Shireroth

Well. That settles that. Jacobus, like a good steward, is trying to retake Shirekeep after the Kaiser fled. Prodigy could get behind that. So he decided to do what he does best: blow lots of things up. In a respectful manner. It is Shirekeep, after all.

Prodigy decided he didn't like looting, pillaging, raping, etc.. At least, not when his men weren't doing it. And when would these unfortunate rebels learn the Viking Code?
--Rape
--Pillage
--THEN burn!

The silly people did the burning first, then the raping, then the pillaging. Unacceptable! This would have to end immediately. And with (hopefully) some help from his friends, Prodigy was one of those to stop this mess. It seemed that the rebels were rocking out with their cocks out and no one was stopping them... so, hey, he's giving it a shot.

Prodigy was sitting at the desk in his field base, scratching something into an enormous slug. He had gotten through F-O-G-H- when his second in command, Kale, burst in the door. A huge scratch cut across the surface of the slug, and Prodigy twitched.

"Kale, what the hell! You're not supposed to bust down the door unless I YELL FOR YOU!"

"You were about to, sir," the giant man said, saluting down at Prodigy, who stood two feet shorter than Kale.

"Damn you know me well," Prodigy retorted with a smile, returning the salute.

Korstokk, Prodigy's third-in-line, ducked under the door frame and hefted his enormous rifle into its holster. The weapon looked like it could kill a tank - it could, Prodigy had seen it happen. Of course, Korstokk could kill a tank. He was twelve feet tall for Christ's sake.

"Korstokk, just the man I wanted to see," Prodigy tilted his head slightly to look at the beastly man. "I need you to take - oh, I dunno, 300 Chelkran Battle Suits into Shirekeep."

Korstokk crossed his arms and looked Prodigy in the eye. "300? What the hell is going on in Shirekeep that we need to bring a Ragnarok on it? Where are the Norse Gods?"

Prodigy laughed - very dryly and sarcastically. "How's that workin' out for ya? You know, being clever."

Kale grabbed Korstokk's right hand - made of a blood red metal, fashioned for him by Prodigy - and interjected. "Korstokk, don't you read the papers? The Kaiser's fled Shirekeep and the rebels are having a field day."

"Well, Ragnarok it is," Korstokk rumbled, leaving the office that was much too small for him.

"Kale, get me 150 Chelkran Elite Guardsmen to back him up. I'll be around tomorrow morning with a contingent of Tigermoths and the HVBS as backup. Quickly now, while it's still dark."

Kale saluted and left the office without a word. Prodigy returned to his scratching.

Sixty-fourLeviathan Assault Helicopters would, one hopes, constitute an impressive enough sight on any occassion but sweeping along the southern bank West Elwynn River towards Shirekeep dangerously close to the treeline and at a great rate of knots doubly so. One would hope.

Brigadier Bahram Maliki had practically wet himself when he had received the encrypted radiogram from Islus informing him that he and his men would be catching a ride on the 'big birds' shame how quickly derrogatory nicknames caught on - damn it the Leviathan was supposed to be impressive, and in truth it was, with two forward mounted gatling guns as well as wing mounted rocket pods and the mother of all anti-aircraft missiles, Bahram wasn't familiar with the type but it was the length of one of his armoured cars - it certainly looked like it meant business. The Leviathan was not intended to simply duck out if it met enemy fighter jet, it had teeth of its own. And now all four hundred soldiers his command - the Sevvom Rustayisarbazi Gordân - were hitching a lift into Shirekeep itself. A suitably monumental city, or so the Brigadier thought, the smoke rising from the city - evidence of the orgy of looting and pillaging, amongst other things, being indulged in by General Omar's Kampfgruppe in the Old City. Regretfully, the Brigadier thought, he and his men would not be able to join in that most Babkhan of customs - yet. Orders were orders so certain things had to be taken care of first.

General Headquarters in Islus apparently were of the opinion that the fall of Shirekeep to the forces of Kildare was having an effect in galvanising the baronies of Brookshire into some kind of resistance. That being so it was felt necessary to secure the bridges over the Elwynn which link Shirekeep to the rest of Brookshire.... bloody hell ... the Brigader's train of thought was broken as the helicopter he was flying in veered sharply to the right over into the foreign quarter of Shirekeep, which technically was a part of the County of Woodshire.

"By Ahriman's piss! What are you fools up front playing at?" Roared Bahram into his mike as the helicopter levelled out. The Leviathan had seating capacity for eight men with full battle gear - five of whom were now puking into their steel helmets. Vomit from the guts of an Elw peasant conscript had just splattered over the Brigadier's boots. He was mildly unimpressed.

"My apologies Brigadier Sahib," said a voice over the intercom, terse and indifferent - pissed off at ferrying these 'Rustayisarbazi clods' perhaps, "we were being shot at."

"Shot at?" Replied the Brigadier in wonderment. "I thought that city had been pacified..."

"We believe the shots came from the Yardistani Quarter Sahib."

Of course. Yardistanis... should have known.

"Have two of our escorts peel off and suppress the bastards."

"Already happening Sahib"

And indeed it was for as they spoke a Leviathan belonging to the 4th Aviation Squadron was busy emptying the contents of its rocket pods into an apartment block in the Yardistani Quarter where the suspected discharge of a 'Boomist' rifle had occurred. The Brigadier had had a very lucky escape - in spite of their antiquity those weapons were amongst the most dangerous small arms - if they even warranted that label - on the planet. Another helicopter circled, passenger door, slid back, with a sniper in a safety harness hanging out ready to pick off any persons seen fleeing the building now engulfed in flames.

The sixteen helicopters of the 14th Aviation Regiment now rejoined by the Brigadier, swiftly came to their objective, the Multi-Temple and began to set down. From there it would be a short brisk yomp to the road bridge across the Elwynn. One Platoon would go across and stop the flow of traffic whilst the remainder of Goruhân Elwmarg, under Major Zorban, would establish defensive positions on the north bank.

Fortunately the Multi-Temple had large open spaces, parks and greeneries to aid the contemplation of the devotees of myriad faiths - these were partially obscured by clouds of incense by the beating rotor blades of the Leviathans soon dispelled those. The Rustayisarbazi had not been trained for absailing off helicopters so it was necessary for the helicopters of the 14th Aviation Regiment and the 4th Aviation Regiment of the Elwynnbrigaden to take turns in covering for each other whilst they landed.

Save for an irritated priest of the Church of Christ of All Micronations who received a smart bayonet thrust to his guts for his troubles, there was no resistance encountered. However an ominous note was sounded when a Babkhan resident of the Foreign Quarter (clearly enjoying the new relaxed atmosphere sans certificate of non-evilness) came riding up on his bicycle (a poor substitute for a camel the fellow readily agreed) and warned the Brigadier not to accept any offers of a free taxi ride under any circumstances. That said the Babkhan assured the Brigadier that the entire foreign quarter was ready to rise in support of the rebels if they were to send any troops across. The Brigadier was pleased, though a little sceptical, to hear this. The Babkhan sensing his doubt reassured him - the city was in effect being occupied by Babkhan emigres and former Anticans after all and while the Matbaics were up in arms and preaching holy war, the street battles had not thus far been serious and had resulted in no fatalities, or serious fatalities which ws what the Babkhan actually said.

The Brigadier was gladdened by this news and told the Babkhan that the sympathetic foreign workers would be in luck as a battalion, he of course knew was only sending a platoon but it never did any harm to inflate the numbers for the benefit of civilians, to secure the bridge and that they could take comfort from that. Any more reinforcements would be a matter for higher ups as he was not in a position to act on his initiative in that regard.

An hour later and the men were in position - even better news was that the Goruhân Norwuz had landed at John Metzler III University and under the command of Captain Firzadeh were busy chasing out the students. There were three bridges at this location. General Headquarters ordered that these be taken out to prevent their use. Orders readily complied with by the 6th and 15th Aviation Regiments who, after debusing Captain Firzadeh's men, set about launching their rockets into the bridges with the wild abandon of Babkhans who after many a long quiet year were suddenly granted the opportunity to make things explode with a giddy abandon. Even General Omar did not want to miss out on the fun and, without orders from General Headquarters added to the confusion by having his Farzan SPGs bombard the bridge from long range, and with their usual accuracy.

It was the most wonderful time of the year.

The Naval Infantrymen panicked a bit - they were caught off guard. As they tried their professional best to recover, some of the ones on the outside were caught even further off guard.

One in particular froze where he stood, mid-run, gun half cocked. He stopped, put his foot down, and stared, a weird expression on his face. His compatriots tried to convince him to move, until they looked where he was.

Captain Obvious, who happened by at the time, broke the uncomfortable silence.

"That's... a giant robot. A very giant robot."

The giant death machine - armed to its metal teeth - stopped. It leaned forward, and its hand came and rested on its brow. Was it... was it staring at them?

Then the missile rack reared its ugly head. A quick count read 10x10 capacity.

All of the missiles fired. Right at the unfortunate rebels.

They scrambled. Explosions deafened all too close. One of the Naval Infantrymen in the room with Braden, Foghorn and the Speaker peeked his head over the windowsill, trying to find out what was going on.

"What the f-- SIR!" he shouted, turning toward his superiors. "There's a giant robot and lots of tanks heading right for us!"

"There's WHAT?" Foghorn asked, thinking this worthy of his attention. "What the hell IS going on out there?"

"It looks like lasers and missiles, sir," the frightened Infantryman said, straightening his helmet, an expression of terror on his face.

"Lasers?"

A red flash of light - a large red flash of light - streaked past the window. They heard the agonized scream of its victim.

"Yes sir. Lasers."

"Sir: The Keep is assaulted, by some sort of mechanized combat-suit. Requesting air support ASAP. Only one sighted so far, could be more in the City, situation highly perilous. Will withdraw to Inner Zone if Keep is untenable."