The East PacificBoard

The vehicles moved forward towards the rising sun through a large though sparse forest. The light dazzled some of the soldiers, who had to move behind the tinted windows of the armored personnel carriers. Behind the vanguard, some rocket artillery followed at a distance. A squadron of BM-21 Grads, ready to aim and fire upon any position where a powerful force may be hiding. Some infantry carried mortars to aid with firepower. There was more than enough strength, yet they were all still doubtful; after all, there was no telling what could be ahead of them.

In a command vehicle at the rear of the force, Johann Karl Tötentod looked over the plan of attack. At the current moment it was only a sweep into lands where the cult was known to frequent, though if any settlements were found, the ground forces would coordinate a concentrated attack there. He had more than enough firepower, even without aerial superiority. Even so, he had made sure that the king placed a few helicopters and planes on standby.

The vehicles pushed forward cautiously. Everyone was on edge, when suddenly the battle broke out.

At the left edge of the formation, a cultist moved into view. The Corzerranean soldiers didn’t know what to expect, and seeing that he was unarmed, raised their rifles to threaten him into submission. Still, even as the cultist was heavily outnumbered and outclassed, he stared ahead with dead, yellow-tinted eyes.

Without warning, the cultist leapt forward with aggression. He bore his teeth as an animal would and he quickly reached the large black vehicle at the formation’s vanguard. He began to pummel into it with extraordinary force, denting the metal. The armored personnel carriers their machine guns fired and hit the man, but he remained standing; whatever damage was inflicted seemed to fade away or ultimately be inconsequential.

A supporting A.t.P.S. turned its turret towards the cultist and activated the new system. The attacker stepped back, stumbling, and almost instantly was gunned down by machine gun fire and killed.

For a short moment, the entire formation stood still and held their breath. The attacker failed to rise, and a small pool of blood began to form around his figure. A collective sigh was released, and the formation began to move once more. Now, having learned from the death of an enemy, the Black Hand squadron moved with greater efficiency. The A.t.P.S. units cycled their main armaments, always having an anti-magic projection field in front of the force. The ensuing battle could hardly be called that. It was a bloodbath. Enemy cultists appeared, were neutralized and gunned down, and pulled behind the front lines for later study of their biology.

The formation advanced through the thickening forest, and though they felt themselves overextended, Johann desired to push further a little more for the fatherland. A little more land for us is a little less land for them, the Director thought to himself. After all, what is a few more meters into the unknown when so much land has already been gained? Especially when there were no other kinds of threats.

They advanced without much resistance, the number of cultists decreasing until there were none before them. The speed of the advance slowed, and gradually came to a halt. Some of the soldiers stepped out of the armored personnel carriers, relieved that the largest threat was now reduced in strength. However, a few moments after they stopped, an attack began once again. This time it was more akin to a raid than a bunch of animals attacking on their own, and it seemed almost as if there were a commander behind the attack.

Several cultists in the front lines were immediately neutralized and gunned down. However, some of them managed to leap onto the other side of the front line through climbing the trees. There were three cultists who managed to pass through. Seeing the danger that the soldiers were in, Johann grabbed a T.H.R.O.N.E. device, along with his pistol, and ran out of the command vehicle.

The first cultist was a male of relatively tall stature. His skin was pale and irises white, and he bore his teeth when he saw Johann. Immediately, the Director aimed his T.H.R.O.N.E. device and pistol. First he activated the device, and the anti-magic projection field caused the cultist to take a step back. Immediately after, he fired four shots from his pistol. The first cultist clutched at his chest where the shots hit him and crumpled to the floor.

A female voice spoke to Johann from behind him. It was the second cultist. The woman grinned. “You didn’t think you’d be able to get too close to us without resistance, did you?”

Johann whipped around and aimed the T.H.R.O.N.E. device at her, but the woman was faster. She sprinted forward, placing the palm of her hand on the device and tackling Johann to the ground. She recited an incantation, and the palm of her hand heated up beyond normal temperatures. Johann pulled the trigger to the device, but when he looked, its front was now melted, hot metal dripping down and inching closer to his hand. He quickly removed his hand from it and turned his head to face the woman.

“Just what are you people…?” he asked, trying to push her off. He found that unlike the other types of cultists, she was easier to move and less sturdy. He assumed she was different from the other thralls, but didn’t exactly know how or what it entailed.

She leapt off of him once she made sure that the handheld T.H.R.O.N.E. device was down. From a distance, she raised her hands towards Johann and pointed her fingers at him. He could sense that she was going to attack and leapt behind the command vehicle. Almostly instantly, the front of the vehicle burst into flame and his previous position was engulfed by a row of fire. Once the flames subsided, Johann peeked out of his hiding spot. The woman had already begun to move with superhuman agility, leaping several feet into the air and to the other side of the command vehicle.

Johann prepared his handgun, and as the cultist landed in front of him, he opened fire. Three shots hit her chest, a fourth on her neck, and a fifth in between her eyes. The cultist stumbled backwards, momentarily looking at Johann with great hatred before falling on her back, dead.

The third cultist that had breached the frontline had snuck up on the Director and was now going in for the kill. He attempted to grab Johann, but the surrounding soldiers fired at him with their rifles, causing him to stumble back. A mounted autocannon opened fire on him, and though his magic managed to hold him together, it didn’t work for long. The third cultist fell and died.

“Director!” A soldier rushed to Johann’s aid and helped him to his feet. “Are you alright? Should we bring you to the field hospital?”

Johann stood dusted himself off. “No, thank you, soldier. I’m alright. Check on your companions at the front line, make sure there are no other points where the enemy can breach.”

After a few moments, Johann entered the now wrecked command vehicle. The terminal was still operational, and it displayed a message directly from the king.

>Well done, Director. You may stop here for now. Another army unit has found a cultist stronghold. Your push was successful in diverting enemy forces and securing vital research intel.

Tötentod quickly typed into the terminal.

>Thank you, King Graham. We are moving our camp forward now with proper defense installations.

He saw that the king was typing and waited for the next message.

>Affirmative. Disseminate this to your soldiers and the army: the region is to be called Czary, for it has come from evil hexes and magic.

The Director leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen of the terminal. Czary, huh… he thought to himself. Just what are you thinking of doing about this situation? He stared at the terminal a while longer, the message ingraining itself into his eyes. Why would he name this region after witchcraft? Johann shook his head and got rid of his worry. The king was his superior, after all. There was no use in doubting the chain of command, especially over something so trivial.