainne stepped away from the enchanted barricade and hovered over the Imperial Mages nightmarishly, his worn-out robes and skeletal form a terrifying sight to behold. To them, it was if they evoked the wrath of an ancient entity that was never meant to be wronged.
"Your bones will be the foundation of a monument to your defeat!" Martainne forwarded his dreadful finger tauntingly at the Imperials
"We are not afraid of you Lich King! Your reign of terror will end here." A Cleric answered back.
"You will die in terror then, and your bodies to be Thralls to my will! Allow me to show you!" he theatrically laughed.
His reputation as a 'Tyrant' back in his days were more or less exaggerated or mere fabrications from his rivals. He had an honor code when it comes to raising the Dead to his services such as only using the bodies of those who had consented upon their death to give their corporeal remains to him to act as his on-demand labor force to be buried in specially made tombs where their bodies are to be kept in sanitated conditions to prevent disease when he or his successors were to call on them for construction projects or to march for war. He normally doesn't use the bodies of his former enemies unless faced with no other choice as he finds commanding large swathes of Skeletal Minions to be taxing on his necromantic capacities. But still, the reputation of 'the Lich King using the bodies of those who perished to slay him to be bounded to his Will and be set loose to attack his enemies' was a decent albeit double-sided deterrent against territorial rivals.
Conjuring his Magicks, the Lich formed a dreadful amethyst ball-around his two hands. Those of his enemies surrounding him suddenly felt their bodies run cold as pores from their skin began to leak out. First their sweat, then the water in their veins before suddenly the very veins themselves burst forth from their skins to be magnetically siphoned to Martainne's energy sphere. It was an exotic spell that the Lich had learned and adapted from a Hydromancer from the Eastern Suzerainties. Called Abbas-Jaffaf's Wilting. Originally intentioned to siphon water from desert fauna, the Lich during his research in his quest to grant Magical Powers to his children at will found a much more macabre purpose for the spell. Using his controversial Sangromancy that he pioneered when he still had mortal form, he can horridly ebb out bodily fluids, vitals and even liquid Mana onto a ball that he can use as capacitor for more devastating feats of Arcane Magicks or just straight up make entire groups of people collapse dead whatever his priorities were at the time. The Imperials could not physically resist spell's necrotic effects on their bodies, not being able to move a muscle more as their life forces evaporated from their bodies, famishing their forms to malnourished automatons in a parody of both their once healthy selves and the skeletons under Martainne's beck and call.
When all of his attackers collapsed before him, Martainne gave another theatrically gleeful laugh as he used the siphoned on the Wilting's energy sphere to power through the Arcane enchantments of the Barriers, instantaneously causing them break, and also creating a vile explosion of blood, body fluids and scum water to burst forth.
"The path is clear." Martainne triumphantly announced.
"We achieved breakthrough!" Mendoza nodded. "Yellow Cab-8 go push forward fifty meters up and then hold yourself back until your optics are fixed."
"Rodger that! Carefully now… eh… thanks Lich! I never thought I would actually thank a god damn Mummy." The Fjord IFV Commander gave his gratitude.
"Oh and… don't ask about the stuff that's all-around your vehicle when you clean it later by the way." Mendoza added.
"Why?" the IFV Commander asked.
"I… it is best… you never know." Mendoza asserted.
The Invasion's advance continued onwards, capitalizing with all expense on the second breakthrough as the last vestiges of the second line of defenses of Marnia's Bluff crumbled from the combined might of not only Martainne's Necromancer powers but also the UFE's Naval Bombardment and Carrier-based Airstrikes. Slowly trickling down or rather upwards, the vanguard of the Western Army Group fully crossed the Isthmus and now into more stable and open countryside where their speed can be fully utilized.
"Point Normandy has been secured Spearhead." Mendoza reported.
"Understood, time to unleash our Heavy Assets now. ETA Ten Minutes." Holyfield acknowledged.
With the Cliff's secured he can now commit the crème de la crème of his Forces, his Armored Tanks and Mechanized Borne Troops into the battle just as Deep Battle Doctrine teaches him to exploit the breakthrough his men have produced with heavy thrusts from his more tactically valuable assets which are his Mechanized Troops, his BWP's and his Cataphract Tanks in addition to some much needed supply drops for his now weary troops who had expended tooth, nail, arms and legs to cross the Marnia's Isthmus.
"Push up and secure the Salt Mine! Let's get our Cavalry going" Mendoza ushered the soldiers forward.
"They are starting to get Desperate. Proceed with caution." Holyfield advised. In his experience the those who straggled behind and those cornered were the ones who are the most dangerous of adversaries.
"Uukhai!" Kimora cheered, the thrill of Battle to see her enemies run before her exhilarated primal instincts deep beneath her kind's psychological beings.
Daosne were infamous for their ability to go frenzied berserk when in battle, amplifying their physical prowess tenfold compared to humans, Dwarves, and even Elves. It was no wonder the Imperials feared her people the Daosne as their stubborn resistances and raids against the Northern Territories of the Empire brought excessive amounts of trouble to the Imperial Legion stationed there. Yet a huge drawback to her manic stat was the withdrawal period that occurs after their murderous trances. Their stamina will be burned out, muscles bones ache, and in some of the worst possible cases, death. It was a high risk but very high reward action for a Beastman to allow themselves to descend into temporary savagery yet the warrior culture of the Daosne Tribes exemplifies such warriors who can slay the most enemies to prove their strengths, the Centaur War Maiden no different. She brandished her Axe and began to buck wildly like a sporadic mass of furred muscle as she charged headlong to the retreating Imperial Soldiers, moving just as fast and striding just as agilely as she alongside her fellow Centaurs and the Mechanized UFEAF Vehicles led the Vanguard into one great stampede. Every kill, every savage blow that eviscerates whatever hapless soul came across her further demoralized the Imperial Soldiers.
The Sea Salt Mine and its concentration ponds was requisitioned by the Empire as a base of their operations and its strategic advantage overseeing the Imperial side of the Isthmus was the last obstacle that needed to be taken if the Isthmus Crossing was to succeed. The retreating defenders stumbled over each other as they attempted to flee whilst the Imperial Generals attempted to salvage the route and rally the Alliance soldiers back into the battle either through stubborn resolve or desperate fear of what the consequences were if the 'Dragon-Wall' were to be breached. Yet they can all agree that the situation has grown dire. In their hubristic confidence, they thought they could repeat the glorious and legendary victory and success of the legendary Founder-King Caldell against the Demons during the First Demonic Invasion. Yet as the present time has harshly revealed that it was very clear that their adversary never intended to repeat their mistakes for the second time now that they had shown to see that they do learn from their mistakes, capable of more advanced thought than just marching forward and heel-stomping whatever poor soul dared to stand against them. For all of their meticulous plans from ambushes, magically enhanced defensive structures and their past experience fighting overwhelmingly large hordes of enemies from their past history was simply not enough to stem the Otherworldly tide. Worst still was that their ancient adversaries had found themselves new allies in the form of the other barbarians that they had fought against years after Alboen's time from the savage Daosne Beastmen, the savage Greenskins and the undeathly Lich King of ancient Cenhill. Is if they had turned everyone that ever held a grudge against the Empire against them all at once. It was truly a Deluge of apocalyptic magnitudes the likes of Scribes, Historians and Bards write tragedies on their annals.
"Call the Cavalry!" one Imperial Bannerman roared desperately.
"Bring out the Fire Cart!" a Dwarf shouted.
A Horn blared over the salted ponds of the Salt Mine as the thunder of hooves of the Imperial Mounted Knights, armed with their imposing lances charged forth. The speed of their hooves and superior height made them ideal for harrying the still trickling down Infantry still attempting to climb up from the Chalk Cliff's rampway. Meanwhile behind them, several Dwarven Engineers pulled over a handcart that contained a mobile wooden launchpad on the top containing 100 cylindrical holes outfitted each with Uzeagoth tipped bolts.
"Kill the Demons! For the Glory of the Empire and the Gods!" cried a valiant Knight as he charged his barded steed, riding alongside hundreds of his brothers towards the landfalling Invaders.
A barrage of Uzeagoth bolts fired from the Fire Cart as they arched over the incoming Heavy Cavalry charge towards the still remotely unbalanced UFEAF.
"Missile Artillery! Get down! Get down!" a UFEAF grunt shouted.
The rocket aided Crossbow Bolts peppered the Invaders, severely maiming those injured and heavily pinning down those who managed to get to cover quickly. A perfect opportunity for the Heavy Cavalry to turn the tide of this battle around as he and his fellow Knights charged, lances aimed forward towards an enervated Lich-King Martainne and Captain Mendoza.
But just as their lances were about to taste the blood of the Invaders, Kimora with her Centaur brothers and sisters hurled themselves between their new allies.
"By our brave hearts you will move no further!" Kimora roared. "Uukhai!" she brandished her axe forward swinging it wildly in a counter charge.
Years of fighting amongst each other and the advantage that they are one in spirit and body with their forms made Centaurs the ideal interceptors against enemy Cavalry, able to nimbly maneuver themselves against other similar mounted units and to come out of themselves on top in many cases of fights through their blood-stained histories combating against each other. Their lack of Cavalry tactics and mish-mash variety or disregard altogether of armor and more idyllic weapons suited for Mounted Units however being a Yoshadinyuddi's only drawback. The Centaurs savagely hacked, slashed and even bucked the Slaegian Cavalry that by the time the UFEAF reacted to the Empire's last-ditch attempt to stop their advance, there was very little left the Attack Drones and the Infantry had left to handle as the Centaur-led hail of steel fell the mighty juggernauts of Imperial might. Their resplendent armors and sacred banners buried beneath the slurried salt ponds, staining the white powder red with their blood as they were trampled by the thunder of the Centaur's hooves. The Dwarven Artillery pieces, chopped to driftwood as their artisanal frames were casted off to the crashing ocean currents below by the jeers of blood-sated Centaur Warriors who danced their cloven hooves with the weapon crew's corpses triumphantly as they slew them down.
"How can we fight an enemy like this!?" a Battlemage wailed.
"Retreat! The Gods have abandoned us!" an Imperial Footman despaired.
Abandoning their weapons, their stations and camp the Slaegians routed themselves away from Marnia's Bluff. It has finally been done, the Enemy were in full retreat and the Crossing had succeeded as the Federation's titanic Cataphract Tanks rolled out of their Carriers into the battlefield, carrying the seven-ringed flower of the Federation on its back thus solidifying this auspicious conquest.
"We did its boys!" Mendoza congratulated. "The enemy is in full retreat! And the crossing has been secured."
"Hooah! Semper Fidelis BITCHES!" a UFEAF Marine hollered.
"Indeed we all have." Holyfield smiled as he oversaw the advance at the Command Deck of the Aurora. "I got reports from Colonel Polonsky that our counterparts with the East have just broke through themselves. Vercourt and Little Hill should not last much longer once we encircle them." The Major informed.
The Dragon-Wall from the perspective of the Empire was a complete and utter failure to the highest degrees. The Invaders broke through the supposedly impregnable defenses with ease and such speeds that some of the routed men lament to themselves to wake up as they believe that this tragedy, this massacre, this embarrassment was not real but a premonition of their dreams manifested from their fears of fighting the Otherworlders. But their pleas fell into the deaf earth as they were encircled and cut down by the vengeance-filled barbarians that they had wronged. All they can pray now is that the Chosen One can rally the rest of the decimated Empire to fight back against the Demonic Tide before all of Ysanigrad drowned in the darkness of their overwhelming might.
Inversely saying for the Native Auxiliaries of those said 'Barbarians' fighting on the side of the Otheworlders, they all collectively could not believe it. They had actually succeeded where each of them failed. Cause the much avaricious Empire in all of its expansive arrogance to fall into retreat. The image of Imperial Invincibility, obliterating before their very eyes. For the Tyr Rianni Laniyea and even the Lich-King Martainne, although their first taste of vengeance was indeed cathartic for the heinous crimes, they had done to their homelands of their once thought 'Distinguished Liege', they also foresaw what ripple effects this has brought before them as they participated in this battle against them. News of the devastating aftermath of this Battle will spread across all over of Ysanigrad and all of the Gliesia's eyes will fall upon them. Despite taking a majority of the negligible casualties during the assault, the Tyr Rianni would not have defeated the Empire at all if it were not for their new weapons. These 'Guns', these strange Crossbows held unimaginable power that made centuries of Imperial Chivalry and Military Doctrine obsolete, what they now become the vanguard for as stated by their Prince, a new age for Gliesia and as day passed, there is no longer turning back to the old ways, all must move forward to the uncertain future that Prince Clovich brought forth for Gliesia. For the Lich Martainne, the Centaur Kimora and the Goblin Shaman Ho'don, this victory was perhaps the greatest blow to Imperial arrogance that they could have ever inflicted upon their oppressors throughout their tumultuous history against them. They danced, sang and even eloped themselves with their Otherworldly allies, as if sent by their Gods or their ancestral spirits to aid them in freeing them from the yoke of the Empire's iron-fist against their peoples. They just didn't imagine that the form amalgamated by this newfound vengeance brought them together with strange and even stranger of friends and discoveries.
"So, what now Major? Full steam ahead to the Capital?" a Marine Corps Captain asked.
"Belay that order, we will overextend too much and our men are tired and worn out from the fighting. Once East Army Group secured Neuogonia on schedule we shall trap any retreating Imperials falling back north from our position then link up with them. I want to save our best assets for the final push into Haringpoint." Holyfield answered.
"Understood sir. The rest of 7th Marine and 333rd Assault are awaiting your call as always." The Marine Captain said.
"Ehm… excuse me?" a new voice emerged from the Radio Channel. Holyfield recognized that voice.
"Prince Clovich? What's your status report?" Holyfield asked.
"My Cousin is with me right now and we had just received the news of your victory against the Empire is it not?" the Prince asked.
"Of course, we just gotten through the Isthmus on schedule… it was a tough fight but we managed," Holyfield answered.
"And my men? My new Laniyea? How were they?" Clovich shifted the subject to his new Army.
"They fought bravely, but they took some casualties… the Ymosiad attaché's told me they are… quiet to say the least. Which is surprising… since nearly everyone else is well… happy they won." The Major answered. "I believe you need to meet them. It looks like they could use your… leadership right now." He suggested.
"Hmm… indeed, that is most wise. I will ride for Marnia's Bluff due haste with my Cousin too. He must also see this." Clovich nodded.
"Good, because you will have to be with your men from this point onwards until we reach the Capital. You have to be the one to be marching into the City when we tear down the walls." He reminded him of their legitimacy accumulating efforts for the Prince to gain the Emperorship of the entirety of the Slaegian Nation.
"I… will…" Clovich huffed… with a steady determination growing in his heart. There was no going back for him and his people at this point. It was all-in or he loses everything. "I will meet you there in Neuogonia once both you and Polonsky's men linked up." He tells him.
Prince, the Vanguard of the Amelioration will march on an Iron Horse through Haringpoint and lead the new age he aspired to see Ysanigrad become or die fighting for what he believed is right as he swore himself on the day, he began his patronage with the Otherworlders.
"I have some personal business with my cousin and his… interesting friends to deal with." Clovich gave his farewells as he ended the radio call.
Dropping the radio from Thomas Sight's hands the Prince approached his cousin Duke Thibault and his hastily transported court as they stood before the Duchy of Tifrait, specifically at the site of what was once the legendary fortress of Brynbach or Little Hill. It took a long hard moment, suspended in disbelief, trying to dispel themselves in case this was all an elaborate illusion but it was not. It was real in every sense of the word that was. Even for Clovich, the scene before them was utterly devastating, yet he tried to keep his composure in front of his Cousin and his courtiers as they silently observed the grim scene before them. The entire Camber Valley Forest is now filled with stacks upon stacks of the corpses of 15 Imperial Legions and the Duchy's Local Militia and Knightly Retinues, some of the finest of armies no less in all of Ysanigrad lay dead before the gaging coughs of Thibault and his Courtiers thanks in no part to the sickening ashes that the unceremonious cremation the UFEAF's Engineering court undignifiedly sent them all of on. However, the most shocking facts are that the mighty fortress of Little Hill is now nothing than a pile of powdered rubble before their feet. The Souvielian's, violence averse were at a lost of words as they remained catatonic to the tragic fate that befell upon the Empire's forces. They could only eat their own words doubting Clovich and his Otherworldly patrons.
"Do you continue to doubt me and the Federation now dear Cousin of mine? You see before you what we can do? What our fate is if the Empire continues to pursue this war and have you and your people be sent to the slaughterhouse for this pointless war Emperor Uldin provoked on me?"
"Yes-yes cousin… and Ser Sight!! I am deeply sorry for doubting ever doubting you two! The Empire shall be ruined if they do continue and if you say is true, then you are perhaps the only one who can stop this from happening to ALL of Ysanigrad… maybe even the whole of Gliesia. Do not forget they had wronged me too with Jodent and the Elven Sefydliad." He acknowledged. "B-but, what would happen to Souviel?" Thibaut asked, his voice shaking in dread as his Courtiers cowered behind him.
"Don't fret Duke Thibault," Thomas announced. "Your people will be safe under our protection as long as you allow free trade and military access to come in and out of your cities. In return we can grant you access to our trade networks which will make you and your people prosper ten-fold to whatever you had earned when you were with the Slaegian Empire." He spoke in his honeyed-voiced as he reassured the Duke of the Federation's pragmatic proposition into securing his fealty.
"You will also have to swear fealty to me and my new Empire too since I will be your new liege from this point forward Cousin. All you really have to do is to just make sure Souviel is still… well… Souviel and it will be like nothing ever happened." Clovich added.
"I accept!" Thibault nodded. "You have not only shown not only overwhelming power but you have proven yourself to be able to look out for the interests of those whom you wish to welcome hospitably in to your mighty wings. The Fealty of Souviel is yours." Thibault bowed as he handed over his Scepter to his Cousin.
"Thank you, cousin. I promise you will not regret your choice." Clovich smiled as he ushered Thibaut upwards from his knelt stance as he embraced his cousin for having faith in him and his new vision of a better and brighter Ysanigrad.
"Please forgive my roughness all of you. I needed to act quickly and you Souvieli's to say without malice… well you tend to take life at your own pace. You all lack well… urgency sometimes all of you… especially you Cousin!" Clovich casually chided to the Souvieli noblemen and women, ignoring the previous periods of him hard-lining his approach to them earlier.
"Life is too short to rush for us you know? But then again, aren't we all fated to die one day? Why bother with so many trivial squabbles when you can live life bringing happiness to as many as you can?" Thibaut lectured ecstatically.
"Let's have something to eat shall we Cousin? I have so many things to tell you about my time on Earth that you would all think I am lying!" Clovich laughed followed by the rest of the newly secured allies the Federation managed to reel into their sphere of influence.
With Souvieli now firmly secured by proxy under the Federation's watchful eye. They have seaborne starting point that the UFEAF can expand further from thanks to their extensive and lucrative trade connections. With Souvieli Money and Tyr Rianni Soldiers, the Pacification Campaign is slowly gaining the critical momentum they needed to bring down the rest of the Natives of Gliesia in concert to the Federations, and the Party's designs.
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The Great and most Glorious Black Tree Pact Elven Expeditionary Army marched through the Human lands with eager ballast. Among their numbers were the finest troops the brave men and women of the arising power of the Black Tree Pact Confederation of Eastern Alfel-Nora had to offer 70,000 strong: Dreadsteeds, Sisters of the Blades, the Unseen, Acropolis Wardens, Altars of Teleuth (known as Telin by the Humans) and Black-Thorn Riders supplemented by an assortment of Monsters collected from either there native homelands or from parts unknown such as over 200-winged Erynias and a Abyssal-Kharibidyss that were captured, sold and/or bred from the Tavai Islands, 100 of the nimblest of Katakan Were-Bats from the southern lands of Ysanigrad, 50 of the most imposing Rock Elementa's of the D'ao subspecies from Saihan, and lastly their crown jewel, a Black Dragon of the highest of esteemed of draconic bloodlines of proud Alfel-Nora of whom this spawn was the personal steed of one Lord Vokhol Duskblaze.
They were the first foreign forces in Ysanigrad to heed the call of the Slaegian Empire's need of aid outside of the recently migratory Dwarves. For a native of the continent, such an army of exotic warriors were merely the imaginative products of bardic lyricism as Black Tree Pact Warriors were heavily influenced by the armors and weaponry of conquered peoples the expansionist offshoot of the Elves of Alfel-Nora demonstrated compared to their more traditional Ethuilen Entente counterparts that they are so ever at odds with in all aspects typical of an Iron Curtain divide on their once enchanted continent. Lord Vokhol's orders as given by his superiors were to explicitly display such splendor of the Black Tree Pact's armies everywhere he marched. It had been only two weeks however since their arrival in the Human's Domain however when he had received word that their political rivals, the Ethuilen had sent forth as he marched an expeditionary army of their own led by the only son of the loathsome Ethuilen King Aslanidor, Prince Valorion. Lord Vokhol knew that he will need to skip all the pageantry and now put his army into practice. Fortunately for him, he managed to convince the Slaegian Legionary Commanders to have him be deployed as close as he can get to the Frontlines so he can at the soonest have his army be put to work against the Demonic Invasion whilst also doing whatever he could within him and his nation's ability to keep his Ethuilen counterparts as far away from the front line as long as possible in addition to not arriving fully strengthened or as timely as they had hoped. That way, his own army can have the advantage of first initiative relative to the war effort for himself and the Midnight Camarilla's interests. This was in part as most Imperial Humans out of a sense of previous comradeship and alliances with those incessant traditionalists would rather work closely with them rather than with the Black Tree Pact when given the choice between combining the strength of whoever banners come to the Human's aid. He had complete faith in his abilities and the prowess of his long-lived men of an average of 70 years of service in the Black Elven Army that they can weather whatever battle these Invaders can throw at them. If the Black Elves can play their cards adequately, they could win the favor of the Imperial Emperor to allow them to bend some of his affairs to the Midnight Camarilla's expansionist designs.
"Interesting…" Lord Vokhol scratched his chin as he laid his head back when an Imperial Messenger of a disheveled attire hurriedly reported to him of the grave happenings of what had transpired the first few days of Invasion.
He and his Army were originally meant to rendezvous themselves with the transit point of Neuogonia before awaiting the Empire's so-called Chosen One before being sent further south to assist in the defense of the Imperial's Dragon-Wall. However, news of its multiple breaches has thrown their overall war plan strategems into jeopardy as the word was immediately dispatched that the Otherworlders are now making headway posthaste deep into the heart of Imperial Lands consisting of mere cities, townships, irrigation canals, and plains of farmland unlike the rough hinterlands, fortified bastions nor the marshy Marnia's Bluff that shielded the Empire from her external threats. The Message as given by the acting Superior of the Legionary remnants has given the Black Elves the confronting task of rushing to the defense of Neuogonia and aid the evacuation of the retreating Imperial Defenders so that Emperor Uldin and his circle of Commanders can salvage a new defensive line.
A perfect opportunity to demonstrate the Black Tree Pact's superiority to the bewildered defenders as so the Camarillas wished to demonstrate to both the Slaegian's and their decadent Ethuilen kindred.
The Black Elven General dismissed the messenger and sent him off his merry way as amiable as a haughty Elf could before turning to his advisors once the Human disappeared.
"Those Pathetic Humans, three days in, and already they are losing control of their footing in this War of theirs." Vokhol disdainfully scoffed.
"To their defense, all Non-Elves are weaker in Magicks and lack our long lives." One of his captains joked as he sipped from his enchanted Sweetwater from his drinking bladder. "All we must do is do as the Emperor has told us for now. We must hurry pace to Neuogonia at the double." He advised.
Lord Vokhol nodded and ushered his men to march forward.
After about a quarter of a day's march for the army, Vokhol's Expeditionary Force could see the hilled borough of Neuogonia, the crossroad township of the Empire where each of its four directions meets converged on the horizon.
However, the Black Elf soon realized that there is something wrong with the scene. Normally, a forwarded party of either the Legion's Knights or a Mounted Retinue of the local Duke would receive him by now yet there is none. Alarmed, Vokhol grabbed his telescope as ordered by one of his Fox-Kin slaves to his hands. As he peered through the hilly burg of Neuogonia, to his dismay he saw before him not the Imperial Dragon of the Slaegian Empire but instead an Azure flag fitted with five rings amalgamated together to form a flower. They had arrived too late, the Township had been captured.
"It has seemed we were too slow General." A Sister of the Blade sighed as she sharpened her vorpal twin swords, sparks flying out of her blades as she attuned them.
"Judging by the way the town has been besieged, however, it seems they only had recently conquered Neuogonia. It is likely whatever Demons who happen to be there are currently either drunk with victory or weary of their earlier efforts. I prime opportunity to surprise them by the sudden arrival of our forces." A Captain said.
"We should at least try to find any survivors of the Garrison or of the Humans before we move in, however. The Messenger did say he had reported to several of them before he had reached us." A Sorceress added.
"Hmm… your advice is sound. We shall rest for now and wait two days before we commence the assault. Have the Sorceresses bring up our Canopy of Greater Invisibility on our Camp, have the Dreadsteed's scout out the terrain, and bring any of what remains of the Imperial Legions to us. I will personally see to our monsters that they are ready for battle." Vokhol smiled confidently.
He stood up from his lofty chair as he walked towards the Monster Pens where he keeps the more Monstrous collection of his Army at bay.
"Please spare me! I promised I won't disobey again! N-N-Nooo!!!" cried a ragged Fox-Kin slave who was caught recently for disobeying one of the advances of a mentally frustrated Acropolis Warden.
But she was quickly grabbed from her body, by the jaws of a great serpentine beast before being quickly swallowed whole as her body corroded underneath its amethyst scales.
"Dre'sah, soon your belly will grow fat with the blood of our enemies. My precious little Black Dragon." He smiled sadistically as he ordered his servants to feed more of the flesh and blood of dissident slaves to rouse the appetites of not only his personal Black Dragon but also the rest of the Monsters in their pens.
"Feast well for now! For soon you will feast more when you are set loose to battle! Show me all of your primal wrath on the day of battle oh feral Children of Nenneth!" he perversely cackled.
Those slaves terrified cries from Daosne, Tavai, Fox-Kin, Gaith alike were vividly recorded however from a singular drone, whose visage was of a simple native dragonfly-like insect of Gliesia for the unadulterated sight of one Muffin Eating Intelligence Agent.
"And I thought I had issues…" Agent Gary De Sardet cringed as he ate another bite of his husband's Blueberry-Banana Muffins. Hearing, seeing those poor slaves die under his powerless view made his blood boil. As a loyal agent to the Bureau of Intelligence, it is people like Lord Vokhol is why he joined the call in the first place both as a Data Analyst and as an 'Extractor'. It would be very much good for purging the unhealthy amount of stress that is causing his dapper brown hair to gray if he could reach out and give that Black Elf what it feels like to be afraid… in his very bloodied hands.
This information must be relayed to Polonsky's men at once. He can feel in his bones that this Campaign has not yet reached its most apocalyptic peak.