Arctic Northlands - Entrenchment Sector 5, "Killing Fields"
Wiktor Savislaw, Konscript Blok 3.1.8
"Look at all of this, Wiktor. Bodies, that's all they see. Why build a stone wall when you could make a human wall that fires back?"
Wiktor almost giggled at that as he pulled his coat and mask taught over his body and face. It was freezing here- a lot like home, to be honest. Wiktor couldn't really complain about that- at home, he'd likely be in a tight alley, trying to find standing space, wondering how he's going to eat the next day. Here, in the trenches, he was wandering a tight space, trying to find sleeping room, being
served meals each day. Sure, it was mostly artificial shit that he was sure they wouldn't even dare feed cattle with, but it was food in his belly. Wiktor hadn't had a real
home, both in a literal sense and a social sense. Out here, on Anuria, he could have no home and still
do something. Sure, he'd inevitably get torn up in a battle some day, but it was better than finding himself at the end of his
own gun back home. Here in Entrenchment Sector 5, nicknamed the Killing Fields, for it would be the first defensive encampment any foe coming from the east would meet, that time may come sooner than Wiktor may think.
"You're a real motivator, Rad." Wiktor replied. Radoslaw, Wiktor- and most others that knew the man- just called him Rad, walked the slow saunter alongside him. Radoslaw was nearly ten years Wiktor's superior and had been here on Anuria nearly two years, a mountainous achievement for a Konscript, and unlike Wiktor, Radoslaw did not wear his mask, his curly and bushy gray-flecked black beard sufficing in keeping his face warm.
"Yeah, yeah- A real fucking Corpsekeeper, eh?"
Wiktor never really liked it when others referred to the Corekeepers as that. He understood why they treated their troops so harsh- especially the one attatched to Wiktor's Blok, whom he had heard had put a bullet in a man's head for taking more than a step backwards- but they were all as terrified as their Konscripts were, no matter how loud they shouted. Nevertheless, Wiktor laughed, if only to humor Radoslaw.
For a while the two merely slumped along in the foggy, snowy haze pertinent of the Northlands, mesmerized by the view of their own breath and the satisfying crunch of the snow beneath their boots. Wiktor originally been trying to find suitable sleeping space, but after Radoslaw found him he gave up on that endeavor. He loved the man, many did for his stories, but he would never try to sleep near the veteran. Snored like a bear.
"Hey, Wiktor, look!" Radoslaw was shaking Wiktor out of his fatigued stupor. Next to him, painted on the wall of the trench in a luminous orange paint, was a symbol; a gauntlet grasping a sword . Wiktor had nearly walked past it, but he knew well what it meant - the Eidolon himself had been here. Wherever that symbol was, someone was usually nearby who knew the tale of this location.
"Eidolon was here, yeah." Came a quiet and beautiful voice from behind Wiktor. Turning, he faced a pale skinned, young blonde woman with a beard as long as Radoslaw's.
"Took out a whole slew of Unguon here a few years back."
"Yeah? Them's is as much fodder as we are," replied Radoslaw, a bit gruffly. Perhaps he was jealous that he was being out-bearded.
"Did it with a bootknife. 'Parently also had ripped a tube off'a Quickmortar for a few good shots, too." Quipped the bearded woman. Radoslaw did not reply.
Wiktor had always been curious of the Eidolon. Thinking about him certainly made the Konscript feel more safe, and this certainly wasn't the first Eidolon symbol Wiktor had encountered. His favorite tale came from further within the Northlands, near a Halfbore placement where he traveled by himself for days to assure that the shell he fired had
annihilated his target. After finishing off a few stragglers, he
came back.
"Is there more to it? I'd love to hear the full story."
----
Arctic Northlands - Entrenchment Sector under construction
Piotr Kazmerz, of an Enigma Squad
"Here, Yuri, stop." Ordered Piotr, halting suddenly, adjusting a dial on his goggles to better account for the snow-filled fog. He had to hand it to the offworld engineers, the Hussard Deathmasks were well made, though he wish they offered more protection. Then again, a shot to the face is a shot to the face, no matter what's covering it.
This section of the trench had only been completed the night prior, and as a result was eerily quiet and completely empty, save for Piotr, garbed in common Hussard accouterments, and a similarly dressed Yuri who hustled to stand next to him, adjusting the same dial on his goggles that Piotr had just done.
"You think here is far enough down? Trucks still have a few miles to go."
"I'm sure, Yuri. Do not question me."
In the distance he could hear the Trucks working hard to dig the trench out from under the ice and snow. Loud machines.
"Right, sorry sir."
Yuri offered a slight apologetic bow to Piotr and began his task as an Enigma- withdrawing a small vial and inserting it into a barrel protruding from the armor on his forearm. There was a satisfying click, Yuri pointed the barrel at the wall, and began to paint. The luminous orange paint was resistant to nearly everything, but the smell was so potent that it even surpassed the Deathmask's inherent filters. Piotr watched as Yuri worked until the art was finished- drawing back, Yuri admired his work. A gauntlet wielding a sword- the symbol of the Eidolon. Piotr gave a nod of approval as Yuri glanced at him.
The two both flinched as gunshots were heard. Piotr cussed, but remembered where they came from. A separate Enigma squad was following behind, coating the trench in scuff marks, bullet holes, fake blood, and footprints. They had to make the trench look lived-in; Konscripts weren't as stupid as some others thought, and more than one would make the connection behind a brand new looking trench and the Eidolon's symbol's presence.
"We're done here, Yuri, let's move on." Piotr told his apprentice, "Next, we're finding a loyal Jackboot from the Blok that will be stationed here, and tell him or her the story that shall be told about the Eidolon here. Make sure they know there are consequences if they do not comply. While you're doing that, I'll talk to the same Blok's Corekeeper, make sure they understand to watch that one and shoot em' if they don't follow our "guidelines". You understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excellent."
----
Near the Sand Straits of Ak'Aria
Nikodem Ajnacy, Grenadier of Battery 17
Nikodem, or "Niko" to many, was a traitor.
Sure, no one knew, not
yet anyway, but his reluctance would certainly grant him the illustrious title of 'traitor' some day. Some day he would crack and not be able to handle it anymore- he was still getting nightmares about those on the other end of his cannon. Every
thud of his Halfbore brought images in his that he wished not to think about. A shame, considering his numerous years in artillery service made him one of the foremost elite and gave him his beloved Halfbore. He had given it a nickname once, but nowadays he had to force himself to remember his own. He wished he could discard his Grenadier armor and throw on a coat and fight in the frontlines- a quick and honorable death, at least, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with those who believed in some vague "cause". No- Niko cared not to die for the cause, but for his fallen friends. The countless names he saw extinguished. He wondered how many names he, himself, had delivered to what gods may be...
"Niko!" Came a voice from behind. In the sand it was hard to hear footsteps, and Niko jumped a bit.
"Gods, that what all the Halfbore firing do to ya'? Be surprised if you could hear me standin' right next to you."
Niko did not reply but scowled at the young man that approached him as he overlooked the dunes beneath. They had long been shelled, but there was still an odd beauty to them.
The young man next to him was a recent addition to the Battery. Niko didn't care to remember his name.
"Gotta' get goin', Niko. Got orders to fire a salvo."
Today? Thought Niko. Just a few weeks ago they had nearly emptied their ready supply of shells at some target Niko would probably never get to see. And now they were needed
again? Already?
"Guess we got some Jalaryian targets."
Ah. The Divine State. He had heard of it, sure, who could
possibly be stationed on Anuria and not know who they were fighting, but he had never seen them operate up close. Being a part of the Battery afforded him that layer of safety; he would often see or hear battles in the distance, but being a Battery, especially a Battery with three Halfbores, meant he was never supposed to see direct combat.
Without a word Niko turned and brushed past the newcomer back towards his Halfbore- sure enough, he found his ammo supply restocked, a few Volptruks on standby to help him and his crew load the massive shells.
With a sigh, Niko began to bark orders to his veteran crew to ready the Halfbore and soon the whole Battery- mostly Armatas and Paladins aside from the few Halfbores- was a flurry of motion and sound.
Niko stood back and closed his eyes in preparation for the first shell to be fired. The first one was always the worst.
