Pointing their launchers to the West, multiple batteries of Lynx MLRS are readying themselves to unleash Hell and destruction on the Maginot Line.
"Central FDC to all Regimental FDC, stand by to receive firing solutions."
Data streams are then sent to all available rocket artillery systems. One by one, the Lynxes adjust the direction and elevation of their launchers.
"Target fortifications at Marche-en-Famenne... Set."
"Target fortifications at Liege... Set."
"Target fortifications at Hasselt... Set."
"Target fortifications at at Antwerp... Set."
"Firing solutions are locked. All batteries, TOT barrage, commence fire mission!"
ZWOOOSH ZWOOOSH ZWOOOSH ZWOOOSH ZWOOOSH
One by one, the numerous 122mm and 160mm rockets are launched flying high into the atmosphere, leaving behind nothing but trails of white smoke, promising death and destruction upon their destined enemy.
-----------------------------------------------------
What is an adventurer? What is their job in this war-ridden world, really?
Adventurers are either part-time or full-time workers in essence. To be an adventurer, one must join the apolitical entity known as the Adventurers' Guild. Their tasks, when taking up a commission, can either be something as mundane as becoming a delivery man or a demon hunter with high-risk, high returns. The latter job is the bread and butter of being an adventurer, allowing them to go far-off places they normally can't. This is achievable by a special Adventurer's Permit that is accepted by all nations at large. The Permit allows an adventurer to cross the borders of countries without much hassle to complete their commissions. However, in exchange for the benefits the Permit provides, adventurers and their Guild are closely monitored to ensure absolute neutrality. Save for a few special circumstances, adventurers are unable to intervene in an ongoing conflict between nations. There will be harsh punishments if they do otherwise.
In times of peace, adventurers take mundane commissions, usually for the sake of traveling to fulfill their curiosity. In the troubling Months of Demons, however, adventurers band together, taking up arms to escort crucial supply convoys between cities and towns. They will even form demon and zombie-hunting groups to destroy a Demonic Hive in a region darkened with miasma. Being an adventurer requires not just an exploratory spirit, but also certain skill sets that put these men and women a cut above the rest. What's in it for them to venture on this path though? It's not the money the adventurers are after, it's about doing something new every day, all day long. If they can help someone in the process, then it's a nice bonus to have. It will be a lie if being an adventurer is all smooth sailing, however.
Case in point, an adventurer hunting party was apprehended and disarmed by the Belkans of all people. Led by a former military Captain, Jack, the party was venturing back to Darscen after a trip to Luxembourg when they stumbled across Belkan troop movements. To ensure operational security, the Belkan perimeter patrols took the adventurer party into custody. Placing them in an abandoned farm, their temporary captors treat the party surprisingly well.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Hey, you wanna try this burrito, Jack? Damn, the thing tastes better than our rations, that's for sure!"
"If there's one thing that the Belkans can do, then it's making good food, I guess." Jack says to his partner. "It's funny how they're holding us here for what, a couple of days as best, and still treat us with respect. The Belkans sure treat people much nicer than the Eruseans."
"Last time around, we got thrown into a damn brig with oatmeals for three days. Fucking colonials, man."
"That was bad luck back then. Now, well technically one may still say that it was bad luck that we got caught by the Belkans, but at least we're eating nice and staying somewhere warm. Hell, our captors are damn friendly, to say the least. The dust in this farm leaves much to be desired though." Jack shrugs.
"At least we got caught because we somehow came upon secret troop movement, back then was what again...? Right, paranoid Eruseans calling us spies of all things!"
"Right, as if we're that smart to do that in the first place." The entire party laughs at Jack's jest. Sitting on the farm's veranda, Jack comes to see something in the sky.
Raising an eyebrow at numerous bright streaks high above, seemingly launched from somewhere, Jack turns to one of the Belkans that are busied with smoke in a corner. "Hey, boss man! You know what those things are?" Jack asks in fluent Belkan while pointing at the strange phenomenon.
The Belkan guard squints his eyes before looking up in the air. He then shrugs, explaining lightly.
"Oh, it appears the main event is starting now."
"Main event?" Jack and the adventurers look at one another in puzzlement.
"Yes," The Belkan says while looking at the hundreds of rockets flying through the air. "Maginot will be falling soon." He states with absolute confidence.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The morning after the daring raids of numerous Stormtroopers, things on Maginot Line devolved into utter chaos and confusion. With the radio line jammed, the Allied forces have been unable to swiftly determine what the Hell is going on and what resources they have left available after the Ravens' sabotages. In their time of perplexity, the Belkans have snuck a dozen Companies beyond the previously thought impenetrable line of the Allies. Lying in wait, these Belkan Mechanized Companies await the upcoming one-two-punch that will ruin the rest of the days for the Allied forces.
The night before has treated the Allied forces to another bout of sleeplessness. The common soldiers wish for calm and peace with all of their hearts, feeling themselves cursed by the Belkans somehow. Standing in the trenches and bunkers with bloodshot eyes, they will soon find their wish delivered in the most grimdark of ways.
Whistles and screeching can be heard in the sky before, multiple at once in quick succession, rocket warheads slam onto the ground, the trenches, and the pillboxes all over Maginot. Those lucky enough to be caught in the blast zones die without even knowing what just hit them, at least they're killed instantly. The ones around the explosions, however, are unfortunate enough to be hit by blood, guts, mangled body parts, and debris, all of which are unrecognizable from one another. Most importantly, all of the supersonic fragments can maim and kill, owing to the speed they're propelled from the central blast zones.
Nowhere is safe against a rocket attack, not even inside purpose-built anti-artillery bunkers. Nothing can withstand a constant stream of rocket warheads, safe for subterranean structures, perhaps. In other words, the frontline Allied soldiers got the worst pummelling in their lives. Whether they're young or old, recruits or veterans, they die in their trenches and their concrete buildings all the same. By the time the rocket barrage ceases after three long minutes, most of the front of the Maginot Line is left unrecognizable, with only its weaker secondary and tertiary lines relatively intact.
After the three-minute reign of Death, Maginot is now no different than the No Man's Land of WW1. Scorched, beaten, filled only with a desolate aura of the destruction and deceased. Gone are flora and animals that may have roamed the forested region. What comes next can only be described as a wall of steel, rolling over the mayhem in the name of the Marshal of the Reich.
The first battle to decide European hegemony has begun with an explosive twist.