Worluk, the planet found within the gap of dimensions, a fantastical world which only attained its current material texture about 40,000 years ago. This is the place of wonders where the Essence of magic permeates everything and people from different parts of the multiverse converge. A place of miracles and terrors where the power of Order and Chaos are at a perpetual war. A world with countless cultures of mixed heritage, a world where true peace is a rare treasure. Especially now. Worluk always received visitors from different worlds but ever since the last Icecrown Constellation factions from all across the multiverse are popping up one after another. Worluk is rapidly changing.
This is Year 15 of the first day of month Prima, in the 40th Cycle.
With the guidance of their glorious emperor the Japanese Empire was well on its way to conquer the entire Earth when they made a surprising discovery. Excavated from the depths of the Egyptian desert the British were working on a miraculous piece of technology. It was a gateway, with its mouth leading straight to a whole new world. Japan at the brink of conquering their own world are now making plans to setting foot on the next. For the purposes of exploring this new world and determine its readiness for colonization scientists, engineers, craftsmen, workers supported by the 27th "Kyoku" Infantry Division had journeyed past the gates to reach the mysterious world of Worluk.
From the hot sand filled lands of Egypt they were suddenly transported to the freezing cold tundras of Krogath, north of the Zhilian continent. The workers assisted by the common soldiers quickly began to make their first temporary settlement. As the previous reports said there was nobody in 25km radius of the gate. Just wild animals in the nearby forest. Few relatively uneventful days passed. Scientists measured the water, the soil, the atmosphere. They found no anomalies compared to the Earth. Albeit they did make two observations. First, the days were obviously longer, roughly equal to 36 hours. Second, based on the distance of the horizon they estimated the circumference of this planet to be about 70,000 km. That is almost twice of the Earth! In spite of that gravity, density of soil and all the other parameters were indistinguishable from their home planet. Given current scientific knowledge such thing would be impossible but for the layman these discoveries were irrelevant. They were more occupied with Sergant Yamaguchi's amazing tale about a wolf with the size of a small horse. Many doubted the old man's story but regardless were entertained for the night.
Next day was when all hell broke loose. Scouts at the perimeter report the appearance of enemy tanks. They are British Cromwell tanks, Russian T-34s and even M4 Shermans from America! They are heading straight for base camp and their total count was 30. Did their enemies plan a combined ambush on them? Where are the infantry? Do they really think mere 30 tanks can defeat an entire division? Why are a few of these tanks painted so weird? These questions seemed irrelevant compared to the immediate threat.
Hope, that's what humanity needs, that's what the American people need after spending so long at war with the intractable and merciless Chitauri. With so much devastation left, President Obama and congress had authorized SHIELD to invest all that it could decipher of the Teserract's portal technology to finally leave this war torn hellscape behind and build a new base of power far away from the devastation. You had found a number of possible realities, but one by one you settled on one that would be both easy to access, and from the research of probes sent through; relatively safe from danger. But still, it wasn't entirely ideal, there was still danger to be had on the new world; but shields exist to be used.
Your forces enter the new reality through the gate you've created, having pinpointed an interesting anomaly; a floating island about a hundred and fifty kilometers in diameter that hung through some mysterious force high in the sky, though not so high as to be unbreathable. However, after taking some time to set up forward operating bases on the floating island and grounded islands for your navy. However, the brief period of peace and ease was interrupted by the sudden emergence of a tunnel in front of one of your forward bases; followed by the tunnel's cavernous maw vomiting forth a number of scorpion tanks.
The only radio warning given by the ten tanks as they suddenly opened up with their cannons and machine guns on the forward operating base was "Death to you Americans! These lands belong to the Global Liberation Army! Hail Abdul!" With the rest being a wide array of threats being shouted across all manner of radio channels as the magnitude of the danger then became obvious. The only reason that the island looked peaceful was that the GLA's holdings on it were cleverly disguised through all manner of trickery. Emerging from hiding places or straight up appearing as if they had been invisibly in hiding the whole time was a swarm of the green clad warriors.
Some were arabic fanatics, others were african freedom fighters, others eastern european malcontents or western dispossessed or latin criminals or east asian dissidents or any mix of the prior groups. They were united in often contradictory goals under the banner of one ideal; the cause. The cause being "overthrowing the status quo", and it seems that this group had based itself here in hiding from its own universe to build and marshal strength. Strength that manifested in a suddenly decloaking horde of technicals and rebel fighters brandishing assault rifles, snipers, machine guns, RPGs, Stingers, and what have you while buggies with rockets strapped on raced around to create havoc.
Autocannons from hidden quad cannons roared to life; seeking to pummel your positions with deadly dual purpose anti-personnel/anti-aircraft fire while outdated jets were launched from hidden positions to try and harass the helicarrier; these frankensteinian aircraft having been made from parts taken from Dassault Mirages, Mig-21s, F-4 phantoms and other such long obsolete aircraft and given a bit of "chop shop ingenuity" to spruce them up for a more modern battlefield. Getting a read on their exact numbers is hard given their ability to strike then vanish, but it seems that they have the numerical advantage despite their technological disadvantage and inferiority in training.
Currently though; they seem to be concentrating around the initial force of tanks that emerged from the tunnel, and are only increasing in number as they emerge from the tunnel in continuously greater numbers to try and repel what they see as a return of their old foe; either not knowing or not caring that you are not the version of America that they have grievances with. In their ways of waging war though...yeah you're pretty sure you just saw some of them melt a dude's face off by spraying him with some kind of chemical weapon and they're pretty disgustingly fine with opening fire on what they identify as civilian targets; even firing SCUD warheads loaded with chemical agents at noncombatants.
Fury looked out the large window on the Helicarrier, watching the cobbled together planes fly towards the Helicarrier.
"Alright, we have come out of this portal only to be attacked by a faction called the GLA, we will not fall to their attacks, we will prevail." He said over the PA.
Down below, on the Kennedy, Obama and the remnants of the United States Goverment were in a council.
"Right, we're being attacked, again." Obama told the room, gesturing to the pictures taken by the drones.
"Then let's take them down, I suppouse." The SoD said, grumpily. Military Orders
Aircraft-
5 SHIELD UAVS will be deployed to dive bomb the the hidden launch positions of the "Frankenfighters."
The Helicarrier will stay out of reach of any AAA gun fire.
The Chitauri Leviathan will be deployed towards the tunnel, we're hoping it will fire on the tanks.
The majority of the copters (at least 50) will be rappelling in troops and protecting
the ground troops.
Fighter aircraft will be dispatched to take down the 'Frankenfighters'. This will be a mix of UAV's, fighter aircraft, and missile craft.
Bombers protected by Quinjets will take out th AA.
Military
Artillery will start shelling the GLA positions. Specifically the tunnel where the tanks are coming out of, let's see if we can't collapse it on them.
Troops will start trenching in, with our heavier tanks in the back and Drones in the front.
Special forces will go behind enemy lines to take down anything important.
Navy-
Amphibious Infantry and Agents from SHIELD will try a surprise attack, coming from the flank.
Our battlecruisers and submarines will launch missiles aiming at the GLA's position.
The rest of the navy is to remain alert, the faction we're fighting might have a navy.
General orders-
Build our capital as well as several small port cities
Research orders:
Start reverse engineering more Chitauri vehicles and weapons, we might need them.
With the guidance of their glorious emperor the Japanese Empire was well on its way to conquer the entire Earth when they made a surprising discovery. Excavated from the depths of the Egyptian desert the British were working on a miraculous piece of technology. It was a gateway, with its mouth leading straight to a whole new world. Japan at the brink of conquering their own world are now making plans to setting foot on the next. For the purposes of exploring this new world and determine its readiness for colonization scientists, engineers, craftsmen, workers supported by the 27th "Kyoku" Infantry Division had journeyed past the gates to reach the mysterious world of Worluk.
From the hot sand filled lands of Egypt they were suddenly transported to the freezing cold tundras of Krogath, north of the Zhilian continent. The workers assisted by the common soldiers quickly began to make their first temporary settlement. As the previous reports said there was nobody in 25km radius of the gate. Just wild animals in the nearby forest. Few relatively uneventful days passed. Scientists measured the water, the soil, the atmosphere. They found no anomalies compared to the Earth. Albeit they did make two observations. First, the days were obviously longer, roughly equal to 36 hours. Second, based on the distance of the horizon they estimated the circumference of this planet to be about 70,000 km. That is almost twice of the Earth! In spite of that gravity, density of soil and all the other parameters were indistinguishable from their home planet. Given current scientific knowledge such thing would be impossible but for the layman these discoveries were irrelevant. They were more occupied with Sergant Yamaguchi's amazing tale about a wolf with the size of a small horse. Many doubted the old man's story but regardless were entertained for the night.
Next day was when all hell broke loose. Scouts at the perimeter report the appearance of enemy tanks. They are British Cromwell tanks, Russian T-34s and even M4 Shermans from America! They are heading straight for base camp and their total count was 30. Did their enemies plan a combined ambush on them? Where are the infantry? Do they really think mere 30 tanks can defeat an entire division? Why are a few of these tanks painted so weird? These questions seemed irrelevant compared to the immediate threat.
Greater Japanese Empire Turn 1
November - December, 1947
Brigadier General Masanobu Tsuji, the God of Operations, Lion of Bombay and commander of the 29th Infantry Regiment, woke up feeling absolutely awful.
Though the temperature problem had been fixed with the quick installation of radiators and the swift delivery of winter gear, the thirty-six hour night-and-day cycle was still playing merry hell with his body clock, so much so that he felt more tired than when he got to bed hours before. He had tried covering the windows of his bedroom with tarpaulin sheets so it was dark, but his body nonetheless had difficulty cooperating. He didn't know how to describe the feeling as he lay on his bed - that he was both awake and asleep at the same time, his mind racing terribly like he were dreaming but also painfully conscious of every single thought, because his body didn't know when day was day and night was night anymore.
Maybe if he were being shelled, he'd have been alright with it, because that was what sleeping under artillery fire was more or less like. Unfortunately, it was peaceful. There was no cause for his discomfort other than the natural limitations of his body. So of course it was incredibly disagreeable.
But he couldn't do anything about that, he decided. Clad only in shorts and a tank top, he craned his neck to look at his wristwatch, which rested serenely on a stack of maps and documents on his operations desk. Five-thirty in the morning. Or back at home, at least. Welp, time to get to work.
General Tsuji stood up and quickly got dressed with a discipline and timely profession unmatched outside the IJA or perhaps the Wehrmacht. The general was a man of middling height and lean frame with a cleft chin but otherwise gentle features only slightly marred by developing wrinkles - gentle features which belied brutality, intelligence and extreme determination. Resting slantedly on his nose was a pair of clumsily donned round-lensed glasses, which he corrected smartly. As he sat down before the table, he got to putting on that wristwatch. Ironically for someone who so fervently advocated war with the United States, it was a Rolex.
The General then blinked thrice, slapped his cheeks, and drank the warm glass of water that he always prepared before he slept, and starting shifting and shuffling papers around his desk, until his fingers found a map which he then examined closely.
Printed with cheap ink from a cheap machine, the map was a top-down view of the planned fortress complex for the New World's side of the gate. On the black-and-white topographical projection hastily compiled by the civilian cartographers were dots and lines radiating 10 kilometers outward of the center that represented pillboxes, bunkers, trenches, supply depots and heavy artillery emplacements that would make the Japanese foothold impregnable once they were completed.
If they were completed, that is. For if a dragon swooped in, caused an earthquake and killed them all, he wouldn't have been surprised.
Tsuji sighed. Though it was folly to take credence in the talk of shell-shocked front liners, this was a completely different world with clearly different rules. There were rumors of wolves the size of horses, fresh dinosaur carcasses being picked apart by giant vultures, and even a credible event involving seemingly conscious plant that grabbed a young corporal with its thick, tentacle-like vines and forcibly tried to undress him - at least, until it was shot at least a hundred times. Now the plant was dead, and currently being studied by the biologists in the neighboring building.
This was a land of fantasy indeed. The sky was different; the stars were different; the Galaxy was different. With no light pollution at all, Tsuji could stare at the sky like he did in the valleys of India and compare the cosmic dust between the two worlds. Completely different. This was not Earth.
He scratched his bald head. It still sounded like the dreams of a discontent, effete American teenager - "This was not Earth."
But it was true. Here was not Egypt. He could prove it himself by walking through the Gate and taking the elevator to the surface. Then there would be the golden sand and lanky palm trees of Northeastern Africa, not the cold tundra of this New World.
He put the map away. The planned Fortress did not even have a name yet, and construction was still in its infancy, but they did have crude trenches and dugouts as far as seven kilometers away from Regimental Headquarters. The General slept and directed operations in a rapidly expanding wooden building surrounded by the 29th Infantry's hundreds of tents. His own room, which doubled as an office, was a drab, spartan affair where the sawdust-sprinkled air was starkly incongruous against the super soft stuffing of his bed. Tsuji couldn't wait until the concrete walls rose high and batteries of 4cm and 88mm guns held vigil over every square foot of land and air, and when 15cm howitzers were ready to provide fire support on-call. Not that he was a proponent of static warfare, but knowing was half of any battle and no-one knew anything about this place.
But until then, he had to make do with 81mm mortars. If there had been a larger passageway into the man-made cavern that held the Gate, the 1st Motorized Support Brigade would have filtered in already and this encampment would be a proper base. Unfortunately, most of the Division's heavy equipment - and men! - lay idly baking in the desert sun, covered by tarpaulin sheets or buggering about, swimming in the Nile, because the labyrinthine maze of airlocks, blast doors, and narrow killzones that the paranoid British High Command demanded of their architects made it so that only man-portable weapons could be delivered to the Wormhole Chamber. Logistics, whose main opponents here were doors and flights of stairs, were incredibly shoestring - runners delivered food and ammunition from the research complex on bicycles. Crates were secured to their thin frames via chains and ropes at first, but this manner of operation was exhausting to all parties involved, so division engineers took whatever spare metal was at hand and attached crude sidecars to transform a few dozen bikes into tricycles, increasing transport efficiency by 50 - 60 percent. The idea came from Captain Nozomu Fujiwara. Perhaps the man deserved a medal?
Tsuji made a mental note, then reviewed his Forces (Ready) list.
About 200 or so doctors were operating firmly within the New World. Meanwhile, as of the fourth of December, 1947, there were only 2,500 men present here and all of them were from his regiment, the 29th Infantry. And even then, only two and a half of its three battalions could be deployed. For just a single more company from 3rd battalion and people would begin to starve, so a full half of that unit - and the other 7,500 men of the division - was held up in Egypt in reserve. And though regrettable indeed, it seemed as if these valuable forces couldn't be committed until infrastructure developments - namely the construction of a new portal on the surface and linking the research facility with the Egyptian rail network - were finished in eight or so months.
It quite irked him that they couldn't just blow a hole from the surface into the chamber. The British, ever fond of fortifications, had built Area 3 to withstand even the most furious aerial assault. The walls were thick, made entirely of metal, and some doors were so heavy they had to be operated by hydraulics. There was so much steel in one place, probably a battleship's worth or more, but that just went to show how incredibly wasteful, inept and profligate the Anglo-Saxons were. The Americans believed that throwing money at something would eventually make a weapons system project better, while the British just plastered plate after steel plate onto something until it was barely able to move and consumed way too much fuel per unit of speed it could attain. For a country who'd been dominating the seas for three hundred and fifty years and been a major power for considerably longer, they didn't know elegance, precision or balance - they went about their business like brutes pretending to be clever. Simply compare their tactics and weapons to the Empire's and one will know exactly why, when the Royal Navy sailed to meet the great Admiral Yamamoto's Combined Fleet in the waters of East Africa in the largest naval battle in history, they were utterly destroyed, with Japanese losses relatively few and already replaced two years later, today.
And ultimately, Area 3's defenses were never put to their intended use because the British garrison and scientists surrendered immediately.
The British were a stupid people. Theirs used to be an Empire on which the Sun Never Set, but that stopped being so when India fell in 1945, making short on their promise to defend the subcontinent when war broke out in '41. Another thing the British did not realize that it was impossible to stop the sun from setting, but its rise at dawn was the most natural thing in the world. The reason why the Japanese and their allies were so successful, Tsuji thought, was their sheer and undeniable racial superiority. Could the Africans boast of ancient superpowers like Rome? No. Could the Malayans ever see a future that wasn't dominated by the Union Jack? No. Could Indians hope to stop being such barbarians, ceasing their primitive practices of setting women on fire and throwing corpses into the Ganges, without Japanese enlightenment? Of course not. The world needed Axis guidance, and if the Greater Eurasian Co-Prosperity Sphere's members had to be held at gunpoint in order to pave the way for a better tomorrow, then so be it.
After all, Tsuji thought, as he straightened out a stack of report logs - the human life was so vastly overrated.
He glanced at his wristwatch. 5:57 in the morning. He'd better phone Major General Kozuki immediately. His boss had followed his regiment during the first couple of days but elected to reside in Area 3 due to nausea and general illness caused by the new environment. Since then, he'd been visiting the New World for a few hours at a time, but still wanted reports via telephone on specific hours of the day if he wasn't around. Usually, Tsuji would object to this kind of micromanagement, but given the unique circumstances of the Division, such a move was understandable.
But just as his hand was about to reach the handset, the phone rang. Curiosity piqued, he answered it, but he didn't expect Colonel Kawarabe Matsuyama on the other side. Usually it was an eager scientist telling him to come see a new specimen of wildlife or rock. Not many people knew this, but Tsuji had a love for the natural sciences, and he encouraged these calls personally.
"General Tsuji?" The voice of 2nd battalion's commanding officer crackled mildly along the line. Though he wasn't in the mindset to appreciate it at the moment, the quick installation of a wired telephone network alongside the usual radio equipment was a godsend to Tsuji - the former was much more secure. "I have alarming news - about three dozen Allied tanks are approaching my position. The enemy battlegroup consists of T-34's, Shermans and Cromwells. There are no infantry."
Tsuji took a moment to register this information. Adjusting his glasses, he said to Matsuyama calmly, "No infantry? Are you sure?"
"Yes. My men have a good view of the tundra from the ridgeline and there are nothing but tanks coming for us from the West."
"I see." Tsuji breathed in and out consciously. "Can you hold them off, Colonel?"
"The forest has plenty of cover. Just a bit of smoke and we will be fine with our rocket launchers. Lack of sleep will not hinder us."
"Very good. Destroy the enemy and capture him for interrogation."
"Yes, sir."
When he dropped the handset, his eyes widened, and his lips parted into an angry snarl, revealing a set of good, yellow teeth that would have been whiter had he not started smoking. The British personnel lied - there were clearly more facilities like Area 3 in existence and their deception had just been revealed. Quickly picking up the handset again and furiously punching buttons, he waited impatiently for two rings and, at the sound of a click, started speaking immediately.
"General Kozuki, we have a problem," he said. "About three dozen Allied tanks are approaching 2nd Battalion's position. They are models from three years ago - T-34's, Shermans and Cromwells. We will destroy them and capture their crew for interrogation. Just thought I'd let you know."
"I see. Keep me updated," came the cool, matter-of-factly voice of the Tiger of Burma. "I will need to inform Field Marshall Kawabe and His Divine Majesty."
The conversation ended at that point. There was nothing more to say. Tsuji dropped the phone, stood up, removed the tarpaulin sheets from his windows and opened them to let the sun shine through. Removing imaginary dust from his epaulets and straightening out creases on his uniform, he sat down again, moved the microphone closer and blasted on the base speakers and radios: "Small enemy tank force approaching from the West. All units to battle alert. This is not a drill."
Force:
2,500~ soldiers (dug in for 4 days)
200~ civilians
7,500~ soldiers in reserve
Army Orders:
2nd Battalion, 29th Infantry Regiment: Destroy the enemy and capture him for interrogation.
1st, 3rd Batt., 29th infantry Regiment: Full battle alert.
1st Motorized Support Brigade: Disassemble 4cm and 88mm guns, transport them to the New World, and reassemble them there.
Japan, even with its newfound industrial might allowing all of its Divisions at least an artillery regiment (something deemed impossible 11 years ago), has not abandoned its infamous infiltration doctrine. Skilled in feinting and ambushing (especially at night!), defense against a superior foe will be elastic in nature, and the strikes against them done at times where one move would do as much damage to the enemy as possible, often out of the shadows. Concealment is a must in Japanese small-unit tactics, and 50- and 81mm mortar teams will be ready to provide smoke cover.
Each Japanese squad is equipped with at least two 75mm AT rocket launchers. Bicycles are also common among perimeter troops.
Research Orders:
Cartography of surrounding land
Preliminary research of surrounding environment
Construction Orders:
Begin construction of New World Fortress Complex
Begin construction of new Gate in Area 3 Research Complex's surface in Egypt
Begin construction of railway to connect Area 3 with Egyptian railway line
News from the Front:
December 17, 1947: Type 4 Chi-Ri Modification 1948 finalized and mass production scheduled to begin on Jan. 1, 1948.
December 25, 1947: Japanese Invasion of England lead by General Prince Asaka Yasuhiko. Landings made in Plymouth and surrounding areas at 5 in the morning. Invasion force of 150,000 men with 50,000 in reserve at Britanny.
December 28, 1947: New army jet aircraft prototype by Nakajima. Engines explode if throttle changed too suddenly. Motion in Imperial General Headquarters to buy production license for German Me 262 fighters unpopular and dismissed.
The horned rat is pleased with you, you have made him the sole god of the warhammer world; and yourselves the sole people. And yet there is still more to be done, more worlds to spread the will of the Skaven to. The Skaven must be more than the only intelligent species in the warhammer world, they must be the only intelligent species in every possible and impossible reality. No other form of civilized life may be tolerated; let all that is not Skaven perish like the inferior vermin they are! So decrees the Horned Rat! So decrees the council of thirteen! And so you went through the great warp gates with the intention to invade and colonize this world and enact some proper genocide on its people.
Your forces even end up in a great underground cavern from where they can grow and expand, whose mouth forms a massive harbor that can be used for your fleet. Or it would be if it were not already being occupied by something else. Something that makes itself known when your forces make the mistake of assuming that some of the freshwater ponds are simply pawns with something big and purple inside of them. The truth of their nature becomes apparent however, as they swarm out of their recesses and start to combine into an enormous amoeba like creature outside at the beach, seemingly oblivious to your attack as this protoplasmic leviathan coalesces into quite frankly the largest creature you've ever seen.
Skaven who try attacking it in hand to hand are simply absorbed into its plasmic mass and are confronted by a swarm of glowing antibodies who break down their bodies or even fry them with psychic or bioelectric discharges. And the quivering mass of gelatinous matter starts undulating as it releases a telepathic siren call. Fungi, plant life, and even mineral formations are twisted into mobile, combat ready forms while tentacle mawed creatures with hulking physiques and leathery; tough as nails skin or scales or bony osteoderms burst from the ground with hideous rumbles from their wet throats. They seem to have no weapons, but these creatures have all the offensive power they need from what nature offered.
Gushing gouts of acid, crackling sparks of bioelectricity, flesh eating spores or rapidly growing seeds that form vines that crush the life out of their targets, rapidly launched spikes and more all form their biological weaponry, while their bodies lash out at those who have brought the polluting warp stone into the presence of this angry protist who forms pseudopods that bowl over huge numbers of skaven or lash out with psychic or electric strikes on those who would attempt to reach its imposing core nucleus. At sea; huge sea-monsters formed from the very seabed or mutated from the wild life are launched into frenzies to attack your fleet while the protodeus commanding the army undulates its three kilometer wide body, letting loose rumbling sounds that seem to shake the very earth beneath you.
Even deeper in the tunnels; clanrats are reporting vicious battles with what seems to be nature itself trying to devour them by spawning vicious monsters from the plants, fungi, animals, and rocks around them. While numerically inferior to the Skaven; they seem to just keep coming as one is hacked, shot, burned, bludgeoned or otherwise put to death only for another to form out of nature itself.
Bellum Infinitus, infinite war. That was what the galaxy had to bear for a thousand years as the UEF, the Cybrans and the Aeon all sought to annihilate one another in a conflict that started what seemed like an eternity ago. The UEF's final, desperate attempt to end the war before there was no longer a galaxy left to fight over had proven futile, as it had brought forth the people who had taught the Aeon the way into this reality from wherever they ascended to. But rather than a host of angels come to save the galaxy, they were an all consuming horde of demons who destroyed everything they came into contact with. Countless worlds had been laid waste to and the Seraphim were not stopping any time soon.
And with the attempt at sealing the rift from where they drew reinforcements from failed, it seemed that the age of mankind was at an end; destined to be destroyed by the iron fist of the alien. But man would not slip into the abyss of extinction if you had anything to say about it. No, humanity would prosper in some form, even if the apocalypse seemed impossible to reverse. For if the forces of the end times could not be defeated now; they could be fled from. Even if they can follow, it would take them much effort to find you and finish the job. And hopefully by then, you will be ready to drive them back.
And so it was decided to push Quantum gate technology far, far beyond its original purposes. If the Seraphim could hide themselves in another reality; so could the Cybran people. They could, and they must; if there was to be any future for any variant of humanity. The UEF and the Aeon would be left to find their own ways out; informing them of your escape plan carried too many risks of the Seraphim finding out. And while it may wrankle to abandon wartime allies to their fate; there was no other choice if the Cybran were to survive. The gate worked as planned, launching the Cybran fleet through the boundaries of spacetime and out of your very reality; traversing beyond the comforting bounds of your multiverse, your metaverse, and into the void between the reality clusters.
Finally, you entered yet another metaverse and its own cluster of realities; honing in on one that seemed much easier to reach than its sibling realities. The true emptiness of inter-reality nonspace was then replaced by the false vacuum of normal space, and you found yourselves in orbit around a planet that was rather larger than earth, but entirely habitable for unmodified humans. However, your fleet was not able to enjoy its position for very long; as a sleek ship of Black, sickly green, white, and lively cyan suddenly decloaked as it detected your fleet. Faster than light tachyonic rays struck your ships before they were ever fired, followed by sudden warps in spacetime that sent your ships crashing towards the planet one by one; and just as suddenly as your attacker appeared; it vanished back into nothingness.
The crash landing was hard, but survivable; Cybran ships were made to be tough and to protect the people; and five hundred thousand people; the majority of your population, survived re-entry. Three ACUs and six support ACUs were also deemed to be in immediately fieldable conditions; and so were set out to do what had been done countless times before. FInd a mass deposit and get the beginnings of a base set up. However, it seemed that you were not alone on this continent...beyond the strange life forms that seemed to conform to ancient fantasy fiction archetypes of creatures. A strange, malevolent sort of energy was seeped into these lands riddled with the detritus of countless wars before.
Amethyst crystalline beings floated from point to point, congregating in macabre necropoli built out of the ruins of devastated civilian inhabited areas. And from them came amethyst energy that flowed into corpses; untold legions of corpses, and not just corpses...but also other things that consituted as "detritus". Ruined vehicular hulls pulled themselves into a servicable state while this amethyst energy inhabited them, raising destroyed tanks into an unlife just as the dead began to pull themselves to the ground, clutching the weapons they wielded in life as purple energy burned in their orfices. AIrcraft started to lurch forward as they made the motions to once again take off, and a legion of the dead made out of numerous species began to shake and shudder as these amethyst gems called them to war.
Even warships; if not already animated by these strange energies and twisted into new shapes; began to pull themselves from their watery graves at the behest of their crystal masters who called them to serve in new conflicts. And it seemed that destroyed robots were not immune either; as ruined mechanoids that seemed to fit into the old idea of golems were patched up by purple energy holding their forms together and sticking together dismembered parts to give them a new purpose. A purpose of course, that seemed to have a force that roughly corresponded to about an armored division's worth of most likely hostile units to converge on your position while the restless dead were being marshalled for some inscrutable purpose.
The air was filled with the smell of smoke and death. The roofs of the once bright Deepwater harbor were burning merrily. No mercy for the traitors, no mercy for those who defy the daemonic leadership of their half-blooded Vyshaanti dynasty!
Walls built with decades of work were crumbling in minutes under the combined physical and magical assault of the Empire. Deepwater was falling and so was the rest of the strongholds of the rebellion. It all started as a glorious revolution against the blasphemy and cruelty of the fell-blooded bastard's rule. Now they are staring at the jaws of destruction. Their lands razed, their walls broken and with Fey'ri hissing angrily right at their doorsteps their extermination was all but written in the history records.
Yet not all hope was lost. Predicting their defeat the revolutionaries began plotting their escape. Meanwhile the giant mithril-plated hull of the War Dragon class flagship Leviathan shows up on the horizon. At its helm stands Laurethiel. Daughter of the recently deceased Solonthor she's the heir to the pureblooded branch of Vyshaanti who took command of the rebels at the young age of 90. She was tall, willowy with blue eyes and bronze-gilt skin. She was clad in royal purple and brandished the heirloom blade of the Vyshaanti taken from the corrupt prince Gilvas after the triumph at Arkeym. Seeing the distant fires of destruction Laurethiel momentarily despairs. "We're too late."
"Nothing is too late, Laure-child." Answered her mentor who's only referred as the 'Great Magister'. The ageless, half-elf and half-dracon Sorceress had a pale silvery skin and hair complimented by draconic eyes and ears. Her right firmly held her Staff of Power while in the other she kept the Palantiri which she was now handing over. "Call Eltor and Savraxas. We have got to hurry!"
"Great Magister, I really don't like this. Why we must flee and allow fell powers to reign free?"
"My dear Laurethiel, we have no choice. What would be gained by staying to fight except more Tel'quessi dead in the graves? The council's decision stands. Evermeet will take us in and we shall form a holy land to stand up against the corrupt Empire. If it comes to the worst I could always attempt to seek counsel with the Seldarine..."
"As you wish. I never distrusted you and I won't do it now... So, is it really in the water?"
"Yes, there's an ancient gate hidden under the sea to the south, where Savraxas is. Their arch of the city is still far away from the frontlines. We reach our destination within an hour."
Their plan was clear. White and grey robed high mages gathered in circles around hexagonal crystals as big as grown men. These were Waystones stolen from Arkeym, used by Gilvas' cruel slavemasters for quick travel they now serve a better purpose for the Rebels' exodus. 250,000 men, women and children gathered from multiple elven clans and even beyond. Only this much? In months this is the first time Laurethiel is faced with the consequences of her continuing resistance.
The mages began chanting and weaving, gathering power to open a dimensional gate of never seen proportions. The silvery glow of the gate covered many kilometers, extending to cover the city and even its harbors. People loyal to Laurethiel's cause came rushing to the entrance in hopes of a new beginning.
That was when disaster stroke. The rebels' assumptions were far too optimistic, the Empire's forces were breathing right on their neck! Sulfuric yellow tendrils gasped the gate's immaterial texture and fires rushed through the waystones. High mages desperately attempted to secure the gate's connection to Evermeet when the thundering voice of Malkazad the Branded Lord and devil-prince of Abyss resounded. "FOOLISH MORTALS! DID YA REALLY BELIEVE YO CAN ESCAPE!? HELL'S JAWS OPENIN' WIDE TO TAKE YO NOW! WE AIN'T LET YA GO! NOT EVER! AHAHAHAHA!"
He declared. Indeed, the Rebels walked straight into his trap. The pure and innocent people of Laurethiel are about to become preyed by the hordes of Abyss itself!
But not on her watch! Left in a despairful situation with little options the Great Magister decided to act. Swiftly.
a mighty blow with her Staff of Power shatters hers and all the other Waystones in a single moment, breaking Malkazad's web and sending her people hurling through the chaotic swirls of inter-planar space. "Better... than becoming slaves to your kind!" The Magister declares, staring fearlessly into the eyes of the almighty demon lord.
---
Yet unknown to demons, gods or even the Great Magister her action didn't doom Laurethiel or any of her comrades. No, because for over forty millennia there existed a material plane within the chaotic swirl of dimensions, a realm known as Worluk. The will of the Weave sought out the closest approximate of the elven homeworld and produced an exit at the coast of Bombaren, the mysterious forestry magic-rich province of the Zhilean Empire within the Zhilian Continent. Bombaren was a dangerous land to humans populated with magic creatures nobody survived to tell the tale. But for the elvish revolutionaries this land was close to a paradise.
The horned rat is pleased with you, you have made him the sole god of the warhammer world; and yourselves the sole people. And yet there is still more to be done, more worlds to spread the will of the Skaven to. The Skaven must be more than the only intelligent species in the warhammer world, they must be the only intelligent species in every possible and impossible reality. No other form of civilized life may be tolerated; let all that is not Skaven perish like the inferior vermin they are! So decrees the Horned Rat! So decrees the council of thirteen! And so you went through the great warp gates with the intention to invade and colonize this world and enact some proper genocide on its people.
Your forces even end up in a great underground cavern from where they can grow and expand, whose mouth forms a massive harbor that can be used for your fleet. Or it would be if it were not already being occupied by something else. Something that makes itself known when your forces make the mistake of assuming that some of the freshwater ponds are simply pawns with something big and purple inside of them. The truth of their nature becomes apparent however, as they swarm out of their recesses and start to combine into an enormous amoeba like creature outside at the beach, seemingly oblivious to your attack as this protoplasmic leviathan coalesces into quite frankly the largest creature you've ever seen.
Skaven who try attacking it in hand to hand are simply absorbed into its plasmic mass and are confronted by a swarm of glowing antibodies who break down their bodies or even fry them with psychic or bioelectric discharges. And the quivering mass of gelatinous matter starts undulating as it releases a telepathic siren call. Fungi, plant life, and even mineral formations are twisted into mobile, combat ready forms while tentacle mawed creatures with hulking physiques and leathery; tough as nails skin or scales or bony osteoderms burst from the ground with hideous rumbles from their wet throats. They seem to have no weapons, but these creatures have all the offensive power they need from what nature offered.
Gushing gouts of acid, crackling sparks of bioelectricity, flesh eating spores or rapidly growing seeds that form vines that crush the life out of their targets, rapidly launched spikes and more all form their biological weaponry, while their bodies lash out at those who have brought the polluting warp stone into the presence of this angry protist who forms pseudopods that bowl over huge numbers of skaven or lash out with psychic or electric strikes on those who would attempt to reach its imposing core nucleus. At sea; huge sea-monsters formed from the very seabed or mutated from the wild life are launched into frenzies to attack your fleet while the protodeus commanding the army undulates its three kilometer wide body, letting loose rumbling sounds that seem to shake the very earth beneath you.
Even deeper in the tunnels; clanrats are reporting vicious battles with what seems to be nature itself trying to devour them by spawning vicious monsters from the plants, fungi, animals, and rocks around them. While numerically inferior to the Skaven; they seem to just keep coming as one is hacked, shot, burned, bludgeoned or otherwise put to death only for another to form out of nature itself.
An agonized scream pierced the caverns as the unfortunate messenger was hurled into a Rat Ogre's maw after his report that he honestly should have tricked someone else into delivering.
"Imbeciles!" Ratton raged. "You fail-fail me against plant-things and rock-things!? Not even army, and you still need-need my brilliant leadership! This why I am Warlord-General of Skaven-Skaven!" He turned to look upon the still-emerging hordes of Ratmen coming in from the Warhammer World, before his eyes caught one in particular.
"You! Plague-Priest! You bring-bring Censers up to battle quick-quick! Have need of great plagues of the Horned Rat!"
"Of course oh great and brilliant leader of Skaven Army! With Horned Rat's blessing, all enemies will choke-die and victory will be ours!" Came the raspy reply as tens of thousands of the plague-ridden fanatics and their force of warmachiens pushed and moaned their way to the frontline.
The Warlord-General continued, giving more orders for special units to move to the front of the battle, all with the intention of annihilating the strange protoplasm that had dared try to delay the conquest of this world by the Skaven. And it was only a delay after all. His unquestionably superior forces and brilliant military mind would overcome them shortly, he was certain about that.
Orders:
-Deploy Pestilens forces to the front lines against all the various nature entities we're fighting, with all the various plagues and other foul concoctions they can muster. Additional support will be provided by Warpfire Throwers and the like to burn down everything in their path.
-Heavier units like Rat Ogres, Hell Pit Abominations, Stormfiends, and Jezzails and DOOMWHEELS will tear through the mineral entities.
-The primary objective is to push forward towards the Protoplasm as swiftly as possible, to let us bring up our heavy weaponry against it. Warp-Lightning Cannons, Ratling Guns, Jexxails, anything that uses Warpstone will be fired at the Protoplasm to bring it down, supported by Plague Priests casting Wither to weaken it.
-Should any group run into trouble, the Screaming Bells will be brought up.
-Naturally, all of this will be backed up with masses of Skavenslaves and Clarets to act as meatshields.
-Navy, if it can, is to focus on defending itself and trying to move into a position where our ground-based weapons can lend supporting fire.
As far as crash landings go; that wasn't as bad as it could be. For one thing, many thousands of you yet lived; rather than get smeared into the surface of this new...very moist planet with its massive oceans and surface water and vibrant plant life. You had even crashed before an enormous sea where the warm waters gently lapped up against the sandy shores. There were even trees and grasses farther to the east, making for good farmland; and to the south you found more habitable coastline; like the ancient descriptions of the nile river delta as a mighty river forked into many tributaries that fed these lands with nutrient rich silt ladened waters; allowing for all manner of crops to grow in these lands; tended to by simple folk who live a largely medieval existence. Some of these folk are human, but others have pointed ears and more beautiful, gracile features; others are like reptiles and are scaley, with long snouts filled with teeth and powerful tails, and others are like man sized, upright beetles who often ride enormous insects themselves.
However, this humble civilization is under constant pressure from the lords of the monoliths in the sandy lands of the north, warriors of bone and parchment who seem to be an army of animate skeletons and mummies who continually push into the rich and fertile lands of the south to wage interminable war on the sea-folk; fishmen who emerge from the waters at the behest of a cruel underwater count who wishes to take these lands and make them his own tributaries. The deathless skeletal warriors still regard these lands as theirs, and while the reprieve they can offer from the fast breeding fish creatures is welcome; their way of waging war is destructive and the battles frequently displace the people as the undead and the water breather clash with little regard to the destruction they sow.
The walking skeletons when slain; are simply reanimated to do battle again later, bones, mummified flesh, and ossified carapaces of great desert beasts reknitting and reshaping themselves into their proper shapes and ancient constructs; from statuary that can do battle in their name to ancient siege engines or mystical relics that rain death on their foes; simply pull themselves back together from the damage dealt to them. The sea-folk simply seem to breed at such prodigious rates that no matter how many they lose to the skeletal warriors they simply come back again for another clash as the grim charade repeats itself day after day with no clear winner after countless skirmishes.
However, now a force of ten legions of ten thousand skeletal warriors with more in reserve is marshalling out of their ancient ruins to the north, with the intent of crushing the seafolk once and for all as the watery warriors prepare their own force of equal strength; and the people of the small civilization that live in their shadow are shuttering their doors and hiding as they pray for deliverence from this dark and endless night of being warred over by two forces that only care for them out of reasons of ancient pride or greedy expansionism. But perhaps this is a chance to show these people that their deliverence has come and that in the third Islam; they have found safety from these monsters?
Both enemy armies seem to have a good mix of pre-gunpowder warriors; though the sea-folk have a number of more advanced fire arms purchased from merchant lands to provide them an additional edge against the sorcerous powers of the living dead. Yes, sorcerous; things like enormous clouds of insects being conjured forth; fire raining from the sky; great shimmering barriers of golden energy and more seem to be at the call of the skeletal priest-mages of the walking dead. Most curious...most curious indeed.
Awwad was baffled at what he and his men and women found.
Walking dead? Were these things dead, by the way?
And the men he found... they spoke no Galach and were absolutely primitive, and their land was so wet and humid... Some were different from baseline humans, with pointed ears. Tleilaxu? Do the Tleilaxu even mingle with the powindah, as they called the rest of mankind? Others had fish or bug or lizard-like appearances, which pointed to the fact that men were not the only intelligent species here.
Great Gods, where was he? Was he outside the Imperium? It must've been so. How could all of this happen? The Guild, wasn't it infallible?
And there were men... or things like men, able to conjure fire and insects from the sky, sorcery he'd never seen before and the skeletons recomposed themselves and he couldn't even return back to Dune.
He and his men were stranded on this planet, so different from the others, and this terrified him.
But he didn't have to fear. He remembered the litany against fear he learned at home and repeated it in his mind. Wherever he was, he still had to perform his duty, and though the odds were apparently against him this one time, he knew he had God on his side.
Then he returned to reality, to his stilltent. He noticed a guard. "Call me Asad, I have orders for him" he told him. The guard nodded and went to perform the order. Asad came few minutes later, a man in his early 30s, with an ill-kept beard and the blue-in-blue eyes characteristic of his people. The second-in-command.
"Do you have anything to report?" Awwad asked.
"An army of... undead, to our north, is moving towards the coastal villages, and the locals are setting up their defenses" Asad answered.
"Do we have the coordinates of the villages?"
"Of course"
His mind went to work. Could he trust the natives? It was certain that he couldn't trust the undead, but could he trust the coastal folks? The undead, they had to be undone, but what about the others? He could convert the humans and get rid of the beastfolk (after all, the Mahdi has been sent to man and djinn alike, with anthropomorphic caricatures of both not being within the plans), by appearing as their savior they would more readily accept the faith and join his forces, becoming an important source of supplies for his men and, eventually, joining them in their holy task. But they could also be threats. One threat had to be annihilated, and the other potential threat... resized, at best. He then knew what had to be done.
"Then these are the orders..." Awwad said, then he started to describe the plan, detail by detail.
Orders
Send six ornithopters in recon to find the undead army and then to the coastal villages. When the undead will be there and will have their numbers reduced enough during the battle, send orders back to base to bomb the undead positions.
Deploy all cannons and wait for orders.
Prepare 12.000 jihadists and 700 fedaykin for a long march.
Use two more ornithopters to recon and chart the area around our camp.
Alert all other units for eventual defense of the camp.
@gaiachild The Remnants: The infinite ocean. A mystical place found on no star-map. Stretching endlessly beneath an alien sky. The clearest water, home to an infinite number of aquatic creatures, some of which had not been seen anywhere else in eons, stretched endlessly, more than justifying its title. This refuge of watery blue, housing majestic reefs, corals and many other wonders of nature, had existed since the beginning of time. Now, just like in times before, it was a save haven from the burdens and hardships of the galaxy.
And where the current refugees dwelt, the ocean was painted crimson with the blood of innocents.
Up in the sky, Princess Layla charged. Her muscles ached as she raised her left arm to block yet another lightning bolt with her morphix shield, the hardened magical fluid absorbing the attack. In retaliation she swung at her enemy with the staff made of the same magic material, cleaving her opponent in two.
Ignoring the blood being sprayed all over her body, as well as the empty eyes of the formerly mind-controlled witch as the two halves of her body plummeted down into the water next to hundreds of other corpses, Layla gained some altitude to get a better look at the situation.
It was grim. The sky was a battlefield. As far as the eye could see fairies and Red-Fountain aircrafts were engaged in vicious fights with more witch-thralls and flying rot-monsters. The numerous magical attacks thrown by fairies and witches alike filled the air with a bizarre, deadly rainbow of colours.
On first glance, one might think that the refugees were dominating the fight. While equal in power to their insect-winged counterparts, the mind-controlled witches made for horrible warriors, carelessly floating through the air without haste and always shooting the same attack at whatever enemy was closest, not even trying to dodge or block attacks. Outthinking them was child's play. Meanwhile, plasma cannons from the aircrafts as well as the fiery breath of draconic mounts obliterated huge swath of rot monsters with ease.
But Layla knew that it wouldn't be enough. She had seen it too often during the previous years. No matter how valiant the warriors of the light fought, no matter how many enemies perished before their power, in the end, attrition eventually overcame their defences. The Trix cared naught for how many of their mind-controlled slaves marched into the grinder, and the numbers of the Army of Decay were endless.
Somewhere, one fairy impaled enemy after enemy with giant icicles while her partner used energy shields to protect her from attacks. Then a rot-monster attacked from behind, latched onto the guarding fairy and bit her face off. Shortly afterwards, the body of her now unprotected friend was obliterated by a blast of dark energy.
Elsewhere, a thrall scored a lucky hit, destroying a Crow's thrusters with a magic missile. As the craft fell down, it was joined by a dragon whose wings had been rendered useless by the dozens of rot monsters who clung to its body, tearing into its scales, slowly killing it with a thousand cuts and bites.
Scenes like these were happening everywhere, slowly but steadily wearing down the defenders. And Layla herself could do nothing to help, as she herself had just become the target of a whole swarm of flying rot-monsters.
Growling, the princess waved her arms, shifting the shape of the shield and staff she was wielding into two scimitars. With a furious battle cry, the fairy flew straight into the approaching swarm of purple mantas. With the speed of a viper her blades slashed and sliced, cutting through monster after monster like a hot knife through butter.
Busy with her current melee engagement, Layla only noticed the approach of yet another witch when it was already too late to avoid whatever attack would come out of her raised hands. Mentally saying her last prayers in light of the incoming magic attack, Layla was first surprised, then relieved when suddenly two giant purple boom boxes appeared out of thin air next to the witch. When they started blaring, the sonic blast vaporised the thrall's internal organs as well as several rot monsters nearby.
"MUSA!" Layla yelled the name of her friend as she came flying to her side. No words were necessary as the two fairies immediately positioned themselves back to back, protecting each other as they kept their enemies at bay with concentrated sound and morphix weapons. "Thank the dragon you are safe. But why are you here? Should you not be guarding the ship of your kingdom?"
"What kingdom?" the music fairy asked, her voice uncharacteristically hollow as she clapped her hands to create a sonic wave that knocked more enemies out of the sky. Confused, Layla looked down at the fleet.
The sight made her gasp in horror.
The first of the titanic ships had already reached the giant portal, its tip vanishing inside of it. But the portal was too narrow for more than two ships to enter side by side. Many fought in the air to save the fleet time to pass through, but now the enemy was attacking from a new direction. Some of the (by comparison) smaller city ships at the end of the fleet were under assault by an entirely new kind of rot-monster, as giant tentacles emerged from the waves, wrapping around the vessels, tearing at their sides and swatting at the crew.
On most of the affected vessels, people were still putting up a fight, shooting at hacking away at the tentacles in a desperate attempt to push them back. But Layla also saw how many ships were being dragged down into the sea. People on them incapable of flight either drowned inside the ships belly or were being devoured by aquatic hunters.
For the first time in many month, tears dwelled up in Layla's eyes. This was all that was left. Everything the Trix's army had not yet conquered and turned into a nightmare. This last fleet was not simply housing the last free survivors of the magic dimension, it was carrying entire kingdoms! Irreplaceable relics, cultural goods, artistic masterpieces, entire libraries filled with ancient histories. The very identity of entire countries. All of it lost in the blink of an eye, swallowed by the endless blue, all because of the lust for conquest of three tyrants.
"Musa…" Layla asked as a squad of dragon-riders burnt the sky around them free of enemies for a while, dreading the answer. "I do not see Melody. Did the ship… did they make it?"
"One of the first to be sunk." Her friend answerer, barely displaying any emotions. "We tried to save who we could, but it all happened to fast, there were so many…" her voice cracked. She quickly recovered and steeled it though, stating:
"No time to mourn. We must guard those who are left."
Layla wanted nothing more than console her best friend, but knew that Musa was right. This was the time to fight, not mourn. Even without the rot-kraken, the fleet's airborne defenders were hard-pressed. And they were not even facing the entire enemy force! The real battle took place many miles away at the portal to the planet Andros, where the kings and queens of all remaining royal houses were leading their armies in a desperate last stand in order to stall the never-ending onslaught of the Army of Decay, buying the time needed for the fleet to flee the dimension with their blood. Despite the distance, where pitch black clouds of unnatural origin darkened the sky, the use of ancient magics and WMDs created a thunderstorm that could be felt all the way over here. Layla's parents were fighting there, the chances of them surviving the day close to zero. The parents of most people on the fleet were in fact fighting there, and even though they threw every bit of power they had at the enemy to ensure the future of their children, enough monsters slipped past them to seriously press the fleeing people.
And then things got even worse. Where before the sky had been clear, black clouds started to form directly above the retreating city ships. The sight made many defenders freeze in shock despite nearby enemies.
"I need to rally the air force, right now!" the princess of Andros yelled. Nodding her head understanding, Musa quickly touched her friends throat, using her magic to strengthen the sound of her voice.
"THE BLACK RAIN HAS REACHED THE FLEET!" Layla's booming voice called out, loud enough to be herd across the entire aerial battlefield. "EVERYONE FALL BACK TO THE SHIPS! GIVE THEM THE AIR; WE MUST PREVENT THEM FROM CLAIMING OUR GROUND!"
Orders given, the two fairies broke off from the fight and took a nosedive towards the fleet, soon followed by the rest of the air force, rot-monsters and witches hot on their trails.
The two friends were heading for the ship claimed by the people of Andros, Layla's subjects, specifically. The titanic carrier, all edges of its topside covered with a stone wall that looked like it came straight out of medieval times, housed an entire city traversed by so many canals and streams it looked very much like Venice, a lush forest and a giant, proud castle surrounded by a moat.
And the Army of Decay was already there. For the black clouds above the fleet were not causing normal rain. Instead, like a biblical plague untold numbers of insects rained from the sky. Where they landed, the surged together, uniting into the shapes of terrible rot-monsters of various sizes and appearances, only united in their inhumanity, attacking people with teeth, claws, pincers and talons.
Already they were engaged by thousands of specialists, the many colours of various energy blades cutting through their flesh as soldiers and monsters engaged in close combat all over the ship, while wizards and specialists armed with guns pelted the creatures from afar.
Without hesitation, Layla and Musa joined the fight. Starting with a Convergence attack, Layla used her control over fluids to raise a huge wave of water from one of the many canals, while Musa feed her own magical energies into the water. With a single move of her hands, the princess made the wave sweep through an entire city block, splashing monsters while moving around any defenders. The fairy of music simply snipped her fingers, creating a few purple sparks. And causing the sonic energy trapped in the water to be unleashed, instantly pulverising each monster that had been splashed with lethal sonic waves.
But even attacks such as this only bought the defenders a short reprise. The real horror of the Army of Decay was that their destroyed warriors simply reformed into new ones, unless you managed to disintegrate every last insect they consisted off. And so the fighting went on. Musa created disco balls that fired energy blasts at everything beneath them, while Layla created several buzz saw blades out of morphix, slicing through every enemy in her vicinity. The enemy kept coming, and they kept destroying.
Scenes like that were taking place all over the fleet. On the Solarian ship, covered by a beautiful, shiny town with baroque buildings, contemplated with a golden palace, princess Stella tirelessly teleported dozens of people from sinking ships onto hers, annihilating every enemy unfortunate enough to come close with light-based beams as hot as the sun.
Zenith, a ship carrying a untypically high-tech city filled with skyscrapers and flying cars, Tecna had plugged herself into the ship's defence network, aiming hundreds of plasma and laser cannons at the attackers while simultaneously directing the ground troops.
A similar, yet completely different picture was presented on Lymphea, whose surface was covered by trees as big as skyscrapers, with almost no signs of advanced technology, houses being located inside trees or primitive huts, giant leaves replacing aircrafts. Flora, along with many other fairies whose powers were related to nature, directed giant vines to lash out at the intruders, along with other giant predator plants and mythical animals.
On Domino, where a pretty normal looking town was built around a beautiful castle adorned with onion towers, the two royal sisters crown princess Daphne and princes Bloom were using their dragon flame to burn monsters by the hundreds.
The battle raged for hours. Many defenders perished, and they made the monsters pay a hundredfold for every life they stole. Time lost any meaning as arms were raised, to fire spells or swing a blade, again and again and again. Many heroic deeds worthy of legends were performed, with nobody left in the dimension to honour them. For finally, after far too many sacrifices, the last ship of the fleet had crossed the portal, which collapsed behind them, signalling the death of those left behind. On the other side, out of reach of their dark mistresses' magic, the rot-monsters simply dissolved, while the witch-thralls dropped dead like marionettes with cut strings.
Most of the defenders dropped down too. Only few raised their voice in jubilation, the strain of the battle taking its toll as fairies, specialists, wizards and dragons fell on the ground in exhaustion.
Layla and Musa were one of the few who remained on their feet, despite being among those who had fought the hardest. Leaning against each other in support, the physically and mentally exhaust girls had dropped their fairy transformation, now stumbling towards the castle in their wingless forms. They might have gotten away, but still there was no time to rest.
The king and queen of Andros were dead, making Layla the new queen. With all the responsibilities that entailed. The dead needed to be counted. Proper collaboration between the nine surviving city ships ensured. While the water of this new world they found themselves in seemed peaceful, the perimeter had to be secured, scouts sent out to look for possible threats.
The war for the magic dimension was over, and they had lost. Yet the war for survival in Worluk had only just begun for the Remnants.
It was only a few short minutes after their arrival that a small fleet of five hovercraft dipped over the horizon, aiming straight for the Remnant fleet. The hovercraft were fast, and appeared to be armed with machine guns.
Code:
Radio Transmission:
FROM: Eden Expedition
TO: Unidentified Fleet
MESSAGE: Attention unidentified fleet. Welcome, travellers, to Worluk. We great you in peace with open arms. However, please be advised that you are in a hostile zone. We would like to *politely* request you move your fleet twenty clicks North for rendevouz.
A wing of 10 chopper aircraft crest the horizon, and stream around the fleet southward. Sounds of battle break out as the aircraft engage serpentine sea creatures wielding some form of magic.
The air was filled with the smell of smoke and death. The roofs of the once bright Deepwater harbor were burning merrily. No mercy for the traitors, no mercy for those who defy the daemonic leadership of their half-blooded Vyshaanti dynasty!
Walls built with decades of work were crumbling in minutes under the combined physical and magical assault of the Empire. Deepwater was falling and so was the rest of the strongholds of the rebellion. It all started as a glorious revolution against the blasphemy and cruelty of the fell-blooded bastard's rule. Now they are staring at the jaws of destruction. Their lands razed, their walls broken and with Fey'ri hissing angrily right at their doorsteps their extermination was all but written in the history records.
Yet not all hope was lost. Predicting their defeat the revolutionaries began plotting their escape. Meanwhile the giant mithril-plated hull of the War Dragon class flagship Leviathan shows up on the horizon. At its helm stands Laurethiel. Daughter of the recently deceased Solonthor she's the heir to the pureblooded branch of Vyshaanti who took command of the rebels at the young age of 90. She was tall, willowy with blue eyes and bronze-gilt skin. She was clad in royal purple and brandished the heirloom blade of the Vyshaanti taken from the corrupt prince Gilvas after the triumph at Arkeym. Seeing the distant fires of destruction Laurethiel momentarily despairs. "We're too late."
"Nothing is too late, Laure-child." Answered her mentor who's only referred as the 'Great Magister'. The ageless, half-elf and half-dracon Sorceress had a pale silvery skin and hair complimented by draconic eyes and ears. Her right firmly held her Staff of Power while in the other she kept the Palantiri which she was now handing over. "Call Eltor and Savraxas. We have got to hurry!"
"Great Magister, I really don't like this. Why we must flee and allow fell powers to reign free?"
"My dear Laurethiel, we have no choice. What would be gained by staying to fight except more Tel'quessi dead in the graves? The council's decision stands. Evermeet will take us in and we shall form a holy land to stand up against the corrupt Empire. If it comes to the worst I could always attempt to seek counsel with the Seldarine..."
"As you wish. I never distrusted you and I won't do it now... So, is it really in the water?"
"Yes, there's an ancient gate hidden under the sea to the south, where Savraxas is. Their arch of the city is still far away from the frontlines. We reach our destination within an hour."
Their plan was clear. White and grey robed high mages gathered in circles around hexagonal crystals as big as grown men. These were Waystones stolen from Arkeym, used by Gilvas' cruel slavemasters for quick travel they now serve a better purpose for the Rebels' exodus. 250,000 men, women and children gathered from multiple elven clans and even beyond. Only this much? In months this is the first time Laurethiel is faced with the consequences of her continuing resistance.
The mages began chanting and weaving, gathering power to open a dimensional gate of never seen proportions. The silvery glow of the gate covered many kilometers, extending to cover the city and even its harbors. People loyal to Laurethiel's cause came rushing to the entrance in hopes of a new beginning.
That was when disaster stroke. The rebels' assumptions were far too optimistic, the Empire's forces were breathing right on their neck! Sulfuric yellow tendrils gasped the gate's immaterial texture and fires rushed through the waystones. High mages desperately attempted to secure the gate's connection to Evermeet when the thundering voice of Malkazad the Branded Lord and devil-prince of Abyss resounded. "FOOLISH MORTALS! DID YA REALLY BELIEVE YO CAN ESCAPE!? HELL'S JAWS OPENIN' WIDE TO TAKE YO NOW! WE AIN'T LET YA GO! NOT EVER! AHAHAHAHA!"
He declared. Indeed, the Rebels walked straight into his trap. The pure and innocent people of Laurethiel are about to become preyed by the hordes of Abyss itself!
But not on her watch! Left in a despairful situation with little options the Great Magister decided to act. Swiftly.
a mighty blow with her Staff of Power shatters hers and all the other Waystones in a single moment, breaking Malkazad's web and sending her people hurling through the chaotic swirls of inter-planar space. "Better... than becoming slaves to your kind!" The Magister declares, staring fearlessly into the eyes of the almighty demon lord.
---
Yet unknown to demons, gods or even the Great Magister her action didn't doom Laurethiel or any of her comrades. No, because for over forty millennia there existed a material plane within the chaotic swirl of dimensions, a realm known as Worluk. The will of the Weave sought out the closest approximate of the elven homeworld and produced an exit at the coast of Bombaren, the mysterious forestry magic-rich province of the Zhilean Empire within the Zhilian Continent. Bombaren was a dangerous land to humans populated with magic creatures nobody survived to tell the tale. But for the elvish revolutionaries this land was close to a paradise.
Laurethiel, Daughter of Solonthor, Clanhead of Clan Vyshaanti, Ar'coronal of the bright realm of Everanuvarede , looked down from her vantage point over the new city,Seltirith 'ath 'corotiel.Her City, she allowed herself to say, before a pang of guilt rose.
Not hers alone. All her people had worked so hard and tireless the last month and done the impossible..build s city where nothing had stood before but a high table mountain, gently sloping to the bay that now was a perfect harbor pool to rival Deepwater bay, protected by mighty sea walls and accessible from the ocean only by two pylon-rimmed Seagate...
Under her watchful eye the city stretched, half built inside the dark mountain, shining in stark contrast in whites and yellows of marble and sandstone, red and metal tiled, with great clan houses and temples, the towers of ten Magical academies led by as many high mages.. and made more livable by parks and greens brought to early bloom by the might and puissance of Druids and Vivomancers,
It was hard to believe when one saw only the sprawling, circular city around her five towered tower of the Sky and not the massive refugee camp outside that this was really only one month old, had been completed only yesterday.Completed as far as was necessary..
Centuries would pass before every rough corner was smoothed, everything just right... but that was fine. Perfection was a hard goal. Not something easily and fast attained.
They had been so lucky. Lucky to be alive at all, lucky to be free...
Even more lucky to find this marvelous forest of Bombardene. A magical forest like the High Forest,untainted by the fiendish touch of their foes. It was not properly scouted yet, but that would begin soon, with the druids and ranger being in the forefront, as the clans spread out from the new city to establish villages and strongholds...
Yes, Laurethiel thought, this was going to succeed.
Orders and Actions :
Exploration:
-The sea elves go searching for a place not further than two days away from the capitol to build their main Underwater settlement. Preferred places are islands with oceanic coastal caves.
They also try to make friends with all semi-intelligent oceanic creatures and all local sea spirits, if possible.
-The green and moonelven, as well as the lythari, guided by their Druids , Rangers and the Lythari Shamans start exploring and settling Bombardene, trying to interact as peaceably as possible with local magical creatures, faeries, local spirits and others, seeking the alliance or at least the benevolent neutrality of the local ecosystem both magical and natural.
They also try to keep count of places, between four to seven days days from the capitol, where to construct local settlements equidistant from each other... these town or small cities will be best erected at places where several, if not all of these things coincide ;great natural beauty, high magic energy, good defensive position and natural fresh water sources.
-The Dragons, those able to turn invisible, are to scout out ward from the air, dividing the forest up for their purposes.
-Finally, the sky-wings are to travel to the forest rim under "Ship invisibility" and make maps of the edges of the Forest and the surrounding lands,They are not to initiate contact if possible.
Construction:
as described above,by the end of the month, the main city should been ready.,The other settlements can be started if compelling places are found.
Research-
-A new world means new magics. Those high mages and mages not intimately involved with the settlement effort are to research the local conditions of the weave and find out as much theoretical knowledge as possible.
-Also, long time or area language translation spells are to be researched ASAP.
@gaiachild The Remnants: The infinite ocean. A mystical place found on no star-map. Stretching endlessly beneath an alien sky. The clearest water, home to an infinite number of aquatic creatures, some of which had not been seen anywhere else in eons, stretched endlessly, more than justifying its title. This refuge of watery blue, housing majestic reefs, corals and many other wonders of nature, had existed since the beginning of time. Now, just like in times before, it was a save haven from the burdens and hardships of the galaxy.
And where the current refugees dwelt, the ocean was painted crimson with the blood of innocents.
Up in the sky, Princess Layla charged. Her muscles ached as she raised her left arm to block yet another lightning bolt with her morphix shield, the hardened magical fluid absorbing the attack. In retaliation she swung at her enemy with the staff made of the same magic material, cleaving her opponent in two.
Ignoring the blood being sprayed all over her body, as well as the empty eyes of the formerly mind-controlled witch as the two halves of her body plummeted down into the water next to hundreds of other corpses, Layla gained some altitude to get a better look at the situation.
It was grim. The sky was a battlefield. As far as the eye could see fairies and Red-Fountain aircrafts were engaged in vicious fights with more witch-thralls and flying rot-monsters. The numerous magical attacks thrown by fairies and witches alike filled the air with a bizarre, deadly rainbow of colours.
On first glance, one might think that the refugees were dominating the fight. While equal in power to their insect-winged counterparts, the mind-controlled witches made for horrible warriors, carelessly floating through the air without haste and always shooting the same attack at whatever enemy was closest, not even trying to dodge or block attacks. Outthinking them was child's play. Meanwhile, plasma cannons from the aircrafts as well as the fiery breath of draconic mounts obliterated huge swath of rot monsters with ease.
But Layla knew that it wouldn't be enough. She had seen it too often during the previous years. No matter how valiant the warriors of the light fought, no matter how many enemies perished before their power, in the end, attrition eventually overcame their defences. The Trix cared naught for how many of their mind-controlled slaves marched into the grinder, and the numbers of the Army of Decay were endless.
Somewhere, one fairy impaled enemy after enemy with giant icicles while her partner used energy shields to protect her from attacks. Then a rot-monster attacked from behind, latched onto the guarding fairy and bit her face off. Shortly afterwards, the body of her now unprotected friend was obliterated by a blast of dark energy.
Elsewhere, a thrall scored a lucky hit, destroying a Crow's thrusters with a magic missile. As the craft fell down, it was joined by a dragon whose wings had been rendered useless by the dozens of rot monsters who clung to its body, tearing into its scales, slowly killing it with a thousand cuts and bites.
Scenes like these were happening everywhere, slowly but steadily wearing down the defenders. And Layla herself could do nothing to help, as she herself had just become the target of a whole swarm of flying rot-monsters.
Growling, the princess waved her arms, shifting the shape of the shield and staff she was wielding into two scimitars. With a furious battle cry, the fairy flew straight into the approaching swarm of purple mantas. With the speed of a viper her blades slashed and sliced, cutting through monster after monster like a hot knife through butter.
Busy with her current melee engagement, Layla only noticed the approach of yet another witch when it was already too late to avoid whatever attack would come out of her raised hands. Mentally saying her last prayers in light of the incoming magic attack, Layla was first surprised, then relieved when suddenly two giant purple boom boxes appeared out of thin air next to the witch. When they started blaring, the sonic blast vaporised the thrall's internal organs as well as several rot monsters nearby.
"MUSA!" Layla yelled the name of her friend as she came flying to her side. No words were necessary as the two fairies immediately positioned themselves back to back, protecting each other as they kept their enemies at bay with concentrated sound and morphix weapons. "Thank the dragon you are safe. But why are you here? Should you not be guarding the ship of your kingdom?"
"What kingdom?" the music fairy asked, her voice uncharacteristically hollow as she clapped her hands to create a sonic wave that knocked more enemies out of the sky. Confused, Layla looked down at the fleet.
The sight made her gasp in horror.
The first of the titanic ships had already reached the giant portal, its tip vanishing inside of it. But the portal was too narrow for more than two ships to enter side by side. Many fought in the air to save the fleet time to pass through, but now the enemy was attacking from a new direction. Some of the (by comparison) smaller city ships at the end of the fleet were under assault by an entirely new kind of rot-monster, as giant tentacles emerged from the waves, wrapping around the vessels, tearing at their sides and swatting at the crew.
On most of the affected vessels, people were still putting up a fight, shooting at hacking away at the tentacles in a desperate attempt to push them back. But Layla also saw how many ships were being dragged down into the sea. People on them incapable of flight either drowned inside the ships belly or were being devoured by aquatic hunters.
For the first time in many month, tears dwelled up in Layla's eyes. This was all that was left. Everything the Trix's army had not yet conquered and turned into a nightmare. This last fleet was not simply housing the last free survivors of the magic dimension, it was carrying entire kingdoms! Irreplaceable relics, cultural goods, artistic masterpieces, entire libraries filled with ancient histories. The very identity of entire countries. All of it lost in the blink of an eye, swallowed by the endless blue, all because of the lust for conquest of three tyrants.
"Musa…" Layla asked as a squad of dragon-riders burnt the sky around them free of enemies for a while, dreading the answer. "I do not see Melody. Did the ship… did they make it?"
"One of the first to be sunk." Her friend answerer, barely displaying any emotions. "We tried to save who we could, but it all happened to fast, there were so many…" her voice cracked. She quickly recovered and steeled it though, stating:
"No time to mourn. We must guard those who are left."
Layla wanted nothing more than console her best friend, but knew that Musa was right. This was the time to fight, not mourn. Even without the rot-kraken, the fleet's airborne defenders were hard-pressed. And they were not even facing the entire enemy force! The real battle took place many miles away at the portal to the planet Andros, where the kings and queens of all remaining royal houses were leading their armies in a desperate last stand in order to stall the never-ending onslaught of the Army of Decay, buying the time needed for the fleet to flee the dimension with their blood. Despite the distance, where pitch black clouds of unnatural origin darkened the sky, the use of ancient magics and WMDs created a thunderstorm that could be felt all the way over here. Layla's parents were fighting there, the chances of them surviving the day close to zero. The parents of most people on the fleet were in fact fighting there, and even though they threw every bit of power they had at the enemy to ensure the future of their children, enough monsters slipped past them to seriously press the fleeing people.
And then things got even worse. Where before the sky had been clear, black clouds started to form directly above the retreating city ships. The sight made many defenders freeze in shock despite nearby enemies.
"I need to rally the air force, right now!" the princess of Andros yelled. Nodding her head understanding, Musa quickly touched her friends throat, using her magic to strengthen the sound of her voice.
"THE BLACK RAIN HAS REACHED THE FLEET!" Layla's booming voice called out, loud enough to be herd across the entire aerial battlefield. "EVERYONE FALL BACK TO THE SHIPS! GIVE THEM THE AIR; WE MUST PREVENT THEM FROM CLAIMING OUR GROUND!"
Orders given, the two fairies broke off from the fight and took a nosedive towards the fleet, soon followed by the rest of the air force, rot-monsters and witches hot on their trails.
The two friends were heading for the ship claimed by the people of Andros, Layla's subjects, specifically. The titanic carrier, all edges of its topside covered with a stone wall that looked like it came straight out of medieval times, housed an entire city traversed by so many canals and streams it looked very much like Venice, a lush forest and a giant, proud castle surrounded by a moat.
And the Army of Decay was already there. For the black clouds above the fleet were not causing normal rain. Instead, like a biblical plague untold numbers of insects rained from the sky. Where they landed, the surged together, uniting into the shapes of terrible rot-monsters of various sizes and appearances, only united in their inhumanity, attacking people with teeth, claws, pincers and talons.
Already they were engaged by thousands of specialists, the many colours of various energy blades cutting through their flesh as soldiers and monsters engaged in close combat all over the ship, while wizards and specialists armed with guns pelted the creatures from afar.
Without hesitation, Layla and Musa joined the fight. Starting with a Convergence attack, Layla used her control over fluids to raise a huge wave of water from one of the many canals, while Musa feed her own magical energies into the water. With a single move of her hands, the princess made the wave sweep through an entire city block, splashing monsters while moving around any defenders. The fairy of music simply snipped her fingers, creating a few purple sparks. And causing the sonic energy trapped in the water to be unleashed, instantly pulverising each monster that had been splashed with lethal sonic waves.
But even attacks such as this only bought the defenders a short reprise. The real horror of the Army of Decay was that their destroyed warriors simply reformed into new ones, unless you managed to disintegrate every last insect they consisted off. And so the fighting went on. Musa created disco balls that fired energy blasts at everything beneath them, while Layla created several buzz saw blades out of morphix, slicing through every enemy in her vicinity. The enemy kept coming, and they kept destroying.
Scenes like that were taking place all over the fleet. On the Solarian ship, covered by a beautiful, shiny town with baroque buildings, contemplated with a golden palace, princess Stella tirelessly teleported dozens of people from sinking ships onto hers, annihilating every enemy unfortunate enough to come close with light-based beams as hot as the sun.
Zenith, a ship carrying a untypically high-tech city filled with skyscrapers and flying cars, Tecna had plugged herself into the ship's defence network, aiming hundreds of plasma and laser cannons at the attackers while simultaneously directing the ground troops.
A similar, yet completely different picture was presented on Lymphea, whose surface was covered by trees as big as skyscrapers, with almost no signs of advanced technology, houses being located inside trees or primitive huts, giant leaves replacing aircrafts. Flora, along with many other fairies whose powers were related to nature, directed giant vines to lash out at the intruders, along with other giant predator plants and mythical animals.
On Domino, where a pretty normal looking town was built around a beautiful castle adorned with onion towers, the two royal sisters crown princess Daphne and princes Bloom were using their dragon flame to burn monsters by the hundreds.
The battle raged for hours. Many defenders perished, and they made the monsters pay a hundredfold for every life they stole. Time lost any meaning as arms were raised, to fire spells or swing a blade, again and again and again. Many heroic deeds worthy of legends were performed, with nobody left in the dimension to honour them. For finally, after far too many sacrifices, the last ship of the fleet had crossed the portal, which collapsed behind them, signalling the death of those left behind. On the other side, out of reach of their dark mistresses' magic, the rot-monsters simply dissolved, while the witch-thralls dropped dead like marionettes with cut strings.
Most of the defenders dropped down too. Only few raised their voice in jubilation, the strain of the battle taking its toll as fairies, specialists, wizards and dragons fell on the ground in exhaustion.
Layla and Musa were one of the few who remained on their feet, despite being among those who had fought the hardest. Leaning against each other in support, the physically and mentally exhaust girls had dropped their fairy transformation, now stumbling towards the castle in their wingless forms. They might have gotten away, but still there was no time to rest.
The king and queen of Andros were dead, making Layla the new queen. With all the responsibilities that entailed. The dead needed to be counted. Proper collaboration between the nine surviving city ships ensured. While the water of this new world they found themselves in seemed peaceful, the perimeter had to be secured, scouts sent out to look for possible threats.
The war for the magic dimension was over, and they had lost. Yet the war for survival in Worluk had only just begun for the Remnants.
It was only a few short minutes after their arrival that a small fleet of five hovercraft dipped over the horizon, aiming straight for the Remnant fleet. The hovercraft were fast, and appeared to be armed with machine guns.
Code:
Radio Transmission:
FROM: Eden Expedition
TO: Unidentified Fleet
MESSAGE: Attention unidentified fleet. Welcome, travellers, to Worluk. We great you in peace with open arms. However, please be advised that you are in a hostile zone. We would like to *politely* request you move your fleet twenty clicks North for rendevouz.
A wing of 10 chopper aircraft crest the horizon, and stream around the fleet southward. Sounds of battle break out as the aircraft engage serpentine sea creatures wielding some form of magic.
The Remnants:
Deep inside the bowels of the city-ship carrying the last remnants of Zenith was located the Central Intelligence. A supercomputer created with the best technology the Magic Dimension had to offer, including several parts which had only been in their experimental phases when the Army of Decay had first attacked. A giant device where electricity ran through cables right next to magical energies, Central Intelligence was connected to every ship in the fleet, capable of operating every last one without outside help as long as maintenance was done.
Under normal circumstances a massive undertaking such as that would have required a big team with members displaying a huge variety of individual skills to operate the supercomputer. Alas, during the war manpower was a precious resource, which was why a way had been found to lower the required operators down to just one.
That single operator was named Tecna. While some might accuse the people of the Magic Dimension to be criminally uninspired and lazy when it came to names, as far as Tecna was concerned, it was both efficient and practical. She was, after all, the fairy of technology. The person whose natural born power best represented the founding aspiration of the realm of Zenith. Most fairies on Zenith had technology and science related powers, such as electricity, chemicals, wires, innovation, etc. Tecna's magic was more general, encompassing. And the main reason why she was even able to be the sole operator of Central Intelligence.
Sitting motionlessly in blank metal chair at the very heart of the supercomputer, Tecna was in her fairy regalia, the upper half of her head covered by a helmet connected to dozens of cables pulsating with green energy. In comparison, several hundreds of cables were connected to her wings, whose surface looked similar to the outside of a computer chip, with thousands of tiny dots of lights running through the lines.
With feeds from all over the fleet converging on her person, Tecna was the first to receive the hailing of the foreign hovercrafts, and run their message through enough translation programs to understand it.
"Attention unidentified fleet. Welcome, travellers, to Worluk. We great you in peace with open arms. However, please be advised that you are in a hostile zone. We would like to *politely* request you move your fleet twenty clicks North for rendezvous."
She quickly formulated a response, sending: "Copy that. This is Zenith One, serving as current spokesperson of the Remnant Fleet. We express gratitude for your greetings. Before considering your request we demand you identify yourselves, state if you lay claim to these waters, and explain the reasons for the altercation you want us to avoid. Further replies may suffer slight delays due to reviewing the validity of your request. Zenith One out."
Message sent, without moving a single muscle (as her body was in effective stasis, Tecna had in fact not moved a muscle for months) she used her universal control over the fleet to contact the six most important people in it, excluding herself of course. After the second it took to locate each of them, a life-sized hologram of her and the respective other five people appeared in front of the contacted persons, while in front of her eyes was projected a hologram of all of them.
Without so much as saying hello, Tecna started this impromptu conference call through playing the received message to them, as well as her reply.
"Good call to let them know we won't be ordered around." Commented Codatorta, head-general of Red Fountain and with 48 years one of the oldest people on the Fleet. "I'd say we agree with their suggestion, though. Twenty clicks is not much. Dragon's Flame, our biggest ship is fifteen clicks alone! After that last battle, all our soldiers are spent. I trust my boys being able to raise their swords anyhow, but only a fool would get involved in a war he knows nothing about when he does not have to."
"But we cannot just stand by and watch them slaughter each other!" interjected Queen Stella of Solaria. Bags under her eyes, along with several minor wounds currently being treated by a single healer, showed that she was pretty drained from the battle which probably affected her judgement, but her compassion was genuine. "Having experienced the horrors of war first-hand, I say it is out obligation, nay, duty to prevent needless bloodshed wherever we can!"
The passionate appeal surprised the others, and it was Queen Daphne of Domino who replied: "Stella, I honour your intentions, but Codatorta is right. We know nothing about this conflict. Mayhap it is fought for pointless reasons, mayhap one side is completely justified in their actions. In any case we can hardly tell them to cease what they are doing, especially when we have our own people's wellbeing to consider first."
"But we… they cannot… I..."
The Solarian monarch was at a loss for words, when she unexpectedly got backing from Sky, king of Eraklyion. The blond monarch said:
"It is true that we don't know much about the situation, but there are still things we can do. Like force a cease-fire and interject ourselves as an impartial third party. I agree that we are all tired, but we have been fighting for years. In the worst case we are capable of fighting for another day. And from what we've seen, the natives don't nearly have enough troops to make opposing us look like a good idea."
"The kingdom of Andros supports this." Said Layla. "The Trix have stolen our home, chased us out of our entire universe. We must not let their actions take away who we are, what we stand for. For now our people are safe inside the ships. If we choose to remain here while only a few leagues away people die for nothing, then the Trix have truly broken us. Doing the right thing is rarely easy, and it should not be."
The monarch of Andros said this mainly because she genuinely believed so, and in little part because she wanted, needed to support Stella. The two of them, along with Musa, Tecna, Bloom and Flora, had been close friends before the war. They still were, but the past years had changed all of them. Stella had once been a spoiled kid who took shopping and boys far more serious than her obligations as a princess. During the war, her need for superficial things had been exchanged with a need to aid the weak, heal the sick, shelter the persecuted, saving people in general. Which was certainly a better development of character than what Tecna had sacrificed for the fleet…
Her grim musings were interrupted by the other members of the conference speaking up.
"Personally, I advise against threatening actions of any sort unless they are for the purpose of defence." Stated king Oberon of Lymphea. "My people would however be happy to let injured soldiers from both sides enter our realm and treat their wounds, should they allow that."
"As queen of Domino, I cannot in good conscience take the risk of involving my people into yet another war. I say we comply with the request and move away from this conflict before it reaches us."
"Dragon, this generation is infuriating." Codatorta said, sounding both exasperated and proud. "You royals come to an agreement quickly, I'll make sure my boys are ready to do whatever is expected of them."
"Proposal:" Tecna's eerily mechanic voice cut into the discussion. "As a gesture of good faith, the fleet will turn northwards, but stay in place for now. All capable soldiers are to be combat-ready and you prepare squads for immediate intervention. A more definite decision will be made when we get a new message from either party. CI will inform you when that happens. All in favour?"
"Aye!" all six said. Ignoring the sorrow in the projected faces of her old friends, as well as Stella's hot-headed promise that Solaria would intervene anyway should they have to wait for too long, Tecna terminated the call. And went to work. Changing the course of every ship, checking the number of surviving aircrafts and their condition, reviewing damage reports, searching for new transmissions or other kinds of messages from the snake people, etc.
While doing that and more, the following assessment went through her head:
Faction one: Vehicular design suggests humanoid species. Technology primitive, but effective. Reasonable demands, no signs of surprise about our presence. No traces of magic.
Potential benefits of good relations: Medium.
Likelihood of cultural compatibility: High.
Faction two: Very primitive. Possess magic or similar. Impossible to assess full numbers close to fleet due to aquatic nature. Similarities to mermaid species which went extinct seven month ago. Lack of communication most likely due to limited technology.
Potential benefits of good relations: Very High (for as long as Fleet remains on open seas)
Likelihood of cultural compatibility: Medium.
More data needed to reach conclusion.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Actions:
General:
Take care of the wounded, assess and start repairs of damaged inflicted by the last battle.
Tell those fighters still unharmed to be ready for deployment soon. Unless they are to tired to stand, in that case send them to get well deserved rest.
Steer the fleet towards the north, but don't move until you get more info or someone attacks you while scanning your surroundings for potential dangers.
Have the civilians who are unable to assist with either repairs or treatment of the wounded stay inside the ships, unless they have translation spells, in that case we'll probably need them soon.
Individual ships:
Solaria, Andros, one of the smaller ones that houses the survivors of Eraklion:
Have the royals assemble a small squad of their best warriors in case they want to enter the field.
Domino and Lymphea:
Bunker up, prepare soldiers for either defence or flight, but no aggressive actions.
Ah, the glorious decades of the industrial revolution! The age of hope and marvelous inventions! It's amazing to think it's been already a century since the discovery of DNA. Since then thousands upon thousands of fantastic breeds were created, both wondrous and horrifying at once. Meanwhile mechanization makes life much easier, accomplishing the work of hundreds apiece. Life was wonderful and glorious in Europe. Yet this dream-like world could not exist forever. With having no new lands to discover and colonize Earth was steadily became smaller. The politics between all the great powers became tense and the increasing efforts were spent on turning the fruits of science to war. At first the community supported this, thinking the wonders of technology would make wars clean and simple. They were wrong and their folly was the best exemplified by the recent Russo-Japanese War. A hundred thousand dead, all from just a short skirmish between two relatively insignificant powers. It became obvious that technology only made these wars all the more deadlier,
The news of the Russo-Japanese war shocked the world and great powers began making steps towards an international community. Wars must be stopped at all costs! Yet in spite of the initial success their attempt met quick failure. In spite of that the idea of peace and an United Nations League planted roots within the leadership's mind, all they needed just a little push to the right direction. That was when the British fleet discovered an ancient gate only 200km away from Faroe Island. It took surprisingly short time to discover the gate's true purpose, it opened a way to a different dimension. The gate was gigantic, allowing even entire fleet of ships to pass through. The existence of the gate shook the world and major powers suddenly found common ground to pioneer the Second Age of Discovery.
Thus they created the Hoffman Expedition. Led by Robert J. Hoffman it had navies, militaries, scientists and settlers from no less than 26 countries. Their objective is to explore this new world, measure its worth of resources and establish their first ever colony in Worluk. In the six months preceding the expedition Britain sent several teams to scout out the surroundings. What these missions discovered that the other end of the gate leads to a planet not much unlike their Earth. To be exact it leads right next to a huge archipelago where certain islands are close to a continent in size. Given preliminary measurements the planet is around 22,000 km in diameter and a single day lasts 36 hours. Yet aside from this the conditions were otherwise exactly like their Earth. Some groups also attempted to contact the locals but they were uncivilized tribes of cannibals. Communicating with them proved too dangerous. Perhaps once they see the glorious Hoffman Expedition the savages may change their mind. Not risking any more the British ceased their journey and like the rest of the countries spent the remaining months waiting for the grand expedition to assemble.
All the while they remained unaware that Thelin was undergoing a massive change. The savage cannibal tribes that were at war for several Cycles are now united. Yet this has nothing to do with changes in culture, rather it's something they do out of necessity. Because around the same time Britain first opened the dimensional gate Thelin received another, more threatening visitor. The Army of End led by the Blavk King had finally arrived. A mysterious figure with miraculous powers, the Blavk King used to be the savior of humanity. Until he faced betrayal and execution at the hands of the same people he was supposed to save. Yet thanks to an enigmatic benefactor he had returned. Losing faith in humanity he turned for monsters. Orcs, kobolds, goblins, giants and even dragons began to follow him. These traditionally hostile and unintelligible creatures began working together, developing their own culture, language and forming a new nation. They rose up and began waging war against the armies of good with their ultimate goal being the extermination of all humans, dwarves, elves and other races that managed to oppress them for so long. They succeeded. And now the Black King is leading his army to spread his revolution to another world. Six months passed. Thanks to the sheer size of the Thelin Archipelago they have yet to completely take over. On the other hand thanks to Britain periodically sending out scouts the Black King became aware of a potential new threat to his reign. So he waited. He prepared a grand army of monsters ready to welcome these strange visitors.
15th of March, 1904. The Hoffman Expedition with nearly a hundred thousand men pass through the gate, all under watchful eye of the Black King. It was around noon, a period which didn't favor the forces of darkness. So they waited. The fleet safely reached the coasts. So they waited. Soon the explorers began making their temporary camps for the night. So they waited. The Sun was setting. So they schemed. The time approached midnight, the Army of the End began its attack. A mysterious black fog crept towards the coalition's fleet. It was a magical fog made to conceal the Ends's terrible black fleet. Hundreds of galleons, tiremes and other vessels made of charred midnight black wood were heading to meet the Hoffman Fleet's steely behemoths. The dark fog encroached all within sight, reducing visibility to at best a few hundred meters. In that moment the expedition's marines heard something they would never expect, the horns signaling the battle. In just mere minutes they will experience the power of countless bows, catapults, ballistae and bombards fired in unison, attempting to overwhelm the large behemoths in sheer volume. Meanwhile fishmen and the creatures of the sea approached, attempting to engage the ships in brutal melee. While the nightmarish fleet occupied the navy the main force of the Ends were marching towards the coalition's camp. Soon countless horns heralded the beginning of battle as the army of 150,000 began its attack. At around the same time 5000 wyvern riders accompanied with 25 young dragons were approaching the Expedition's airship, attempting to secure their superiority in the air. The Black King knew no mercy!
Robert J. Hoffman was many things. He was a Major General in the British Army, an Explorer, a fan of High-Class literature, but most of all, he was a Gentleman. He was a master of poise and posture, exuded an air of professionalism, and was graceful in everything he did.
Thus, he was rather upset when he was thrown from his bunk as the HMS Victorious veered to the side, and alarms began to blare across the ship. He found himself in a heap of limbs and pajamas on the floor of his cabin. He rose off the the floor, a frown crossing his face as he smoothed his clothing and straightened his mustache. Walking to the door, he tore it open to find sailors and marines rushing to their action stations, obviously something was very, very wrong.
He quickly turned to his wardrobe and began donning his officers jacket and cap.
The crossing had gone well enough, the fleet passing into the New World without trouble. The majority of the soldiers and scientists had landed, created a simple base camp, and the fleet was anchored off the shore. Everything had gone perfectly.
Until now, apparently.
With his dress in a somewhat presentable form, and the Expedition certainly in trouble, Robert rushed back into the corridor, and headed towards the bridge.
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No one knew what was going on, that was apparent. As Robert entered the Bridge, he found it in a state of chaos. The Captain was yelling at the Conn Officer, the Conn Officer was yelling at the Gunnery Director, and the Gunnery Director was yelling at everyone else. Robert cleared his throat, attempting to inform them of his presence. He was ignored as the Captain shouted something that sounded like "THEN SHOOT THE BLEEDIN CLOUD AND BE DONE WITH IT." Robert's mustache quivered with the indignity of it.
"Now SIR!" He said, placing a stern hand on the captain's shoulder, "That is no way for an Officer of His Majesty's Navy to act! Come now, all of you!" he said, turning to the bridge, "In the name of the King, calm down!"
The bridge quieted, everyone silencing themselves at the mention of His Majesty, and the reminder of their duties.
"Good. Now, will someone explain to me what is going on? Communications Officer?"
"Sir," said the young man at the radio, "some kind of massive, black cloud has come in from the North! It's rapidly approaching out position, and our lookout report... well... shapes, moving in it. We can't tell what they are, but they certainly don't appear to be friendly."
The Captain spoke now, "I've ordered the fleet into a defensive formation, and searchlights activated to try and pierce the cloud. The air fleet reports that they see similar things to us. They're moving to close quarters with us, so that our guns can support each other.
"All well and good, but do we even know what we're up against?"
"Ehh... no." Admitted the Captain, "But I've got marines on standby to repel boarders, and the Pheromone Gunners are ready to fire, we can have Big Charlie on these bastards at a moments notice!"
"Good, good." Said Hoffman, looking out the window at the darkness encroaching on their territory.
One of the officers spoke up, "Fleet reports at combat ready status. Gunners are at their stations, and Marines are standing by to repel boarders."
"Wonderful!" Said Hoffman, "Combat orders are as such, Searchlights are to be activated to scan the cloud and highlight targets. No, wait, make sure some of them are scanning the waters around us for smaller, sneakier vessels. We don't want any torpedo shaped surprises. If these things are hostile, show them why they don't mess with the Navies of the Confederacy!"
"Aye sir."
"Sir," the radioman shouted, "the camp reports war horns! They're under attack!"
"Order them to defend themselves immediately! Whatever they have to do! We've been on this world for less than a day and I'll be damned if we're losing our foothold! The moment these bastards, whoever they are, show themselves, blast them out of the water!"
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Colonel Jackson was not having a good day. First, the ride through the portal had been terrible, he wasn't a marine, he preferred to have his feet firmly on land. Second, the camp they had set up was hardly the accommodations he had hoped for. He was an Officer goddammit, and he had been given the honor of leading the American Regiment attached to the Hoffman Expedition! At the very least he could get something better than a bedroll on the ground!
Oh, and he had been awoken in the middle of the night by war horns and the lookouts screaming alarm. It seemed they were under attack.
Yes, not a good day at all.
Throwing on his uniform and grabbing his rifle, he pushed his way out of the tent and into the chaos of the camp. Soldier ran this way and that in various states of dress and combat readiness. He saw the American soldiers all gathering together between their tents, passing around ammunition and weapons. He ran over to them, rifle slung over his shoulder, and began organizing his soldiers.
As the men were forming into squads, an officer riding a Chaser, the large, spider-like British Combat beast, rode up, and began barking orders through a megaphone.
"All Units are to form a defensive perimeter around the landing zone! Rally now, lads! Come on, get yourselves moving!"
"Well you heard him!" Shouted Jackson at his assembled soldiers, "To the edges of the camp boys, let's go!"
As the assembled solders moved forward, they could see the rest of the camp slowly but surely moving as well. The massive steam tanks were fired up as crews hopped into their interiors, light guns were being dragged forward by determined soldiers, machine gunners began setting up their weapons on the perimeter, and combat beasts were being slowly herded to the forming front lines. Whoever these attackers were, they were about to learn that the Nations of Earth would not be a soft target for their attack.
Tactical Actions:
Naval:
-The Fleet is moving to a defensive formation, Heavy ships and transports screened by Cruisers and Destroyers, with Gunboats interwoven between all the other ships. This formation offers little maneuverability, but allows the fleet to concentrate firepower and hold steady against all but the heaviest assaults.
-All ships are prepared to repel boarders should the black cloud allow enemy boarding vessels too close.
-Searchlights are to be turned on and used to search the waters for targets, highlighting them for the gunners on the ships.
-Airships are holding position above the Fleet, allowing naval ships and Airships to support each other. Gunners and Searchlights are on standby for enemy contact. They are expecting enemy fast attack airships, and as such have prepared the auto-cannons for anti-air work.
Land:
-All Infantry units are forming a perimeter around the camp, with steam tanks and heavy guns supporting them. Reserve infantry units are to be behind them, ready to fill any gaps in the line. Machine guns are to be set up as well wherever they have good lines of fire.
-Light Combat beasts are to act as Skirmishers. They will look for any area where the enemy is faltering and charge in, preforming hit and run attacks against weaker units on the enemy flanks.
-Heavy guns are to be set up as soon as possible, and begin a bombardment of anywhere outsider our lines where the enemy may be.
The war didn't go well for Eos. Perhaps making enemies out of the most powerful System Lord wasn't quite the smartest idea, afterall. What could she have done? Ra is the Sun God, she's the goddess of the Sun. Funny how this never felt like an issue over a thousand years ago. Gods be fickle. One thing is sure, Eos would rather die than bow before Ra. Luckily she wasn't alone. Just recently Eos met Ra's old enemy Ba'al. In return for the hefty sum of 2000 talents of liquid Naquadah she gained something invaluable. It was a mysterious device called Quantum Mirror which held mighty technology beyond anything Ra had, it allowed her to access parallel universes. With this their difference in power no longer mattered. If she can't beat Ra here then Eos would just find a way in another universe. She could barely contain herself to gloat her treasure and watch Ra's terrified gaze! But first she better leave this place. Humans say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Not so much for Goa'uld. Eos had already overstayed Ba'al's welcome, the sooner they leave this system is the better.
"Prepare for hyperspace jump!" Eos ordered aboard the command bridge of her personal Ha'tak. But this is when they encountered something they would never expect. Indeed, Ba'al hated Ra but above all he wanted power. The quantum mirror he gave Eos was broken, it was little use for Ba'al. Unless he rigs it to overload whatever ship is entering with it into hyperspace. Something which he obviously did. Eos and her command staff disappeared in the chaotic swirl of interdimensional space and never be heard about again. Meanwhile using the power vacuum created by this "accident" Ba'al made sure to steal all of Eos' territory at once, fortifying his position against Ra.Business as usual. The crafty System Lord began weaving his next betrayal for his ultimate goal to become the greatest.
Perhaps unknown to Ba'al but Eos did survive this accident. The main circuity of her Ha'tak shut down and the mothership inevitably crashed. Yet inertial controls were online and the whole crew surbived, albeit now stranded on the planet Worluk. After their rough landing Eos promtly began with the execution of the entire bridge crew. Helmsmen, navigators, sensor operators; they were all fols! They failed her! How could this happen? It'd take days before her science crew would discover the true source of the malfunction.
But even before that they have more pushing matters. Luckily the entire crew survived, save for those executed by the angry Eos. Same for their equipment. Over a hundred Deathgliders and other small craft were ready for action. And they might need it. Their ship crashed in Northwest Gerondar, right in the heart of Kerinia. Unlike its neighbors he Kerinians only adopted the religion of Chaos in name. They were an ancient country of proud warriors who cared nothing about anyone but themselves. They kept their traditions, trusted no strangers and respected only military might. This is a true country of soldiers, feared in all corners of Worluk. And as expected they didn't take kindly the Goa'uld. A mercenary force bearing a pecicular banner was already dispatched, with their cavalry soon to be within visual range.
Awwad was baffled at what he and his men and women found.
Walking dead? Were these things dead, by the way?
And the men he found... they spoke no Galach and were absolutely primitive, and their land was so wet and humid... Some were different from baseline humans, with pointed ears. Tleilaxu? Do the Tleilaxu even mingle with the powindah, as they called the rest of mankind? Others had fish or bug or lizard-like appearances, which pointed to the fact that men were not the only intelligent species here.
Great Gods, where was he? Was he outside the Imperium? It must've been so. How could all of this happen? The Guild, wasn't it infallible?
And there were men... or things like men, able to conjure fire and insects from the sky, sorcery he'd never seen before and the skeletons recomposed themselves and he couldn't even return back to Dune.
He and his men were stranded on this planet, so different from the others, and this terrified him.
But he didn't have to fear. He remembered the litany against fear he learned at home and repeated it in his mind. Wherever he was, he still had to perform his duty, and though the odds were apparently against him this one time, he knew he had God on his side.
Then he returned to reality, to his stilltent. He noticed a guard. "Call me Asad, I have orders for him" he told him. The guard nodded and went to perform the order. Asad came few minutes later, a man in his early 30s, with an ill-kept beard and the blue-in-blue eyes characteristic of his people. The second-in-command.
"Do you have anything to report?" Awwad asked.
"An army of... undead, to our north, is moving towards the coastal villages, and the locals are setting up their defenses" Asad answered.
"Do we have the coordinates of the villages?"
"Of course"
"Deploy the cannons and send some ornithopters back to the coast. When the undead will be there, we should receive a report".
"And?"
"And... wait a few days, or few hours, but let both sides kill eachother for a bit. When both will have lost enough men, bomb the undead positions with the cannons until none of them remains alive or... animated. Then our men will march inside their villages. The locals should be impressed enough to ask for our protection. Conversion is the cost we will demand. The bugs and the fish and the lizards will be put to the sword, the religion of the Mahdi has to be revealed to men and djinn, anthropomorphic beasts are not within Muad'dib's plans" Awwad finished coldly.
"Yes, naib" Asad nodded, then he went out of the tent to give the orders.
Orders
Send six ornithopters in recon to find the undead army and then to the coastal villages. When the undead will be there and will have their numbers reduced enough during the battle, send orders back to base to bomb the undead positions.
Deploy all cannons and wait for orders.
Prepare 12.000 jihadists and 700 fedaykin for a long march.
Use two more ornithopters to recon and chart the area around our camp.
Alert all other units for eventual defense of the camp.
The battles waged by the undead and the sea-folk are vicious and no attempt at capturing prisoners is given. The undead are never captured because it would be pointless to do so; they have no value for their own "lives" as they can reanimate again and again, so long as their spirits can be redirected to their bones and a fresh flow of necromantic power can be given. The undead never bother to capture the seafolk as they are seen as filthy barbarians invading lands that have been the domain of the Prince Ashakar for the past ten thousand years. Heavy casualties are taken by both sides; the dead fighting without fear or qualm while sorcerous energies flicker and dance overhead and around as they try to cast spells and counterspells.
The fishmen in particular are trying to dispell the binds that keep the skeletons and mummies animate to try and make them crumble once more; with blocs of skeletons gradually crumbling as they are pushed back in the typical shoving matches of melee warfare. The gillmen are not quite as bereft of fear and often break and run and have to be rerallied by harsh taskmasters or spells to force them to refind their courage against the living dead. The battle seesaws one way to the other for the day before both armies decide to start withdrawing for now.
It is now that you decide to strike at them with all available fury; raining death and destruction down upon the undead. However, in response to the attacks from above; the Bone-Priests weave their magic into the ground, chanting in a tongue spoken by no living mouth for the purposes of conversation to cast a necromantic spell. And at once; a series of griffin skeletons tear their way out of the ground; bodies still wearing gold coloured armor and blue trimmings while golden lights burn in their eyes.
With skeletal wings carrying brass feathers, they push themselves into the air against all the laws of physics while scarab beetles of enormous size are called forth from the wild to fly to join the undead griffins. The sudden shock of being joined in the air by something that has absolutely no right to fly catches many ornithopter pilots off guard and two ornithopters are torn out of the sky while the dead army marches back to a land protected by four enormous mobile heiracosphinxes and four standard sphinxes made of ancient stone and clad in fabulous metals; clearly having been the sphinxes that were once thought to be simple statues. Great obelisks surround a sort of castle like complex; their caps shining ominously while crystals feed radiant power into them.
The bones of those who sought to defile the ancient fortress have been added to the ranks of the defenders; as the skeletons and mummies of countless soldiers clearly not of the dead's native culture standing in the fortress' defense attest to. And at the head of it all stands the thousands of years old body of the Prince, literally standing as the old skeleton wanders his old palace-fortress; staring at the sun reverently from a balcony as legions of undead warriors move in a procession beneath him. Even in death; he still saw himself as ruler of this land; unconquered and unbowed, even arrogant enough to allow the ornithopters to scout out his fortress. And why shouldn't he be arrogant? He conquered death.
The ground was soaked in the blooded corpses of a myriad different enemies. Mockeries of men abunded; beastlike humanoids, men made of stone, green homunculi and false dead filled the field, but they were not the only ones. Others had pointed ears not unlike those of the villagers along the coast and others were true men (apparently) with symbols carved or stamped on their foreheads. Some others appeared to be from the past, with mimetic suits once used by men in the age of bullets and others spilled no blood but wires. All of them lied trampled at the feet of his victorious folk. And no sound could be heard but that of the wind bumping into the green and black flag of the Voice from Another World, the Messiah, for whom the Fremen were fighting and dying and killing.
The sound of the wind soon turned into the sound of jets and metal wings, flapping like those of a false bird, and the battlefield became his stilltent. His eyes opened. A dream. He recognized the sound now, ornithopters. He put on some clothes and left his stilltent.
Four ornithopters landed instead of six. A bad sign. Fremen came out of the artificial birds with their eyes wide open.
"So... anything new?" Awwad asked.
"Bad news, Awwad. Horrible ones" said a man as he quickly left the vehicle. He was about to say more when Awwad raised a hand, interrupting him.
"Where are the other two birds?"
"I was about to get to it, Awwad. They're gone, crashed into the ground. The bombing of the enemy positions worked but something reanimated the dead we put to rest. And from the ground emerged brass statues of half-bird half-lion creatures which caused the crash of our ornithopters and..." Awwad interrupted the man again.
"WHAT?" he asked, struggling to believe what he heard.
Another man spoke.
"It is all true, naib. And those were not the only things that came from the ground. Stone lions with human faces and massive bugs and other monstrosities that were meant to be still but were not. And the broken bones of the undead we bombed recomposed themselves giving them back their false life. All at the uttering of a few words we could not hear, uttered by who appeared to be the priests of this undead civilization. You must believe us, you already know about the reanimations. By Shaytan, you already know about the beast men. This world is unlike any other".
Awwad scratched his forehead, attempting to make sense of what he heard. He had no reason to not believe his men, considering what he already knew but this was all surreal...
"Where are we?" asked the previous man, incredulous.
"We are where Muad'dib wants us to be" said Awwad, but he didn't believe in his own answer.
"Muad'dib wants us to be on Hevron, not here"
Awwad raised his voice. "Well we can't be on Hevron. We are stranded here, with no way out, and we are not at fault for this. And this world brims with infidels and monstrosities. If we can't do our holy work on Hevron, we will do it here, it is what Muad'dib wants" he stopped for a moment, then he restarted. "We can do it. Thanks to your work, we now know who or what torments the dead, and we can strike back with more efficience".
The men nodded in agreement. "What about the villages?" Awwad added. "What is their condition?"
"Their forces are depleted. We should be able to march in with few losses at worst".
"Very well, then. Let me come up with a plan".
Orders
Send 12.000 jihadists and 500 fedaykin to occupy the coastal villages. Send with them a hundred artillery pieces at least, together with a dozen of ornithopters of various sizes equipped with machine guns, bombs and much more. Severe, brutal use of force is allowed in case of hostility from the locals, but otherwise a peaceful image is encouraged.
A linguist will come along, in an attempt to learn the language of the locals. Some missionaries will accompany them.
The rest of the forces will remain at the camp, always on alert.
Melange rations in food and drinks are halved.
Add prayers asking for a reunion with the Imperium to religious services.
Attempt to restore some troop transports to working conditions and equip them with small caliber cannons. If successful, we should have a small fleet of heavy gunships.
Bellum Infinitus, infinite war. That was what the galaxy had to bear for a thousand years as the UEF, the Cybrans and the Aeon all sought to annihilate one another in a conflict that started what seemed like an eternity ago. The UEF's final, desperate attempt to end the war before there was no longer a galaxy left to fight over had proven futile, as it had brought forth the people who had taught the Aeon the way into this reality from wherever they ascended to. But rather than a host of angels come to save the galaxy, they were an all consuming horde of demons who destroyed everything they came into contact with. Countless worlds had been laid waste to and the Seraphim were not stopping any time soon.
And with the attempt at sealing the rift from where they drew reinforcements from failed, it seemed that the age of mankind was at an end; destined to be destroyed by the iron fist of the alien. But man would not slip into the abyss of extinction if you had anything to say about it. No, humanity would prosper in some form, even if the apocalypse seemed impossible to reverse. For if the forces of the end times could not be defeated now; they could be fled from. Even if they can follow, it would take them much effort to find you and finish the job. And hopefully by then, you will be ready to drive them back.
And so it was decided to push Quantum gate technology far, far beyond its original purposes. If the Seraphim could hide themselves in another reality; so could the Cybran people. They could, and they must; if there was to be any future for any variant of humanity. The UEF and the Aeon would be left to find their own ways out; informing them of your escape plan carried too many risks of the Seraphim finding out. And while it may wrankle to abandon wartime allies to their fate; there was no other choice if the Cybran were to survive. The gate worked as planned, launching the Cybran fleet through the boundaries of spacetime and out of your very reality; traversing beyond the comforting bounds of your multiverse, your metaverse, and into the void between the reality clusters.
Finally, you entered yet another metaverse and its own cluster of realities; honing in on one that seemed much easier to reach than its sibling realities. The true emptiness of inter-reality nonspace was then replaced by the false vacuum of normal space, and you found yourselves in orbit around a planet that was rather larger than earth, but entirely habitable for unmodified humans. However, your fleet was not able to enjoy its position for very long; as a sleek ship of Black, sickly green, white, and lively cyan suddenly decloaked as it detected your fleet. Faster than light tachyonic rays struck your ships before they were ever fired, followed by sudden warps in spacetime that sent your ships crashing towards the planet one by one; and just as suddenly as your attacker appeared; it vanished back into nothingness.
The crash landing was hard, but survivable; Cybran ships were made to be tough and to protect the people; and five hundred thousand people; the majority of your population, survived re-entry. Three ACUs and six support ACUs were also deemed to be in immediately fieldable conditions; and so were set out to do what had been done countless times before. FInd a mass deposit and get the beginnings of a base set up. However, it seemed that you were not alone on this continent...beyond the strange life forms that seemed to conform to ancient fantasy fiction archetypes of creatures. A strange, malevolent sort of energy was seeped into these lands riddled with the detritus of countless wars before.
Amethyst crystalline beings floated from point to point, congregating in macabre necropoli built out of the ruins of devastated civilian inhabited areas. And from them came amethyst energy that flowed into corpses; untold legions of corpses, and not just corpses...but also other things that consituted as "detritus". Ruined vehicular hulls pulled themselves into a servicable state while this amethyst energy inhabited them, raising destroyed tanks into an unlife just as the dead began to pull themselves to the ground, clutching the weapons they wielded in life as purple energy burned in their orfices. AIrcraft started to lurch forward as they made the motions to once again take off, and a legion of the dead made out of numerous species began to shake and shudder as these amethyst gems called them to war.
Even warships; if not already animated by these strange energies and twisted into new shapes; began to pull themselves from their watery graves at the behest of their crystal masters who called them to serve in new conflicts. And it seemed that destroyed robots were not immune either; as ruined mechanoids that seemed to fit into the old idea of golems were patched up by purple energy holding their forms together and sticking together dismembered parts to give them a new purpose. A purpose of course, that seemed to have a force that roughly corresponded to about an armored division's worth of most likely hostile units to converge on your position while the restless dead were being marshalled for some inscrutable purpose.
Elite Commander Ivana Dostya was in her element, surrounded by several meters of metal and electronics while piloting the most advanced war machine conceived by mankind. She had simply been burning time with matinence when a familiar voice came over her radio.
"Commander this is Operations, we're picking up a mass of hostile contacts on the ships radar. Please advise."
"Give me a direct link, let me see what I'm dealing with."
"Patching you in now."
Her radar blacked out as the ACU's system synced with the ship's and returned seconds later with a vastly different view.
"Yebena Mat." She said slipping back into Russian.
It looked impossible, like some insane scenario dreamed up by cadets during training. Their was simply no need to use that much force and yet here it was. At least 10,000 radar signatures scattered over land, sea, and air; all slowly but surely moving toward them.
"Are you su-"
"Yes we're sure." OPs responded cutting her off "Reset the system 3 times . They're real."
She paused and for what felt like an eternity starred at the radar screen before exhaling a deep breath "Ok what's the ETA?"
"About an hour." Not much time. "Connect me to the rest of the commanders, I have a plan."
Sub ACUs:
-Build T1 Mass Extractors on nearby Mass Deposits, with adjacent Mass Storages for efficiency.
-Assists primary ACUs with base/army construction.
ACUs:
-Construct 2 T1 Land factories and 1 T1 Air factories with 3 adjacent T1 power generators for each.
-Construct 3 T1 Anti Air emplacements and 2 T1 Anti Ground emplacements.
-Assist Factories with unit construction.
Land Factories:
-Produce 2 Mantis T1 Assault Bots and 5 Hunter T1 Light Assault Bots at a 1:4 ratio indefinitely.
Air Factories:
-Produce 2 Prowler T1 Interceptors and 3 Jester T1 Gunships at a 1:2 ratio indefinitely.
Civilian/Non-Combatant Orders.
-Hide in the ships until further notice.
Build Orders
-Reclaim/Repurpose ships.
-Construct housing/agriculture/manufacturing etc for civilians.
-Upgrade Mass Extractors to T3.
-Upgrade Land and Air factories to T3.
-Build a set of 4 Anti-Air Emplacements surrounding base.
-Build 3 T3 Naval Factories at the nearest coastline.
-Buld 5 Silver T1 Attack Submarines.
-Build 5 Brick T3 Armored Assault Bots, 15 Hoplite T2 Rocket Bots, 10 Gemini T3 Air Superiority Fighters, 5 Revenant T3 Strategic Bombers, and 3 Spook T3 Spy-Planes
-Reclaim what's left of the attacking army and attempt to understand what they are and how they work.
Exploration Orders
-Have the Bricks, Hoplites, Geminis, and Revenants patrol the base perimeter.
-Send the T3 Spy-planes to scout the surrounding 200 KMs for anything of interest.
-Have subs scout the nearby coastal waters.
Iethea, the garden-like green planet. This world sprouted numerous intelligent races, making it the source of neverending conflicts. Humans, elves, dwarves and orcs fought each others. These wars had little to do with religion or ideology, it rooted deeper than that. It was their race. Yet all of them agreed in one thing, they hated goblins the most. For thousands of years goblins were a savage fugitive race hunted by everyone else. Sure, goblins were barbaric, dirty and maybe even a little bit crazy but enough is enough! Goblins desired change and their wishes were heard with the rise of the Golden Lord and his glorious empire. scattered and savage goblins suddenly united into one nation and launched their counterattack against all of Iethea. 500 years of non-stop warfare and conquest and now the very world is bowing before the goblin might. They had won!
Yet for the Golden Empire conquering a single world is just not enough. The present Golden King ordered his subjects to open dimensional gates to other worlds in order to conquer all within gasp. Goblin greed knew no bounds. Spearheading an invasion to an unknown dimension sounded like a risky business, regardless the gains were mighty charming. The mightiest goblin clans were the first to embark on the journey, ready to establish their own empires. Yet they were far from the only ones. Clan Duvok spent all their assets to prepare and win the bid for the next invasion. The small clan dreamed big and risked all their fortune on this venture. If they succeed they climb way up on the ladder. If they fail, there's no future to them.
As their ultimate act of gamble the entirety of Clan Duvok passed through the dimensional gate leading to Worluk. The goblin invaders ended up in coasts of South Gerondar, at the very edge of the Kondor Empire. While called as such Kondor is closer to being a loose alliance of numerous Orc tribes and a few Ogre and Goblin clans. Soon after their arrival Clan Duvok began constructing their settlements. This is going to be their new home, afterall. Or at least until they conquer the rest of the continent. Goblin scientists quickly took note of the similarties with their planet but also the differences. According to their estimates the planet was 22,000km in diameter and each day lasted exactly 36 hours. Yet these differences were insignificant, hell even welcome. Bigger planet meant more land to haul for Clan Duvok. And any corporate leader with half a brain can imagine the gains in extra 12 hours of work for the same daily wage. Fantastic!
Yet not everything was so nice for the goblins. As they would later learn Clan Duvok found itself within the lands savage Black Claw Tribe. The orcs living here were infamous for their cannibalism. One bad step and the goblins may find themselves at the bottom of the food chain, literally. And that was only the beginning! Ever since the last Icecrown Constellation drifters from other dimensions showed up one after another. There was a certain influence nearby which was rapidly gaining influence. Gone the black markings and replaced by the symbol of the White Hand. Your scouts soon report entire cities of smoke and steel inhabited by mean looking orcs wearing black armor. Though you were lucky to spot this this threatening power in time the goblins have no illusions about whether or not the servants of the White Hand will find them. You are better be prepared!
Terrans, that's how they were called ever since the age of the beginnings. They're creatures of earth and rocks, living on radiation and the materials of their endless wasteland. Imposing yet serene giants who were roaming this land for billions of years. Yet their days are now numbered. Their Sun which used to be just a tiny yellow dot on the sky transformed into a gigantic globe of crimson red fire. While the change in their star's radiation output greatly benefited the Terran development they also knew something terrible was gradually in the brewing. They panicked, fought each other and now the majority of the Terran population gave in to despair. All but only ten thousand Terrans are all dead, choosing immobility or suicide over the anxiety of their doom. In these times of despair only one Terran shines with the radiance of hope. His name is Dantis, the first and so far only ever Problem Solver of his race. His leadership brought back unity to the Terran and his tribe intends to preserve until the very last moment. Their determination was admirable yet without a miracle their resistance would only delay the inevitable.
And the miracle did happen. A mysterious portal opened to another dimension, to a planet called Worluk. Seeing their last and only chance Dantis hesitated no more and began rallying every Terran who was still willing to move. thus the Terrans began their grand exodus. Towards a new world. Towards a way of hope. The exit of the portal led them to Dimuran. This supposedly lifeless land once took host for the single most destructive war in the history of Worluk, the Great Cataclysm. The intense energies unleashed during this war flattened the entire continent and majority of its landmass is now found underwater. The rest became massively irradiated wastelands. Save for the occasional tiny dune or massive multi-kilometer diameter nuclear craters the continent of Dimuran is flat as far as the eye could see. This hostile inhospitable land is a death world for typical lifeform. Yet the Terrans were anything but that. Living on radiation they found the wastelands of Dimuran their new paradise, a chance to start over. What they didn't know yet that they were far from alone. Mysterious creatures that are neither organic or inorganic in makeup were native to Dimuran. Their population was scarce but far from insignificant. And then there's the hard fact Terrans are hardly the only visitors to this world. Somewhere at the distant horizon multi-kilometer spires rose above the surface. Their material is unlike any element on Earth, their shape defies common sense. They belong to an ancient mining race which never possessed a name, deciding to abuse the serene nature of Dimuran so they can extract materials without anyone disturbing them. They had no name, neither they were alive by the classic sense. Yet a certain race from an insignificant M-class planet did give them one. They referred to them as: BETA
Greater Japanese Empire Turn 1
November - December, 1947
Brigadier General Masanobu Tsuji, the God of Operations, Lion of Bombay and commander of the 29th Infantry Regiment, woke up feeling absolutely awful.
Though the temperature problem had been fixed with the quick installation of radiators and the swift delivery of winter gear, the thirty-six hour night-and-day cycle was still playing merry hell with his body clock, so much so that he felt more tired than when he got to bed hours before. He had tried covering the windows of his bedroom with tarpaulin sheets so it was dark, but his body nonetheless had difficulty cooperating. He didn't know how to describe the feeling as he lay on his bed - that he was both awake and asleep at the same time, his mind racing terribly like he were dreaming but also painfully conscious of every single thought, because his body didn't know when day was day and night was night anymore.
Maybe if he were being shelled, he'd have been alright with it, because that was what sleeping under artillery fire was more or less like. Unfortunately, it was peaceful. There was no cause for his discomfort other than the natural limitations of his body. So of course it was incredibly disagreeable.
But he couldn't do anything about that, he decided. Clad only in shorts and a tank top, he craned his neck to look at his wristwatch, which rested serenely on a stack of maps and documents on his operations desk. Five-thirty in the morning. Or back at home, at least. Welp, time to get to work.
General Tsuji stood up and quickly got dressed with a discipline and timely profession unmatched outside the IJA or perhaps the Wehrmacht. The general was a man of middling height and lean frame with a cleft chin but otherwise gentle features only slightly marred by developing wrinkles - gentle features which belied brutality, intelligence and extreme determination. Resting slantedly on his nose was a pair of clumsily donned round-lensed glasses, which he corrected smartly. As he sat down before the table, he got to putting on that wristwatch. Ironically for someone who so fervently advocated war with the United States, it was a Rolex.
The General then blinked thrice, slapped his cheeks, and drank the warm glass of water that he always prepared before he slept, and starting shifting and shuffling papers around his desk, until his fingers found a map which he then examined closely.
Printed with cheap ink from a cheap machine, the map was a top-down view of the planned fortress complex for the New World's side of the gate. On the black-and-white topographical projection hastily compiled by the civilian cartographers were dots and lines radiating 10 kilometers outward of the center that represented pillboxes, bunkers, trenches, supply depots and heavy artillery emplacements that would make the Japanese foothold impregnable once they were completed.
If they were completed, that is. For if a dragon swooped in, caused an earthquake and killed them all, he wouldn't have been surprised.
Tsuji sighed. Though it was folly to take credence in the talk of shell-shocked front liners, this was a completely different world with clearly different rules. There were rumors of wolves the size of horses, fresh dinosaur carcasses being picked apart by giant vultures, and even a credible event involving seemingly conscious plant that grabbed a young corporal with its thick, tentacle-like vines and forcibly tried to undress him - at least, until it was shot at least a hundred times. Now the plant was dead, and currently being studied by the biologists in the neighboring building.
This was a land of fantasy indeed. The sky was different; the stars were different; the Galaxy was different. With no light pollution at all, Tsuji could stare at the sky like he did in the valleys of India and compare the cosmic dust between the two worlds. Completely different. This was not Earth.
He scratched his bald head. It still sounded like the dreams of a discontent, effete American teenager - "This was not Earth."
But it was true. Here was not Egypt. He could prove it himself by walking through the Gate and taking the elevator to the surface. Then there would be the golden sand and lanky palm trees of Northeastern Africa, not the cold tundra of this New World.
He put the map away. The planned Fortress did not even have a name yet, and construction was still in its infancy, but they did have crude trenches and dugouts as far as seven kilometers away from Regimental Headquarters. The General slept and directed operations in a rapidly expanding wooden building surrounded by the 29th Infantry's hundreds of tents. His own room, which doubled as an office, was a drab, spartan affair where the sawdust-sprinkled air was starkly incongruous against the super soft stuffing of his bed. Tsuji couldn't wait until the concrete walls rose high and batteries of 4cm and 88mm guns held vigil over every square foot of land and air, and when 15cm howitzers were ready to provide fire support on-call. Not that he was a proponent of static warfare, but knowing was half of any battle and no-one knew anything about this place.
But until then, he had to make do with 81mm mortars. If there had been a larger passageway into the man-made cavern that held the Gate, the 1st Motorized Support Brigade would have filtered in already and this encampment would be a proper base. Unfortunately, most of the Division's heavy equipment - and men! - lay idly baking in the desert sun, covered by tarpaulin sheets or buggering about, swimming in the Nile, because the labyrinthine maze of airlocks, blast doors, and narrow killzones that the paranoid British High Command demanded of their architects made it so that only man-portable weapons could be delivered to the Wormhole Chamber. Logistics, whose main opponents here were doors and flights of stairs, were incredibly shoestring - runners delivered food and ammunition from the research complex on bicycles. Crates were secured to their thin frames via chains and ropes at first, but this manner of operation was exhausting to all parties involved, so division engineers took whatever spare metal was at hand and attached crude sidecars to transform a few dozen bikes into tricycles, increasing transport efficiency by 50 - 60 percent. The idea came from Captain Nozomu Fujiwara. Perhaps the man deserved a medal?
Tsuji made a mental note, then reviewed his Forces (Ready) list.
About 200 or so doctors were operating firmly within the New World. Meanwhile, as of the fourth of December, 1947, there were only 2,500 men present here and all of them were from his regiment, the 29th Infantry. And even then, only two and a half of its three battalions could be deployed. For just a single more company from 3rd battalion and people would begin to starve, so a full half of that unit - and the other 7,500 men of the division - was held up in Egypt in reserve. And though regrettable indeed, it seemed as if these valuable forces couldn't be committed until infrastructure developments - namely the construction of a new portal on the surface and linking the research facility with the Egyptian rail network - were finished in eight or so months.
It quite irked him that they couldn't just blow a hole from the surface into the chamber. The British, ever fond of fortifications, had built Area 3 to withstand even the most furious aerial assault. The walls were thick, made entirely of metal, and some doors were so heavy they had to be operated by hydraulics. There was so much steel in one place, probably a battleship's worth or more, but that just went to show how incredibly wasteful, inept and profligate the Anglo-Saxons were. The Americans believed that throwing money at something would eventually make a weapons system project better, while the British just plastered plate after steel plate onto something until it was barely able to move and consumed way too much fuel per unit of speed it could attain. For a country who'd been dominating the seas for three hundred and fifty years and been a major power for considerably longer, they didn't know elegance, precision or balance - they went about their business like brutes pretending to be clever. Simply compare their tactics and weapons to the Empire's and one will know exactly why, when the Royal Navy sailed to meet the great Admiral Yamamoto's Combined Fleet in the waters of East Africa in the largest naval battle in history, they were utterly destroyed, with Japanese losses relatively few and already replaced two years later, today.
And ultimately, Area 3's defenses were never put to their intended use because the British garrison and scientists surrendered immediately.
The British were a stupid people. Theirs used to be an Empire on which the Sun Never Set, but that stopped being so when India fell in 1945, making short on their promise to defend the subcontinent when war broke out in '41. Another thing the British did not realize that it was impossible to stop the sun from setting, but its rise at dawn was the most natural thing in the world. The reason why the Japanese and their allies were so successful, Tsuji thought, was their sheer and undeniable racial superiority. Could the Africans boast of ancient superpowers like Rome? No. Could the Malayans ever see a future that wasn't dominated by the Union Jack? No. Could Indians hope to stop being such barbarians, ceasing their primitive practices of setting women on fire and throwing corpses into the Ganges, without Japanese enlightenment? Of course not. The world needed Axis guidance, and if the Greater Eurasian Co-Prosperity Sphere's members had to be held at gunpoint in order to pave the way for a better tomorrow, then so be it.
After all, Tsuji thought, as he straightened out a stack of report logs - the human life was so vastly overrated.
He glanced at his wristwatch. 5:57 in the morning. He'd better phone Major General Kozuki immediately. His boss had followed his regiment during the first couple of days but elected to reside in Area 3 due to nausea and general illness caused by the new environment. Since then, he'd been visiting the New World for a few hours at a time, but still wanted reports via telephone on specific hours of the day if he wasn't around. Usually, Tsuji would object to this kind of micromanagement, but given the unique circumstances of the Division, such a move was understandable.
But just as his hand was about to reach the handset, the phone rang. Curiosity piqued, he answered it, but he didn't expect Colonel Kawarabe Matsuyama on the other side. Usually it was an eager scientist telling him to come see a new specimen of wildlife or rock. Not many people knew this, but Tsuji had a love for the natural sciences, and he encouraged these calls personally.
"General Tsuji?" The voice of 2nd battalion's commanding officer crackled mildly along the line. Though he wasn't in the mindset to appreciate it at the moment, the quick installation of a wired telephone network alongside the usual radio equipment was a godsend to Tsuji - the former was much more secure. "I have alarming news - about three dozen Allied tanks are approaching my position. The enemy battlegroup consists of T-34's, Shermans and Cromwells. There are no infantry."
Tsuji took a moment to register this information. Adjusting his glasses, he said to Matsuyama calmly, "No infantry? Are you sure?"
"Yes. My men have a good view of the tundra from the ridgeline and there are nothing but tanks coming for us from the West."
"I see." Tsuji breathed in and out consciously. "Can you hold them off, Colonel?"
"The forest has plenty of cover. Just a bit of smoke and we will be fine with our rocket launchers. Lack of sleep will not hinder us."
"Very good. Destroy the enemy and capture him for interrogation."
"Yes, sir."
When he dropped the handset, his eyes widened, and his lips parted into an angry snarl, revealing a set of good, yellow teeth that would have been whiter had he not started smoking. The British personnel lied - there were clearly more facilities like Area 3 in existence and their deception had just been revealed. Quickly picking up the handset again and furiously punching buttons, he waited impatiently for two rings and, at the sound of a click, started speaking immediately.
"General Kozuki, we have a problem," he said. "About three dozen Allied tanks are approaching 2nd Battalion's position. They are models from three years ago - T-34's, Shermans and Cromwells. We will destroy them and capture their crew for interrogation. Just thought I'd let you know."
"I see. Keep me updated," came the cool, matter-of-factly voice of the Tiger of Burma. "I will need to inform Field Marshall Kawabe and His Divine Majesty."
The conversation ended at that point. There was nothing more to say. Tsuji dropped the phone, stood up, removed the tarpaulin sheets from his windows and opened them to let the sun shine through. Removing imaginary dust from his epaulets and straightening out creases on his uniform, he sat down again, moved the microphone closer and blasted on the base speakers and radios: "Small enemy tank force approaching from the West. All units to battle alert. This is not a drill."
Force:
2,500~ soldiers (dug in for 4 days)
200~ civilians
7,500~ soldiers in reserve
Army Orders:
2nd Battalion, 29th Infantry Regiment: Destroy the enemy and capture him for interrogation.
1st, 3rd Batt., 29th infantry Regiment: Full battle alert.
1st Motorized Support Brigade: Disassemble 4cm and 88mm guns, transport them to the New World, and reassemble them there.
Japan, even with its newfound industrial might allowing all of its Divisions at least an artillery regiment (something deemed impossible 11 years ago), has not abandoned its infamous infiltration doctrine. Skilled in feinting and ambushing (especially at night!), defense against a superior foe will be elastic in nature, and the strikes against them done at times where one move would do as much damage to the enemy as possible, often out of the shadows. Concealment is a must in Japanese small-unit tactics, and 50- and 81mm mortar teams will be ready to provide smoke cover.
Each Japanese squad is equipped with at least two 75mm AT rocket launchers. Bicycles are also common among perimeter troops.
Research Orders:
Cartography of surrounding land
Preliminary research of surrounding environment
Construction Orders:
Begin construction of New World Fortress Complex
Begin construction of new Gate in Area 3 Research Complex's surface in Egypt
Begin construction of railway to connect Area 3 with Egyptian railway line
News from the Front:
December 17, 1947: Type 4 Chi-Ri Modification 1948 finalized and mass production scheduled to begin on Jan. 1, 1948.
December 25, 1947: Japanese Invasion of England lead by General Prince Asaka Yasuhiko. Landings made in Plymouth and surrounding areas at 5 in the morning. Invasion force of 150,000 men with 50,000 in reserve at Britanny.
December 28, 1947: New army jet aircraft prototype by Nakajima. Engines explode if throttle changed too suddenly. Motion in Imperial General Headquarters to buy production license for German Me 262 fighters unpopular and dismissed.
The strange coalition of outdated tanks were steadily approaching. Aside from the roar of engines and wheels they appeared to be completely silent. But this time looks could be deceiving because their radio channel was filled with over a dozen voices. "Damn lemmings. Don't line up at the same side, spread out!"
"Why? We are only crushing a bunch of Tier 0 noobz here. I bet they're gonna be the same bunch of fantasy cosplayers as always. Seriously, is this a dwarf con or what? The second movie sucked anyways."
"Dammit Pete, stop chatting up the channel or I gonna mute you! Do as the he says!"
"Fine whatever..."
The thirty tanks spread out to cover a much wider area and prevent cluttering. That's right, the tanks. These vehicles had no drivers, they were driving themselves. Was it drone control? Sophisticated AI? The truth was even more extreme. "Hey guys don't you find this strange?"
"What? That they finally learned how to camp? Nah."
"Can't we just ignore them and capture their base? I hate playing cat an mouse on the field."
"Meh, we'll make do. Let's look for them in that forest. Just don't forget to clear every bush."
The tanks continued to advance into the woods, confident they could deal with whatever ambush those Tier 0 losers can do. Their machineguns roared and tore into each bush they could find, seemingly forgetting little things like ammo conversation. Brutes, savages, madmen! If only Colonel Matsuyama knew...
The tanks continued to waltz through the forest, almost unaffected by the rough terrain or fearing the hazards of crashing into trees. The Colonel was a veteran and saw many things on the battlefield but this was definitely the first. Are they even human? Did they accidentally cross over the gates of hell and now they must answer for their sins? That was a scary thought and Matsumaya quickly shifted his focus somewhere else. While mostly ineffective these random machinegun attacks still claimed several lives. "Hey gaiz, good news and bad news! Good news, these Tier 0s are no Lord of the Rings freaks. Bad news, I think these people are actually arme-"
*BOOM*
The Sherman tank speaking was hit by a Type-99 AT grenade. "PANZERFAUST!"
"Go back to CoD, retard! Not every anti-tank grenade is a Panzerfau-"
Another hit. This time for a different tank. "DAMN, THAT HURT!"
While the shaped charge penetrated the armor the vehicle kept moving, seemingly unaffected. Its top machinegun swept in the direction of its previous attacker. Matsumaya's nightmarish imagination returned. These things must be demons from hell! There's no other explanation how they could survive a direct hit into the crew compartment. Yet the truth still lied somewhere else. "Relaying position, focus fire!"
Suddenly the location of half of the 2nd battalion were painted over the enemy's map. Meanwhile another platoon atempted to surprise the enemy tank from behind, almost point-blank range. "Proximity detection, b****es!"
Shouted the tank through the radio comms and murdered the unsuspecting platoon via its magically turning anti-aircraft machinegun. The situation was surreal yet this is the fact the 2nd Battalion must deal with. And honestly their chances of survival are getting lower by the minute.
Robert J. Hoffman was many things. He was a Major General in the British Army, an Explorer, a fan of High-Class literature, but most of all, he was a Gentleman. He was a master of poise and posture, exuded an air of professionalism, and was graceful in everything he did.
Thus, he was rather upset when he was thrown from his bunk as the HMS Victorious veered to the side, and alarms began to blare across the ship. He found himself in a heap of limbs and pajamas on the floor of his cabin. He rose off the the floor, a frown crossing his face as he smoothed his clothing and straightened his mustache. Walking to the door, he tore it open to find sailors and marines rushing to their action stations, obviously something was very, very wrong.
He quickly turned to his wardrobe and began donning his officers jacket and cap.
The crossing had gone well enough, the fleet passing into the New World without trouble. The majority of the soldiers and scientists had landed, created a simple base camp, and the fleet was anchored off the shore. Everything had gone perfectly.
Until now, apparently.
With his dress in a somewhat presentable form, and the Expedition certainly in trouble, Robert rushed back into the corridor, and headed towards the bridge.
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No one knew what was going on, that was apparent. As Robert entered the Bridge, he found it in a state of chaos. The Captain was yelling at the Conn Officer, the Conn Officer was yelling at the Gunnery Director, and the Gunnery Director was yelling at everyone else. Robert cleared his throat, attempting to inform them of his presence. He was ignored as the Captain shouted something that sounded like "THEN SHOOT THE BLEEDIN CLOUD AND BE DONE WITH IT." Robert's mustache quivered with the indignity of it.
"Now SIR!" He said, placing a stern hand on the captain's shoulder, "That is no way for an Officer of His Majesty's Navy to act! Come now, all of you!" he said, turning to the bridge, "In the name of the King, calm down!"
The bridge quieted, everyone silencing themselves at the mention of His Majesty, and the reminder of their duties.
"Good. Now, will someone explain to me what is going on? Communications Officer?"
"Sir," said the young man at the radio, "some kind of massive, black cloud has come in from the North! It's rapidly approaching out position, and our lookout report... well... shapes, moving in it. We can't tell what they are, but they certainly don't appear to be friendly."
The Captain spoke now, "I've ordered the fleet into a defensive formation, and searchlights activated to try and pierce the cloud. The air fleet reports that they see similar things to us. They're moving to close quarters with us, so that our guns can support each other.
"All well and good, but do we even know what we're up against?"
"Ehh... no." Admitted the Captain, "But I've got marines on standby to repel boarders, and the Pheromone Gunners are ready to fire, we can have Big Charlie on these bastards at a moments notice!"
"Good, good." Said Hoffman, looking out the window at the darkness encroaching on their territory.
One of the officers spoke up, "Fleet reports at combat ready status. Gunners are at their stations, and Marines are standing by to repel boarders."
"Wonderful!" Said Hoffman, "Combat orders are as such, Searchlights are to be activated to scan the cloud and highlight targets. No, wait, make sure some of them are scanning the waters around us for smaller, sneakier vessels. We don't want any torpedo shaped surprises. If these things are hostile, show them why they don't mess with the Navies of the Confederacy!"
"Aye sir."
"Sir," the radioman shouted, "the camp reports war horns! They're under attack!"
"Order them to defend themselves immediately! Whatever they have to do! We've been on this world for less than a day and I'll be damned if we're losing our foothold! The moment these bastards, whoever they are, show themselves, blast them out of the water!"
----------------------
Colonel Jackson was not having a good day. First, the ride through the portal had been terrible, he wasn't a marine, he preferred to have his feet firmly on land. Second, the camp they had set up was hardly the accommodations he had hoped for. He was an Officer goddammit, and he had been given the honor of leading the American Regiment attached to the Hoffman Expedition! At the very least he could get something better than a bedroll on the ground!
Oh, and he had been awoken in the middle of the night by war horns and the lookouts screaming alarm. It seemed they were under attack.
Yes, not a good day at all.
Throwing on his uniform and grabbing his rifle, he pushed his way out of the tent and into the chaos of the camp. Soldier ran this way and that in various states of dress and combat readiness. He saw the American soldiers all gathering together between their tents, passing around ammunition and weapons. He ran over to them, rifle slung over his shoulder, and began organizing his soldiers.
As the men were forming into squads, an officer riding a Chaser, the large, spider-like British Combat beast, rode up, and began barking orders through a megaphone.
"All Units are to form a defensive perimeter around the landing zone! Rally now, lads! Come on, get yourselves moving!"
"Well you heard him!" Shouted Jackson at his assembled soldiers, "To the edges of the camp boys, let's go!"
As the assembled solders moved forward, they could see the rest of the camp slowly but surely moving as well. The massive steam tanks were fired up as crews hopped into their interiors, light guns were being dragged forward by determined soldiers, machine gunners began setting up their weapons on the perimeter, and combat beasts were being slowly herded to the forming front lines. Whoever these attackers were, they were about to learn that the Nations of Earth would not be a soft target for their attack.
Tactical Actions:
Naval:
-The Fleet is moving to a defensive formation, Heavy ships and transports screened by Cruisers and Destroyers, with Gunboats interwoven between all the other ships. This formation offers little maneuverability, but allows the fleet to concentrate firepower and hold steady against all but the heaviest assaults.
-All ships are prepared to repel boarders should the black cloud allow enemy boarding vessels too close.
-Searchlights are to be turned on and used to search the waters for targets, highlighting them for the gunners on the ships.
-Airships are holding position above the Fleet, allowing naval ships and Airships to support each other. Gunners and Searchlights are on standby for enemy contact. They are expecting enemy fast attack airships, and as such have prepared the auto-cannons for anti-air work.
Land:
-All Infantry units are forming a perimeter around the camp, with steam tanks and heavy guns supporting them. Reserve infantry units are to be behind them, ready to fill any gaps in the line. Machine guns are to be set up as well wherever they have good lines of fire.
-Light Combat beasts are to act as Skirmishers. They will look for any area where the enemy is faltering and charge in, preforming hit and run attacks against weaker units on the enemy flanks.
-Heavy guns are to be set up as soon as possible, and begin a bombardment of anywhere outsider our lines where the enemy may be.
Robert J. Hoffman quickly ordered his fleet into a defensive formation. He had a bad feeling regardless whatever lurked within that fog. His suspicions were spot on. Under the guise of the thick fog were hiding a large detachment of the dreaded Black Fleet, admiraled by none other than the infamous Blackbeard aboard the Queen Anne's Revenge. The fleet of the Black King was massive but the enemy had ships which Blackbeard never thought to be plausible. Steel behemoths on the sea hoarding cannons as large as a house. They were incredible and terrifying at the same time, he must have them!
But even if motivated by greed, Teach was no fool. He knew the threat posed by such monstrous steely warships thus the fleet moved under the cover of his black fog, one of the powers he had attained at the cost of his humanity. The enemy felt that something was amiss but their efforts are vain. Even if they had portable lighthouses they could never penetrate Blackbeard's devilish mist. The Black Fleet silently approached with fishmen swimming ahead of them providing directions. once the fishmen messengers returned Blackbeard took out a tiny hourglass and spun it once. When the last piece of sand fell down he roared the signal to attack. Suddenly war horns could be heard everywhere, breaking the silence in a grand way. In the following few minutes hundreds of ships began their strike. Thousands of flaming arrows flew, hundreds of burning projectiles were hurled from catapults and ballistae and the roar of nearly a hundred cannons could be heard. They attacked from nearl the edge of their range. Blackbeard valued the surprise factor of his ambush above the damage it could cause. He fought with terror, not martial powers. Hence his choice of flaming arrows and munitions even though he knew fire has little effect against the steel behemoths. Honestly, he doubted anything would. Though his cover was blown the ships didn't stop their advance. If they can't match those ships they shall challenge them on a field they could. While keeping the steel behemoths busy with the neverending volley, the fleet of over 200 galleys prepared to board the enemy and drown them in their superior numbers. By the end of this night Blackbeard shall acquire a treasure beyond any other!
While the steel behemoths of the sea were walking into the black Fleet's path, their sky brethen soon came under attack from a different kind of threat. The Sixth Dragon Division consisting 2000 Wyvern riders and no less than 25 Dragons were heading straight to engage the airships. Monsters had excellent night vision and relying on this they thought attacking at night would give them the major advantage. Against steely barges like that their archers had no chance to succeed. Instead their general plan was to get as close to the ship as possible and prepare to board them. Even if that fails their sheer number should provide sufficient screen to protect the dragons. These creatures were roughly 15 meters long with the wingspan of 30m. Their skin could resist gunfire and their fiery breath can destroy an entire row of houses from a hundred meters away. These fearsome creatures were rare and well-feared within the realm of Orte. By modern terms they should be considered the Black King's superweapons.
Both the battles in the seas and the skies were considered important. The enemy had terrifying steely beasts out there which must be stopped. But in terms of strategic objective the ground assault was undoubtedly the focus of the entire battle. It doesn't matter if they lose on either of the other two fronts. If they buy time for long enough that the ground forces overwhelm the enemy's camp then the Black King had pretty much won. Over 150,000 warriors had gathered with the intention to exterminate all humans at the shores. The core of their army were made up of Kobold Troopers wearing the iconic full plate armor colored night black. They were effectively comaprable to human soldeirs with halberds, swords and occasionall crossbows. Another large group were Goblins, tiny but savagely cunning green creatures armed with whatever they could have at hand. Orcs also make an important part of the army. While their green pigfaced appearance doesn't lie about their low intelligence their strength should not be underestimated. Ever sicne to his arrival to Worluk the Black King also converted the local monsters into his service. Rattern are the most numerous, they are goblin-sized rat-like humanoids known for their bloodthirst, cruelty and brutal weapons crafted to cause the worst injuries to imagine. The Black King also wandered the mountains and gathered Trolls to his aid. With height twice that of humans the Trolls are huge and powerful, now equipped with a large hammer and lazily aligned armor plates. Yet they were hardly the most impressive sight tonight. Coming from their original world the Black King mobilized his mighty giants, 12m tall behemoths of flesh and muscle that are like a living siege machine. They are covered in armor plates and carry towers housing dozens of archers. Their proportionally scaled giant maces can crush anything they strike!
This terrible army gradually encircled the Hoffman Expedition's camp from all directions, not letting even a single soul to escape. Under the guise of night they approached their target. Yet you can't hide such a massive army forever. Just when they were at the brink of discovery the loud noise of war horns woke up the camp's dwellers. In that moment over a hundred thousand monstrous creatures all began to march at great pace. Their target was still roughly a kilometers away. Even their best archers can only shoot their volley to 600 meters. Regardless they were coming. And their numbers were many!
Naval Forces - 1 Pre-Dreadnought: HMS Victorious. Flagship of the Combined Fleet - 3 Ironclad Battleships: USS Massachusetts, SMS Wettin, HMS Indomitable - 4 Armored Cruisers
- 6 Destroyers
- 9 Monitors
- 6 Transport Ships
- Various Fleet Tenders and repair ships
- 1 Kraken "Big Charlie" Air Forces
- 2 Aerial Battleships: LNF Napoléon, HMS Invictus
- 4 Aerial Cruisers
- 5 Aerial Gunships
- 2 Aerial Transports
- 200 Blade Falcons Ground Forces
Total: 40,000 Soldiers
- 30,000 Infantry
- 28 Steam Tanks
- 50 Tigerhounds
- 84 Heavy Warbeasts and Handlers
- 168 Light Warbeasts and Handlers
- 168 Field Artillery Pieces (eg. 75 mm cannons)
- 92 Heavy Guns (eg. 9.2 in Howitzer)
- 7,000 Nightwings, plus handlers
Terrans, that's how they were called ever since the age of the beginnings. They're creatures of earth and rocks, living on radiation and the materials of their endless wasteland. Imposing yet serene giants who were roaming this land for billions of years. Yet their days are now numbered. Their Sun which used to be just a tiny yellow dot on the sky transformed into a gigantic globe of crimson red fire. While the change in their star's radiation output greatly benefited the Terran development they also knew something terrible was gradually in the brewing. They panicked, fought each other and now the majority of the Terran population gave in to despair. All but only ten thousand Terrans are all dead, choosing immobility or suicide over the anxiety of their doom. In these times of despair only one Terran shines with the radiance of hope. His name is Dantis, the first and so far only ever Problem Solver of his race. His leadership brought back unity to the Terran and his tribe intends to preserve until the very last moment. Their determination was admirable yet without a miracle their resistance would only delay the inevitable.
And the miracle did happen. A mysterious portal opened to another dimension, to a planet called Worluk. Seeing their last and only chance Dantis hesitated no more and began rallying every Terran who was still willing to move. thus the Terrans began their grand exodus. Towards a new world. Towards a way of hope. The exit of the portal led them to Dimuran. This supposedly lifeless land once took host for the single most destructive war in the history of Worluk, the Great Cataclysm. The intense energies unleashed during this war flattened the entire continent and majority of its landmass is now found underwater. The rest became massively irradiated wastelands. Save for the occasional tiny dune or massive multi-kilometer diameter nuclear craters the continent of Dimuran is flat as far as the eye could see. This hostile inhospitable land is a death world for typical lifeform. Yet the Terrans were anything but that. Living on radiation they found the wastelands of Dimuran their new paradise, a chance to start over. What they didn't know yet that they were far from alone. Mysterious creatures that are neither organic or inorganic in makeup were native to Dimuran. Their population was scarce but far from insignificant. And then there's the hard fact Terrans are hardly the only visitors to this world. Somewhere at the distant horizon multi-kilometer spires rose above the surface. Their material is unlike any element on Earth, their shape defies common sense. They belong to an ancient mining race which never possessed a name, deciding to abuse the serene nature of Dimuran so they can extract materials without anyone disturbing them. They had no name, neither they were alive by the classic sense. Yet a certain race from an insignificant M-class planet did give them one. They referred to them as: BETA
Dantis walked steadily across newly revealed rock. He let his own voice join the song that rang across the plain. Ten thousand voices raised in common harmony under the warm light of the tiny yellow sun.
Yet, he worried.
This was not a natural place. Though bountiful to his people the landscape was uniformly flat, desolate. Unnaturally so. He shivered slightly at the thought of such power used for so little. He must strive to protect the Terran as best he can.
His people worked tirelessly at his command. From the plain rose a solid rock mound, welded to the bedrock. Fused form the sand and stone that covered this wondrous world. Already rising 50 meters from the plain he would have them continue until the bedrock was exposed for 5000m in every direction. The true shaping would begin then.
Finally he reached the Terran he'd been looking for.
"Goven!" Dantis called.
A green giant turned from his work. "Dantis?"
"A moment Goven, I have a different task for you."
Goven nodded and dropped the boulder he'd been carrying.
"Walk with me." Dantis said moving off.
The two giants worked around the edge of the vast digging project.
"I am worried Goven. We know so little about this world. We need information."
"Hmm."
"I'm picking Terrans to scout out the area. I want to send you out 10 nights. See want you can see." Dantis turned to look at Goven. "Are you willing?"
Goven scratched the back of his head. "Well, OK Dantis. What do I do if I find something?"
"Leave well enough alone for now if you can. I chose you because I think I can trust you Goven, if something happens use your best judgment. The important thing is to get back. I am putting a map together in the new Village."
The two stopped as they reached a team of Terrans.
"Jokton, Hillvoken!"
Two smaller Terran trotted over.
"You two ready for a harder task?" Nods.
"Right then, you now work for Goven." Dantis turned to Goven. "Talk it over, come find me when you're ready."
Continue construction of Citadel Village.
Send 50 teams out to a range of ~100km to recon the area.
Build a map.
Citadel Village - Using the sand to forge see though towers that capture and focus the weaker sun light into the center of the Village. Deviant art.
Found the Village core within the Citadel
Longer ranged scouting missions
Set up relay stations to allow communications for the missions.
Hoffman cursed as the various projectiles impacted across the fleet. He didn't know what kind of damage the amalgamation of arrows and cannonballs had done, and while he hoped it was minimal, he couldn't know.
What he did know was that his fleet was under attack, and that they had to respond immediately.
"Radioman! Message to all forces, target as they are able, weapons are free to fire! Larger guns are to target the enemy ships at range, while our lighter guns thin out their forward attack vessels, whatever they are!"
"Aye sir!"
Guns began to fire across the fleet, the first salvo away. Hoffman felt the Victorious shudder beneath his feet as the main guns thundered away.
"Any word on the composition of the enemy fleet?" Asked Hoffman as the battle commenced.
"Well... it appears to be... Galleys and Pirate ships?"
There was silence on the bridge for a moment.
"What?"
"No matter, blow them out of the water anyway!"
Colonel Jackson was now sure he was in Hell. His unit had joined the firing line, alongside nearly the entire expeditionary force. Cannons and Tanks had been wheeled into place, Machine Guns set up along the perimeter, and thousands upon thousands of rifles pointed across the beach towards the unknown enemy. He had felt confident, untouchable, surely nothing could breach such a line?
And then the strange cloud of inky blackness had disappeared, and the true nature of the enemy had been revealed. A horde of ungodly creatures appeared before him, some looking as if they had marched straight out of a nightmare. He briefly wondered what kind of Bioshaper had crafted these things, but his thoughts were snatched away as the horde began to move. They were already close.
A shout from behind, an officer on his mount screaming orders across the lines.
"GUNNERS, FIND YOUR TARGETS. HEAVY GUNS ON THE LARGE WARBEASTS. BRING THEM DOWN MEN!"
Years of military training took over, and he found himself bringing his Springfield to bear on the approaching lines. Around him he heard the field guns fire their first shells, and the tanks begin to add their own fire to the attack. The riflemen held fire for just a moment, waiting for the enemy to close to effective range. They approached... step by step.
And then the line of riflemen fired, bulging with flame as thousands of guns discharged all together. Machine guns began to open up as the enemy got closer and closer, adding their own chattering to the swirl of sounds.
The battle had begun.
As the battle joined between ships and soldiers below, so too did the airships begin to fight. The battleships unleashed cannon and lightning as their guns discharged across the sky at the tiny, incoming attackers. They knew their larger guns would have no chance of tracking the smaller beasts, so they turned their cannons to the task of filling the air around the enemy with as much flak as possible, while the autocannons were tasked with killing any that came close.
Air Marines across the fleet rushed to their stations. No one had ever successfully boarded an airship in combat before, but the possibility was always there. They were confident, surely if the greatest powers of the age couldn't board an airship, thanks to their firepower and design, what chance did these enemies have?
The Gunships and Cruisers moved to guard the larger ships, their light guns more effective at tracking and eliminating the small, quick targets. The air filled with shells and Lightning as the battle commenced.
Tactical Actions:
Naval:
-The Fleet has been ordered to open fire, with heavy cannons and Lightning guns targeting the larger ships at the rear of the enemy fleet, and the light guns and small warships targeting the incoming Galleys.
-Marines both in the air and on the sea are standing by to repel boarders.
-Lighter Airships are forming a screen around the Air Battleships, and targeting the smaller attackers. All units are opening fire.
Land:
-Field guns and tanks are firing at the giants, doing their best to take them down before they get close.
-Riflemen and Machine Gunners fire all together, ensuring maximum effect. Followed by fire at will. they will target the enemy infantry at range.
-Second line is to act as reserves, filling in holes in the line or replacing positions that need to reload. they will have bayonets at the ready just inc case the front line breaks.
-Heavy guns are to shell the enemy as they approach, especially the larger targets.
-Light Combat beasts are to act as Skirmishers. They will look for any area where the enemy is faltering and charge in, preforming hit and run attacks against weaker units on the enemy flanks.
-If they enemy gets into melee range, fix bayonets. It's better than nothing.
Clanmaster Zrex slowly strolled into the meeting room aboard the Eclipse Dreadnought Duvok, his glowing eyes fell over each member of the Board of Chiefs as he made his way to the glass window, turning his dragonscale cape to his chiefs, he gazed down at the young city growing beneath, his city. It seem like it was only yesterday that they cross the Gate into another world, ready to claim it for the Golden Empire. They've arrived only a little more than a kilometer off the coast of their current landing size and transported colonists to shore using airships, leaving the fleet behind to guard the Gate.
Now, what was just a mess of hastily assembled hut has grown into a thriving city. The design for this one is strange, in his eyes, but the tradition designs were deemed impractical for building a new city from scratch. Instead of being sorted by levels, wealthier citizens now live closer to the beach, where Clan Dovuk's headquarter was built, right next to what will become their future harbor. Further out you go, the poorer the residents get, as obvious by the transistion from expensive golem-built high-risesnear the beach to little dirt huts deep into the mainland. No matter what you do, proper classification must be maintained, it is only natural, after all. Can't have the dirt-draggers share the same space with the high class, after all. Allowing a slight smile to tug at his wrinkled lip, he turned back to the Chiefs,
"Ladies, gentlemens, your reports?"
There was a brief silence, then the Chief of Argiculture, Soxteex, an old goblin female, look to be in her late twenties, slowly spoke up.
"Our Yellowcap farms have been set up and are running quite smoothly. The soil here's good for them. We should see our first harvest in three months time. Flax plantations also have no problem so far " The Clanmaster nodded at her words. Yellowcaps are giant, slightly poisonous mushrooms that made up a major part of goblins diet. They can break corpses down for nutrients, have very high yield, substantial nutrition values and all around a pretty nice food crop. However they taste a little too bland to be serve to the higher class in large quantity.
"What about the Trihorn Beetles ranches and Beetlemoss farms? Silk Spiders?" Trihorn Beetle are cow-sized members of the Dynastinae family, named for their three large horns that lined up in a row. Almost everything on a Trihorn Beetle have economic value: Their meat is rather expensive and mostly sold to well-off individuals. Their skin is thick enough to be made into a kind of soft leatherwhile their shell can be carved into decoration. Finally, their dung can be used to grow Beetlemoss, a type of blackish green moss that has a sour, tangy flavour and also considered luxury food.
Silk Spiders, on the other hand, are exactly what they sound like: dog sized spiders that spun a lot of silk for the goblins to harvest and turn weave into thread. It took a very specific combination of temperature, lighting, humidity, and ventilation for these spiders to produce the optimal amount high quality silk, and thus mostly reserved for the rich.
"We have already started on hollowing out space for the beetles, so it won't take long. Spiders are a little trickier, we haven't found the suitable area for them yet"
"Make sure that you do, we don't want to upset what few high payers we have." Indeed, what is the point of being rich if you can't enjoy more things than those who don't? "Mister Klyrm, how goes the workforce?"
The Chief of Goblin Resource flinched at the mention of his name before frantically digging through a huge pile of paper near his seat, looking for one sheet in particular before looking up and started running his overeager mouth off.
"Yess Clanmaster, everything is going very well! Thanks to the longer days here, we managed to squeeze out 24 hours of work in total, virtually doubling our productivity. We had to revise the break schedule to make sure they stay at peak efficiency through it all, of course! The city is coming along splendidly, as you have already seen for yourself, those construction golems were a real boon" Zrex stayed silent for a moment after the report, wiping his gold-trimmed monocle on his handkerchief as he contemplated on the new work hours.
"Give them a...3 percent raise and free bitter tea during break, show them I appreciated their work" Klyrm nodded rapidly and quickly scribbled some notes down on his palm as Hilx, the Chief of Production spoke up.
"Now much to say on our industry, we need coal and natural resources to do anything, the boys are chopping the trees down for some fuel but I'm not sure it will hold" Zrex sighed when he finished
"I'll send our geologists out there on board Wolfhounds to do some survey, they should be able to identify a deposits or two. Speaking of cutting down tree, I believe you have something to report on the tree here, mister Vreanq?" Zrex turned toward a short goblins sitting in the furthest end of the table. The Chief of Research nodded and pulled up several charts from his bag.
"Yes, as you all can see here, this is the chart comparing energy output of untreated coal from Ithea and untreated wood from this world, the energy output is roughly similar to each other, comparable treated wood from our world. Closer examinations shown that the wood here somehow has magical energy bounded to them at a cellular level, much deeper than what our infusers can accomplish. I believe that they can be put through a secondary infusion, further enriching their potential. Studying the mechanism of this phenomenon should greatly increase the efficiency of our infusers." A massive grin split both the scientist and the Clanmaster's faces for different reasons. For Vreanq, it was the thought of going down in history as the one to revolutionize infusion technology, for Zrex, it was the thought that wood can now somehow match coal in energy production.
"Impressive indeed. You'll have my support in this endeavour, do not prove me wrong!" The scientist nodded rapidly and immediately went off to gather his team. "Finally, I want to know about this talk of orcs. Is it true, mister Riz?"
The Chief of Security nodded solemly as he produced several black and white photos "Our scouts have brought back evidence of creatures matching description of orcs in the record of the Liberation War. Their society so far seemed much lower than what the records suggested, only at tribal level as far as we know. However, there is one group that have shown evidences of industry..."An uncomfortable silence engulfed the room at that. It was bad knowing that their ancient foes exist even across worlds, but worse still to know that the barbarians possess technology on the Empire's level. For the first time in the meeting, the Clanmaster slowly walked toward his chair and took a seat, his eyes closed in contemplation.
"They said these industrialized orcs are not in the same camp with the others, is that true?"Zrex asked after a minute or so, breaking the silence.
"They carry different banners and seem to be at odd with the others."Zrex nodded, continuing.
"Send 100 goldpieces to whoever in charge of these Black Nails barbarians or whatever and ordered them to immediately vacate the region, this is Imperial property now. If they do not accept our most generous offer, have 2 Typhoons loaded with 100 Goliaths each rake the area and forcibly remove them. As for the other group, we will contact them, industry mean that they can't be completely uncivilized. Still, make sure our delegates come aboard the Dovuk, with 30 Gales and 10 Typhoons as escorts. It will serve them well to understand the Empire's might"
ACTION PLAN:
Diplomacy:
-Send delegates to Isengard orcs
-Offer to buy the Black Fangs' land. Military
-Prepare to drive out the Black Claw if they do not accept the offer Domestic
-Build 2 Trihorn Beetle ranches and 2 Beetlemoss farms
-Build an infusion plant
-Perform geological survey for deposits Research
-Research the natural infusion of this world, can it be enrich further? can we apply it to our infusers?
Magic can be a fickle thing. Immensely useful in a wide variety of endeavors, but fickle non- the-less. And it was this fickleness that would land Durgin Kriel in its current situation. The Circle Orboros, a group of druids, had attempted to teleport their forces across the Leyline network to rapidly respond to some distant threat but had miscalculated in their haste. Waves of misfired mana flooded the lines as they preformed their rituals, surging and gathering on a single Leypoint located directly beneath the Kriel. And as more and more mana congregated the day approached when it would finally snap.
In a flash of raw unfocused magic the Kriel was torn from its world, tens of thousands of tons of rock and forest and settlement spirited away with only seared earth to mark it departure. In an infinitesimally small span of time it was hurled beyond its planet, beyond its plane, and into something far stranger. It flew through the true void that partitioned the various realities, multiverses, and other such things before being drawn to one distant world in particular. Almost as if calling for it this small isolated planetoid drew the displaced Kriel towards it.
And thus the Kriel and its surrounding forest joined this new world far more seamlessly then they had exited their own. Forest met scorching desert with nary a sound, once clear skies changed to a cloud speckled tapestry, a hot wind began to blow through the trees. For miles around their lies nothing but sand and the occasional rock outcropping.
Yet unknown to any of the settlement's denizens something had taken notice of their arrival. Nomads, traders, sellswords they had been called and gone by many titles and names. Constructing cities atop the massive scarab beetles of their native lands they have wandered the scorching sands as long as they can remember. From across the arid expanse the Roaving Clans take notice of Durgin Kriel and begin their slow approach.
