[color=004b80][b]High Elder Gladstone – Santa Fe Conference[/b][/color]

He inclines his head at Barnaky’s words, standing up whilst replying. He makes a motion to his side, an aide steps forward and takes his place at the table, words drift lazily into the air.

“Brother Martin and a sufficiently informed Legion representative will suffice. This is Elder Jacobs. He is my voice at this council until I return.”

His cane raps on the floor as he limps away from the room, leaving the deliberations behind him to focus on the more pressing matter of war. A legionnaire guides him to a small room with a map of the war situation resplendent on a table. Once the necessary representatives are convened, Gladstone dives straight into the situation. His hand traces a single hand along from the Western Brotherhood lands, towards Salt Lake City, and then straight along towards the east.

“The route will simple, south, and then east. I have delegates at the court of the Great Khan already entreating for passage. Bread and Salt will meet us at their threshold, from there, the path is simple, my forces will march for Cleveland. Will raze the city before us, driving the cult scurrying back to Pittsburgh. It is my opinion that a trident must be made. Detroit, Cleveland and Indianapolis, we must keep the enemy on edge, spreading their forces thin to defend along the widest front possible, I would then recommend we close the jaws of the trident. With what forces we have in Detroit and Indianapolis punching through to form a salient around Pittsburgh. From there, we may sever the promontory and contain the enemy.”

A pause as he wetted his lips, not allowing any other to interject.

“Alternatively, my forces can swing south, and rather than attacking Cleveland, will bypass Louisville and instead focus on interdicting within the enemy’s outer interior. With airbase rights in the midwestern territory and boots on the ground, we can sever the enemies supply and communication lines. And in doing so, can serve to act as a funnel from which to emplace partisan elements into the cults inner interior.”

The High Elder rolls on forwards, eyes tracing the map as he speaks, noting the numbers in the east, his own contribution won’t be as large, but he will make sure that it punches above its weight.

“I have a force of eleven thousand preparing to move including aerial elements. One thousand of which are fully power armoured infantry complete with energy weaponry or higher projectile weaponry. Eight thousand are standard combat armour infantry with artillery and armour elements and the remaining two thousand are tribal elements. They will be rather bloodthirsty I daresay, I have commanded them to collect scalps of the enemy in my name, to be piled at the foot of my throne as a sign of fealty once the war is over, local politics, I’m sure you both understand.”

He made the statement in a matter-of-fact tone, Atticus takes a seat clasping his hands together on the top of his cane and eyeing the two dignitaries before him.

“So, what say you? Am I instead to command a march towards Indianapolis? Should I bring more or less soldiers? I would hear the input of my allies, you are both far more acquainted with the needs of this war than I.”

[b][color=004b80]Paladin-Commander Thatcher – Electric City[/color][/b]

Preparations for the war were coming along nicely, nothing to match a good cup of coffee and a slice of cake than the rumble of tank treads and the march of power armoured boots below him. He sat overlooking the plains from his privileged seat upon the Grand Coulee dam, he could taste the thrum of power that ran through the air. Its capacity dwarfed the Hoover dam far to the south of them, and the Columbia watershed had around potentially a dozen repairable and reclaimable dams to be put into action. The potential was vast, an empire in the north built on clean water and electricity, the tribals would be pacified, turned into vassals and the Brotherhood strengthened thereon.

Footfalls interrupted his thinking, a message delivered straight to his hands. A printed note, his eyes paused on it. He read it once, and then again, and then a third time, before leaping to his feet, taking a light jog towards his office on the dam. Once inside, the chaos in the room could be seen as analysts stood shouting and arguing, his own voice cut across it.

“Is this confirmed?”

One stepped forward, the lead agent for the Khan desk.

“Yes sir. Salt Lake City was ransacked by raider elements, from what we can gather, they were so-called 80s, under whose command is still being verified. Orders sir?”

“Send word to the Great Khan, as we are marching to Salt Lake City already, we will split our forces to leave a three thousand man detachment to secure the highway, for the safety of our citizens within the Khan lands. Make moves at the Great Khan’s court, have friendly elements step up the rhetoric, we’ve been given a godsend, let’s not waste it.”

A predatory grin made its way onto the Director’s features. Khan blood was in the water, he could smell it, and if he could so could others. The sharks were circling, it was best that the Brotherhood took the first bite.