The Great War is in its last months yet the scales of battle still remain ever equal. For a decade the two superpowers have battered each other in an apocalyptic conflict that has claimed over a hundred million lives and destroyed entire nations. The Final Act of the war comes to a close as the Mantle-Mistral Pact makes a last bid for victory in the sun-blasted dune-seas of Sanus to seize the vital dust mines needed to fuel their dying engines war. But they do not advance unopposed, Vale and Vacuo stand united at the gates of the Desert Kingdom's capital with the greatest armoured force at their disposal. The largest and most deadly armoured clash in known history is about to commence, known only afterwards as The Harvest of Iron...
RWBY: The Harvest of Iron
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Chapter 1: Desert Storm
One hundred tons of pure rolled composite steel crafted in the heart of the hottest forges. Mind-breaking attention poured over every single detail, rooting out imperfections with surgical precision. The most advanced technology to date that even Mantle could never hope to replicate. Night became day under the piercing gaze of the infrared scanners. Optical targeting scopes that could easily read a book a kilometer away with perfect quality. A turbine gas engine propelled this metal beast at such speeds that it was as if this monster was as light as a feather. Blocks of explosive reactive plating bolted on to offer more protection to an already obscenely tough enough vehicle.
Jutting out of the round dome turret, its 155mm main battle-cannon could slice through even the thickest armor like a spear through flesh all while blasting one of those devastating dust-shells every three seconds. As if the thing didn't have enough firepower, there was both a coaxial and hull-mounted 20mm autocannon that shredded exposed infantry with its frag rounds and cut through light armor as if it was paper. Two infrared dazzlers had been installed on the gun mantlet in order to blind hostile scopes and interfere with rangefinders. It had the appearance of a pair of blazing red eyes staring into your soul, that knew that you had just moments left to live. Men had broken in terror because they knew it meant one thing, death. A crew of four worked tirelessly labored inside the hull to pilot this monster, each of them the elite in every sense of the word.
Because only the elite could ever be considered capable of handling the pride of Vacuo's armored herds of destruction, the Udaloy Heavy Tanks.
The moment that the Mantlian and Mistrlian troops of the Bipartite League had landed on Vacuo's shore they had soon learn to flee in terror at the sight of the sandstorm created in the wake of a tank regiment. The words Pride of Malik were painted in crimson on its beige plating skirts, after the first great King of Vacuo who had formed the First Divine Dynasty over a thousand years ago. A title most fitting. Two hundred white chalk marks on the side of the turret were proof of that claim.
A man approaching his late thirties laid his hand on the turbine cowling. A man with nut-brown and sun weather skin, wearing a beige-brown battledress with a white Keffiyeh headdress to protect against the scorching sun. A man that had seen enough in half a decade of war to fill the pages of entire books. But we are now only looking at one particular chapter, the last one in fact.
"Once more into the breach," Captain Adder muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft purr of the idle engine at his fingertips. Memories flooded back. The first days on the training yard, the moment he was allowed to touch the steering levers, the time he fired the cannon for the first time, and the day he received his commander's commission. Good days now long gone. Hope now long gone. Peace long consumed in the inferno of way. He opened his eyes again and stared up, the glare of the blazing sun making him squint.
Looking back to the east, the onion domes of the capital were close enough that the massive yellow-black banners could be seen flapping in the wind. If they failed, the enemy would soon be tearing down those defiant flags.
All around him the vehicle depot was in a state of organized chaos. Dozens of other tanks were stirring awake from their maintenance pits as the crew scrambled to get them ready. Dust-fuel lines were detached and ammunition carts were passing along, distributing ammunition to those that needed it the most. Trucks carrying crew slew to a halt as the passengers leaped off before the wheels came to a stop. The repugnant odor of oil and sweat was overpowering. All the while quad-barreled anti-air turrets scoured the sky, looking for the aircraft that had incessantly harassed them for the entire week. They had lost too many good men and vehicles to those phantoms.
He gripped the handlebars on the side of Pride and clambered onto the dome turret before slipping through the cupola. He was careful not to kick his gunner, Edan, in the back again. The poor man still had bruises from the last time. Despite the heavy armor of the tank, the inside was surprisingly specious enough that Ashdod could walk fairly freely as she transferred the last shells from the floor stowage to the ammo rack at the back. Seeing her commander, she made her signature bright smile. "Sir, we're ready. We're stock full of every type of dust shell you can imagine and the auxiliary fuel tanks are full. Ain't gonna be more ready than this."
"Good," Adder nodded.
"So it's finally happening, huh?" A voice called down from just below and upfront. "We're moving out at last?"
"You've got that right, Bishop." He unrolled a map from his satchel. "Reports are coming in that the bastards just breached the first line of defense at dawn."
"Ah, so that would explain the big smoke clouds and the trains of wounded passing us by. I thought it was a rather uneventful day." Edan quipped.
Ashdod reached over the gun-breech and jabbed Edan's shoulder. "Come on, don't joke about that."
"Stop roughhousing kids or I'll ground all of you for three days. No chocolate rations." That shut both of them up well enough. Ashdod especially "Anyway, we're being sent in alongside the Valean 7th and 109th mechanized and our very own 9th Heavy Armour in hopes that we might be able to blunt their advance before they reach the second line. Maybe if we're lucky we can even pincer and pinch off the hole they made and encircle them. We manage to do that and it's goodbye about to about a good fourth of their entire army here."
"That's a pretty big if, I have to say!" Bishop crackled over the radio. He was now warming up the engines and it was getting too loud to hear him normally. "Three hundred against seven hundred? I'm a pretty big gambler but even I ain't gonna even think of taking those odds."
"Well, you might want to rethink your choice because I'm sure you'd have won the lottery. The Warrior-King will be taking the field alongside us today."
Silence. Even the rumbling engines seemed to drop to a whisper.
"You're joking."
"No. When have you ever known me to joke about such matters, Ash?" Adder said. "Still, we're going against near-impossible odds. But remember we are the elite of Vacuo tank force. At Hamaroft did were we not the weapon that banished their Tank Ace Whilt? At Al Tamir was it not us that crushed the 2nd armor corps? And just three nights ago was it not us that held back ten times our number?"
Edan rolled his eyes. The Captain had a habit of bragging about his tank crew and admittedly had every right to.
"Well, sir," Ashdod said. "As long as you and Pride are with us, we'll fight a hundred thousand tanks if we have to."
"Good to hear. Alright. Let's go through the start-up checklist. The last thing I want is Pride breaking down halfway to the battle." Adder reached under his fold-out seat and brought up a battered steel clipboard. "Bishop? What's on your ned?"
"Control hydraulics are working as smoothly as the day they came off the line. Coolant and fuel are at acceptable levels. No leaks. Transmission covers are down and the I ran maintenance yesterday so we could drive all the way to Vale to see their beaches if you want to. Our engine is warm and ready to go. You can thank this guy for actually making sure we can actually get where we want in the first place."
"Thank you, Bishop. Alright, Edan how's the turret feeling?"
"All systems normal sir. Traverse and elevation of the gun are intact." He depressed the right pedal at her feet slightly and the turret swung in that direction. "Can't tell if anything wrong. Optics are good as well. Clear. I could cut the wings off the fly a mile off."
"I'm sure you could. Last and final, Ash?"
"The radio systems are fine and dandy, sir. External and internal lights are intact and our electrical systems are all in full charge. Gun breech is clean and clear."
"Are our extinguishers sealed and full?"
Ashdod checked the meter right next to the red canisters on the floor. "Shit. Sorry, cap, they're only half-filled. I should have gotten them replaced but in the midst of all this sudden hustle and bustle, I must have forgotten. Sorry..."
"Damn." Addas frowned. "Nevermind, we'll be fine. Just have to play this a little smarter then."
"Yeah. The last thing I want is to experience what the roasted pork felt in its last minutes during last night's barbeque." Edan said, earning him another jab in the shoulder from Ashod.
"That's everything." Addas put the clipboard back into the basket. He snatched his kevlar helmet off its hook and strapped it tight to his skull. Tapping the mic attached, he said, "We're set, Bishop. Move us down to the road and stop there. Apparently, Colonel Sage intends on giving us a speech before we move out."
The floor lurched forward, almost throwing Ashod off balance but she seated herself in her fold-out seat next to the gun. "Easy on the gear, Bishop."
"Sure, darling."
Addas shook his head and sighed. He basically had children. He needed fresh air and poked his head out of the copula, feeling the dry wind buffet against his dark skin. The tank rolled out the gate and turned onto the main road that leaded west to the war. Already on the horizon, he could see pillars of smoke, so many they seemed to form a solid dark wall that stretched for hundreds of kilometers in each direction. Downwind, he could hear the distant and soft crump of detonations. No doubt they were coming closer.
He swiveled his head about. It looked like the entire regiment was indeed being deployed. The road was thick with armor of all types, from the Vouco ultra-heavy behemoths that were easily the size of small houses to the compact but swift tankettes of the Valeans equipped with their small but deadly Needle ATGM. Mechanized troops mounted their APCs, making small talk with other passing units.
Addas shielded his eyes as he scanned the skies. If any Mantle attack craft turned up, it would be a massacre. At the front, he spotted a small figure in a dark yellow overcoat rise up and stand tall on the turret of the Sovremenny-class command tank.
He had a speaker in his right hand and a scroll in his other. His booming voice soon came. "The Queen has made a decree which I will read henceforth. 'The enemy dares to approach us and you are all about to begin the most decisive moments of your life. The Mantlian invaders have lost thousands of tanks, hundreds of their cursed bombers, and nearly a million lives in their bid for a quick victory in the first weeks. They have failed. Their brutalized hordes now advance over a mountain of their own dead. Now, they dare to make a last bid for conquest, a last dying twitch from the corpse that is their war machine. You, soldiers of Vacuo, will be the bulwark against which the enemy will break and shatter upon. You, warriors of Vale, will be the instrument of vengeance that shall punish Mantle for their violations of your land, of your people. Perhaps before all of this, we fought brave men and women just like us. Now, we are putting down animals. But make no mistake, ferals may still bite.'"
There was a pause as Sage stopped as if he was still taking in the words that followed. The air was unbelievable still as thousands of men waited in anticipation.
"'Even as their campaign of murder and looting comes to a close, the invaders deserve no quarter, no mercy, no compromise. So hear me this: do not count days, do not count miles, count only the number of Mantlians you have killed! Kill the Mantlian - this is your mother's prayer. Kill the Mantlian - this is the cry of the sand beneath your feet. Kill the Mantlian - this is my decree. Do not waver! Do not let up! Kill! Death to the Mantle invader!'"
"DEATH TO THE MANTLE INVADER!" The cry came echoing back, drowning out even the sound of roaring engines, reverberating effortlessly through inches of rolled steel, and shaking multi-ton vehicles.
"Long like the Warrior-King and the Queen!" The Valean contingent shouted.
"LONG LIVE THE WARRIOR-KING AND THE QUEEN." They all screamed united as one voice.
Jutting out of the round dome turret, its 155mm main battle-cannon could slice through even the thickest armor like a spear through flesh all while blasting one of those devastating dust-shells every three seconds. As if the thing didn't have enough firepower, there was both a coaxial and hull-mounted 20mm autocannon that shredded exposed infantry with its frag rounds and cut through light armor as if it was paper. Two infrared dazzlers had been installed on the gun mantlet in order to blind hostile scopes and interfere with rangefinders. It had the appearance of a pair of blazing red eyes staring into your soul, that knew that you had just moments left to live. Men had broken in terror because they knew it meant one thing, death. A crew of four worked tirelessly labored inside the hull to pilot this monster, each of them the elite in every sense of the word.
Because only the elite could ever be considered capable of handling the pride of Vacuo's armored herds of destruction, the Udaloy Heavy Tanks.
The moment that the Mantlian and Mistrlian troops of the Bipartite League had landed on Vacuo's shore they had soon learn to flee in terror at the sight of the sandstorm created in the wake of a tank regiment. The words Pride of Malik were painted in crimson on its beige plating skirts, after the first great King of Vacuo who had formed the First Divine Dynasty over a thousand years ago. A title most fitting. Two hundred white chalk marks on the side of the turret were proof of that claim.
A man approaching his late thirties laid his hand on the turbine cowling. A man with nut-brown and sun weather skin, wearing a beige-brown battledress with a white Keffiyeh headdress to protect against the scorching sun. A man that had seen enough in half a decade of war to fill the pages of entire books. But we are now only looking at one particular chapter, the last one in fact.
"Once more into the breach," Captain Adder muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes, feeling the soft purr of the idle engine at his fingertips. Memories flooded back. The first days on the training yard, the moment he was allowed to touch the steering levers, the time he fired the cannon for the first time, and the day he received his commander's commission. Good days now long gone. Hope now long gone. Peace long consumed in the inferno of way. He opened his eyes again and stared up, the glare of the blazing sun making him squint.
Looking back to the east, the onion domes of the capital were close enough that the massive yellow-black banners could be seen flapping in the wind. If they failed, the enemy would soon be tearing down those defiant flags.
All around him the vehicle depot was in a state of organized chaos. Dozens of other tanks were stirring awake from their maintenance pits as the crew scrambled to get them ready. Dust-fuel lines were detached and ammunition carts were passing along, distributing ammunition to those that needed it the most. Trucks carrying crew slew to a halt as the passengers leaped off before the wheels came to a stop. The repugnant odor of oil and sweat was overpowering. All the while quad-barreled anti-air turrets scoured the sky, looking for the aircraft that had incessantly harassed them for the entire week. They had lost too many good men and vehicles to those phantoms.
He gripped the handlebars on the side of Pride and clambered onto the dome turret before slipping through the cupola. He was careful not to kick his gunner, Edan, in the back again. The poor man still had bruises from the last time. Despite the heavy armor of the tank, the inside was surprisingly specious enough that Ashdod could walk fairly freely as she transferred the last shells from the floor stowage to the ammo rack at the back. Seeing her commander, she made her signature bright smile. "Sir, we're ready. We're stock full of every type of dust shell you can imagine and the auxiliary fuel tanks are full. Ain't gonna be more ready than this."
"Good," Adder nodded.
"So it's finally happening, huh?" A voice called down from just below and upfront. "We're moving out at last?"
"You've got that right, Bishop." He unrolled a map from his satchel. "Reports are coming in that the bastards just breached the first line of defense at dawn."
"Ah, so that would explain the big smoke clouds and the trains of wounded passing us by. I thought it was a rather uneventful day." Edan quipped.
Ashdod reached over the gun-breech and jabbed Edan's shoulder. "Come on, don't joke about that."
"Stop roughhousing kids or I'll ground all of you for three days. No chocolate rations." That shut both of them up well enough. Ashdod especially "Anyway, we're being sent in alongside the Valean 7th and 109th mechanized and our very own 9th Heavy Armour in hopes that we might be able to blunt their advance before they reach the second line. Maybe if we're lucky we can even pincer and pinch off the hole they made and encircle them. We manage to do that and it's goodbye about to about a good fourth of their entire army here."
"That's a pretty big if, I have to say!" Bishop crackled over the radio. He was now warming up the engines and it was getting too loud to hear him normally. "Three hundred against seven hundred? I'm a pretty big gambler but even I ain't gonna even think of taking those odds."
"Well, you might want to rethink your choice because I'm sure you'd have won the lottery. The Warrior-King will be taking the field alongside us today."
Silence. Even the rumbling engines seemed to drop to a whisper.
"You're joking."
"No. When have you ever known me to joke about such matters, Ash?" Adder said. "Still, we're going against near-impossible odds. But remember we are the elite of Vacuo tank force. At Hamaroft did were we not the weapon that banished their Tank Ace Whilt? At Al Tamir was it not us that crushed the 2nd armor corps? And just three nights ago was it not us that held back ten times our number?"
Edan rolled his eyes. The Captain had a habit of bragging about his tank crew and admittedly had every right to.
"Well, sir," Ashdod said. "As long as you and Pride are with us, we'll fight a hundred thousand tanks if we have to."
"Good to hear. Alright. Let's go through the start-up checklist. The last thing I want is Pride breaking down halfway to the battle." Adder reached under his fold-out seat and brought up a battered steel clipboard. "Bishop? What's on your ned?"
"Control hydraulics are working as smoothly as the day they came off the line. Coolant and fuel are at acceptable levels. No leaks. Transmission covers are down and the I ran maintenance yesterday so we could drive all the way to Vale to see their beaches if you want to. Our engine is warm and ready to go. You can thank this guy for actually making sure we can actually get where we want in the first place."
"Thank you, Bishop. Alright, Edan how's the turret feeling?"
"All systems normal sir. Traverse and elevation of the gun are intact." He depressed the right pedal at her feet slightly and the turret swung in that direction. "Can't tell if anything wrong. Optics are good as well. Clear. I could cut the wings off the fly a mile off."
"I'm sure you could. Last and final, Ash?"
"The radio systems are fine and dandy, sir. External and internal lights are intact and our electrical systems are all in full charge. Gun breech is clean and clear."
"Are our extinguishers sealed and full?"
Ashdod checked the meter right next to the red canisters on the floor. "Shit. Sorry, cap, they're only half-filled. I should have gotten them replaced but in the midst of all this sudden hustle and bustle, I must have forgotten. Sorry..."
"Damn." Addas frowned. "Nevermind, we'll be fine. Just have to play this a little smarter then."
"Yeah. The last thing I want is to experience what the roasted pork felt in its last minutes during last night's barbeque." Edan said, earning him another jab in the shoulder from Ashod.
"That's everything." Addas put the clipboard back into the basket. He snatched his kevlar helmet off its hook and strapped it tight to his skull. Tapping the mic attached, he said, "We're set, Bishop. Move us down to the road and stop there. Apparently, Colonel Sage intends on giving us a speech before we move out."
The floor lurched forward, almost throwing Ashod off balance but she seated herself in her fold-out seat next to the gun. "Easy on the gear, Bishop."
"Sure, darling."
Addas shook his head and sighed. He basically had children. He needed fresh air and poked his head out of the copula, feeling the dry wind buffet against his dark skin. The tank rolled out the gate and turned onto the main road that leaded west to the war. Already on the horizon, he could see pillars of smoke, so many they seemed to form a solid dark wall that stretched for hundreds of kilometers in each direction. Downwind, he could hear the distant and soft crump of detonations. No doubt they were coming closer.
He swiveled his head about. It looked like the entire regiment was indeed being deployed. The road was thick with armor of all types, from the Vouco ultra-heavy behemoths that were easily the size of small houses to the compact but swift tankettes of the Valeans equipped with their small but deadly Needle ATGM. Mechanized troops mounted their APCs, making small talk with other passing units.
Addas shielded his eyes as he scanned the skies. If any Mantle attack craft turned up, it would be a massacre. At the front, he spotted a small figure in a dark yellow overcoat rise up and stand tall on the turret of the Sovremenny-class command tank.
He had a speaker in his right hand and a scroll in his other. His booming voice soon came. "The Queen has made a decree which I will read henceforth. 'The enemy dares to approach us and you are all about to begin the most decisive moments of your life. The Mantlian invaders have lost thousands of tanks, hundreds of their cursed bombers, and nearly a million lives in their bid for a quick victory in the first weeks. They have failed. Their brutalized hordes now advance over a mountain of their own dead. Now, they dare to make a last bid for conquest, a last dying twitch from the corpse that is their war machine. You, soldiers of Vacuo, will be the bulwark against which the enemy will break and shatter upon. You, warriors of Vale, will be the instrument of vengeance that shall punish Mantle for their violations of your land, of your people. Perhaps before all of this, we fought brave men and women just like us. Now, we are putting down animals. But make no mistake, ferals may still bite.'"
There was a pause as Sage stopped as if he was still taking in the words that followed. The air was unbelievable still as thousands of men waited in anticipation.
"'Even as their campaign of murder and looting comes to a close, the invaders deserve no quarter, no mercy, no compromise. So hear me this: do not count days, do not count miles, count only the number of Mantlians you have killed! Kill the Mantlian - this is your mother's prayer. Kill the Mantlian - this is the cry of the sand beneath your feet. Kill the Mantlian - this is my decree. Do not waver! Do not let up! Kill! Death to the Mantle invader!'"
"DEATH TO THE MANTLE INVADER!" The cry came echoing back, drowning out even the sound of roaring engines, reverberating effortlessly through inches of rolled steel, and shaking multi-ton vehicles.
"Long like the Warrior-King and the Queen!" The Valean contingent shouted.
"LONG LIVE THE WARRIOR-KING AND THE QUEEN." They all screamed united as one voice.