[center][color=f26522][h1]Neo-Confederate States of America[/h1]
[h2]Georgian Frontier[/h2]
[/color][/center]

A beautiful lass stood in a beaming ray of sun. Her warm crescent blues eye framing her shy grin. The sun accented her tanned skin, giving it a slight glow. Her golden-blonde cascading hair danced in the wind. The field around her was of wheat, which only added to her mystique beauty. She stood proudly, beckoning for Soyer to come to her. He trudged to the woman, his legs heavy with fatigue. Each step took only more out of him. The woman continued to grin at him. "Wake up, Lieutenant-General. Wake up, it's time to go." The woman's voice was soft-spoken, her accent was obviously southern. As Soyer got closer, blood drained out from the woman's eyes. Her eyes turned a fiery red. Her skin turned a scaly gray, which was only made worse by her ash-blackened hair. Her voice was shrilling. She continued to scream for Soyer to wake up.

The Lieutenant-General woke up, sweating heavily, gasping for breath. His eyes fluttered, his vision unclear for a few moments. As he regained it, he realized his face was half in a pool of blood. At first, he believed it was his until he got up. A gruff voice spoke out " Lieutenant-General, you're alive!" Soyer felt a heavy hand grab his shoulder and help get him on his feet. He focused his attention on the origination of the voice, trying to ignore the warm blood dripping off the right-half of his face. The man before him appeared to be in his late thirties, wrinkly skin, long bushy beard that trailed down to the man's waist. He was a head shorter than Soyer, forcing him to look down. "Christ, thought we lost you, sir, yes we dids. We saws dat big ol' ironfur comes at you, you were a goner for sures." The man smiled ear to ear, obviously happy that his commander is alive. Soyer brought his hand to face and touched the blood. The man saw the question in Soyer's eyes before Soyer could say it. "Aye, not yours. Tis the young fella, Sergeant Evans." The man explained. Soyer looked at the dead Sergeant. Evans body was missing several parts, some of the insides became outsides as well. Soyer made a mental note to notify the family immediately, they were neighbors when they were kids. 

The man that woke up Soyer, whom he found out to be named Tomel, explained how the battle went. "Wes stepped in their nest here. The ravine wes went down on was close to a cave they made home in. There was a few, mostly cubs. As you see.." Tomel pointed out to the Lieutenant-General "Wes lost a few. Wes believe that the mumma came directly for yas. Better thank God almighty for savin' yer ass, sir." The man chuckled and slapped Soyer on the back.

"So, I assume demo-charges were set in the cave?" Soyer questioned. He feared of more Ironfurs attacking.

Tomel looked down immediately, trying to avoid Soyer's eyes. "Well sir, the uh.. rain..." Tomel stuttered as he tried to explain. Soyer pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily, shrugging his shoulders. The rain had compromised the explosives that were going to be used in demolition of any nests that were encountered.

"Find First Sergeant Riggs, get him and his men to clear out the cave. I want you and your squad to assist, [i]Sergeant[/i]Tomel." Tomel's eyes widen, realizing the emphasis was a field promotion.

Tomel turned his back to Soyer. "Alright you bed-shitters! I'm Sergeant Tomel." He grabbed the recently deceased Sergeant Evan's jacket that had a rank insignia on it. He pulled his arms through it "We're going to hunt these fuckin' bears and gut them. The Lieu-Gen wants their nest cleared out. On me!" Tomel shouted as he ran off to find Riggs and his squad, leaving Soyer relatively alone.

Soyer stepped over to Evans, bending over. "Shit, Evans, shit." He put a hand into his pocket, fumbling for a cigarette. He shakily found and brought one to his lips. He brought out a match box. He tried to strike it several times, but the match wouldn't go. "Fuck!" He spat the cigarette out and dropped the matchbox. "Why'd you have to go fucking die, you selfish piece of shit!" Soyer pushed Evan's lifeless body, tears welling up in his eyes. He looked down, placing a fist against his lips, as he heard several gunshots go off and people yelling.

[hr]

[color=f26522][h2]Pensacola, Florida [/h2][/color]



Pensacola was the last major hub before exiting the Neo-Con territory and into Alabama. That being said, it was the only confirmed safe haven for Delmont and Gale. Gale and his company, whom were called the "Johnny Rebs" had disembarked from the train earlier than Delmont, to secure themselves vehicles to use in their travels. Delmont used the time he had alone to explore Pensacola, which was rather short lived. He had to rendezvous back at the train station with the "Johnny Rebs" within an hour.

Delmont walked back to the station, his eyes looking above and past it. He noticed gray clouds to the north-east and hoped it wouldn't come south. A vehicle's horn made him pay attention to where he was going. Gale and his men had rounded up some cargo trucks. They were modified as well. Gale and his boys had added wooden spikes and makeshift barbed wire to the front of the trucks, mostly for intimidation. They also made sandbags to cover the exposed back-ends.

"Well, Delmont. Let's go, we are burning daylight and I am sure as hell you don't want to be catchin' those barbarians at night." Gale stated. Delmont couldn't refuse. He was scared of the oncoming events. His military attachment gave him some comfort though. He dismissed these thoughts and climbed into the passenger seat of Gale's truck, which was in the middle of the convoy. Gale stuck his head out the driver's window and shouted "On the move, soldiers! I want some distance between Pensacola and us!" The first truck lurched forward and drove off, as did the second and third and so on.

Several minutes passed as the two men watched as Pensacola become smaller and smaller in the rearview mirrors. "We are headed towards Mobile. I believe we are meant to meet them in the middle." Delmont said to cleanse the silence that was growing. Gale had grown oddly quiet, although it wouldn't have bothered Delmont in a different circumstance. He wanted social interaction, as it may be his last time to speak. The silence came back. Gale had only peered over at Delmont, noticing the older gentlemen to be sweating heavily.

"Never been out this long, have ya?" Gale teased. Relief flashed over Delmont's face.

"No, I normally stay inside from most of the heat. The South is just dreadfully hot." Delmont exclaimed. He pulled out a red-white checkered handkerchief to blot the sweat that was dripping from his forehead. As he was doing so, he heard clicks and clanks from the back of the truck.

Gale once again looked over at Delmont. "They're getting ready, in case your negotiation skills don't prove fruitful, Mister Delmont. Think of it as added job security." Gale had a gap-toothed smile, which gave discomfort to Delmont.

"Just let me handle it, okay. We don't need a war breaking out." Delmont said quickly and strictly. Delmont was more afraid of the Badland tribes than Gale and if everything proved to go smoothly, it would be quite the step-up, both for Neo-Con and the tribes, or so thought Delmont. Little did Delmont know is that Gale had strict orders from the General-in-Chief that if things were to go awry, is to set-up a foothold in Alabama and dispatch Delmont back to inform Crawford.

The soldier simply chuckled and continued to focus on the drive. He was ready to take whatever path was open to him when they became open. He cared little for potential peace. Gale had lost his twin sisters. People said they simply went missing, but Gale knew better. His sisters were close to the border of the Tribe's borders, so he thinks they were kidnapped. The path he wanted, the one he was vying for, was total war. Gale was prepared for it.