The convoy roared out of Yasumin, a steel serpent winding its way northward. Engines hummed, wheels churned, and every soldier knew the stakes. The Beastkin Unified Army's lifeline to Sacra-Hill was moving, and every second counted.
Lt. Colonel Ridgefall glanced at the moving map display in his command vehicle, the digital layout showing the convoy’s progress. Next to him, Major Rukland checked a manifest on his datapad, cross-referencing the trucks’ loads with the supply requirements for the assault.
"Captain Tarfire and the FARP trucks have peeled off toward Leythbrook," Rukland said, marking the transfer complete.
"Good," Ridgefall replied. “We’ve got no time to waste. Scania’s waiting.”
The convoy surged forward, gaining speed as the flat roads leading out of Yasumin gave way to the winding paths of the Trenbres Forest.
Two hours later, the convoy rolled into Scania Base. Nestled in a rare large clearing in the otherwise dense Trenbres Forest, Scania was a critical waypoint for the Beastkin forces. The base was modest—little more than a communications relay station and a small logistical hub—but its towering comms array was its true significance. It rose above the treetops, ensuring long-range communications back to Runshilla remained intact despite the forest’s massive mana interference.
1st Lt. Rockland aka “Rocky” Hilltail stood near the entrance to the small FOBs Tactical Operations Center, as the convoy stopped inside the wire. His uniform was neat, though the strain of extended isolation in the Trenbres was evident in his fidgeting fingers and twitching ears. This was the most noise he had heard in the six months since he was assigned here.
“The Roar of the Tiltrotors and their escorts and now this. Every Rock Boar and Jungle Lizard from entrance to the exit will be wide awake now.” He thought, as Ridgefall and Rukland dismounted from their vehicles. Hilltail approached the officers briskly.
"Welcome to Scania, sirs," he said, snapping a sharp salute. “Command’s been buzzing my comms all day asking about you. I told them you were out of range, but they’re eager for an update. Also, I’ve just brewed a fresh pot of coffee in the command hut if you’d like.”
Ridgefall raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Appreciate it, Lieutenant. Let’s take care of Command first, then we’ll take you up on that coffee.”
Inside the command hut, Hilltail handed Ridgefall a secure comms handset. Rukland stood nearby, studying the map spread across the central table, marked with notes and observations from Scania’s recon teams.
“This is Dragon Six Actual,” the Colonel reported into the handset. “Convoy has reached Scania. Proceeding as planned toward Sarca-Hill. Over.”
Command’s response was immediate. “Acknowledged, Dragon Six. Be advised, recon has reported unusual monster activity near the northern sector of the Trenbres. Also, Engineers report that the unimproved road has turned to a goat trail following a thunderstorm earlier. Expect delays. Proceed with caution. Out.”
Ridgefall handed the handset back to Hilltail, frowning. "Mud and monsters. Just what we needed.”
Hilltail’s ears flicked as he poured coffee for the officers. “It’s not just the terrain, sir. Our recon team spotted some odd creatures moving near the smaller villages near the exit, they are nothing we’ve seen before. They’ve been avoiding the road so far, but this forest has a way of surprising you.” He laid out a few photos of the newly discovered monsters as he passed out a fresh cup to the officers. “These were taken about 4 hours ago.”
Ridgefield looked at the Photos while drinking the hot coffee. Some seemed to be made of Stone while others, bone and greenish skin. He pointed at them gesturing to Rukland.” What do you think?”
Rukland looked and stated. “Nothing a 40mm or 30mm can’t handle. Did they have anything that flies?”
Hilltail looked at his computer at the other photos, “Nothing that we have seen so far. Sir.”
Rukland looks up from the map. “It shouldn’t be too much of a problem, however, if they are still there, we maybe delayed getting to Qu-Till.”
“Lets make sure they don’t.” Ridgefalled noted.
Rukland leaned over the map, his finger tracing the dirt road beyond the paved section. “How long to clear this section, Lieutenant?”
Hilltail shrugged. “At convoy speed, it should take three, maybe four hours if the mud’s as bad as it looked. Once you’re out of the forest, the Royal Road to Sacra-Hill is smooth. That’s another four hours.”
“Eight hours total,” Rukland muttered as he drank the coffee. “Can the air assault team hold out that long?”
Ridgefall exhaled heavily. “We don’t have a choice.”
Hilltail set the coffee pot down and added, “One more thing, sir. Our recon spotted what seems to be a patrol from the Demon Lord’s forces about five miles from the road exit. Demons and Golems, mostly. We couldn’t get a headcount, but... be careful out there.”
Ridgefall nodded. “Noted. Thanks for the update, Lieutenant. We will update you once we leave the forests edge.”
The officers left the command hut and headed to the command vehicle. They signaled for the convoy to prepare to roll out as they walked to the command vehicle.
The convoy rumbled out of Scania with renewed urgency. The tanks took the lead, their turrets swiveling as their crews scanned the undergrowth for signs of movement. Behind them, Boxer APCs with their unmanned 30mm turrets formed the second line of defense, ready to support the tanks. The HIMARS, BRUTUS cannons, and supply trucks followed in the convoy’s center, with the rear guarded by FMTVs and two Fennek recon vehicles.
As the paved road ended, the dirt path greeted them with a churned mess of mud. The rain had transformed the once-navigable track into a quagmire, forcing the vehicles to slow to a crawl.
“Keep those wheels steady!” barked a tank commander over the radio. “We lose traction, we’re stuck!”
Up ahead, a group of Rock Boars emerged from the trees, their beady eyes glinting with feral intent. The lead AMX-10RC swiveled its turret, and the GAU-21 minigun roared to life, cutting the creatures down before they could charge.
Hours into the trek, the convoy finally approached the forest’s northern edge. As the trees began to thin, the soldiers caught their first glimpse of the open fields and villages beyond.
“Recon One to Dragon Six Actual,” crackled a voice over the radio. “We’ve got eyes on what seems to be Austorian cavalry engaging... something.”
“Define ‘something,’ Recon One” Ridgefall replied sharply.
“Demons and Golems, Lots of them. That Cavalry’s getting torn apart.”
As the convoy crested a hill, the battlefield came into view. Below, what seemed to be Austorian cavalry clashed with a massive horde of Demons. The Demon Lord’s army, though disorganized, was overwhelming the cavalry with sheer numbers and ferocity.
To assist and pull some away from the Cavalry, Recon Two engaged some of the Demons with its GAU-21 minigun, shredding a portion of the rabble. The Mark 211 rounds screamed from the mini gun, the high explosive shattering Skelton warriors while the incendiary caused others nearby to catch on fire.
The Demon forces paused as their attention turned toward the convoy unsure of this new threat. Their guttural roars filled the air as they surged toward the road, the unorganized mass deciding the Cavalry could wait.
“Contact front!” Ridgefall shouted. “All units, engage! All long-range systems, pull back to the forest edge, allow any combat units by.”
The AMX-10RCs opened fire, their 40mm cannons tearing into the advancing Demons. Boxer APCs dismounted infantry, forming a defensive line as HIMARS and BRUTUS systems pulled back into the forest for safety.
The battle was fierce and unrelenting, delaying the convoy just as the air assault team began their attack on Sacra-Hill.
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The doomed cavalry
Beneath the overcast sky, the local noble’s cavalry patrol moved with precision along the rolling plains near the Trenbres Forest. Their uniforms—gray tunics with crimson trim—stood out starkly from the muted tones of the terrain. Though they bore a superficial resemblance to the Austorian Royal Army, their proud banner, emblazoned with a gold tree on a green field, marked them as belonging to Lord Aldron Velayne, a noble known for his unusual kindness toward the Beastkin and freed slaves.
Captain Toren Halyard, the patrol leader, raised a gloved hand to signal a halt. The patrol drew up behind him, their horses stamping nervously as the forest loomed in the distance.
“Something’s not right,” Toren muttered to his lieutenant, his sharp eyes scanning the tree line. His instincts, honed from years of skirmishes, were screaming at him.
Moments later, the forest erupted with movement. From the shadows, grotesque shapes emerged—Demons with gnashing teeth and glowing eyes, and towering Golems lumbering forward with earth-shaking steps.
“Demon Lord’s patrol!” Toren barked, drawing his sword. “Form up! Keep them away from the village!”
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The cavalrymen responded with trained efficiency, their lances lowering as the Demons surged toward them. Toren’s blade gleamed as he led the charge, his horse thundering forward. The clash was violent, the sharp clang of weapons against unnatural flesh mingling with the guttural roars of their enemies.
For every Demon they felled, another took its place. The Golems were even worse—monolithic creatures impervious to conventional attacks. Toren gritted his teeth as one of his men was swept from his saddle by a massive stone fist.
“Hold the line!” he shouted, though he knew they were outmatched.
Then, from the corner of his eye, Toren spotted movement on the far side of the field. Four sleek, low-slung vehicles emerged from the forest edge. Painted in mottled green and brown, their angular forms and mounted weapons were unlike anything Toren had seen before.
“What in the heavens is that?” his lieutenant muttered.
The strange vehicles—Beastkin reconnaissance trucks—paused briefly, their mounted guns swiveling to take in the battlefield. One of the trucks fired a burst at a group of Demons, the sharp cracks of its weapon contrasting with the melee's chaos.
The Demons immediately turned, their attention shifting from the cavalry to the new threat. Their guttural roars grew louder as they surged toward the recon trucks, their monstrous forms moving with terrifying speed.
Toren took the opportunity. “Pull back! Let them take the heat!” he ordered, motioning for his men to retreat. “Fastest rider, head to Lord Velayne’s command and warn them of what’s coming!”
One of the cavalrymen saluted, wheeling his horse around and galloping toward the village. The rest of the patrol fell back, giving the Demons and Golems a clear path to the trucks.
As the Demon Lord’s patrol closed in on the recon vehicles, the Fenneks began a tactical withdrawal, reversing in sync to avoid being overrun. Their RWS systems fired bursts from mounted .50 caliber machine guns to harry the advancing Demons, but it was clear they were outnumbered.
“Contact front! All units, engage! All long-range systems, pull back to the forest edge, allow any combat units by.” Ridgefall’s voice came through the comms, cutting through the tension.
From the forest behind the Fenneks, the convoy surged into action. AMX-10RC T40M tanks roared out of the tree line, their sleek forms a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield. Behind them, Boxer APCs followed in tight formation, their unmanned 30mm autocannons swiveling to lock onto targets.
The lead AMX-10s fired first, their 40mm cannons booming as they sent shell after shell into the Demon ranks. The effect was devastating. A Rock Golem’s stone body shattered into fragments under the impact of a high-explosive shell, while a group of Goblin riders was obliterated in a single blast.
The Boxers added their firepower next. Their Spike anti-tank missiles streaked through the air, each one finding a target with pinpoint precision. Rock Golems crumbled into clouds of dust as the missiles struck their cores, while 30mm autocannon fire tore through Hobgoblins and Goblins alike.
The APCs’ 7.62mm coaxial machine guns joined the fray, their steady streams of fire slicing through the less armored enemies. Goblins and Skeleton infantry fell in droves, their flimsy weapons no match for the modern military might of the Beastkin convoy.
At the rear, the convoy’s FMTVs maintained a defensive posture, their mounted RWS systems scanning for threats. The HIMARS and Brutus cannon systems held their fire, conserving their limited ammunition for the main engagement at Sacra-Hill.
“Bravo Three Three, shift left! Cover the Tango Four four flanks!” came the call from a platoon leader, his voice sharp and commanding.
The coordinated firepower of the convoy was relentless. Skeleton Knights, clad in tarnished armor, charged toward the advancing tanks, their weapons glinting in the firelight. An AMX-10 responded with a burst from its independent .50 caliber GAU-21 minigun mount, shattering the undead warriors before they could reach the line.
Humanoid Abominations, grotesque mixtures of flesh and bone, lumbered toward the convoy, their malformed limbs swinging wildly. The tanks’ 40mm cannons made short work of them, each shell reducing the monstrous forms to unrecognizable heaps.
Within minutes, the Demon patrol was reduced to scattered remnants. The few survivors, demoralized and outmatched, turned and fled into the dense undergrowth.
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Captain Halyard:
On the hill overlooking the battle, Captain Toren Halyard watched in stunned silence. His cavalry unit, tasked with baiting the Demon patrol into a more advantageous position, had been prepared to retreat at the first sign of being overwhelmed. But they hadn’t anticipated this.
“What in the nine hells are those things?” one of his lieutenants whispered, eyes wide as they watched the convoy decimate the Demon Lord’s forces.
“Not Austorian, that’s for sure,” Halyard replied, his grip tightening on the reins of his horse. “They fight like demons themselves—but they’re organized. Precise.”
As the last of the Demons disappeared into the forest, Halyard signaled his men to withdraw. “Send a rider to the main force,” he ordered. “Tell them what we saw. We need to know if these... whoever they are... are friend or foe.”
The dispatched rider galloped off into the distance, while the rest of the cavalry melted into the shadows, unwilling to risk a confrontation with the unknown force.
Ridgefall’s voice came over the convoy’s comms. “Dragon 6 to all units, form up and move out. Stay sharp—we’re not out of this yet.”
The convoy reassembled with practiced efficiency. Tanks and APCs resumed their positions at the front, their weapons scanning for any remaining threats. The FMTVs, loaded with vital supplies, followed close behind, their drivers glancing nervously at the treeline.
From his seat in the command vehicle, Ridgefall watched the battlefield recede behind them. The speed and precision of the engagement had been a testament to the Beastkin Unified Army’s training and technological edge, but he knew this was just the beginning.
As the convoy edged forward, the ancient road stretched ahead of them, leading toward Sacra-Hill and the unknown challenges that lay in wait.
As the convoy began to gain momentum once more, the road ahead stretched out, its ancient cobblestones slick with the aftermath of the earlier rain. Ridgefall monitored the lead elements from his command vehicle, his eyes scanning the drone feed displayed on the monitor. The open plains were dotted with low shrubs, sparse trees and small farming villages.
The comms crackled, the voice of one of the Fennek recon commanders cutting through. “Dragon 6, this is Recon 2. Cavalry spotted ahead. Looks like they’re moving to block the road. Orders?”
Ridgefall frowned, leaning forward to get a closer look at the video feed. Sure enough, a unit of mounted cavalry, their polished armor catching the faint glow of the setting sun, rode into position ahead of the convoy. Their pennants fluttered in the wind, though the colors weren’t Austorian red and silver.
“Hold the line,” Ridgefall ordered. “All units, slow to a halt. Maintain defensive posture. I want our lead tanks to form a wedge.”
The convoy slowed to a halt as the AMX-10s shifted into a spearhead formation, their turrets swiveling toward the mounted force. Boxers followed; their autocannons locked forward in case the cavalry made an aggressive move.
Ridgefall stepped out of his command vehicle, Major Rukland following closely behind. The two officers strode toward the lead tank, its engine rumbling softly as it idled at the head of the convoy.
The cavalry’s leader rode forward, his horse snorting as it stamped at the ground. Captain Toren Halyard, wearing grey armor with a crimson sash, his armor inlaid with a gold tree on a green background, raised a gauntleted hand in a signal for parley.
“I am Captain Halyard of the Baronial Cavalry of House Velayne!” he called, his voice carrying over the muted rumble of the convoy’s engines. “Identify yourselves and your purpose!”
Ridgefall nodded to Rukland before stepping forward, projecting his voice to match the captain’s tone. “Lt. Colonel Johand Ridgefall, Beastkin Unified Army, commanding officer of this convoy. We’re en route to Sacra-Hill on a mission of liberation.”
Halyard’s expression remained unreadable as he glanced back at his riders, then toward the towering vehicles behind Ridgefall. After a long pause, he dismounted, his actions deliberate and cautious, before approaching on foot.
Ridgefall waited, his posture steady but non-threatening. Behind him, the convoy’s vehicles held their positions, engines growling softly like a coiled predator waiting for a signal.
Halyard stopped a few paces away, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Liberation, you say?” His voice was skeptical, though not overtly hostile. “I’ve seen enough false liberators in my time. What makes you any different from the Austorians?”
Ridgefall’s gaze met Halyard’s evenly. “We’re here to protect the people—those who can’t protect themselves. The Austorians enslave, and the Demon Lord destroys. We’re here to stop both.”
“Then you will need to speak to Lord Velayne,” he said. “You’ll need to explain yourself to him. But know this, Beastkin. My loyalty lies with my lord. If your intentions are anything but peaceful, we will not hesitate to defend our land.”
Ridgefall glanced toward Major Rukland, who nodded briefly. “We don’t have time for that, Captain. Sacra-Hill is under siege. Every minute we delay here is another minute that city’s defenders are fighting alone.”
Rukland stepped forward, his tone firm. “Sir, we’ve been delayed for nearly an hour fighting the Demon Lord’s forces in the area. This convoy must move.”
Halyard’s gaze flicked between Ridgefall and Rukland, weighing the urgency in their words against his loyalty to his lord and his fiefdom.
“Sir, someone will have to be a liaison to the local lord.” Rukland stated.
“Are you volunteering, Rukland?” Ridgefall asked while looking at the Knight before him.
"Yes Sir, we need a stable road back, however some people may not want to go all the way back, sir. Its better to have a safe harbor than none." Rukland stated.
Ok Rukland, we will miss you in the fight. If you can make this happen quickly, move to Qu-till. We will be waiting for you there.” Ridgefall stated, looking at his friend.
“Roger sir, sorry I’ll miss the fight.” Rukland said with a tinge of sadness.
“I’ll take you to the Lord,” Halyard said, his voice firm despite his obvious hesitation. “I will send an escort with your convoy so no other knights of this fiefdom will stop you.” He signaled for a few of his fellow knights to form up next to the convoy.
Ridgefall met his eyes, silent for a moment. He understood the importance of time here. Sacra-Hill needed help now, not tomorrow.
“Understood, Captain,” Ridgefall said, giving a sharp nod. “Let’s move.”
As Ridgefall turned toward his convoy, Major Rukland switched to his radio and keyed in a message.
“Recon one, this is Dragon five. I’ll need a escort. I’m heading out with Captain Halyard to meet with the lord of this land. You’re with me. Get to us now.”
A quick response came over the comms. “Roger that, Dragon five. We’re on our way.”
Rukland gestured to the truck as it drove towards them. “Roger that.” He turns to Ridgefall. “Sir, we will finish up here as fast as we can and catch up to you.”
Rukland salutes as the truck pulls up, Ridgefall returns the salute.
“Fortune favors the Bold, Sir! “Rukland calls out as he mounts the extra horse that Halyard provided.
“May Fortune carry us all.” Ridgefall says as he watches his friend ride off followed by Recon One.
He runs back into the command vehicle. “Lets Roll Out!” he states into the radio handset inside the APC as the ramp closes.
With that, the convoy began to move out, while Rukland and the recon vehicle follows Captain Halyard towards the Lords manor. The roar of engines filled the air as Ridgefall’s forces regrouped, their heavy vehicles lining the road as they made their way toward Sarca-Hill.
The cavalry, now trailing behind the main force, escorted them toward the border of the area where the main road met the open fields. Ridgefall’s eyes were forward, his mind already set on the battle ahead.
As the two forces moved, Rukland leaned in closer to Halyard. "You understand what this means, right? Sacra-Hill can’t hold on much longer. Our team inside is fighting with everything they’ve got, but we’re running out of time. We can’t delay. We’ll need your lord’s support once we’re through.”
Halyard gave him a grim nod. "Understood. I’ll make sure the Lord hears of this—whether he’s ready to help or not. But I warn you, once we speak with him, there’s no turning back.”
Rukland didn’t flinch. "We don’t expect a warm welcome here, Captain, but our forces are needed there, now. Time’s running out for the people there.”
Ahead of them, the convoy rumbled on, the pounding of wheels against the dirt road setting the rhythm for their march toward Sarca-Hill. The larger battle still loomed, and Rukland knew that every minute wasted in the forest could mean more lives lost.
As Ridgefall’s voice crackled over the comms, he issued the order that sent the convoy charging forward. “Let’s make up for lost time! All units, Roll Out!!” Ridgefall said, his voice resolute.
The engines roared to life, and the convoy pressed forward, the noise of the vehicles growing louder as they moved toward their next challenge.