Hey guys. I'd like to put in a quick preface. I dislike the Inheritance books for a number of reasons. Shallow characters, purple prose, etc. I'm not going to get into that. However, they are fun reads, a time to turn off your brain. However, I loathe the elves for being self-absorbed, racist, xenophobic arrogant assholes. However, this is not a curbstomp. It is merely stompingly good. So, ladies and gents, I present to you...
Chapter 1 of Elf Stompign Day
---------
General Kaska looked out from the bow of the ship RKS Stormchaser, almost urging on to go ahead faster. The steamship was cruising on both steam and sail in its rush to get to its destination. General Kaska was a veteran of the Second Elf War. He was proud to bring the fight to the pointy-eared bastards for the honor of his anscestors. Now, having driven the elves from their homeland, the Coalition of Allied Human Governments had found them was bringing a final end to the war that had started five centuries ago when the elves, in their arrogance decided to attack the Republic of Kator, Blacktooth Confederacy, Heeseng Empire, and 13th Tribal Council. With him were twenty-five thousand soldiers of the Army, ten-thousand sailors of Navy, and five-hundred Knights of the Order all here for the greater glory of humanity to cleanse the arrogant elves from the world. It was beautiful. Only a few more weeks until they were to make landfall.
The biggest challenge of this was not convincing the House of Equals of going to war for they hated the elves with the same passion as every human in the Coalition. They were ready. They had weapons to slay dragons and counters to the magic that the elves used to lord over them like gods. They had learned from the last war five decades ago. So, he resigned himself to waiting before blooding himself against the forces of the Great Enemy. They would learn their folley under steel, fire, steam, gunpowder, and guts. The Enemy was weak, hiding behind enchantments and sorcery, unwilling to stand against the mustered might of humanity's will. The dead were to finally be avenged and wrongs righted.
---------
Queen Islanzadi called for a meeting of all elves. And so, all of their brethren came along with one certain Dragonrider. The voices murmured in question of what occasion would bring together all elves. Soon, their questions were to be answered.
ôPeople of our kind, Igather you hear today to inform you of the inevitable. We knew they would come for us, holding a grudge after two centuries. The Men of the Sea are coming. Our seers of seen this and it has been prophesied. Now, it is with greatest regret, I must command you as Queen to march to war. They seek naught but out annihilation as we found from our wars and it will either be them or us. We will not let a foolish group of upstarts destroy us. We are the elves and for every one of us they slay, there will be twenty dead of their kind. Let us end this fight.ö
With that, cape twirling behind her, the Queen left. Once more, anscestral swords were taken from cases ready to spill blood again. Bows were made ready and arrows were being made.
Eragon caught up with the elven Queen and asked, ôWho are these Men of the Sea to which you refer?ö
The Queen turned around and told him, ôAs I said before, two centuries ago, we fought a war against Men from a large cluster of islands. They had claimed lands that rightfully belonged to elves and were despoiling the lands with their industry even then. We slaughtered them for some time before they brought themselves together and defeated our fleet of Silver Ships in battle. They then began beating us back using their foul weapons, screeching things that flew into our lines and often exploded and long tubes that spat forth stone balls with belches of flame and smoke. Still, for every one of our dead, there were at least two score of them. They couldn't beat us in single combat, so they turned to sneaky means to defeat us. Sadly, this worked and we were forced to leave, starving and sick.
Four-hundred and thirty-one years later, we tried to take back the lands again, this time bringing dragons and their riders. Somehow, they managed to defeat us and their foul weapons had grown more powerful as now, every soldier used a better version of the smokepoles. They then took our ancestral lands away from us. We fought for it, of course, every inch of our homeland. By the end of it, nearly half our population was dead from our desire to keep our anscestral home. Now, they occupy it, raping the land and doing all sorts of other travesties against nature. Also, these Men of the Sea, as we call them, posess absolutely not aptitude for magic. However, they have those among them that can do the unthinkable, deny magic. These 'blanks' are abominations against nature, as no creature should defeat magic by denying its existence.ö
Eragon shook his head, wondering how these people could do such a thing. How could they fight against the elves when they were the ones in the wrong? How could they slaughter the elves for no real reason? Their refusal to acknowledge their msitake was disgusting. It was shaming to call them kin.
---------
Seventeen Days Later
His men were unloading the equipment onto the beach like lines of ants. The strategy was simple, seek and destroy. Perhaps they could find other humans to aid them in their struggle against who had arbritarily called themselves their betters.
It was amazing. He had fifteen thousand infantry, two-hundred howitzers, thirty walkers, one-hundred and fifty field guns, fifty mortars, and one-hundred rocket racks. In total, that were eighteen-thousand, nine-hundred and five fighting men. The other sixty-thousand and ninety-fivewere cooks, medics, mechanics, and the other support staff that every army needed. This didn't even count the five-hundred Knights of the Order whose support staff was factored into his own. It was time to set up camp and march to the land of the elves.
---------
Galbatorix was a tall and imposing man with a handsome face and long, black hair. Now, he had something interesting to see. He had tried to scry it, but was somehow blocked. However, he knew where it was. Smiling, he went out to where his black dragon, Shruikan, slept. He called for the large beast to wake up and ordered servant put on the saddle. This business was something he should do himself.
Once this preparation was finished, he put on his full battle splendor. He gave orders to a servant to tell Murtagh that he was in charge for the moment. The boy did need some experience in command and the oaths of loyalty ensured he would not so something incredibly... rash and hasty. With that, the beast took off, tearing up the field with its powerful muscles while beating its wings to slowly get off the ground. Then, Galbatorix was off to the West.
Private Lau S'hawlin watched the sky for dragons that he knew the elves had. There, up in the sky, he saw a black speck. He took his spyglass to take a look at it and it was a dragon. Lau blew the bugle call as he went to get his rifle and affix its bayonet.
The camp was a tummult of activity as the alarm for a dragon sounded. The ships of the taskforce trained their guns to the sky. Walker crews scrambled to the giants, readying weapons and scanning the skies. As soon as the dragon came close enough to see clearly with the naked eye, the high angle guns of the ships erupted in puffs of smoke as they fired time-fused shells at the dragon and its rider.
One of the walkers, had managed to get its repeater ready and that was sending a hail of lead into the sky. Puffs of smoke burst as the timed fuzes exploded, coming behind the dragon. The gunners began to fuse the next shells to explode in front of the dragon and rid it from its existence.
Shrapnes whipped around Galbatorix as he closed in on the area. Using the language of the Ancients, he cried out, using magic so that all would hear and understand, ôI come in peace. Let's settle this misunderstanding before someone gets killed.ö
Somehow, they ceased fire. Galbatorix brought his dragon down in an empty space outside the camp. Best to appear humble. They could be powerful allies. These men definitely had a foreign cast to them, being a combination of brown skinned fellows with dark hair and large builds, slimmer tanned men with dark hair, pale men with lighter hair, and those with a strange reddish cast complexion and bushy black hair. Of course there were other men, but these types of people appeared to be the most common. They were likely representing different peoples. Their open hostility was also noted. Smirking behind his helmet, the Emperor walked past with an aura of casual self confidence. They all wore khaki trousers with knee-high, brown frock coats of both the single and double breasted variety.
Through their mental link, Shruikan told him I'm getting too old for this shit.
Galbatorix replied In that case, I am too old for said shit as I am older than you.
After a few tense minutes of waiting and having their unwieldy looking spear things pointed at him, a man came forward. He was an old man with a thick white beard and handelbar mustache. His uniform included quite a few ribbons and medals and his jacket was double breasted with five steel stars on each shoulder. He carried a straight, single-edged blade. It was no match for Galbatorix's own sword, but it was the sword of a soldier, not a night. It was unnadorned, simple, and well used. It fitted its wielder.
They began to speak to one another in their harsh, rolling tongue. Feeling somewhat left out, Galbatorix mentally weaved magics to understand the language. He could have ripped the information from their minds, but that would have been impolite and left that person a lobotomized vegetable.
So, he interjected, ôExcuse me gentlemen, but who are you? I am King Galbatorix of the Empire.ö
ôYou're a filthy, elf loving dragonrider,ö yelled one man in the crowd, ôYou think we haven't killed your kind before, you elf mutant. You forsook your humanity when you joined those bastards.ö
Somewhat baffled and rather miffed, Galbatorix returned, ôI have slain all but one of the Riders. Why do you hate the elves so much? I mean, I hate them, but it is for rather personal reasons.ö
The old man in charge calmed the crowd with a gesture and stated in a gravelly voice, ôWe are soldiers of the Coalition of Allied Human Governments. We came to finish the fight with the elves for one final time and avenge every one of us that was slain by elvish hands. If you truly stand against the elves, than we may yet join forces to destroy them.ö
Galbatorix mulled this over in his head, ôWell said. I must say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Come, let me show you a path to the capital. Also, how good are you? My last generals were incompetents that somehow slipped past the radar and ended up losing a good portion of my army. Maybe you can teach my men a thing or two. Furthermore, why do you wish to exterminate the elves?ö
ôI'll go with you, but only under escort of my knights. I don't trust you. I already saw more than enough of your kind in the last war. You see, two centuries ago, the elves attacked us without provocation, claiming that our lands were theirs. It took us twelve years, but we beat them back. Then, years later they came back. We defeated them and took their homeland over the course of seven years. I fought in that war. Now, we've found them again and have come to destroy them once and for all.ö
A junior officer smiled and said, ôThat's the Grand Old Man for you. Seventy-one years old and still kicking.ö
The Old Man smiled and replied, ôDamn straight I am. Lets quit all this politics and polite speech for a while. You seem like a good man for a dragonrider. Glad their ilk is gone, killed too many good men, but we got them. I'm General Kaska. Pleased to meet you, King Galbatorix. Come, let's sit down for a drink? If I had the power, I'd reward you with our highest medal for killing most of the riders.ö
Galbatorix removed his helm and replied, ôThat would be excellent. No other existing rider has my skills. You will crush them with that barrage. However, there is one reason why only riders and massed armies with siege engines have killed riders: Magic.ö
The Old Man laughed and stated, ôWe can deal with that.ö
Galbatorix smiled and answered, ôI think I'm coming to like you.ö
General Kaska grinned back. Still, he received hostile reactions from just about everyone. Even the General was guarded. He could mind rape them, but they were more useful alive and they appeared to be competent, something he sorely needed in allies. The biggest problem was the generals of the Old Kingdom. They were mostly bluebloods that bought their position and he hadn't bothered to remove them so as not to shake up the populace. Then came the Forsworn. They were excellent fighters, but they were all terrible generals and leaders. He was the only one who could command an army. Now, he could finally kill those damn Varden and their thrice damned dragonrider, Eragon.
Why he had put off killing the boy was beyond him, but that was hindsight. At that time, Galbatorix realized that he had mostly left military affairs to that Shade, Durza. He had been working out various methods of ensuring the flow of trade throughout his empire. In retrospect, this choice was by far the better as it meant there were finally paved roads to allow trade and the mass movement of armies. Besides, smacking down the young upstart while he thought he was all-powerful would be a very, very satisfying experience (for him) and a very painful experience (for Eragon).
---------
Eragon had returned to Nasuada to warn her of the Men of the Sea. She was at her court with her various advisers. Eragon bowed down to her and bore his warning. She was surprised by this news, but took it in stride.
She smirked and said, ôThen we can probably play them against the Empire. We can avoid our own losses and get them to hurt the Empire.ö
Eragon remained unconvinced and replied, ôI don't know. From what the Queen said, they are psychotically humanist. Besides, wouldn't that be rather underhanded?ö
Nasuada snorted and told Eragon, ôI'll do whatever it takes to win this war. Honor is for those who can spare it. It's why we knife fallen knights through the vision slits. You have much to learn about war, Shadeslayer.ö
Eragon was bout to say something before being interrupted by Nasuada, ôIf they are as psychotic as you say, then we would have to either avoid or fight them. They probably wouldn't take kindly to the Urgals and Dwarves in our ranks.ö
ôI suppose not.ö
ôAnd this is why I am the leader of the Varden and not you.ö
ôIf they are hostile, then I could destroy them with Saphira.ö
ôNo, they fought the elves at their height. This included dragonriders. That was fifty years ago. Who knows what they have now?ö
ôOf course. Is there anything you would like me to do?ö
ôYes. Aid in training our magicioans.ö
Eragon turned to leave.
ôEragon.ö
He turned around.
ôDon't train them like you would train a rider. Teach them more indirect magic that is less energy intensive. I don't want half of them dead or incapacitated like after the last battle.ö
ôYes ma'am.ö
ôDismissed.ö
---------
Eight Weeks Later
Private Tua was marching. His coat was unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. The fading heat of the desert sunset beat down upon him. It wasn't the heat that was the problem. His home was just as warm. The problem was the lack of moisture. Even so, the coat was worth it compared to getting a sunburn. He was carrying about fifty pounds of gear. His rifle weighed eleven pounds with a bayonet. He also carried forty-five rounds of ammunition, a bedroll, a canteen full of water, a mold for casting his own bullets, a one pound bar of lead, flint and steel, two impact grenades, one week's rations, an entrenching tool, a haversack, a mess kit, and the equipment for a collapsible tent. Unlike the earlier armies, every man carried a small tent. He also wore his helmet, a metal version of the umbyar, a traditional conical hat originating in Kator.
The army stretched out for nearly a mile, marching in a long line of men, carts, artillery, and walkers. They had reached the Hadarac Desert and had been travelling through the desert to deliver a suprise attack to the Varden of Surda to lure out their rider. It was move that no one had attempted before because the desert was that large. Their fleet was steaming to Surda's coast with its compliment of Marines. It didn't really matter which part of the pincer attack got there first because the ships were taking an army of Imperial soldiers led by General Nome D. Guyar.
There had been some problems though made apparent in the first few weeks, the walkers had some difficult operating in the loose sand. They kept sinking into the sand. This was solved through the application of sand shoes improvised from an empty supply cart to distribute the weight. The other, more insidious problem lay in the sand. The sand got everywhere. It got in the joints. It got in the hydraulics. It got in the pneumatics. It got in the gears. The only solution was to put tarps over the joints and even then, they had to be cleaned off without water so as not to wast the precious fluid.
The sand was a problem for everyone, getting into clothes and generally making life miserable. Luckily, after the first few days, General Kaska decided to travel during the cooler nights. The nights were definitely cooler but not in a good way; the temperatures were nearly freezing. Currently, they were on three-quarter rations in case their enemy implimented a scorched earth policy and stomachs did grumble like the soldiers did.
Private Tua marched on. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left. He was tired. Still he marched. Then night fell and the line halted for everyone to button up their jackets to proctect from the plummeting temperatures and biting winds. They drew a long brown line in the sand. Thoughout the night, they marched. They marched from sunset to sunrise. Then, they bedded down to weather out the day. As dawn came, Private Tua mindlessly set up his tent, stripped off his coat, and fell asleep with his boots on.
It was this same boring routine for the past few weeks save for a few incidents. A walker fell down and had to be righted and a wagon's axle broke. They then came to a small lake in a hilly region. General Kaska ordered the army to halt and get everything cleaned up. Canteens and water tanks were filled. Men bathed. Clothes were washed. Grit was worked out of the walkers. The camp was quite happy to get out of the desert. A local Surdan hunter watched this and left to warn the Varden.
---------
Two Weeks Later
Jacob Yorranson was the commander of a platoon of Varden infantry. At sixteen, he was a veteran of three years of guerilla action. He was tired. So very tired. Tired of the war. Tired of the ghosts of the past haunting his nightly slumber. Jacob had joined the Varden at the age of thirteen to escape drafting into the Imperial Army.
He took a drag on his cigar, inhaling the tobacco smoke. The stubidity of the brass sickened him. They had this strange idea that they could defeat the Empire in a decisive battle after the Battle of the Burning Plains. That was one big screw up after another. The commanders had them spend a week digging entrenchments and earthenworks. It was pretty good as it generally took six-to-one odds to take and hold ground from an entrenched enemy. Then the idiots had them charge the Imperials from around a mile away in full battle gear. That was the first big moment of stupidity in the battle. Luckily, the Imperials had their fair share of idiots and they ran out to meet the charge.
The battle broke into a melee as some Imperial units tried to remain in formation while others broke and tried to run, but impaled themselves against the spears of the best of the Empire's elite core of pikemen, the XVI Legion. They were a worthy foe. They fought with pikes until they were surrounded and the shafts shattered. They kept themselves in formation and drew swords. They knew they would die and leave crying lovers and widows. They fought for the honor of their country, right or wrong. The Legion's drummers beat out a marching cadence as the men advanced, singing their legion's song. They held out from several charges. Beating them all back. They never cracked once. In fact, the loss of every one of their soldiers seemed to make them fight harder. Even as catapults and ballistae of both sides fired into confusion of the melee and arrows rained down, they never faltered. They got to within a hundred yards of the Varden's fortifications.
Then Eragon came down and his dragon breathed fire into their ranks. Even as they melted, their comrades charged against into the maw of the dragon. The few that had pikes slammed those into the dragon before being wiped out through magic and a sweep of the dragon's tail. Still they pressed onwards. They charged a dragon with only their shortswords. Some had lost their weapons and they picked up rocks to beat against the hide of the dragon. They were magnificent. Eragon flew off, and they hurled insults at him.
The Urgal allies slammed into them. They did not break. Their standard-bearer planted it in the ground and drew his sword. No Urgal got beyond that line in the dirt. He remembered a wounded drummer boy being carried on the shoulder of an older soldier into battle. He saw that same drummer boy later, calling to his mother as his entrails struggled to remain in his body. The boy still drummed the cadence. He had never seen any man go toe to toe with an Urgal. He had never seen any man do this with only a dagger. He had never seen any man do this and win. He had never seen any man do this until that battle. This man, the standard bearer, picked the standard up in the air and waved it before charging. The remainder of the legion followed. The standard bearer was cut down by an Urgal. The man behind him picked up the standard and cut down the Urgal.
Their commander lead them in their motto, ôWho are we?ö
ôWE ARE LEGION!ö
ôWho do fight for?ö
ôOUR COUNTRY AND BROTHERS IN ARMS!ö
ôWhy do we fight?ö
ôFOR GOD, FOR KING, AND FOR COUNTRY!ö
ôWho are we?ö
ôWE ARE THE DEATH OF THE ENEMY! WE ARE THE NIGHTMARE THAT HAUNTS THEIR DREAMS! WE ARE THE SWORD THAT CUTS APART THE ENEMY! WE ARE THE SPEAR THAT IMPALES THE ENEMY! WE ARE THE BOOT THE GRINDS THE BONES OF THE ENEMY TO DUST! WE DESTROY THE ENEMY WHEREVER IT MAY HIDE! WE ARE STRONG! WE ARE ONE! LESSER MEN MAY FLEE WHERE WE STAND! WE ARE THE XVI LEGION AND THE ENEMY SHALL TREMBLE AS WE APPROACH!ö
They charged Urgals. The political officer of the legion, recognizable by his black longcoat and two-handed warhammer slammed the head of the weapon into the skull of a Kull and spun around bringing the weapon into the chest of another Urgal. The weapon spun around again to bring it to bear on another Urgal. The hammer fell down like an avenging angel in an overhead blow. The Urgal crumpled to the ground, brains leaking from a shattered skull. A Kull came and smashed the wooden handle of the hammer with a massive club. The political officer rolled to the ground and drew a dagger before lunging back at the Kull that towered three feet above him.
Jacob remembered as four-hundred of legion were surrounded by the soldiers of the Varden. He heard one of them shout, ôWe're surrounded. That simplifies the problem.ö
Some of the soldiers began to make jeering calls toward the Varden that insulted their mothers and families, a gesture involving a raised middle finger, and some dropped their trousers to moon the Varden. Queen Nasuada herself came forward to offer the legion a chance to surrender. They had the audacity to call her ôWhore of the Varden.ö
She ordered, ôKill them,ö in a deadly calm.
Jacob rushed forward in the human tide, shield thrown away and spear held in two hands. The Legion charged toward the direction of the retreating Imperial Army and smashed their way to their allies. The XVI Legion, now known as the ôWhite Death Legion,ö was the most decorated unit in the Imperial Army. Still, they threw themselves into battle with a cold fury. They also became the only unit allowed to escort King Galbatorix.
Jacob wished the Varden had troops like them. No, he was stuck only with the bandits murderers and the dregs of society who didn't want to be part of the Empire. The Varden was so short on manpower, so they had to accept everyone who wanted a life away from t. The Imperial Army was many things, but it's volunteers were not criminals and they killed anyone who commited any such acts. He hoped these Men of the Sea were either a pushover or someone he could desert to. The Varden would fall apart once Galbatorix got serious and he wanted to be on the right side when that happened. These thoughts evaporated just as the contents of his brainpan were forcibly evacuated by a lead slug.
---------
Three Days Later
General Kaska looked at the pass where his army had set up camp. He had a swelling army of rebels and local militia. His scouts were conducting a stalling operation as he dug in his forces. His first line of defense was a long, stake filled trench followed by an earthen rampart. Behind the rampart were flamethrower troops, riflemen, and smoothbore field guns, behind this line was another rampart and fighting trench with riflemen and the rifled field guns. After this line were the mortars, howitzers and rocket launchers. The walkers were concentrated in the center with the howitzers. Mortars and rocket lauchers anchored the flanks. Men meticulously cleaned and oiled their weapons in grim determination for the battle.
The next morning, his scouts reported in. They had five killed and twenty-five wounded from their group. That night, the dead scouts burned in a funeral pyre to set their spirits free and scattered their ashes so they could give back to the land. The had bought the army a few days with their sacrifice.
The army of fifty-thousand was coming. It had started out as thirty-thousand, but local militias joined them, swelling their ranks. They had twenty-five thousand light infantry, fifteen thousand archers, eight thousand light cavalry, and two thousand heavy cavalry. The two armies met in a valley roughly a mile long.
Rockets shrieked from their launch tubes. In seconds, six hundred rockets were in the air. The Varden commander gave the order to scatter in the face of this strange magic. The rockets met the end of their time and exploded in air, sending down seventy-two hundred fragments. Roughly eight hundred soldiers were ripped apart and almost twice that number wounded. The next volley of rockets came and by this time people had shields over their heads or looked for cover from the scything fragments.
The Varden commander, looked over and saw the trails of smoke and ordered the cavalry to rush the positions rather than be pinned down and their horses maimed. Somehow, he got the rest of the army to begin advancing. Then, they met a third volley of rockets and a strange whistling noice. The rockets now hit the ground and exploded, sending shrapnel into the middle of the formations. Then one-hundred and fifty howitzer shells exploded over their heads while the rest fell down. One man almost ripped in two as he took a direct hit from an unexploded shell. More fragments pinned them down. Officers rattled swords and urged the army onward to escape the fragments. Longbowmen halted at half a mile and began to send volleys toward their lines.
Artillery crews ducked under a wooden roofed shelter before going back out to man their weapons. The army covered some more ground before the rifled field guns fired. Mortars began to shell the bowmen. However, the case shot exploded too quickly and the fragments fell short.
The solid shot plowed holes throught he lines of the infantry, showering their comrades in blood and gore. One officer raised his sword to urge on his troops before a three inch shell of iron ripped off his head. The body remained standing for a second as blood spurted out. The troops began to run away, but the press of bodies carried them forward into the killing zone. The other archers used shortbows and stopped to fire into the trenches. This was when fifteen thousand rifles fired at once in a single cacophonous blast of smoke. Thirteen thousand Varden went down. Many were simply shocked by the wounds. Many of the wounded were trampled.
They got within two hundred yards when the field guns errupted again, sending explosive shells into their ranks. Men flew into the air missing the lower half of their bodies. The rifles fired again, spitting lead death. Around one hundred and fifty yards away from the earthenworks, the smoothbore guns fired canister shot. Each of the seventy-five smoothbore cannons fire one round of canister shot. Each canister contained twenty cast-iron slugs packed with sawdust. The guns sent up a cloud of yellow sawdust as they fired. The effect was immediate and devastating. The cavalry had drawn close and were met with this wall of lead. Bodies hit the floor. Horses screamed in fear as they were torn apart. The dead slid into the first trench and the rest routed. The lightly armored infantry of the Varden met what the CAHG soldiers had nicknamed ôThe Woodchipper.ö They were torn apart and panicked. Grenades flew into the air and turned the tide of bodies to the other direction.
Bayonets were affixed and pilot lights were lit. The smokestack of the walkers belched black smoke as they began to advance, repeaters sweeping the ground. The flamethrower was a weapon that contained ten gallons of jellied oil in a tank on the back. There was also a tank of compressed air that pushed the incendiary jelly through a tube to the pilot light that sent out a fifteen meter gout of flame. These were turned upon human bodies. Men ran around as sticky flames coated their bodies. They tried to extinguish it by rolling on the ground, but this only spread the mixture. The men wielding these terrifying weapons were first to advance. Then came the regular soldiers with bayonets affixed. The bayonets stabbed and slashed. There were some isolated pockets of resistance, but these melted at the approach of the walkers.
Each walker was a ten meter tall thing made of iron. It had stubby, wide legs and feet. The torso was hexagonaly in shape and contained a rotating turret with a 7.5 centimeter rifled gun. The head was cylindrical and pushed forward to make room for the smokestack. This gave it a hunched over appearance. The driver and commander were in the head. On top of the head was a repeater. This hand cranked weapon could fire 13 milimeter ammunition at a rate of two-hundred rounds per minute; however, this was closer to one-hundred and fifty rounds per minute in practice to keep the barrel from overheating. The arm operator was located in a small pilothouse in the upper torso and operated the arm mounted weapons: a bearded two-headed axe and a pneumatic spike launcher. On the right and left shoulders were respectively, a 4 centimeter smoothbore gun and a rocket rack with six tubes. Each required a crew of twenty to operate. They were designed to fight dragons. The walkers were given the official name of ôDragonslayer Mk.1.ö Now, they were turning weapons designed to fight dragons on infantry.
The killing persisted to the end of the day. The Varden army had forty-thousand casualties. In comparison, General Kaska's army took one-thousand casualties. Three-hundred died and seven-hundred were wounded.
Chapter 1 of Elf Stompign Day
---------
General Kaska looked out from the bow of the ship RKS Stormchaser, almost urging on to go ahead faster. The steamship was cruising on both steam and sail in its rush to get to its destination. General Kaska was a veteran of the Second Elf War. He was proud to bring the fight to the pointy-eared bastards for the honor of his anscestors. Now, having driven the elves from their homeland, the Coalition of Allied Human Governments had found them was bringing a final end to the war that had started five centuries ago when the elves, in their arrogance decided to attack the Republic of Kator, Blacktooth Confederacy, Heeseng Empire, and 13th Tribal Council. With him were twenty-five thousand soldiers of the Army, ten-thousand sailors of Navy, and five-hundred Knights of the Order all here for the greater glory of humanity to cleanse the arrogant elves from the world. It was beautiful. Only a few more weeks until they were to make landfall.
The biggest challenge of this was not convincing the House of Equals of going to war for they hated the elves with the same passion as every human in the Coalition. They were ready. They had weapons to slay dragons and counters to the magic that the elves used to lord over them like gods. They had learned from the last war five decades ago. So, he resigned himself to waiting before blooding himself against the forces of the Great Enemy. They would learn their folley under steel, fire, steam, gunpowder, and guts. The Enemy was weak, hiding behind enchantments and sorcery, unwilling to stand against the mustered might of humanity's will. The dead were to finally be avenged and wrongs righted.
---------
Queen Islanzadi called for a meeting of all elves. And so, all of their brethren came along with one certain Dragonrider. The voices murmured in question of what occasion would bring together all elves. Soon, their questions were to be answered.
ôPeople of our kind, Igather you hear today to inform you of the inevitable. We knew they would come for us, holding a grudge after two centuries. The Men of the Sea are coming. Our seers of seen this and it has been prophesied. Now, it is with greatest regret, I must command you as Queen to march to war. They seek naught but out annihilation as we found from our wars and it will either be them or us. We will not let a foolish group of upstarts destroy us. We are the elves and for every one of us they slay, there will be twenty dead of their kind. Let us end this fight.ö
With that, cape twirling behind her, the Queen left. Once more, anscestral swords were taken from cases ready to spill blood again. Bows were made ready and arrows were being made.
Eragon caught up with the elven Queen and asked, ôWho are these Men of the Sea to which you refer?ö
The Queen turned around and told him, ôAs I said before, two centuries ago, we fought a war against Men from a large cluster of islands. They had claimed lands that rightfully belonged to elves and were despoiling the lands with their industry even then. We slaughtered them for some time before they brought themselves together and defeated our fleet of Silver Ships in battle. They then began beating us back using their foul weapons, screeching things that flew into our lines and often exploded and long tubes that spat forth stone balls with belches of flame and smoke. Still, for every one of our dead, there were at least two score of them. They couldn't beat us in single combat, so they turned to sneaky means to defeat us. Sadly, this worked and we were forced to leave, starving and sick.
Four-hundred and thirty-one years later, we tried to take back the lands again, this time bringing dragons and their riders. Somehow, they managed to defeat us and their foul weapons had grown more powerful as now, every soldier used a better version of the smokepoles. They then took our ancestral lands away from us. We fought for it, of course, every inch of our homeland. By the end of it, nearly half our population was dead from our desire to keep our anscestral home. Now, they occupy it, raping the land and doing all sorts of other travesties against nature. Also, these Men of the Sea, as we call them, posess absolutely not aptitude for magic. However, they have those among them that can do the unthinkable, deny magic. These 'blanks' are abominations against nature, as no creature should defeat magic by denying its existence.ö
Eragon shook his head, wondering how these people could do such a thing. How could they fight against the elves when they were the ones in the wrong? How could they slaughter the elves for no real reason? Their refusal to acknowledge their msitake was disgusting. It was shaming to call them kin.
---------
Seventeen Days Later
His men were unloading the equipment onto the beach like lines of ants. The strategy was simple, seek and destroy. Perhaps they could find other humans to aid them in their struggle against who had arbritarily called themselves their betters.
It was amazing. He had fifteen thousand infantry, two-hundred howitzers, thirty walkers, one-hundred and fifty field guns, fifty mortars, and one-hundred rocket racks. In total, that were eighteen-thousand, nine-hundred and five fighting men. The other sixty-thousand and ninety-fivewere cooks, medics, mechanics, and the other support staff that every army needed. This didn't even count the five-hundred Knights of the Order whose support staff was factored into his own. It was time to set up camp and march to the land of the elves.
---------
Galbatorix was a tall and imposing man with a handsome face and long, black hair. Now, he had something interesting to see. He had tried to scry it, but was somehow blocked. However, he knew where it was. Smiling, he went out to where his black dragon, Shruikan, slept. He called for the large beast to wake up and ordered servant put on the saddle. This business was something he should do himself.
Once this preparation was finished, he put on his full battle splendor. He gave orders to a servant to tell Murtagh that he was in charge for the moment. The boy did need some experience in command and the oaths of loyalty ensured he would not so something incredibly... rash and hasty. With that, the beast took off, tearing up the field with its powerful muscles while beating its wings to slowly get off the ground. Then, Galbatorix was off to the West.
Private Lau S'hawlin watched the sky for dragons that he knew the elves had. There, up in the sky, he saw a black speck. He took his spyglass to take a look at it and it was a dragon. Lau blew the bugle call as he went to get his rifle and affix its bayonet.
The camp was a tummult of activity as the alarm for a dragon sounded. The ships of the taskforce trained their guns to the sky. Walker crews scrambled to the giants, readying weapons and scanning the skies. As soon as the dragon came close enough to see clearly with the naked eye, the high angle guns of the ships erupted in puffs of smoke as they fired time-fused shells at the dragon and its rider.
One of the walkers, had managed to get its repeater ready and that was sending a hail of lead into the sky. Puffs of smoke burst as the timed fuzes exploded, coming behind the dragon. The gunners began to fuse the next shells to explode in front of the dragon and rid it from its existence.
Shrapnes whipped around Galbatorix as he closed in on the area. Using the language of the Ancients, he cried out, using magic so that all would hear and understand, ôI come in peace. Let's settle this misunderstanding before someone gets killed.ö
Somehow, they ceased fire. Galbatorix brought his dragon down in an empty space outside the camp. Best to appear humble. They could be powerful allies. These men definitely had a foreign cast to them, being a combination of brown skinned fellows with dark hair and large builds, slimmer tanned men with dark hair, pale men with lighter hair, and those with a strange reddish cast complexion and bushy black hair. Of course there were other men, but these types of people appeared to be the most common. They were likely representing different peoples. Their open hostility was also noted. Smirking behind his helmet, the Emperor walked past with an aura of casual self confidence. They all wore khaki trousers with knee-high, brown frock coats of both the single and double breasted variety.
Through their mental link, Shruikan told him I'm getting too old for this shit.
Galbatorix replied In that case, I am too old for said shit as I am older than you.
After a few tense minutes of waiting and having their unwieldy looking spear things pointed at him, a man came forward. He was an old man with a thick white beard and handelbar mustache. His uniform included quite a few ribbons and medals and his jacket was double breasted with five steel stars on each shoulder. He carried a straight, single-edged blade. It was no match for Galbatorix's own sword, but it was the sword of a soldier, not a night. It was unnadorned, simple, and well used. It fitted its wielder.
They began to speak to one another in their harsh, rolling tongue. Feeling somewhat left out, Galbatorix mentally weaved magics to understand the language. He could have ripped the information from their minds, but that would have been impolite and left that person a lobotomized vegetable.
So, he interjected, ôExcuse me gentlemen, but who are you? I am King Galbatorix of the Empire.ö
ôYou're a filthy, elf loving dragonrider,ö yelled one man in the crowd, ôYou think we haven't killed your kind before, you elf mutant. You forsook your humanity when you joined those bastards.ö
Somewhat baffled and rather miffed, Galbatorix returned, ôI have slain all but one of the Riders. Why do you hate the elves so much? I mean, I hate them, but it is for rather personal reasons.ö
The old man in charge calmed the crowd with a gesture and stated in a gravelly voice, ôWe are soldiers of the Coalition of Allied Human Governments. We came to finish the fight with the elves for one final time and avenge every one of us that was slain by elvish hands. If you truly stand against the elves, than we may yet join forces to destroy them.ö
Galbatorix mulled this over in his head, ôWell said. I must say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Come, let me show you a path to the capital. Also, how good are you? My last generals were incompetents that somehow slipped past the radar and ended up losing a good portion of my army. Maybe you can teach my men a thing or two. Furthermore, why do you wish to exterminate the elves?ö
ôI'll go with you, but only under escort of my knights. I don't trust you. I already saw more than enough of your kind in the last war. You see, two centuries ago, the elves attacked us without provocation, claiming that our lands were theirs. It took us twelve years, but we beat them back. Then, years later they came back. We defeated them and took their homeland over the course of seven years. I fought in that war. Now, we've found them again and have come to destroy them once and for all.ö
A junior officer smiled and said, ôThat's the Grand Old Man for you. Seventy-one years old and still kicking.ö
The Old Man smiled and replied, ôDamn straight I am. Lets quit all this politics and polite speech for a while. You seem like a good man for a dragonrider. Glad their ilk is gone, killed too many good men, but we got them. I'm General Kaska. Pleased to meet you, King Galbatorix. Come, let's sit down for a drink? If I had the power, I'd reward you with our highest medal for killing most of the riders.ö
Galbatorix removed his helm and replied, ôThat would be excellent. No other existing rider has my skills. You will crush them with that barrage. However, there is one reason why only riders and massed armies with siege engines have killed riders: Magic.ö
The Old Man laughed and stated, ôWe can deal with that.ö
Galbatorix smiled and answered, ôI think I'm coming to like you.ö
General Kaska grinned back. Still, he received hostile reactions from just about everyone. Even the General was guarded. He could mind rape them, but they were more useful alive and they appeared to be competent, something he sorely needed in allies. The biggest problem was the generals of the Old Kingdom. They were mostly bluebloods that bought their position and he hadn't bothered to remove them so as not to shake up the populace. Then came the Forsworn. They were excellent fighters, but they were all terrible generals and leaders. He was the only one who could command an army. Now, he could finally kill those damn Varden and their thrice damned dragonrider, Eragon.
Why he had put off killing the boy was beyond him, but that was hindsight. At that time, Galbatorix realized that he had mostly left military affairs to that Shade, Durza. He had been working out various methods of ensuring the flow of trade throughout his empire. In retrospect, this choice was by far the better as it meant there were finally paved roads to allow trade and the mass movement of armies. Besides, smacking down the young upstart while he thought he was all-powerful would be a very, very satisfying experience (for him) and a very painful experience (for Eragon).
---------
Eragon had returned to Nasuada to warn her of the Men of the Sea. She was at her court with her various advisers. Eragon bowed down to her and bore his warning. She was surprised by this news, but took it in stride.
She smirked and said, ôThen we can probably play them against the Empire. We can avoid our own losses and get them to hurt the Empire.ö
Eragon remained unconvinced and replied, ôI don't know. From what the Queen said, they are psychotically humanist. Besides, wouldn't that be rather underhanded?ö
Nasuada snorted and told Eragon, ôI'll do whatever it takes to win this war. Honor is for those who can spare it. It's why we knife fallen knights through the vision slits. You have much to learn about war, Shadeslayer.ö
Eragon was bout to say something before being interrupted by Nasuada, ôIf they are as psychotic as you say, then we would have to either avoid or fight them. They probably wouldn't take kindly to the Urgals and Dwarves in our ranks.ö
ôI suppose not.ö
ôAnd this is why I am the leader of the Varden and not you.ö
ôIf they are hostile, then I could destroy them with Saphira.ö
ôNo, they fought the elves at their height. This included dragonriders. That was fifty years ago. Who knows what they have now?ö
ôOf course. Is there anything you would like me to do?ö
ôYes. Aid in training our magicioans.ö
Eragon turned to leave.
ôEragon.ö
He turned around.
ôDon't train them like you would train a rider. Teach them more indirect magic that is less energy intensive. I don't want half of them dead or incapacitated like after the last battle.ö
ôYes ma'am.ö
ôDismissed.ö
---------
Eight Weeks Later
Private Tua was marching. His coat was unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. The fading heat of the desert sunset beat down upon him. It wasn't the heat that was the problem. His home was just as warm. The problem was the lack of moisture. Even so, the coat was worth it compared to getting a sunburn. He was carrying about fifty pounds of gear. His rifle weighed eleven pounds with a bayonet. He also carried forty-five rounds of ammunition, a bedroll, a canteen full of water, a mold for casting his own bullets, a one pound bar of lead, flint and steel, two impact grenades, one week's rations, an entrenching tool, a haversack, a mess kit, and the equipment for a collapsible tent. Unlike the earlier armies, every man carried a small tent. He also wore his helmet, a metal version of the umbyar, a traditional conical hat originating in Kator.
The army stretched out for nearly a mile, marching in a long line of men, carts, artillery, and walkers. They had reached the Hadarac Desert and had been travelling through the desert to deliver a suprise attack to the Varden of Surda to lure out their rider. It was move that no one had attempted before because the desert was that large. Their fleet was steaming to Surda's coast with its compliment of Marines. It didn't really matter which part of the pincer attack got there first because the ships were taking an army of Imperial soldiers led by General Nome D. Guyar.
There had been some problems though made apparent in the first few weeks, the walkers had some difficult operating in the loose sand. They kept sinking into the sand. This was solved through the application of sand shoes improvised from an empty supply cart to distribute the weight. The other, more insidious problem lay in the sand. The sand got everywhere. It got in the joints. It got in the hydraulics. It got in the pneumatics. It got in the gears. The only solution was to put tarps over the joints and even then, they had to be cleaned off without water so as not to wast the precious fluid.
The sand was a problem for everyone, getting into clothes and generally making life miserable. Luckily, after the first few days, General Kaska decided to travel during the cooler nights. The nights were definitely cooler but not in a good way; the temperatures were nearly freezing. Currently, they were on three-quarter rations in case their enemy implimented a scorched earth policy and stomachs did grumble like the soldiers did.
Private Tua marched on. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left. He was tired. Still he marched. Then night fell and the line halted for everyone to button up their jackets to proctect from the plummeting temperatures and biting winds. They drew a long brown line in the sand. Thoughout the night, they marched. They marched from sunset to sunrise. Then, they bedded down to weather out the day. As dawn came, Private Tua mindlessly set up his tent, stripped off his coat, and fell asleep with his boots on.
It was this same boring routine for the past few weeks save for a few incidents. A walker fell down and had to be righted and a wagon's axle broke. They then came to a small lake in a hilly region. General Kaska ordered the army to halt and get everything cleaned up. Canteens and water tanks were filled. Men bathed. Clothes were washed. Grit was worked out of the walkers. The camp was quite happy to get out of the desert. A local Surdan hunter watched this and left to warn the Varden.
---------
Two Weeks Later
Jacob Yorranson was the commander of a platoon of Varden infantry. At sixteen, he was a veteran of three years of guerilla action. He was tired. So very tired. Tired of the war. Tired of the ghosts of the past haunting his nightly slumber. Jacob had joined the Varden at the age of thirteen to escape drafting into the Imperial Army.
He took a drag on his cigar, inhaling the tobacco smoke. The stubidity of the brass sickened him. They had this strange idea that they could defeat the Empire in a decisive battle after the Battle of the Burning Plains. That was one big screw up after another. The commanders had them spend a week digging entrenchments and earthenworks. It was pretty good as it generally took six-to-one odds to take and hold ground from an entrenched enemy. Then the idiots had them charge the Imperials from around a mile away in full battle gear. That was the first big moment of stupidity in the battle. Luckily, the Imperials had their fair share of idiots and they ran out to meet the charge.
The battle broke into a melee as some Imperial units tried to remain in formation while others broke and tried to run, but impaled themselves against the spears of the best of the Empire's elite core of pikemen, the XVI Legion. They were a worthy foe. They fought with pikes until they were surrounded and the shafts shattered. They kept themselves in formation and drew swords. They knew they would die and leave crying lovers and widows. They fought for the honor of their country, right or wrong. The Legion's drummers beat out a marching cadence as the men advanced, singing their legion's song. They held out from several charges. Beating them all back. They never cracked once. In fact, the loss of every one of their soldiers seemed to make them fight harder. Even as catapults and ballistae of both sides fired into confusion of the melee and arrows rained down, they never faltered. They got to within a hundred yards of the Varden's fortifications.
Then Eragon came down and his dragon breathed fire into their ranks. Even as they melted, their comrades charged against into the maw of the dragon. The few that had pikes slammed those into the dragon before being wiped out through magic and a sweep of the dragon's tail. Still they pressed onwards. They charged a dragon with only their shortswords. Some had lost their weapons and they picked up rocks to beat against the hide of the dragon. They were magnificent. Eragon flew off, and they hurled insults at him.
The Urgal allies slammed into them. They did not break. Their standard-bearer planted it in the ground and drew his sword. No Urgal got beyond that line in the dirt. He remembered a wounded drummer boy being carried on the shoulder of an older soldier into battle. He saw that same drummer boy later, calling to his mother as his entrails struggled to remain in his body. The boy still drummed the cadence. He had never seen any man go toe to toe with an Urgal. He had never seen any man do this with only a dagger. He had never seen any man do this and win. He had never seen any man do this until that battle. This man, the standard bearer, picked the standard up in the air and waved it before charging. The remainder of the legion followed. The standard bearer was cut down by an Urgal. The man behind him picked up the standard and cut down the Urgal.
Their commander lead them in their motto, ôWho are we?ö
ôWE ARE LEGION!ö
ôWho do fight for?ö
ôOUR COUNTRY AND BROTHERS IN ARMS!ö
ôWhy do we fight?ö
ôFOR GOD, FOR KING, AND FOR COUNTRY!ö
ôWho are we?ö
ôWE ARE THE DEATH OF THE ENEMY! WE ARE THE NIGHTMARE THAT HAUNTS THEIR DREAMS! WE ARE THE SWORD THAT CUTS APART THE ENEMY! WE ARE THE SPEAR THAT IMPALES THE ENEMY! WE ARE THE BOOT THE GRINDS THE BONES OF THE ENEMY TO DUST! WE DESTROY THE ENEMY WHEREVER IT MAY HIDE! WE ARE STRONG! WE ARE ONE! LESSER MEN MAY FLEE WHERE WE STAND! WE ARE THE XVI LEGION AND THE ENEMY SHALL TREMBLE AS WE APPROACH!ö
They charged Urgals. The political officer of the legion, recognizable by his black longcoat and two-handed warhammer slammed the head of the weapon into the skull of a Kull and spun around bringing the weapon into the chest of another Urgal. The weapon spun around again to bring it to bear on another Urgal. The hammer fell down like an avenging angel in an overhead blow. The Urgal crumpled to the ground, brains leaking from a shattered skull. A Kull came and smashed the wooden handle of the hammer with a massive club. The political officer rolled to the ground and drew a dagger before lunging back at the Kull that towered three feet above him.
Jacob remembered as four-hundred of legion were surrounded by the soldiers of the Varden. He heard one of them shout, ôWe're surrounded. That simplifies the problem.ö
Some of the soldiers began to make jeering calls toward the Varden that insulted their mothers and families, a gesture involving a raised middle finger, and some dropped their trousers to moon the Varden. Queen Nasuada herself came forward to offer the legion a chance to surrender. They had the audacity to call her ôWhore of the Varden.ö
She ordered, ôKill them,ö in a deadly calm.
Jacob rushed forward in the human tide, shield thrown away and spear held in two hands. The Legion charged toward the direction of the retreating Imperial Army and smashed their way to their allies. The XVI Legion, now known as the ôWhite Death Legion,ö was the most decorated unit in the Imperial Army. Still, they threw themselves into battle with a cold fury. They also became the only unit allowed to escort King Galbatorix.
Jacob wished the Varden had troops like them. No, he was stuck only with the bandits murderers and the dregs of society who didn't want to be part of the Empire. The Varden was so short on manpower, so they had to accept everyone who wanted a life away from t. The Imperial Army was many things, but it's volunteers were not criminals and they killed anyone who commited any such acts. He hoped these Men of the Sea were either a pushover or someone he could desert to. The Varden would fall apart once Galbatorix got serious and he wanted to be on the right side when that happened. These thoughts evaporated just as the contents of his brainpan were forcibly evacuated by a lead slug.
---------
Three Days Later
General Kaska looked at the pass where his army had set up camp. He had a swelling army of rebels and local militia. His scouts were conducting a stalling operation as he dug in his forces. His first line of defense was a long, stake filled trench followed by an earthen rampart. Behind the rampart were flamethrower troops, riflemen, and smoothbore field guns, behind this line was another rampart and fighting trench with riflemen and the rifled field guns. After this line were the mortars, howitzers and rocket launchers. The walkers were concentrated in the center with the howitzers. Mortars and rocket lauchers anchored the flanks. Men meticulously cleaned and oiled their weapons in grim determination for the battle.
The next morning, his scouts reported in. They had five killed and twenty-five wounded from their group. That night, the dead scouts burned in a funeral pyre to set their spirits free and scattered their ashes so they could give back to the land. The had bought the army a few days with their sacrifice.
The army of fifty-thousand was coming. It had started out as thirty-thousand, but local militias joined them, swelling their ranks. They had twenty-five thousand light infantry, fifteen thousand archers, eight thousand light cavalry, and two thousand heavy cavalry. The two armies met in a valley roughly a mile long.
Rockets shrieked from their launch tubes. In seconds, six hundred rockets were in the air. The Varden commander gave the order to scatter in the face of this strange magic. The rockets met the end of their time and exploded in air, sending down seventy-two hundred fragments. Roughly eight hundred soldiers were ripped apart and almost twice that number wounded. The next volley of rockets came and by this time people had shields over their heads or looked for cover from the scything fragments.
The Varden commander, looked over and saw the trails of smoke and ordered the cavalry to rush the positions rather than be pinned down and their horses maimed. Somehow, he got the rest of the army to begin advancing. Then, they met a third volley of rockets and a strange whistling noice. The rockets now hit the ground and exploded, sending shrapnel into the middle of the formations. Then one-hundred and fifty howitzer shells exploded over their heads while the rest fell down. One man almost ripped in two as he took a direct hit from an unexploded shell. More fragments pinned them down. Officers rattled swords and urged the army onward to escape the fragments. Longbowmen halted at half a mile and began to send volleys toward their lines.
Artillery crews ducked under a wooden roofed shelter before going back out to man their weapons. The army covered some more ground before the rifled field guns fired. Mortars began to shell the bowmen. However, the case shot exploded too quickly and the fragments fell short.
The solid shot plowed holes throught he lines of the infantry, showering their comrades in blood and gore. One officer raised his sword to urge on his troops before a three inch shell of iron ripped off his head. The body remained standing for a second as blood spurted out. The troops began to run away, but the press of bodies carried them forward into the killing zone. The other archers used shortbows and stopped to fire into the trenches. This was when fifteen thousand rifles fired at once in a single cacophonous blast of smoke. Thirteen thousand Varden went down. Many were simply shocked by the wounds. Many of the wounded were trampled.
They got within two hundred yards when the field guns errupted again, sending explosive shells into their ranks. Men flew into the air missing the lower half of their bodies. The rifles fired again, spitting lead death. Around one hundred and fifty yards away from the earthenworks, the smoothbore guns fired canister shot. Each of the seventy-five smoothbore cannons fire one round of canister shot. Each canister contained twenty cast-iron slugs packed with sawdust. The guns sent up a cloud of yellow sawdust as they fired. The effect was immediate and devastating. The cavalry had drawn close and were met with this wall of lead. Bodies hit the floor. Horses screamed in fear as they were torn apart. The dead slid into the first trench and the rest routed. The lightly armored infantry of the Varden met what the CAHG soldiers had nicknamed ôThe Woodchipper.ö They were torn apart and panicked. Grenades flew into the air and turned the tide of bodies to the other direction.
Bayonets were affixed and pilot lights were lit. The smokestack of the walkers belched black smoke as they began to advance, repeaters sweeping the ground. The flamethrower was a weapon that contained ten gallons of jellied oil in a tank on the back. There was also a tank of compressed air that pushed the incendiary jelly through a tube to the pilot light that sent out a fifteen meter gout of flame. These were turned upon human bodies. Men ran around as sticky flames coated their bodies. They tried to extinguish it by rolling on the ground, but this only spread the mixture. The men wielding these terrifying weapons were first to advance. Then came the regular soldiers with bayonets affixed. The bayonets stabbed and slashed. There were some isolated pockets of resistance, but these melted at the approach of the walkers.
Each walker was a ten meter tall thing made of iron. It had stubby, wide legs and feet. The torso was hexagonaly in shape and contained a rotating turret with a 7.5 centimeter rifled gun. The head was cylindrical and pushed forward to make room for the smokestack. This gave it a hunched over appearance. The driver and commander were in the head. On top of the head was a repeater. This hand cranked weapon could fire 13 milimeter ammunition at a rate of two-hundred rounds per minute; however, this was closer to one-hundred and fifty rounds per minute in practice to keep the barrel from overheating. The arm operator was located in a small pilothouse in the upper torso and operated the arm mounted weapons: a bearded two-headed axe and a pneumatic spike launcher. On the right and left shoulders were respectively, a 4 centimeter smoothbore gun and a rocket rack with six tubes. Each required a crew of twenty to operate. They were designed to fight dragons. The walkers were given the official name of ôDragonslayer Mk.1.ö Now, they were turning weapons designed to fight dragons on infantry.
The killing persisted to the end of the day. The Varden army had forty-thousand casualties. In comparison, General Kaska's army took one-thousand casualties. Three-hundred died and seven-hundred were wounded.
