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As the wall of smoke came down, the enemy advanced- and they were unaware that there were elements of the Battalion’s recon laying in wait, watching, yet unnoticed. For now, they were unseen- and could report what they say. On Fiskersonn’s side, the people he taunted came into view. He hadn’t seen that model of tank they had outside of vague identification manuals- but they didn’t look all that impressive. They looked rather like something like oversized T-8s, though being Vitelian vehicles, they of course weren’t that. From the island that he’d been deployed to, the masked officer reported Vitelian contact as well- of a different sort. Ad-hoc armored transport trucks, and vehicles of similar size to what Fiskersonn saw, though with their primary weapons buried in their hulls, small turrets capping the top with smaller armament. Easy pickings- though it meant that their best was surely in the center, yet unseen.
Lieutenant Orlik, meanwhile, found himself unpleasantly discovering that in spite of being well hidden, the enemy had washed up on both his sides. One was expected- the side that showed heavy assault guns and the same model of T-16s that had only been encountered in the hands of mercenaries before, now painted black. The other side showed itself at first as assumptions of wind in brush, tricks of shadow- but the truth became clear with paranoia and guesswork. The Twaryian special infiltration units must have snuck through in the heavy mist- the troops they called the Biters. The fiercest there were.
To the south, the man who claimed, bizarrely, to be descended of the Land of Dragons (not impossible, but few actually believed him who were not in his cohort), encountered creatures that would be even more foreign to most than he was…even though they were mostly but shaped in the dark wolds. Anticipating shapes…ones that stared, warning, maybe daring for anybody to press on…
>Turn is Open
