The shores of Musica

[stevenAntica]

The fleet carrying Legion II was now docked and the equipment was beginning to be unloaded. Steven stood on deck, sweat dripping down his forehead, his voice horse from the continuous screaming of orders. Steven had never been a man to stay calm during crisis, it was just not part of his makeup and because of this an indelible image had been cast upon this war, that of Steven screaming at the top of his lungs that the decks to be cleared. Various officers now congregated around Steven like bees, asking for orders and directions. Steven appropriated the various tasks for unloading of the ship but slowly he stopped and came to the end of the ship and a sensation of horror came over him. Maybe the adrenaline had blocked the sensation or the realization previously but now the horror filled him in full. First was the smell, the smell of charred bodies, the smell of death and rotting flesh. Then there was the sight of it all, bodies of men, none of them over 20, some were completely charred to a crisp. The outline of these men’s skeletons was quite visible and across their faces was a sort of grin as their lips had been totally incinerated. Still the skin of other soldiers seemed to be melting off their face. Their faces were frozen in shock, their hair was gone and in many places their bones exposed. Steven called over one of his more senior commanders, Lucas, to his side, “Lucas, I want you to assign the medics in the units to find who is injured and who isn’t. Find a place in the city where they can be rested. Then, as hard as the task may be, you must take the dead and create makeshift graves in the woods over yonder. Understood?” “Yes, sir,” replied Lucas. “Good, after that is done, I want you to report to me of all the damages. Also, report to me the status of the transport that was hit three or four by a dragon.” “Yes, sir.” As soon as Steven was satisfied with the level of work he came ashore. He walked along the beach, letting his boots dig into the sand, observing the damage done to the town. After about a 10 minute ride he arrived at Chris’s transport ships. An engineer repairing the bow of one of the ships stopped to salute him and Steven asked, “Do you by any chance know the direction which Chris took?” “I believe I heard he went into town. You may look for him there.” “Thank you, sir.” Steven progressed into the charred and burnt town, destroyed by the attacks and soon he noticed a distinctive flag, the flag of the republic, probably carried by the transport vehicle of the speaker. Also, out of the corner of his eye he saw a familiar face, shabbier than the last time he saw him, but a face the same. As he moved out of a corner where he was talking to someone, Foghorn took notice of Steven. Steven said heartily, in that distinctive voice used to speak to a friend who has not been seen in a long time, “Foghorn, those dragons worried me quite a bit, but I did not know that I would have to deal with commander Foghorn.” ”It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen you myself!” Answered Foghorn. “How have you been, comrade? The last time I saw you was in Phedodoah, you were leaving for Shireroth with the Naval Infantry.” “I’ve been well, Steven. I’ve never been so happy to see you in my life.” “Chris, Foghorn, let’s go find a drink somewhere and catch up?” Summary: Steven lands at Music. One ship is damaged, 51 men are killed, 63 are injured with first degree burns, and 3 armored vehicles are damaged.

[extreme007]

Quote:OOC: i assume those damages you listed are from your unit only, and that foghorn and octavius are going to list seperate damages??? i mean, for 20 dragons lost, that does seem quite a lot value.. i am offcourse going by the assumption of what i saw in the movie, Reign of Fire. However, now that i think about it, all you had were artillery shots to counter attack his dragons.. which means, that those shots that didn't hit, fell back on you (or somewhere close enough).... plus, its really hard to aim with artillery (anti-air)..these are my thoughts, if ozarka/elwynn side feels you are correct, then i am fine. Discover, Invent, Theories, Experiment,Advance Science,Advance Extremism,(in Karnali, Republic of)

[stevenAntica]

yes. Those are only my damages.

[Nick Foghorn Leghorn]

Chris and foghorn walked briskly towards the nearest watering hole, leaving steven in their dust. The nearest such establishment, it turned out, was called the "Pissed Off Dragon" and had a wooden picure of a big flying red dragon above the door. Foghorn pointed towards it. "Bit of poor taste, don't you think?"Chris nodded. "Indeed. I'll come back later and chop it down."The two walked into the pub, which looked a whole lot like the Riverside Bar back in Aquilaria. Then again, every pub looks the same. The two strode towards the nearest table, sat down, and ordered a drink. Foghorn rested his rifle, which had been slung over his shoulder since he rejoined Chris, on the wall next to the table. "Looks like you had your hands full during that attack, Chris" Foghorn remarked.Chris nodded and glared at him. "And where, may I ask, have you been during all this?"Foghorn gestured towards the rifle. "You think I was going to miss out on some target practise? I ordered my men to fire at the riders from protected hallways. We lost Chiefs Jenkins and Hofstadter in the fight along with about 20 other grunts, but I think we took out a few of those scaley bastards.""Oh. I thought you had just run off to hide.""Not after that Babkhan shelling we took. Dark basements don't provide that same sense of security anymore."Commander Steven walked into the pub and saluted the two again. Chris and Foghorn saluted back and Steven grabbed a seat. "Good afternoon, gentlemen."Foghorn stared at Steven for a few seconds with a confused look on his face. "Where's your parrot?""Ha ha, very funny."Chris giggled. "It's actually not that bad. All you need is a pegleg, and we can put you on the label of a liquor bottle."Steven glared at the lot of them. "Can we quit with the pirate jokes and get down to business?"Foghorn contorted his face back into a serious demeanor. "Right. You know the route. The Naval Infantry will form a skirmish line ahead of you both, then Chris will follow after, and Steven, you'll guard the rear. I think leaving a radio detachment of Naval Infantry here isn't such a bad idea, either. We'll meet you at the rallying point to the northwest."The three nodded to each other. The drinks came a few seconds later, were quickly downed, and the three exited the pub to get down to work. The campaign had truly begun.SUMMARY: Foghorn lost 22 men, and is forming a skirmish line to advance ahead of the Antican Armies. Direction is Northwest along the river. ________________It is a damn poor mind indeed which can't think of at least two ways to spell any word.-Andrew Jackson

[Nick Foghorn Leghorn]

Why did it always have to be muddy? Everywhere they went, Foghorn thought, it was muddy and miserable. On every continent from the Antican mainland to New Brannum to Yardistan to Musica, the entire world seemed to be made of mud. Mud that seeped into your boots, fouled your rifle, rusted your sword into it's scabbard and worked it's way into the rations. Mud. River mud. The sulphorus, black mud that works wonders on making things clean, but providing a pleasing odor was another thing altogether that it quite missed the boat on. Foghorn hated mud."Sir, how much longer do we have to trod this marshy road?"Foghorn glanced back at the seaman that had uttered the phrase. "What do you mean? I love this weather! Great for camoflauge and concealment, and really slows the enemy down, too. If you ever want to make it in this Navy, you'd better learn to love this stuff too."Foghorn thought about this last statement. He had to keep the morale up, and that wasn't going to be accomplished by any pansy-arsed commander who couldn't take a little mud. But he hated mud! Well, Foghorn thought, you've endured it before, you can endure it again. "Pass the word for the navigator."The navigator, a thin whisp of a boy, came striding back to where Foghorn was walking. "Yes, sir?""How much farther until the bend in the river?""It's another hundred or so miles off, sir.""Then we'll have to pick up the pace, won't we? On the double quick, boys!"The Naval Infantry obediently started to canter down the muddy lane that lined the river. As his heart rate increased, Foghorn began thinking again. In the villages they had passed, there were rumors about reenforcements arriving by the day at the rallying point. It was beginning to look a whole lot less like a cakewalk and more like a suicide attempt. Their only hope were Chris and Steven's howitzers...Foghorn snapped back to reality. The navigator ahead had stopped in the road. "What is it now?""Sir, according to intel, there should be some horse farms around here. Personally, I don't mind walking all the way up the Elwynn river, but it sure would save us a lot of time and energy if we procurred us some horses."Foghorn stared into the eyes of the navigator. "What rank are you, boy?""Petty Officer, sir.""Well, Chief Petty Officer, lead the way."The new Chief, smile broad across his face, led the battalion down the road to a large wooden farmhouse and barn complex. Foghorn strode up to the door, asking his officers to stay behind, and rapped on it. An annoyed sounding man answered with a gruff "hold yer horses, I'm coming!"The man, about six feet tall, with about a week's growth and a beer belly (or "grains and hopps storage facility" as it is known in the more politically correct areas of Phedodah) opened the door and peered out. He looked Foghorn over once. "We don't take beggars. Now get!"The man attempted to close the door. Foghorn stuck his boot in the gap before the man had a chance to seal it. "I'm no beggar, sir."The man opened the door again, even more annoyed than he originally was. "Then what are ya? A deserter? Because we shoot deserters 'round these parts.""No, sir" Foghorn answered, "I'm with the Yardistani Military. We'd like to annex your horses."The old man glared at Foghorn. "You got any money?"Foghorn chuckled. He slid the revolver out of his holster and cocked it. "As I said, we'd like to annex your horses."The old man, a little more troubled, asked "which ones?"Foghorn replied "all of them."The old man looked like Foghorn had just declared his desire to steal and rape his first born son. Foghorn gestured to the battalion of Naval Infantrymen standing at attention yards from his house and the old man's demeanor softened. "Sure thing. I'll even saddle them for ya."The old man led the Naval Infantry around back, saddled the horses, and packed up the gear on the 68 extra horses. Foghorn gave the order to move out. The Naval Infantry, newly mounted, gallopped off along the road. Foghorn turned back to the old man. "Yardistan thanks you for your contribution to it's efforts, sir!" He turned and gallopped off to join the other Naval Infantrymen. As he rode off, he thought he heard the old man fire a few rounds after them. But Foghorn just kept riding.SUMMARY: Nothing new. Naval Infantry en route, annexed horses from nearby ranch. ________________It is a damn poor mind indeed which can't think of at least two ways to spell any word.-Andrew Jackson

[Sebastien Alexandre]

As word reached Ozarka of the horses stolen, Ozarka became enraged.20 dragons were dispatched with 10 light mages and 100 archers to make short work of the cavalry. If Elwynn couldn't have them to use, neither would Antica.All this of course, in darkness.

[extreme007]

Quote:OOC: Oz you got only 50 archers to do the above job.. either you do the above job with 50.. or call the remaining 50 from their other job here.. Discover, Invent, Theories, Experiment,Advance Science,Advance Extremism,(in Karnali, Republic of)

[Sebastien Alexandre]

OOC- 50 is fine.