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[sub][color=Silver][i]The Siege of Amone, September 27th - [b]Scorched Earth[/b][/i][/color][/sub]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yMuRjn0ZV9s[/youtube]
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[color=Silver]	The rain started to kick up heavily. He saw his ordered troops disappear into the house, following his order quite obediently, at least in Luke's case. A pittering splutter of droplets slamming against his steel-rimmed helmet amplified the true terror of the outdoor world, beyond the supposed safety of their frontline basecamp. War was scary. Terrifying screams in the distance seemed to unruly shatter the little amount of confidence that Jean had laid out within his mind. Mountains' worth of terror continued to hammer down on the group, emphasising that they were no longer in God's country. Assen's border city, bright and holy in its righteous enigma, was now the centrifugal point of all that was to come. Places were believers and peaceful citizens would roam in matrimonial celebration were now stained with the art of war, the roughened and coarse agony of the once hopeful communities. Remnants of that past life were almost non-existent. The inn was gone, as were its people. The peaceful negotiations of Imperials and Federation soldiers within those neutral zones had crumbled the minute the gas and bombs started to fall. Even here, where the battle had ceased perhaps days ago, casings and bullet shells were still seen scattered on every pavement. Compartments to rifles, stripper clips, broken stocks, even fully drenched Imperial rifles themselves were dashed throughout the world. Many were in terrible conditions, drenched in mud, blood and all sorts of aquatic mess. The years of agony were highlighted in the one scene before them. Jean, crouched behind a pile of rubble, awaiting Luke's return from his scouting, egged his mindset into one of a soldier. He tried to ignore the battle around him. He wanted to make it seem like the world was not afraid of its true horrors. He wanted to ignore the pains of past trauma slicing into his skin, infecting it with the blood of his own victims, but he just couldn't. The war was starting to keep him on the edge. Any minute now, or later, a bullet could be fired from any window and his skull could be split into fragmented pieces. One second he could be alive, the next...emotionless. That terrifying linger of death was enough to tremble his fingers. Anyone could pass it off as the coldness of the rain, but Jean's hands shook wildly, even clattering around a small metallic noise of his webbing's clips against one another.

	Before Luke came outside, a strange sound made itself clear in the distance. A presence of fire was made out, cleansing the distance well and truly. A scream of human suffering was also heard, followed by several distant shots. Thunder tried to conceal their location and presence but to no avail. The war was here to stay. Even ahead, Jean's eyes were left wide open as a burnt out coach laid ahead. Leaning over the debris pile, he scanned ahead, seeing the remains of a trailer coach. Was it that? No...above it sat the remains of a wiring cable. It was a tram, an entirely scorched remainder of a tram at least. Jean kept his eyes upon it, looking ahead as he saw two objects slumbered right up against the tram's flank. The objects themselves were hard to make out, more akin to lumps of clothing at the distance he was at. Taking out his binoculars, he tried to scan ahead to see if he could make out the mess even more, yet could barely see through the fogginess of the cold morning rain.

	He narrowed his gaze, silencing all the noise around him to try and focus in on the site ahead. Initially, he was looking for signs of enemy activity, or simply traps and mines that were laid out. The Imperial forces had been here in the past few days, at least it seemed. Many were scrambling back to an unknown point, perhaps to concentrate their forces a long way. Jean whispered to himself, mouthing out the possibilities of such happenings. The Empire must've known that Amone was on the brink of its final hours. Whoever controlled the next few days' worth of territory would surely dictate who held the ground. This was a game of willpower; who would withstand the storm the longest, and who would repel the oncoming charge first? Imperial defences were greatly intensified and tended to feature extremely vast chokepoints. The only advantage to be seen in the urban environment was the lack of murder-holes, concrete machine gun forts and trenches. Everyone had a somewhat equal chance of cover...providing the buildings still stood tall.

	When Luke silently returned, simply giving a quiet nod, Jean waited for everyone to set up before standing up and writing down that everything was clear. Something about Luke's face disturbed Jean. He didn't like the guy, of course, but something seen out there was clearly disturbing enough to shudder even him. Jean finally stood up and silently gestured his hands for them to prepare to move out. Luke asked him a question, taking his mind back to the horrors. What was this place before everything happened? Well...Jean had a perfectly good and reasonable idea of what happened before and why the world looked so grim now.[/color]

[color=aqua][b]"Before? Peaceful...righteous. Ask Michael if we get back, he'll know. This is his City of religious importance. Shame battle disturbed its presence."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]Jean tried to keep a professional tone to his voice, before moving forward once more. The others couldn't have been far behind, judging the condition of their scouting mission. There was only a small amount left. Thomas moved to the another building and began to clear itself out, going in himself to ensure it was all clear. Whilst he did so, Jean moved first, approaching that same tram cart that he'd seen in the distance.[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"Holy...fuck..."[/b][/color]

[color=Silver]	Pinned up against the wall of the tram's exterior, two bodies laid clustered together. Jean's eyes widened as he held back the temptation to pluck the body for identification disks. Something else caught his eye though. The bodies themselves were charred, scarred from top to bottom in a black charcoal-esc layer. The smell of rotten flesh reeked from their clothes. Jean's own gaze twitched as the reality of the war's destruction became clear. The first was a male soldier, or at least Jean thought so. There was no way to tell. How was there no way to tell? Jean never wanted to describe it, but the gaping hole in their face was not their nostrils or their mouth. Instead, the dripping stench of dried blood, decaying skin and resentful suffering created a wound that went from one end of the skull to to the other, ripping the identity and entire face out of their head. No nose, eyes or even lips could be spotted as it tunnelled through and scouted out the rear end, leaving nothing but the remains of rotting brain mesh behind. Worse still, the skin that was left intact was burnt, charred and entirely smouldered by the tip of someone's flame. The second body was a female soldier, young in whatever features she had left to spare. Her skin too was brutally cooked and burnt beyond human comprehension.

	Jean stumbled backwards, halting the group and staring without anything but fear overruling his feelings. As he stumbled, something to the right caught his eye. Further down the street laid...oh lord...[/color]

[color=Aqua][b]"Holy...shit..."[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He collapsed onto his hands and knees, and a surge of vomit spewed from behind his lips onto the wet floor. For down that street laid more than just two bodies, who were horrifically mutilated and burnt, but instead at least thirty bodies...all clumped together in one large pile of ash, death and deceit. Jean continued to vomit, clearing out his stomach as Thomas reemerged from the house and found the sight to behold. He simply staggered into a halt, watching in disbelief. Was this in response to...the gas? Such bodies weren't all military too, some looked as if they could've walked a civilian life, or were refugees from the frontlines. How...how could this happen? Here? On the frontlines, where soldiers were only supposed to kill and nothing more? Why was a brutal depiction of how violence was supposed to go down shown here?

	Eventually, Jean cleared his stomach and throat of the sick, standing up and groaning, before looking away. He tried to shed a tear for the pity of their lives, but struggled to even amass any emotion out on the frontline. Instead, he turned back to his soldiers, and quietly insisted that they continued on in silence.[/color]

[centre][sub][@Yam I Am][@Smike][@Jacky][/sub][/centre]