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Sector 64, Combat Zone 2:
[b]S a n d  S t r a i t s  o f  A k ' A r i a[/b]
Fleet: 
[b]82nd Fleet of Aveleo[/b]
Unit: 
[b]10th Mechanized Truppe 
1st Platoon[/b]
Campaign Objective: 
[i]Hold out until further reinforcements are sent to seize the territory.[/i]

The sandmen of the Empire lied in wait, fulfilling their name sake of being nearly completely buried in the sand. Spotters had sighted the lone Hegemony Halfbore. Their orders were to seize the vehicle intact, crew expendable if hostile. They waited for what seemed like forever until finally, the rumbling of the engine and the shacking of the ground signaled their approach. When they entered the slight dip in the dunes, the trap sprung. A massive figure began to come forth from the sand, his swords ready, his face, dead and unblinking. Soldiers jumped from their hiding places in the sand and slid down the side of the dunes, reaching the vehicle, weapons ready. 

"Hands! Head! Now!" one of the soldiers yelled. While the supposed commander of the vehicle did the same, the crew where slower to respond. However, after the Butcher stepped forward, they all rushed to do the same. "Alright, Krebs! You know how to drive that thing, right? Get in there get that thing started, we don't have much time to make it back to the new position. Squad B, move the prisoners to the Volptruk and make sure they don't try anything, oh, and give em a window seat so they can know the Butcher is watching. Alright, move out!"

With that, the men sprung into action. The prisoners were shoved roughly into the captured Volptruk, an irony not lost on any of the prisoners, and they were on there way. A few hours later, now in the dead of night, they arrived at the foot of a small ridge line. The Butcher walked off, leaving the prisoners and the various soldiers to take them up the hill. Their Halfbore was nowhere to be seen, just a small, unlit path guiding them up the ridge until they were forced into a cave. The commander was grabbed and separated from the rest, where where herded down a different passage. Finally, he was shoved into a large room. It looked to be an improvised command room. With communication modules scattered about and very old maps hanging from the walls. However, nobody was manning the stations, nobody was directing any battles. There was only one man, his face wrapped in a somewhat common/traditional way of that of the native people to the Sand Straits. 

The Desert Fox stood before the commander of the captured Halfbore. His dull orange eyes giving no hint of any emotion. 

"Your name?" he suddenly asked, in impressively good Hegemony dialect. 

"Err.. Nikodem Ajnacy.... Grenadier of Battery 17" he said sheepishly, understandably intimidated by all of this. The Desert Fox cocked his head, then turned away from him.

"Well, how surprisingly forthcoming with such information.... An oddity indeed. Tell me, Mr. Ajnacy. Why would a single artillery unit of the Hegemony be so far from friendly lines, stumble into one of my forward scout parties as night was fast approaching us?" he said, now turning back to Niko. 
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