Operation: MESSIAH (ACCEPTING ARMOR ROLES/CLOSED)

[Solice the Slayer]

Captain David Webber " Odin Actual"
U.G.M.F. ::32nd Combat Brigade::: Asgard Battalion : Odin Company
UGS Aekea, Bridge..
"Remember you have help"

As David paced back and forth along the bridge he listened to the reports coming in from the other companies and squads. That hit on that pillbox had sparked a wildfire amongst the enemy. With a part of their defensive line down the Malcarans were getting sloppy. Giving up Trench positions in favor of running into their little beach complex.

Thats the part that worries me.

He strolled back over to the communications workstation and promptly picked up a headset, looking to the junior officer with a look that told him who he wanted to talk to.

"Mjolnir, Actual. Remember you have tools at your disposal to soften up that bunker complex. We have intel that the enemy is pulling back into their clubhouse from the beach positions. Thats all we have on the inside of the complex. Knowing the Malcarans they have probably miles of tunnels running into the mainland. So be careful when you get inside. Secondary Objective, if you come across enemy intel,maps, documents or even pictures. I want it secured and ready to be brought back to me."

=============

The way towards the bunker entrance was silent, save for the barking of weapons fire and the thunderous thumps of missiles hitting their marks. The other elements on the beach were finally getting the breathing room to call in their prioritized strikes. The Gaians were finally making the all needed push up the beach. But after how many loss? A bitter accomplishment indeed.

Along the beach line, if Corporal Akula looked, he could see the silhouettes of LAVs making their way out of the sloshing red of the cold gulf, nimbly avoiding the smoking wreckage of doomed amphibious transports. Their turrets on a swivel as they scanned the enemy line for any immediate dangers. Lines of machine gun fire peppered the metal hulls but the rounds weren't armor piercing. The turrets fired in unison, coordinated by the commanding officer undoubtedly. Ruining the pillboxes who targeted them. The resounding crescendo of auto-cannon fire was like a chorus of vengeful gaian angels. The M242 Bushmaster was Gaian vengeance on wheels. Silencing the pillboxes and continuing to screen their location with rounds on target.

The cavalry had arrived.

zredbarron

Doc Shadow

Freyja_of_Asgard

Hakaizen

[Doc Shadow]

Pfc. James Zanovich
Rifleman
Fólkvangr/Odin/3-12 MECHINF/1BCT/1ID/UGMF
Northern Briss - Beachhead - Maclaran Trench

The overcast made the battlefield look even more dreary. Bodies and burnt out hulks of man made machines littered the once beautiful and peaceful beach. The Beach once was a vacation spot that one would see in a brochure at their local Travel Agency. A spectacle to see and experience for several low payments of $300 Dollars for an all expense paid vacation including Four Star Hotel, and Free Breakfast, with Tours in the Afternoon. If someone did that Travel Package they certainly wouldn't return home, unless in a casket. The spectacle of Violence was in comparison to an old 1980's action movie. Guts, Glory, and Action with sappy comments and humor. Thing was, this was real. There was nothing sappy, but there was a lot of Guts, Glory, and Action.

Zanovich's eyes were glued on the blonde haired Sergeant. "All right Fólkvangr, you're what's left of your squad so lets make sure your buddies didn't get you this far for nothing!" She said, her encouragement was rather dark. She spoke to a Corporal briefly, then returned her attention to Zanovich, and the remainder of Fólkvangr: " All right Fólkvangr! You know your objective, let's give'em hell!".

To Zanovich's amazement, the wounded Sergeant pulled herself up over the trench, and hugged the dirt, crawling her way forward. James nodded to the rest of the Troopers in Fólkvangr. They returned a slight grim, attempting to mask the fact that these fresh Grunts were scared shitless. James grasped the top of the trench, as bullets whipped up sand as their airborne travel came to an abrupt stop as they slammed into the earth. James' legs followed him as he pulled himself over the top, following closely behind the Sergeant. The Remainder of Fólkvangr followed suit, hugging the earth as they inched their way forward.

Just as Zanovich was going to ask the Sergeant a question, the normal sound of the hell around them abruptly changed. The crescendo of multiple Bushmaster's broke the ambience of war. Raining lead, and death at enemy positions. Their bearers were LAV's, inching their way across the sand, and the dead.

"Sergeant! Look!" James bellowed, trying to break through the sound of the 'Thumps' from the Bushmaster launching explosive rounds into concrete. His thumb pointed to his rear towards the Ocean. "We got Support!!" he finished, as a s**t eating grin crept across his face.

[AINGELPROJECT667]

Commander Aingel Walsh
United Gaian Army
3rd Armored Brigade, Svallin Tank Company
Northern Briss
Landfall

"A cushion of air," the captain of the hovercraft had explained, "is all that seperates you, your crew, and that heavy tank of yours from the briny deep." Boy, these Gaians really knew how to make a Brissman like himself uncomfortable. It...also didn't help that, you know, they were being SHOT AT.

Aingel Walsh, all five feet, three inches of him, looked through his binoculars at the beach a couple miles ahead of the LCAC, which currently his tank, a straw-colored M1A2 with "WAR PIG" affectionately painted on the side, resided in. For now, it seemed like the infantrymen and amphibious IFV's were giving the enemy enough to worry about....which was good. Less fire coming towards them...and more of a chance of making it towards the beach.

"Oy!" Aingel called out to one of the LCAC crewmen, shielding his face from the spray coming over the side and bracing himself. This damned contraption was like riding on an airplane going through a hurricane...in fact he would have preferred an airplane going through a hurricane over this. "Am I the only one who's having an issue with the fact that my tank is riding into battle on top of a BLOODY BALLOON?"

The crewman grinned, chuckling...though the chuckle was barely heard over the cacophony of turbines and propellers coming from the craft's engines. "Ah, don't get your panties in a knot! These babies are designed to keep going even with half that balloon missing!"

"And if we lose any more than that?" Aingel asked with doubt.

The man kept up his grin. "Well, sir, I hope you know how to swim!"

Cheeky fellow, Aingel thought, but he sighed, and called down to his driver, an oriential-looking man with jet black hair. "Oi Blaize! Spool her up! I want to get off this bloody thing as soon as we hit the beach!"

"Aye-Aye!" Came the answer from the depths of the Abrahms, and soon, a low whine began to make itself apparent over the noise, slowly growing higher and higher. Growing tired of the scenery, Aingel slipped into the tank, sighing and grinning as he heard the whine increasing, soon beginning to overtake the noise outside. Screens blinked on, mechanical parts clicked and moved...it was a symphony to the young tank commander...so long as this tank stayed running...it was going to be a good day.

"One mile out!" A call announced from outside, no doubt the fellow from earlier. Outside of the tank, the pitch of the LCAC's engines changed, and somehow got louder and he felt the LCAC slow down as the turbulence changed its frequency of shaking and bucking. The crewmen yelled out again. "You boys got your work paid out for you! That beach is quickly turning into a-"

An explosion rocked the LCAC. Something wooshed overhead, and the voice of the crewman, who had cried out in surprise, was cut off. Aingel chanced a peek over the side and was greeted with the poor man's lifeless body, a shard of metal imbedded in his skull. At the stern of the LCAC, one of the fans was blown apart, little more than twisted metal and a ball of fire now.

Another shout caught Aingel's attention, this time from the radio; it was he voice of the LCAC's captain. "Dammit, I'm hit! This is LCAC 45 Bravo! I'm pulling back! Things are too hot on the beach!"

Aingel immediately keyed his mike, buttoning he tank's hatch up in preparation for landfall. "Belay that, 45! I need to get my crew onto that beach! Those men are counting on us!"

"I just lost-"

"I know what you just lost, boyo. I saw the damage, and your boy down. But we're going to lose a lot more if I don't get onto that beach."

The captain was silent for a moment, but he felt the vibrations as the LCAC kept moving towards shore. "You have fifteen seconds till landfall." The captain finally said. "Then ten seconds to get off this thing. Don't let my boy die for nothing." Aingel acknowledged, then looked at his crew.

Blaize was in the driver's seat, but in front of him were Zephyr and Jerry, "the Twins" as they were called. Both were identical, light-skinned, blonde-haired, green-eyed kids right out of training, but he swore there was only one brain between them, kept in a jar or someplace safe. They worked as one, gunner and loader, and he was damn proud to have them manning the War Pig's main gun. Blaize on the other hand was quiet, but he had a sarcastic streak that made Aingel wonder how the guy hadn't been court martialed for insubordination yet. He almost looked too intellectual, Aingel had thought himself once, like someone more fit to be in a business suit discussing a clever corporate strategy than geared up and operating a tank. Still, he was a damn good driver, one that, like the Twins, he wouldn't trade him for the world.

A scraping halt signalled the end of their journey on the stricken LCAC, and almost as soon as they stopped, the entire craft seemed to slump as the captain deflated the cushion and dropped the ramp. Blaize took the initiative and gunned engine, War Pig surging forward and off the burning LCAC, and onto the sand below. Zephyr swung the turret around, bringing the tank's 120 mm L/44 M256A1 smoothbore gun to bear.

"Blaize, find us some cover. Shell crater, burned out vehicle...anything! I didn't come all this way to get my arse blown off by an RPG." As Blaize acknowledged and rotated the tank towards a dune nearby, topped with a burning tank from a previous landing. It wasn't exactly a bunker, but it was something to keep the fire off them for long enough to get his bearings. The damage had knocked the LCAC off course...from what he could see through the periscope and external cameras, he was nowhere near where he'd intended to come ashore. He keyed the mike, hoping to pick up an IFV or one of the infantrymen as he pulled out a couple maps of the area, hoping and praying someone out there could tell him just where the bloody bollocks he was.

"This is Commander Walsh of the Svallin Tank company, callsign War Pig to-BOLLOCKS!" Aingel was interrupted as...something exploded against the armor of his tank. However, he felt the tank still moving, and the engine still running, and none of his crew called out damages, so somehow it didn't penetrate. He thanked whatever God had decided not to ruin his day today and keyed back into the mike. "This is Commander Walsh, callsign War Pig to any responding units. My LCAC was hit and I landed off course of my planned area. I am under heavy enemy fire and can't get my bearings. Any infantry units in the area have a visual?"

[Skyburn]

Corporal Kierson, Christopher
Rifleman
Tyrfing/Odin/3-12 MECHINF/1BCT/1ID/UGMF
Northern Briss - Beachhead
"This is why we don't do amphibious landings anymore."

Explosion.
Water.
Drowning.

Kierson held his breath as the weight of his gear pulled him under. Everything designed to save his life was now killing him. His fingers worked to strip himself of everything but his uniform. At the same time he was both surprised at how fast he could work when in immediate threat of death and the absolutely surreality of how slow time seemed to go. He knew why both phenomenon happened, but it wasn't coming to mind right now. Before he knew what was happening, he was stripped to his uniform - and pistol - and finally rising back to the surface. Chris struggled to reach it as .50 caliber rounds pierced it, creating bubbles above him. Human-shapes sunk down around him, falling into the dark waters below, either too unconscious to survive or already too far gone. His mind didn't focus on the fact that he might know some of the figures, it was only on clawing at the water with cupped hands frantically. Kierson was engulfed in the silence until -
- he broke surface and the surreal silence of the water gave way to screams and reports of gunfire. The deep breathe he took was one of the best he'd ever had. IFVs were still storming the beaches in front of him, but it was so far away. He wouldn't make it in one go, not after having been deprived of oxygen. He took a couple deep breaths and let his survival training kick in. Chris needed to rest - at least a bit. He tucked his blouse into his trousers, where it would be held shut, then buttoned the top button and undid several buttons below it and pulled one side out with one hand, and then with the other hand, reached high into the air above him, and them smacked the water hard several times, forcing air underneath into his blouse.
Holy crap, this boot camp crap actually works. He thought as he grabbed both sides of his blouse and held them shut, rolling back over into the water, his blouse now acting as a giant inflated life preserver. He let the air in his blood recharge him, periodically taking breaths.

A few minutes later, he was well off enough to resume the long swim to shore. With any luck, a SAR bird would pick him up along he way. But considering they were doing an amphibious landing on a fortified shore, luck was in short supply. Luck would have been doing the smart thing and landing on an entirely unguarded beach and assaulting from the land.

Casualties were going to be high. Big surprise. Kierson was determined not to be one of them.

He finally collapsed on the beach, taking yet another rest - far from the first, and he was worried it would be his last chance to rest. The beach was ablaze with fighting merely meters in front of him. But he needed to breathe. His body felt like it was giving out, having just swam three quarters of a mile, and all the while his goal had been dry land - or, rather, wet sand. He had to get to a trench. Already exhausted, his arms threatened to give out. He need to go just a little further...
... finally. Cover. He collapsed next to the destroyed hulk of an IFV that had gotten caught in wet sand, trapped and inevitably destroyed. No one was around to see him in his weakness. Good. Not like I don't have a good excuse. He managed to muster the willpower to at least stretch his arms and legs. It would do him no good to cramp up right before what was quite literally going to be the fight of his life.

Several long minutes later, his muscles no longer felt as though they'd give out at every motion he made, so he began the next phase - kitting out once more. He opened the back door to the IFV and crawled in to see what he could find. Two dead bodies were immediately visible, in addition to the driver up forward. It didn't make him feel good to scavenge from the dead, but if he was to get into this fight, he'd have to. One of them even had a SIBA that looked like it would fit him.

He took long enough to put it on - his arms resisted to lifting the heavy armor, and tightening down the one-size-too-large armor took more effort than he realized. Fortunately for him, in their haste to survive, the comrades of these two had left all of their ammunition and firearms. Kierson only grabbed what he needed to complete his kit once more - though the idea of more ammunition seemed sweet enough, his legs protested at any movement, and several more pounds added to his already sopping-wet body seemed a silly idea.

He did his legs a sin; before he left, he grabbed three extra magazines. Someone would need them. As much as he needed a savior right now, he could be someone else's.

He vaulted himself out of the IFV's back door, which faced the ocean. Kierson now had a vile hatred for that massive body of salt water, one which he'd acquired only in the last half hour. Off to find Tyrfing. If anyone else had made it. One final gut-check - one he was thankful for. A stray bullet hit the ground just on the side of the IFV he was about to exit on. Other side. Before he rounded, he had enough forethought to rip the nametape off his chest. No point in scaring the crap out of the former owner's squadmates, who might think they saw a ghost.

Spinning around, wielding the weapon that wasn't his own, weighted by armor that wasn't his, he took off. Fate smiled on him - a trench lay before him. He dove in, followed by bullets.

"Who're you?" A soldier he landed next to asked. "You're a bit late to the show."

"Kierson. Tyrfing?" He answered and asked, clutching the G-36 to his chest, looking around.

"Haven't seen 'em."

Kierson shrugged, not wanting to believe his squad was dead. "See yah later. Gotta meet up with Tyrfing." He sprinted down the Malarcan trench, stepping over dead bodies from both sides. "Tyrfing?" He yelled, moving from foxhole to trench to foxhole. "Tyrfing?" Kierson felt like a little lost puppy. A puppy with teeth. First non-Gaian, non-Briss uniform he saw, he put two bullets through. He was in the fight. He put two more bullets towards muzzle flashes. Those stopped. He wasn't able to tell if he's scared the rifleman he fired at or killed him, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out. Yet another trench."Tyrfing?" He asked a soldier he saw on the ground. The young soldier didn't move. As the corporal moved closer, he noticed a red badge of courage over his heart that explained why. Kierson relieved him of another round, his adrenaline making him forget about the status of his body. A living casualty, however, spoke up.

"Hundred feet that way." The soldier was patching up a leg wound, but stopped long enough to point.

"Thanks." Kierson gave a nod and sprinted on further. "Tyrfing!"

Doc Shadow

Delicross

X_malic_X

Kaguria_sanaka

BegrudginglyGood

zredbarron

Yaneza-kun

ThrieTheT

aqznr5wc:30="ThrieTheTiger]

[Sora Mea of blood]

SFC Tepish, Amalia R. "Charlie Six"
United Gaian Army
SOC/Odin Company
UGS Aekea, locker room
"Once More Into Hell"

Amalia sat on the cold bench in the locker room reading The judas Gate, a popular book that she has read a million times now. It had all the normal blood, gore, and espionage that a SOC NCO could need. Really in her mind she was wondering what was going on near the beachhead after Captain Webber had issued orders to take bunkers, but something still haunted her from the past. She was an elite sniper and a ghost to everyone on the ship, and as much as she would love to be jumping twenty-thousand feet into hell itself she had to wait her turn. Somewhere in the back of her thoughts she was just waiting for the chance for the Captain to say the same words from so long ago.

Charlie Six, your mission is total destruction of the enemy. I'm not asking you for the last time, but I' am asking you now, once more, once more jump into hell itself.

[Doc Shadow]

Cpl. Jason Chase
Driver/Rifleman
Motor Transport Company/2CLB/5SB/1ID/UGMF
Northern Briss - LCAC 43

Chase turned the wrench on a nut. Tightening down the Turbo on the old LDT-465-1D Multifuel Engine. It had become gunked up, and required a little bit a cleaning. He continued to turn the wrench, just as the LCAC began its circular pattern, holding offshore, waiting for their cleared time to move forward, and bring much needed supplies to the beachhead which was covered in mass clouds of smoke, and explosions echoing off in the distance. The rough seas plastered the craft as it hovered just over it, gliding across like hot butter on bread.

"This finicky sum-b***h" Chase murmured, as he finished tightening the nut. Securing the turbo in place. The Canvas cover on the bed was beginning to turn damp, as the mist from the ocean fell upon it. In the bed of this old workhorse was several much needed supplies: Tents for a Field Hospital, Medical Supplies, Rations, and Water, with maybe a case or two of Ammunition. He was the lead driver for his group of Four other M35A2's cramped up on this LCAC, with two HMMWV's with a .50 Cal mounted on one, and a Mk 19 Grenade Launcher for Security.

The group on this LCAC was a tight bunch of Car-Junkies, and Gear Heads. All knew their s**t when it came to working on vehicles, and a little here and there when it came to fighting. Jason shut the hood of his Deuce, clamping it shut. The old girl had been around for a good while, and it was his baby. He had painted the name 'Stella' on the Driver Side of the hood. He patted the Olive Drab beast, smirking to himself.

"All hear this, all hear this" The 1MC blared. "We were given the get go to move in on the next wave. Make preparations for landing" it finished. The LCAC began its surge forward, joining in formation with the others that had been circling about in this vast ocean. Jason grabbed his helmet out of the Cab, placed it ontop of his head, and cinched the strap tight. He nodded and grimaced to his assistant driver; Pfc. Lance Krieger, who in return, grinned back. They were ready for the show to begin.

[Solice the Slayer]

Captain David Webber " Odin Actual"
U.G.M.F. ::32nd Combat Brigade::: Asgard Battalion : Odin Company
UGS Aekea, Locker Room..
"This isn't fiction anymore."

The bridge had been absent the wary Captain for a few moments now and the man was walking into the empty locker room where one lone woman sat doing the only thing he didn't think people did on hell's doorstep: reading a book. From where he passed through the hatch he could spy the title upon it's cover, The Judas Gate. He wasn't personally familiar with any true literary novels but the topic of the book had crossed his desk a couple of times. Perhaps it was fate that she was reading it now, before he sent her into the brink.

"Sergeant Tepish. It's time." he said smoothing out his battle dress uniform. "The Malcarans have torn into us. I don't need to tell you that command has ******** us by ordering the beach landing. But it is for a cause." He said producing a manila folder that was fat with paper and photo quality pictures of multiple things. Once he handed it over and waited for her to skim the contents. Maps and satellite images of the coast line's bunker complex and curious construction going on just a few kilometers inland behind the 'Malcaran Wall' of concrete and guns. The reason why the UGMF couldn't get into Malcara any other way than this horrid ******** of a beach landing was one man. Well, actually a group of ten men, but one man was the glue that held them together. Within the

"Your target is Malcaran Lieutenant Falk, Nikolai. The commanding officer of the Vistroya..."
=============

Lieutenant Nikolai Falk
E.M.I.A (Empire of Malcara Imperial Army) :: 77th Brigade Command
Bunker Compound "Vistroya" ... Weaponized Defense Control Center (W.D.C.C.)
"All of my enemies will burn.."

The man watched the camera feeds of the bunker's hard points being manned by the defending men and women of Malcara. The sons and daughters of power, willing to lie down their lives to defend their homeland from the Gaian devils and their allies. The dead and dying on the beach were about to avenged. The shaky camera feed of enemy IFVs taking positions on the beach already peppered with mortar craters and countless bodies of the hated enemy. The rain of death that claimed so many lives was halted by an unknown act of Gaian treachery. Which allowed the armored support to successively land on his beach and take out the fortified antipersonnel locations located along the line of defense.

The odds were stocked against him and his men though they were entrenched. The logical thing to do would be to follow protocol since the beach was lost to them now. Destroy all sensitive data and make sure the Gaian's never ascertained the true reasoning of the fortifications here if they have not already. "Ready the weapon." His voice cut across the room of engineer who looked up from their screens. Ready to purge the servers of data and begin evacuating to more secure locations inland.

"B-but sir...the Gaians have taken the be-"

The young and impulsive officer brandished a pistol quickly. Notoriously the quickest draw in the entire Malcarian Military, his black gloved thumb flicking the safety 'off' with the distinctive click. "The Gaians have taken nothing but the lives of Malcara. They have taken sons, daughters, brothers, and sisters from us! And you! Taken from you your courage!" His aim was steady as he vilified the scientist. The man was not a soldier, no, but he was meant to serve his country with as much valor over his duty than any soldier ever could. Quickly, Nikolai capitalized onto the situation in order to redirect everyone from being afraid of the enemy to being afraid of failure, and most importantly being afraid of him.

"All of you are casualties of war, the Gaians have turned you into mice to flee from them. Running into the fields, leaving our coasts to be ravaged by their machinations of war. No more! No more!" He stepped forward and walked down to the front of the room. There were about thirty individuals glued to their seats. Ten armed soldiers of the Malcaran Empire along the edges of the room. Watching their commanding officer with a look of awe and respect. All were passionate about their loyalty to the Empire. But few wore it so proudly like Nikolai. "At our disposal is a weapon of considerable capability to drive the Gaian scum from our coast, from our beach, from our home. This facility was created for this purpose and I intend to see it through! Prep the weapon!"

The tension was thick as the scientist only looked about the room for some sympathy. But those of the educated mind were too afraid to stand-up. Especially with that pistol live and ready to fire. It would be so easy to die for treason at this moment.

==============

Sora Mea of blood

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[AINGELPROJECT667]

Commander Aingel Walsh
United Gaian Army
3rd Armored Brigade Svallin Tank Company
Northern Briss -Beachhead-
Ding ding ding DING DING DING

The small arms fire pounding into his tank's armore reminded Aingel of being in a tin-roofed house during a hailstorm. The noise was almost constant, and deafening, so much that he had to yell through his mike to comminucate with his tank crew. "Get the main gun ready, lads!" he ordered. "I'm not going to spend my last moments hiding here like a bloody rat! We're going out fighting if we're going out at all!"

As Zephyr and Jerry loaded a round into the main cannon and primed the coaxial machine gun, Aingel readied the systems for the remotely controlled 50 caliber turret above him. Despite the hail of fire, the gun was responding correctly, and he could still see through the external cameras and periscope. He took the moment to search the terrain, looking for the LCAC he'd departed from. He located it promptly, and noticed it was shut down the remaining fan having gone still and the damaged skirt completely deflated. The crew was nowhere in sight, either dead or having long taken cover. From its position, he tracked back up the beach, trying to judge just how far off course he was, unti....there! In his sights he could see the IFV's doggedly making their way up the beach, their Bushmasters not letting up. He'd join up with them, he wagered. A lone wolf on the battlefield is a dead wolf before long.

"Right lads, we're going to join up with the IFV's. Blaize, take us around and gun it to catch up with those fighting vehicles. Zeph, Jerry, get on the cannon, and wait for me to call out targets. If you see a target of oppertunity, let me know. Bunkers, vehicles, MG nests, anything that you even remotely think may want to kill us." The acknowledgements came through the radio, and the engine surged, the treads tearing the sand up as Blaize rotated around. Zephyr gave the turret a quick shake, testing the response, then all waited for Aingel's signal.

Aingel looked intently through the external cameras, remembering the explosive round that bounced off their tank. No additional round came, and the direction from which he thought it came from contained a thick column of smoke from a burning building, looking like the handwork of one of the IFV's. Satisfied at his stroke of luck, he smiled, then yelled, "Go!"

The engine roared, and the tank surged into the open ground the fire on it immediately increasing. But, in the turret, Zephyr and Jerry were ready as Aingel called out targets. "Two o' clock! Gunfire from red brick building at 100 meters! Load HE Round!"

"Got it!" Zephyr said. The War Pig's turret pivoted and centered. Jerry selected an HE round and jammed it into the breech. "HE round loaded!" He called, and the Twins eagerly awaited Aingel's next command.

"FIRE!" Aingel answered, grinning as the tank joined the battle with a massive blast. In his viewscreen, the building disappeared in an explosion and cloud of dust...when it cleared, he looked at the round's handwork, the building now a ruin and all gunfire from it ceasing.

War Pig was catching up to the IFVs now, joining the formation slightly to the left of the group's leader, fitting into a spot where he had good coverage but did not block the IFVs' lines of fire. Finally, they were in this, Aingel thought, and, as Jerry readied the next round, he began searching out their next target.

[feyleina]

PFC Lynette Erec
Rifleman
Tyrfing, Odin Company
Coast of Briss, Beach
"There was a girl who wore a yellow ribbon..."


Right after Erec's eyes snapped open from the overwhelming pain on the upper-right side of her head, she coughed up large amounts of water. Her hair that is always pulled back into a tight bun was loose and partially covered her face. Irritated, she propped herself up on the wet sand, grabbing her rifle and aiming it upwards in a defensive stance. Erec had quickly touched the area on her head, and was surprised to see her dirtied hands covered in blood.
Erec began to panic, but calmed herself before she had an anxiety attack. Both her memory and concentration were hazy, but only one word remained with what she could remember: trench.

After making sure there were no enemies nearby, she proceeded down the beach that was littered with dead bodies and blood. The sight nauseated her, but it didn't stop Erec to find her destination. Her legs felt like lead the longer she ran up the beach, and her breath got heavier along with it. Erec's heart skipped a beat a split-second after a horn sounded behind her, and she whirled around, aiming her rifle at the source of the sound.

"LAVs," she murmured, lowering her rifle. Erec turned back around and continued on with her search for a trench, the pain in her head getting increasingly worse as she pushed herself past exhaustion.She picked up her pace as more noises resounded from the coast. Erec has to find her allies quickly.

As Erec proceeded up the beach and blinked her trickling blood out of her eyes, movement ahead of her caught her eye. Holding her rifle up with trembling hands, Erec saw through the scope a uniform similar to the one she was wearing. Her lips quivered as she jogged through her memory, furrowing her eyebrows to remember until she did.

When a cold breeze blew against her skin, Erec shouted with what energy she could muster: "Tyrfing!"

[Azeiel The Risen]

PVT. Alexander Matthews.
Grenadier
Fólkvangr/Odin/3-12 MECHINF/1BCT/1ID/UGMF
Northern Briss - Beachhead - Maclaran Trench

Everyone always said that it was the sights that would have the biggest impact and leave deepest scars. They were wrong, the one thing he would never forget was the sounds. The sound of the bushmasters blasting away, the sound of HE shells carving destruction upon the earth. The cries of the wounded and the screams of the dying. Everything was louder, his vision sharper, his senses heightened.

The splatter of dirt upon his face ripped him from his thoughts and back to the current slice of hell he had found himself in. A trench, surrounded by his fallen squad mates and a wounded squad leader. LT had fallen within seconds of hitting the beach and now all that remained of his platoon was a handful of soldiers. Yet despite this he kept going, kept fighting. He couldnt afford to let the sacrifice of his friends be in vain. They had fought and bled for every inch of beach and he would be damned if he didnt make them pay for it in kind.

When the sergeant spoke up he nodded and checked his mag and made sure that he still had a HE round in the breech of his underslung. Patting his side he tugged on the AT4 to make sure it was still securely attached. Everything was good to go no more delaying it. Scrambling out of the trench quickly he dug his feet into the dirt and fell into line low crawling after the Sergeant.

[zredbarron]

Corporal Kad Akula
Bravo Team Leader
UGMF :: Odin Company :: Tyrfing Squad
Northern Briss - Malcaran Trench
"Blessed backup"

After the sergeant left, Kad paced up and down the trench, talking with those who stayed behind. This whole operation seemed poorly planned to the young corporal. But, he wasn't the one in charge. He only knew what their objective was, not what the bigger picture entailed. The death toll was high and morale was a little low here in the trenches. While he could not fight, he could try to boost morale.

Thankfully, he did not have to try for long. "Reinforcements!" That one word held so much power. Almost instantly, grim faces began to smile. Kad peered over the edge of the trench. He could see Gaian LAVs approaching. "What a beautiful sight."

Above the din of gunfire, Akula faintly heard a shout. "Tyrfing!" Looking away from the incoming reinforcements, Kad spotted a man sprinting towards them, a corporal by the looks of it. "Over here, Corporal!" Apparently another member of his squad survived. "Just keep the good news coming," Kad muttered to himself. Off in the distance, another shout rang out. Again it was a shout of "Tyrfing!" With his burst eardrums, Corporal Akula had difficulty hearing it. This time, it was a female voice. Peering back over the trench, Kad searched for the shouter. He spotted a soldier jogging towards the trench. From the distance, it was hard to tell, but she appeared to be wounded. He turned towards the newcomer. "Corporal, it appears we have another Tyrfing out there. Can you go lend them a hand? I can't move very quickly or I'll fall flat on my face. Dang eardrum..." The last two words of his sentence were muttered more to himself than anyone. Another survivor from Tyrfing? This day had started to turn brighter.

[feyleina]

PFC Lynette Erec
Rifleman
Tyrfing, Odin Company
Northern Briss - Malcaran Trench

Erec faintly smiled when one of her allies noticed her. She picked up her pace, entirely ignoring the pain that has increased during her jog up to the trench and made concentrating more difficult that carrying this rifle. However, when she approached the trench at a closer distance, the smile fell from her face and her heart dropped.

"What the-" Erec cut herself off and corrected herself: "You have all died honorably."

The sight was worse here than back on the beach. She took in the horrors of war once her objective to reach the trench finished. The death toll was fresh here, and it made her sick. Erec slowed her pace down to a walking speed, meeting eyes with a dead soldier. She flinched, but lowered herself down to a crouching position and softly closed his eyelids.

Erec heard the sound of footsteps approach her and she looked up, eyeing the rank on his uniform. She stood up quickly, stumbling slightly, then said: "Corporal, what are your orders?"

[Skyburn]

OOC: Going to squeeze this in.

Corporal Kierson, Christopher
Rifleman
Tyrfing/Odin/3-12 MECHINF/1BCT/1ID/UGMF
Northern Briss - Beachhead

As he ran towards the next trench, Kierson saw a rifle begin to train on him up the beachhead. His own rifle put the man down with two shots. The wet sand seemed to fracture off in chunks as bullets dug into it around his feet, and he knew it was time to lay low for a bit.

A shout caused him to change objectives."Over here, Corporal!" A familiar shout beckoned him to a different trench than the one he was about to slide into. Chris pushed himself to sprint for it. A few more steps, and he slid down next to where he'd judged the sound to come from. "Kad!" Chris stopped for a moment to breathe and checked his ammo, then took a swig of water from his borrowed camelback. "Had to jack the gear off of a KIA in an IFV a hundred meters back. Lost mine on the ride in." Chris recalled his pistol was still on him. He pulled it out and released the magazine; water followed it out. He put it back in and fired a round into the air to clear the barrel of any seawater, and then reholstered it.
"Tyrfing!" Came yet another familiar shout, this one somewhat faint.
"Corporal, it appears we have another Tyrfing out there. Can you go lend them a hand? I can't move very quickly or I'll fall flat on my face. Dang eardrum..." Kad asked him. Kierson nodded, though his own body felt like it was about to fall apart. Chris might still be the most medically capable person in Tyrfing for the moment.
"Tyrfing here!" Chris nodded as he spotted the caller. He turned back to Kad. "Cover me." With that, he burst from the hole, using energy reserves he was sure were depleted. He himself was moving slower than he'd like, and his muscles were screaming in agony, but this was about survival. "Lyn!" He said as he recognized her in her foxhole - made more difficult by the fact that her face was half covered in blood. "Erec!" He stopped next to her. She looked a little dazed, and he was itching to get a good rest in before continuing the firefight. Lynette obviously as having trouble holding her rifle, she he shouldered it for her and put her pistol in her hand, then wrapped an arm around her, alleviating some of her weight and supporting her.
"Corporal, what are your orders?" She was rather formal for being in the middle of a firefight.
"We're running and gunning back to the rest of Tyrfing. Don't get shot." He said, helping her out of the foxhole, then began moving the both of back to Corporal Akula's trench as fast as they could muster, but not before drawing his own pistol; supporting her weight as best as he could, he couldn't one-arm a rifle, and he'd be blocking her ability to do the same. They were exposed and he didn't want to be out here without a fighting chance.

[Freyja_of_Asgard]

Sergeant Alessa DuMourier "Mjolnir 1"
Combat Medic

UGMF | ODIN Company | Mjolnir Squad
Northern Briss


Alessandra managed to look over her shoulder at the group following her just as their support arrived. " 'Bout time they got here!" she laughed, still moving forward through the mud and the slowly clearing smoke around them. She scanned for movement ahead of them, her body tense and ready to jump at anything that dared cross her path.

She could hear shouts behind her, sounding as though the trenches were filling up behind them, hopefully that meant that they would soon have more than the ragtag band of troops following her across the mud. But her experiences through the day and through her time here had taught her well, she wouldn't count her chickens until they hatched and she wouldnt count on backup until she knew for sure. Every move she meant sent a wave of pain shooting through her shoulder but she moved that thought to the back of her mind, focusing on the goal ahead.

'Folkvangr!" she shouted over her shoulder " Spread out! we need to make sure we cover as much ground as we can, even with support, we make a pretty tempting target!".

[feyleina]

PFC Lynette Erec
Rifleman
Tyrfing, Odin Company
Northern Briss - Macaran Trench

"Don't get shot," Corporal Kierson said to her, but Erec felt doubt cloud her mind. Is it even possible NOT to get shot in this hellhole? She wiped the blood that began dripping in her eye as Corporal Kierson helped her out of the foxhole, as well as her long hair that started to block her vision.

As Lynette received support from Corporal Kierson, she couldn't help but study his face. It was obvious he was exhausted and that helping her only made him more tired. She felt him slowly putting more of his weight on her, so Erec shifted her arm a bit so she had easier mobility to use her other arm to shoot her pistol. Bullets whizzed past them and the thought of either of them getting hurt slowly began to startle Erec.

Up ahead, Lynette caught a glimpse of the enemy aiming a gun at them. For a moment, Erec froze but quickly mustered up the strength to push herself and Corporal Kierson to the ground, shooting a few rounds at the enemy. When they collided with the earth, Erec saw the enemy take cover which gave them the opportunity to move ahead and proceed down towards the trench. She could hear his heavy breathing and her stomach twisted slightly.

"We're almost at the trench, Corporal. We can do this," she said in a breathy voice. "Let's go."