if a sequel quest is made, do hope it will be a one were we expand into unexplored space, and maybe meet long lost humans would went out and maybe aliens, or that Helghan gets TP to a other vers after a few years and we get to pick some tech from the tech trees at the start of the new quest
The Lords of Ruin -- Battletech/Killzone
- Thread starter prometheus110
- Start date
- Crossover
Omega-Chris
The Friendly Ghost
We likely will do some more exploring outside of the standard politicking as most internal development will likely occur during the timeskip leaving AP free to invest in exploration and colonization.
I hope we encounter a planet/nation that never developed mechs and instead went hard on vehicle development resulting in some military culture shock when we first encounter them.
Man I hope not as that would cause the entirety of the Helgan Republic and ORDI to collapse as Helghan is a linchpin that keeps the pushing the other nations into cooperating and is a major part of ORDI's economy. Basically everything we put so much effort creating in this quest would vanish without us.
Instead maybe a nation, power or faction from a different series get's teleported into the sequel and we have to deal with them alongside all the other Innersphere powers. Though this is unlikely.
- Location
- Nice try
Well the ORDI is far likely to devolve into infighting between Helghan and CapCon.
Alternativly ORDI may become the Helghan Empire 2.0, after all the Imperialist faction is gaining more and more attraction.
Omega-Chris
The Friendly Ghost
Depends if CapCom objectives don't align with ours but with the growing Democracy movement in the CapCom I don't think that we will have opposite objectives.
Heck maybe by the time of the sequel the Capellans will have reformed into a democracy proper.
- Location
- Nice try
Well CapCon is a Suscessor State and they also want to restores the Star League. So regardless if they are friendly or not they still want to unify the Inner Sphere with them on power. So it's very likely they will try to use ORDI combined power to do so.
Heck due to the Helghan uses cyberntics is also likely the FWL will take a issue against us since this is a big no-no for them.
- Location
- SEAsia
- Pronouns
- Thou
I suggest you actually read the quest first before you put your money on such an obsolete statement.
Yea doing exploration and colonization would be something that i would want to do, let the other factions fight for the same old worlds and we get new ones along with what else could be found out in the unknown
Our vehicle development is not that bad, so it would have to be something unique like our MAWLRs
if the rest of Helgan Republic and ORDI cant stay around if Helghan gets TP again, then really, its not gonna be our problem as we will have left and they can sort out there own mess
- Location
- Nice try
I did, nothing says that House Liao has given up from they ambition. They agree to become more lax when comes to they people, likely to appease they new allies, and are using ORDI resources to rebuild they country after the last war.
However CapCo specializes in unconventinal tactics and strategies to survive they neighboors and overcome them. The idea of allying themselves to Peryphery powers may be odd to the other Suscessor States but it's very much on brand with them if gives CapCo a edge.
Now if they can take over Helghan place as the power behind the ORDI, they pretty much can add some of the premier powers of the Peryphery on they side but more importan they technology.
I pretty sure a CapCo commander would love to get they hands on a MAWLR and in the coming years CapCo probably will try to come with they own version of that mech.
0t4n1z3r019
Member of the HAFPTG
- Location
- Philippines
Man, we're one update away from the quest's end.
And if there's a sequel, hope it's centered on exploring whoever's out in the Deep Periphery.
And if there's a sequel, hope it's centered on exploring whoever's out in the Deep Periphery.
Omega-Chris
The Friendly Ghost
Not directly but it is implied. After all Tormano was always more interested in making the lives of the confederations people easier over any dreams of conquest or restoring the Star League. It's probably the reason why he opted to join ORDI besides securing his nation better as getting access to the ORDI markets means more cash to put into helping the people. Heck the fact that he is allowing the democracy movement to remain at all is heavily implying he may be looking to transition the Confederation to a democracy ending his families rule after hundreds of years.
I doubt it after all the Republic and ORDI in general hasn't made any hostile moves against the FWL. And while the FWL might not like cybernetics they don't really care if anyone outside of their nation uses them and it's definitely not something they would go to war over. They would need more justification to go to war with ORDI and with us likely focusing on strengthening relations with the League to prevent war during the timeskip it's unlikely they will go to war with us.
In their current state it's unlikely they will reach that point. While Helghan will begin diminishing as the power behind ORDI do to lack of population the Taurians and Canopians who also have very robust economies now thanks to our help and industrial build up so they will pick up the slack. Especially with some highly capable leaders at the helm.
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Darik29
Verified Delicious
Question.
Will there be a MAWLR at Lyndon?
Because it feels like a massive crying shame if we don't have a giant, Giant fucking robot present to be the Goliath for the Clan Davids to throw themselves at.
Edit: Hell, the Clarion Cry was brought home for repairs, i figure shipping it to Lyndon seems like an Excellent target to focus the Clans at.
Will there be a MAWLR at Lyndon?
Because it feels like a massive crying shame if we don't have a giant, Giant fucking robot present to be the Goliath for the Clan Davids to throw themselves at.
Edit: Hell, the Clarion Cry was brought home for repairs, i figure shipping it to Lyndon seems like an Excellent target to focus the Clans at.
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Omega-Chris
The Friendly Ghost
Unfortunately no we couldn't train Comstar in operating the MAWLR before the gambit began and it wasn't allowed for our forces to operate it as they are not Comstar troops. Also had Comstar used a MAWLR in the gambit the clans would have used warships which is a overall net negative for Comstar even with the MAWLR.
Our guys don't trust other people with them and that it takes a long time to train people on how to actually use it at all.
Darik29
Verified Delicious
Aren't MAWLR's capable of fully autonomous operation?
I remember in game, even the original MAWLR was still able to fight even after it lost all of its crew.
That said, one being present and allowing Clan to bring Warships in is a bad strategy, even if i desperately wish to see one of them in the big battle.
Regardless, fun times ahead!
I remember in game, even the original MAWLR was still able to fight even after it lost all of its crew.
That said, one being present and allowing Clan to bring Warships in is a bad strategy, even if i desperately wish to see one of them in the big battle.
Regardless, fun times ahead!
A autonomous death robot is one hack away from killing a lot of cities before it is put down.....
F0lkL0re
Officially not an Inquisitor
- Location
- Shetland
Didn't we make them swear off their ambitions of taking the first lord seat as a condition of joining ORDI.
Crake
I AM THE STORM THAT IS APPROACHING
- Location
- USA
Yes. Because we did admittedly host similar worries over a decade ago.
The Capellan Confederation's time to vie for imperialistic ambitions is gone. Their citizenry has shifted from warring for Great House honor. If anything, any existing nationalism in the Confederation springs from a desire to protect and uphold the rights provided to them by the dissolution of the caste system.
So they've shifted more towards Civic Nationalism?
The Battle of Lyndon - Part One
prometheus110
Join Cayman-Global & be part of the 1E-9 percent!
- Location
- La Ballena City Raft
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Note: I'll be releasing these parts as I write them as it turned out to be a lot harder to figure out how to communicate the events of the Battle of Lyndon than I thought it'd be going into them. I know what the outcome is and how costly it was to achieve, but getting it all in a single story is both difficult and time consuming, so I'm trying something that should get the broad points across without killing me.
Tl;dr: Endings are hard.
Mount Oliver, Dover, Lyndon
ComStar Intervention Zone, Lyran Commonwealth
7 May 3051 (Day 1 of the Battle of Lyndon)
Tremulous sunlight bathed Anastasius Focht in a wan golden phosphorescence, the once-blazing luminance of Lyndon's primary reduced to a reedy glow by latitude and season; the spit of fire visible on the horizon as high as the winter sun would rise over Hikes Point for the next three months. Stretching out below as far as the eye could see and moving slowly as he drifted on the breeze, the stark white beauty of the Williamsburg Ice Sheet was marred only by the presence of ComGuard units making their final preparations for the impending battle, Focht's godlike remove unable to disguise the cold-blooded diligence of those busy planting explosives over the featureless expanse of snow. Commanding his aerospotter drone to turn into the wind as it began to pick up, the would-have-been-Archon cast a knowing eye seaward and ordered the drone's camera to refocus with a blink, his reward a slate grey cloud wall that stretched from one end of the sky to the other.
It would be tight, Focht thought as meteorological data appeared in the corner of his eye, the endless numbers scrolling past almost too quickly to read, but his ComGuard would be ready.
Even as he had the thought, a cluster of ant-like figures below scattered in all directions—their fur-lined armour quickly rendering them invisible amidst the wind-sculpted drifts.
Giving a non-commital grunt as he spotted a converted bowser truck crawling towards the site, the supreme commander of ComStar's military reached overhead and pulled down on empty air, a halo constructed of the myriad views from his observers flicking into being around him.
"Precentor Gesicki's troops have two hours before the blizzard hits them," he said to no one in particular, trusting in the quiet efficiency of his headquarters staff to put his words into motion. "Inform her that she has an hour to finish her work at most."
Eying one view from the whirlwind of colour surrounding him, Focht selected it with a finger twitch. Seated in his headquarters dug out beneath Mount Oliver, the Interactive Construct Reality suit he wore translated the gesture into a command and brought the promised world into existence around him, the hovering panel transporting him to Sulphur Gorge in the blink of an eye. Previously a bird on the wing, he now stood as a man on the shoulder of a white-painted Marauder, his simulated feet held steady against the swaying gait of the titanic war machine as it strode across the black and yellow landscape.
"Confirm, command," came its pilot's voice as command links established themselves, a text box identifying her as Adept Larsson. "We have Clanners dropping nearby. Estimates put them landing at fifty clicks north-north-east."
Staring through borrowed eyes, Focht watched as the spotted DropShips fell through Lyndon's atmosphere with the grace of hurled bricks. Their hulls glowing a dull orange from reentry and blue-white fusion flame scouring the air beneath them, the trio of spherical dropships shed their excess velocity with remarkable aplomb, the broad columns of sulphur dioxide that spewed from the ground rendering the vast machines flimsy and insubstantial as they began to drift in the sky.
Unasked for but far from unwelcome, another panel appeared before him that listed the ships as belonging to the Jade Falcons, a mosaic of pictures from orbital assets revealing the namesake animal painted across the dropships' hulls. If the Clanners were attempting to deceive ComStar as to where they were deploying their forces—already an unlikely possibility—the presence of a Clan totem on the dropships fully buried it. Terra would turn over a thousand times before any Clan would accept their symbols being used in such a manner.
Narrowing his eyes as he tracked the Jade Falcons' descent, Focht again said to no one in particular, "I estimate sixty-five to seventy; same direction. Expected contact within two hours."
Focht opened a communication link as the mech beneath his feet continued its patrol, the bleak landscape rolling by with every step. "Precentor Clarkson, please withdraw your scouts to phase line Alpha."
"My troops are unafraid, Precentor-Martial." The Rasalhaugian Precentor replied calmly. "The Ursus will hold the gorge."
Focht smiled despite himself. "I do not doubt they could, Precentor. However, you are facing Jade Falcons and a Cluster of them, at least. As you will recall, they are proud warriors and easily led because of it. You have a full complement of support assets. Use them as we have planned and bloody their noses."
"Yes, sir," Berend Clarkson replied equanimously before breaking off.
A moment later, the Marauder beneath Focht's feet slowed to a halt, then began retreating the way it came.
Just as quickly, Berend returned. "I have done as you have commanded, Precentor-Martial. Though the Ursus would rather crush them in the field, we will strike them as a cat would: batting at them from every angle and forcing them to waste their energies chasing shadows."
"Very good. We'll speak again before the day is done, Berend."
"Ja, I look forward to it."
Reaching overhead once more, Focht selected a blank panel from the faceted halo that hovered about him and exited the sulphurous nightmare with a gesture. Suddenly surrounded by a featureless grey expanse, Focht gave another gesture, and a hovering panel flashed to life before him, a familiar man appearing within it a moment later.
"At your service, Precentor Martial."
"I need an update, Hettig." Focht opened his arms. "I have the Jade Falcons landing now near Sulphur Gorge, and the Coyotes have already landed near Hikes Point. Both are roughly where we predicted they'd be. Do we have updated landing sites for the rest?"
"Yes, sir," the commtech replied as he glanced offscreen. "Precentor Morgenstern has the Diamond Sharks headed for drop site Bravo near Waterroot Swamp; ETA thirty minutes. Clan Fire Mandrill is on a vector for Shakes Run within the same timeframe; sites Alpha and Charlie."
Strange to split their forces so, Anastasius thought before dismissing the thought. Or perhaps not so strange. They were the Fire Mandrills, and they had a reputation to live down to.
"And the rest?"
The chief commtech nodded.
"The Goliath Scorpions are three hours out from landing, but it appears that they're headed for Windwall Ridge. From there, they'll have a straight shot to the grazing plateaus and could move to support the other clans. Meanwhile, the Ghost Bears, Steel Vipers, and Nova Cats look set to land in the badlands, Bernheim, and Tallow Creek gorges."
"That just leaves the salt flats and Toledo."
"Affirmative, sir." Hettig agreed. "Neither the Snow Ravens nor the Wolves have committed yet, though I expect that IlKhan Crichell has ordered it so."
The Precentor-Martial gave a soft hum. He had met the Crichell only briefly, but he wouldn't put such an act past the IlKhan. Aside from serving to punish both the most successful Clan in the invasion and the Jade Falcon's hated rival, respectively, such carefully controlled frustration would doubtlessly drive their warriors to new heights of bloodlust in their quest for glory.
However, before he could voice the thought, a bell chime intruded on Focht's awareness with the subtlety of a gong, the piercing noise rolling over the featureless plain like thunder.
"Thank you for the update, Mr. Hettig," the Precentor-Martial said as he silenced the sound with a gesture. "Please order all frontline units to full readiness and distribute FALCHION orders. I want our reserves ready to intervene when the Wolves and Ravens make their move."
"Of course, Precentor. I look forward to it."
"You are not alone in that," Focht said evenly. Like many of Focht's ComGuard, Hettig had trained for years to defend Blake's holy world from the ravages of the Great Houses and never had cause to use those skills. Perhaps the best-equipped fighting force in the Inner Sphere, the ComGuard had finally found an excuse to demonstrate their capabilities with the return of the SLDF and relished the thought to a person.
Giving the CommTech a curt nod, the ComStar war leader flicked the floating screen away in favour of another, a heavyset bearded man peering back at him through the familiar look of a secure line.
"Precentor Focht."
"Primus Everson."
A pregnant silence held between them for a long moment, then snapped.
"How goes the war, Anastasius?"
The white-haired general cocked his head askew. "It has yet to begin in earnest, Ulthan. In truth, I expect it will be some hours before the first shots are exchanged in anger and more before the first major engagements."
Despite the lightyears between them, Precentor-Martial on Lyndon and Primus on Earth, the real-time HPG link carried his reply with remarkable speed, the corners of the Primus' watery blue eyes tightening at Focht's words.
"I was afraid you would say that," Primus Everson replied as he slowly stroked his beard. "And the guard? Are they prepared?"
"We are ready to give our lives if that's what it will take to end this hideous invasion," Anastasius replied, his voice grave and grey eyes flashing. "I will never say never, but unless the Clans pull another trick out from under their hat—one they haven't used against the outer rim alliance or Great Houses—it will not come to that."
Once, not so long ago, Tharkad's former Precentor had boasted a bushy berm of jet-black hair; the impressive facial feature made the man seem twenty years his junior. Now, though, time and stress had conspired to turn the vital feature into a forest of steel-grey strands, the occasional white strand on the Primus' lapis lazuli robes promising yet more changes in the future.
"Our strategy is sound, and our troops are well-trained and eager for battle. With eight armies on Lyndon, we have more than enough forces to seize control of the selected battlegrounds and reserves enough to respond to any unexpected thrusts or emergencies."
The large man on the other end of the screen seemed to pause as Focht explained the sheer number of resources available to him, one hand frozen halfway through stroking his beard as he absorbed the information. Then, like a spring slowly unwinding, Ulthan relaxed fractionally, his limpid eyes never leaving Focht's.
"I shall not keep you overlong," the Primus said after another lengthy pause. "I merely called to wish the soldiers of Blake good fortune in their struggle. When they ride to battle, the hopes of all within the Inner Sphere ride with them."
"It is a thought we will all take great comfort in," Focht replied diplomatically.
Ulthan gave a loud snort, the air of decorum shattering. Seeing Focht's expression, ComStar's Primus waved a hand and seemed to deflate.
"I spent the entirety of last night trying to come up with a speech to give to the troops to bolster morale, and that's the furthest I could get every time. After that, it all turned into the kind of drivel you see in tri-vids."
Focht felt a grin slip past his guard, a huff of amusement escaping soon after.
Once upon a time, their relationship had been... fractious. Tense. Prior to his elevation as Primus, Ulthan Everson had struck Anastasius as a pliant nobody—a toady that'd follow whoever seemed strongest or could threaten him the most. After Tiepolo's heart attack, however, the man had seemed to grow into his role as if born to it, some internal characteristic seeming to crystalise under the pressure Everson had been placed under.
"You have scriptwriters, Ulthan. I know you do. Get one of them to do it."
The Tharkad native shrugged idly.
"I do, and they're good, but they're speechwriters for peacetime. They've been at their wit's end for the past year coming up with things to say when half the Inner Sphere's on fire and the other half is charging them for water. I'd rather hoped that 'cometh the hour, cometh the man' was more than just a FedSun phrase, but..."
Ulthan trailed off with a half-hearted shrug.
Focht nodded. "I understand. However, at this juncture, I believe a speech would be unnecessary. The enemy has landed on Lyndon and placed themselves before our troops. That and the knowledge their actions will determine the fate of Terra will be all the encouragement they need to fight to the best of their ability."
The Primus sighed slowly, his blue robes shifting as he leaned backwards.
"If you're confident the ComGuard will carry the day, I will follow suit. It will carry the day."
Focht was. More or less, anyway.
More so than anyone else on Lyndon, Anastasius Focht was certain that his strategy would carry the day, provided that the various units that comprised the ComGuard on Lyndon completed his orders. On Lyndon, one Clan landing area had been assigned to each of the eight armies that made up ComStar's presence, the least experienced of which could doubtlessly manhandle any similar force from among the Inner Sphere houses bar, maybe, that of the Confederation and its allies. Designed on the lines of ComStar's unique hex-based unit structure, each of the armies was composed of six component divisions, themselves broken down into six battalions of six demi-companies or lances, each level of which was given a decreasing number starting at five for the army itself.
Further, as with the Periphery's increasingly capable militaries, the ComGuards were organised into combined-arms units whose soldiers fought as a unified whole rather than as disparate elements jockeying for status. Through relentless training and not a bit of social manipulation, Focht had succeeded in obliterating the usual jealousies that existed between branches—or minimised them, at the very least—and had transformed the ComGuard into a potent military force made all the more deadly by royal-grade equipment and purchases from the Free Worlds League and the Helghan Republic.
"If that is all..."
A smile split the Primus' face at Anastasius' prodding, his eyes lightening for the first time since the man had appeared on Focht's ghostly screen.
"I understand, Anastasius. Much doubtlessly weighs on your mind, and I don't need to remind you of the stakes. I will leave you to your battles and see you on the other side. Auf wiedersehen, my friend."
Bidding Everson a quiet goodbye, Anastasius Focht stared out at the hazy grey expanse for a long moment before, without any fuss, reaching overhead and pulling yet another battlefield down around himself.
Tl;dr: Endings are hard.
Mount Oliver, Dover, Lyndon
ComStar Intervention Zone, Lyran Commonwealth
7 May 3051 (Day 1 of the Battle of Lyndon)
Tremulous sunlight bathed Anastasius Focht in a wan golden phosphorescence, the once-blazing luminance of Lyndon's primary reduced to a reedy glow by latitude and season; the spit of fire visible on the horizon as high as the winter sun would rise over Hikes Point for the next three months. Stretching out below as far as the eye could see and moving slowly as he drifted on the breeze, the stark white beauty of the Williamsburg Ice Sheet was marred only by the presence of ComGuard units making their final preparations for the impending battle, Focht's godlike remove unable to disguise the cold-blooded diligence of those busy planting explosives over the featureless expanse of snow. Commanding his aerospotter drone to turn into the wind as it began to pick up, the would-have-been-Archon cast a knowing eye seaward and ordered the drone's camera to refocus with a blink, his reward a slate grey cloud wall that stretched from one end of the sky to the other.
It would be tight, Focht thought as meteorological data appeared in the corner of his eye, the endless numbers scrolling past almost too quickly to read, but his ComGuard would be ready.
Even as he had the thought, a cluster of ant-like figures below scattered in all directions—their fur-lined armour quickly rendering them invisible amidst the wind-sculpted drifts.
Giving a non-commital grunt as he spotted a converted bowser truck crawling towards the site, the supreme commander of ComStar's military reached overhead and pulled down on empty air, a halo constructed of the myriad views from his observers flicking into being around him.
"Precentor Gesicki's troops have two hours before the blizzard hits them," he said to no one in particular, trusting in the quiet efficiency of his headquarters staff to put his words into motion. "Inform her that she has an hour to finish her work at most."
Eying one view from the whirlwind of colour surrounding him, Focht selected it with a finger twitch. Seated in his headquarters dug out beneath Mount Oliver, the Interactive Construct Reality suit he wore translated the gesture into a command and brought the promised world into existence around him, the hovering panel transporting him to Sulphur Gorge in the blink of an eye. Previously a bird on the wing, he now stood as a man on the shoulder of a white-painted Marauder, his simulated feet held steady against the swaying gait of the titanic war machine as it strode across the black and yellow landscape.
"Confirm, command," came its pilot's voice as command links established themselves, a text box identifying her as Adept Larsson. "We have Clanners dropping nearby. Estimates put them landing at fifty clicks north-north-east."
Staring through borrowed eyes, Focht watched as the spotted DropShips fell through Lyndon's atmosphere with the grace of hurled bricks. Their hulls glowing a dull orange from reentry and blue-white fusion flame scouring the air beneath them, the trio of spherical dropships shed their excess velocity with remarkable aplomb, the broad columns of sulphur dioxide that spewed from the ground rendering the vast machines flimsy and insubstantial as they began to drift in the sky.
Unasked for but far from unwelcome, another panel appeared before him that listed the ships as belonging to the Jade Falcons, a mosaic of pictures from orbital assets revealing the namesake animal painted across the dropships' hulls. If the Clanners were attempting to deceive ComStar as to where they were deploying their forces—already an unlikely possibility—the presence of a Clan totem on the dropships fully buried it. Terra would turn over a thousand times before any Clan would accept their symbols being used in such a manner.
Narrowing his eyes as he tracked the Jade Falcons' descent, Focht again said to no one in particular, "I estimate sixty-five to seventy; same direction. Expected contact within two hours."
Focht opened a communication link as the mech beneath his feet continued its patrol, the bleak landscape rolling by with every step. "Precentor Clarkson, please withdraw your scouts to phase line Alpha."
"My troops are unafraid, Precentor-Martial." The Rasalhaugian Precentor replied calmly. "The Ursus will hold the gorge."
Focht smiled despite himself. "I do not doubt they could, Precentor. However, you are facing Jade Falcons and a Cluster of them, at least. As you will recall, they are proud warriors and easily led because of it. You have a full complement of support assets. Use them as we have planned and bloody their noses."
"Yes, sir," Berend Clarkson replied equanimously before breaking off.
A moment later, the Marauder beneath Focht's feet slowed to a halt, then began retreating the way it came.
Just as quickly, Berend returned. "I have done as you have commanded, Precentor-Martial. Though the Ursus would rather crush them in the field, we will strike them as a cat would: batting at them from every angle and forcing them to waste their energies chasing shadows."
"Very good. We'll speak again before the day is done, Berend."
"Ja, I look forward to it."
Reaching overhead once more, Focht selected a blank panel from the faceted halo that hovered about him and exited the sulphurous nightmare with a gesture. Suddenly surrounded by a featureless grey expanse, Focht gave another gesture, and a hovering panel flashed to life before him, a familiar man appearing within it a moment later.
"At your service, Precentor Martial."
"I need an update, Hettig." Focht opened his arms. "I have the Jade Falcons landing now near Sulphur Gorge, and the Coyotes have already landed near Hikes Point. Both are roughly where we predicted they'd be. Do we have updated landing sites for the rest?"
"Yes, sir," the commtech replied as he glanced offscreen. "Precentor Morgenstern has the Diamond Sharks headed for drop site Bravo near Waterroot Swamp; ETA thirty minutes. Clan Fire Mandrill is on a vector for Shakes Run within the same timeframe; sites Alpha and Charlie."
Strange to split their forces so, Anastasius thought before dismissing the thought. Or perhaps not so strange. They were the Fire Mandrills, and they had a reputation to live down to.
"And the rest?"
The chief commtech nodded.
"The Goliath Scorpions are three hours out from landing, but it appears that they're headed for Windwall Ridge. From there, they'll have a straight shot to the grazing plateaus and could move to support the other clans. Meanwhile, the Ghost Bears, Steel Vipers, and Nova Cats look set to land in the badlands, Bernheim, and Tallow Creek gorges."
"That just leaves the salt flats and Toledo."
"Affirmative, sir." Hettig agreed. "Neither the Snow Ravens nor the Wolves have committed yet, though I expect that IlKhan Crichell has ordered it so."
The Precentor-Martial gave a soft hum. He had met the Crichell only briefly, but he wouldn't put such an act past the IlKhan. Aside from serving to punish both the most successful Clan in the invasion and the Jade Falcon's hated rival, respectively, such carefully controlled frustration would doubtlessly drive their warriors to new heights of bloodlust in their quest for glory.
However, before he could voice the thought, a bell chime intruded on Focht's awareness with the subtlety of a gong, the piercing noise rolling over the featureless plain like thunder.
"Thank you for the update, Mr. Hettig," the Precentor-Martial said as he silenced the sound with a gesture. "Please order all frontline units to full readiness and distribute FALCHION orders. I want our reserves ready to intervene when the Wolves and Ravens make their move."
"Of course, Precentor. I look forward to it."
"You are not alone in that," Focht said evenly. Like many of Focht's ComGuard, Hettig had trained for years to defend Blake's holy world from the ravages of the Great Houses and never had cause to use those skills. Perhaps the best-equipped fighting force in the Inner Sphere, the ComGuard had finally found an excuse to demonstrate their capabilities with the return of the SLDF and relished the thought to a person.
Giving the CommTech a curt nod, the ComStar war leader flicked the floating screen away in favour of another, a heavyset bearded man peering back at him through the familiar look of a secure line.
"Precentor Focht."
"Primus Everson."
A pregnant silence held between them for a long moment, then snapped.
"How goes the war, Anastasius?"
The white-haired general cocked his head askew. "It has yet to begin in earnest, Ulthan. In truth, I expect it will be some hours before the first shots are exchanged in anger and more before the first major engagements."
Despite the lightyears between them, Precentor-Martial on Lyndon and Primus on Earth, the real-time HPG link carried his reply with remarkable speed, the corners of the Primus' watery blue eyes tightening at Focht's words.
"I was afraid you would say that," Primus Everson replied as he slowly stroked his beard. "And the guard? Are they prepared?"
"We are ready to give our lives if that's what it will take to end this hideous invasion," Anastasius replied, his voice grave and grey eyes flashing. "I will never say never, but unless the Clans pull another trick out from under their hat—one they haven't used against the outer rim alliance or Great Houses—it will not come to that."
Once, not so long ago, Tharkad's former Precentor had boasted a bushy berm of jet-black hair; the impressive facial feature made the man seem twenty years his junior. Now, though, time and stress had conspired to turn the vital feature into a forest of steel-grey strands, the occasional white strand on the Primus' lapis lazuli robes promising yet more changes in the future.
"Our strategy is sound, and our troops are well-trained and eager for battle. With eight armies on Lyndon, we have more than enough forces to seize control of the selected battlegrounds and reserves enough to respond to any unexpected thrusts or emergencies."
The large man on the other end of the screen seemed to pause as Focht explained the sheer number of resources available to him, one hand frozen halfway through stroking his beard as he absorbed the information. Then, like a spring slowly unwinding, Ulthan relaxed fractionally, his limpid eyes never leaving Focht's.
"I shall not keep you overlong," the Primus said after another lengthy pause. "I merely called to wish the soldiers of Blake good fortune in their struggle. When they ride to battle, the hopes of all within the Inner Sphere ride with them."
"It is a thought we will all take great comfort in," Focht replied diplomatically.
Ulthan gave a loud snort, the air of decorum shattering. Seeing Focht's expression, ComStar's Primus waved a hand and seemed to deflate.
"I spent the entirety of last night trying to come up with a speech to give to the troops to bolster morale, and that's the furthest I could get every time. After that, it all turned into the kind of drivel you see in tri-vids."
Focht felt a grin slip past his guard, a huff of amusement escaping soon after.
Once upon a time, their relationship had been... fractious. Tense. Prior to his elevation as Primus, Ulthan Everson had struck Anastasius as a pliant nobody—a toady that'd follow whoever seemed strongest or could threaten him the most. After Tiepolo's heart attack, however, the man had seemed to grow into his role as if born to it, some internal characteristic seeming to crystalise under the pressure Everson had been placed under.
"You have scriptwriters, Ulthan. I know you do. Get one of them to do it."
The Tharkad native shrugged idly.
"I do, and they're good, but they're speechwriters for peacetime. They've been at their wit's end for the past year coming up with things to say when half the Inner Sphere's on fire and the other half is charging them for water. I'd rather hoped that 'cometh the hour, cometh the man' was more than just a FedSun phrase, but..."
Ulthan trailed off with a half-hearted shrug.
Focht nodded. "I understand. However, at this juncture, I believe a speech would be unnecessary. The enemy has landed on Lyndon and placed themselves before our troops. That and the knowledge their actions will determine the fate of Terra will be all the encouragement they need to fight to the best of their ability."
The Primus sighed slowly, his blue robes shifting as he leaned backwards.
"If you're confident the ComGuard will carry the day, I will follow suit. It will carry the day."
Focht was. More or less, anyway.
More so than anyone else on Lyndon, Anastasius Focht was certain that his strategy would carry the day, provided that the various units that comprised the ComGuard on Lyndon completed his orders. On Lyndon, one Clan landing area had been assigned to each of the eight armies that made up ComStar's presence, the least experienced of which could doubtlessly manhandle any similar force from among the Inner Sphere houses bar, maybe, that of the Confederation and its allies. Designed on the lines of ComStar's unique hex-based unit structure, each of the armies was composed of six component divisions, themselves broken down into six battalions of six demi-companies or lances, each level of which was given a decreasing number starting at five for the army itself.
Further, as with the Periphery's increasingly capable militaries, the ComGuards were organised into combined-arms units whose soldiers fought as a unified whole rather than as disparate elements jockeying for status. Through relentless training and not a bit of social manipulation, Focht had succeeded in obliterating the usual jealousies that existed between branches—or minimised them, at the very least—and had transformed the ComGuard into a potent military force made all the more deadly by royal-grade equipment and purchases from the Free Worlds League and the Helghan Republic.
"If that is all..."
A smile split the Primus' face at Anastasius' prodding, his eyes lightening for the first time since the man had appeared on Focht's ghostly screen.
"I understand, Anastasius. Much doubtlessly weighs on your mind, and I don't need to remind you of the stakes. I will leave you to your battles and see you on the other side. Auf wiedersehen, my friend."
Bidding Everson a quiet goodbye, Anastasius Focht stared out at the hazy grey expanse for a long moment before, without any fuss, reaching overhead and pulling yet another battlefield down around himself.
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Look if that's the hill you wanna die on, then go ahead.
I can picture at least one Helghan politician screaming about how the Cappies are gonna stab us in the back. Even as Tormano starts giving more power to the humble masses. Partly cause it's what his wife is implied to prefer, partly cause it further cements the rest of ORDI's support for his regime, and partly because it's a heady feeling to be held up us as a hero by the base citizens.
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ordinarly I would worry about how a completely unblooded army would fair but given canon I'm not too concerned.
Omega-Chris
The Friendly Ghost
And so the die is cast. We can only hope that ComStar will pull out the win. Blake speed you glorious bastards.
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Ohhh blooded can be one way of describing what they're about to become.
On a completely unrelated note, some businessman probs would have made a tidy profit investing in funerary services on Terra right about now...
And it seems Prom's implying that things have turned out not too differently from canon in terms of the overall results.
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