0700 March 21st, 1935 EC
12 Miles East of Rinneheim, Gallia

Silence ruled the crisp air of an early spring morn, broken only by a chorus of lilting birdsong. Only the keenest of observers would note the movement of armoured figures amidst the bocage, the silhouette of tanks lying in wait. A regiment of the Emperor's finest was slowly tracking westward across the fields and hedgerows, drawing ever closer to the town of Rinneheim and its unsuspecting defenders...

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1100 March 21st, 1935 EC
Central Square, Rinneheim, Gallia

One hundred men and women stood to attention across the town square, each sporting an armband emblazoned with the words 9/12 Militia. Some had already seen action, clad in the iconic blue uniform of Gallia, while many more were still wearing civilian clothes. One young man toward near the back of the formation was dressed in what appeared to be a police uniform, while another nearby wore a butcher's apron. At the front of the square had been erected a stage replete with Gallian heraldry, upon which a lone officer stood, his gaze drifting slowly across the assembled multitudes. After a long silence, the man stepped forward.

'Good morning. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the 9th Regiment of the Gallian Militia, 12th Company. I am your commanding officer, Captain Tarquin H Meulemann.' The Captain had a strong Imperial accent and carried himself with a air of nobility. If his monocle and handle-bar moustache were not enough to gauge his personality, he wore an elegant sabre at his waist, which showed every sign of having been used recently. 'I am not a man for speeches, so I shall endeavour to make this quick. As soldiers in Her Majesty's armed forces, you are now bound by a code of honour and loyalty, of comradeship and respect.' Meulemann's expression hardened. 'Whoever you were before you joined my company, I do not care. You will follow your orders and achieve your objectives for the glory of House Randgriz and the good of all Gallia. Parade! Dismissed!' The abrupt end of the Captain's speech took many by surprise and the company milled about in confusion before the more experienced soldiers herded the others out of the square. From his position atop the stage, Meulemann sighed deeply. Valkyrur help us all...

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A few minutes later, outside a pub in the main square a young man was rifling through his conscription paperwork. Despite his dark hair, the landlord had begrudgingly served the militiaman an ale, though he was sure it hadn't been the quality stuff. He sighed deeply as he leafed through another page. Sergeant Harald, #55236972, 9/12/4 Squad Leader... Serial numbers, insurance numbers, dates, facts, figures... Deciding that the details could be dealt with later, he pulled out a specific sheet that outlined his subordinates. Naturally it was little more than a list of names, no pictures or descriptions to speak of but he was still expected to assemble them before the afternoon's march to Randgriz.

Nearby, another sergeant had decided to bite the bullet and was shouting for each of his squadmates at the top of his lungs. Occasionally a soldier would materialise from the aimless throng of recruits, glad to have some direction at last. Other sergeants had their own methods ranging from banners with a list of names to simply demanding the identity of every recruit they could find. Harald sighed again as he sparked up a cigarette, unsure of how to proceed; even with his superior rank he doubted that he could get away with demanding anything of anyone. He was a Darcsen after all; it had been enough of a shock to find himself above Private, let alone in charge of a whole squad. In the end he just sat back with his ale and played the card he had refined during his years as a constable; if you sit in a pub and wave enough people over, some fucker will eventually know who you are after.

Corporal Krauss Helfer sighed as he waded through the crowd of new conscripts and officers trying to organize everyone. A few months before he had transferred over to the newly formed "9th Regiment" and was assigned to the 12th company. He looked again at his transcripts, having only just now been assigned a new squad leader. "Sergeant Harald of squad 4." was apparently his new go to man. He sighed as he glanced around, desperate to find someone of that name. After asking around for an hour, he simply gave up and headed over to the nearby pub to wait for the crowd to die down a bit. It was a nice day, so Krauss decided to sit outside.

He sat in front of a young gruff looking soldier with blue hair and simply ordered a glass of water as it was a bit early for drinking in his eyes. The landlord raised an eyebrow at Krauss, who was seemingly oblivious to the fact he just sat with with a Darcsen. As the landlord left Krauss leaned over to the smoking militiaman. "Pretty amusing ain't it? War is on the horizon and the army is being led and fought with kids who barley remember their training." He leaned back, taking a sip from the glass of water the landlord had just given him and sighed. "Ahh well, whatcha gonna do? I'm sure it will all work out in the end. I'm Krauss Helfer by the way, nice to meet you. What squad are you part of in this semi organized chaos?" He asked with a smile.

Merry was absolutely dying. The temporary uniform she had been given was absolutely sweltering. A long sleeved, button up, shirt and pants. Both of which were made out of a heavy cloth material. Merry was sure this aided in the protection of the soldiers, and knew she would become used to it. But the sudden change in climate from the mountains to here was overwhelming for the young engineer. As soon as the group of new recruits had been dismissed Merry was off to find the nearest patch of shade. She rolled up the sleeves of her shirt and the legs of her pants, trying to desperately shed off some heat.

With a soft sigh, Merry leaned up against the outside wall of a building. She glanced up on the sign hung above the entrance, it was a bar. She briefly contemplated going inside to get a glass of water, knowing full well that she wasn't old enough to buy anything alcoholic, but knowing herself she would likely cave and buy a soda. She wiped the sweat off of her flushed face, feeling a new crash of nerves. If she was getting this weakened and worn out from the heat would she ever survive a fight? With another sigh Merry looked around at the other recruits, trying to remember anything about the squad she had been assigned into.

Everything about the day so far felt surreal to Felix. It was hot, buggy, and uncomfortable, which wasn't helped by the fact that he was in a crowd of hundreds of people. To further complicate matters, he had just been shouted at by an Imperial-sounding man with a long-outdated face. For a moment, he was afraid he had wandered into the wrong country by mistake, and had signed along with the wrong military. He appreciated the tersity of the speech, though. Felix had never been one to stand on ceremony, and getting things done as quickly as possible seemed like the best solution for everyone.

Unfortunately, the extra time was practically useless from Felix's perspective. It seemed like nobody knew anybody named "Sergeant Harald", nor were they aware of any information about his squad. It was almost as if it didn't exist, which would be funny if it weren't so inconvenient. Working his way into the town proper, he found his way to a pub with a number of people already there, including some in uniform, including, oddly enough, a young Darcsen sergeant who, apparently, was talking to an older man. Not wanting to interrupt their conversation, he walked to the young woman leaning on the side of the building. She seemed exhausted, and her uniform gave her away as being in similar rank to Felix, though clearly his junior by some years.

"Excuse me, lass? I don't mean to be a bother, but I'm lookin' for a Sergeant Harald, of Squad 4. Do you know where I might find 'im?

This crowd was too much. Lilly slowly attempted to maneuver her way through the crowds, getting jostled every which way and acquiring more than a few irritated looks as she bumped into people. She was used to walking around a sparely populated mansion, not weaving through a sea of people. All around her, Sergeants were hollering for their comrades or waving banners with lists of names. Lets see... she was in squad 4, but she didn't see any banners with it's number on it or hear anyone yelling for her. As she wandered through the street, she occasionally was grabbed by one of the squad leaders trying to locate their soldiers. The harshly worded queries had her taken aback, but she managed to compose herself enough to inform them that she was with squad 4 - a squad that apparently none of them commanded, as they immediately waved her off with a huff.

On the other side of the square, she saw an pub that was absolutely packed, with people swarming in and out of it at an incredible pace. Perhaps her sergeant was recruiting in there. She started to walk over, but almost immediately gave up all hope. The crowd just got thicker and thicker, to the point where she could barely move, and she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn't going to be getting anywhere near there until the crowd had at least dispersed somewhat. Gingerly making her way towards the edge of the plaza, she stepped into an alley and decided to wait out the crowd. While she waited, she began to fix her now completely messed up hair, and brushed the dirt off of her uniform from the time when she had collided with someone and nearly fallen straight on her face. "Tsk. Filthy."

As would be expected of a neat freak, her meticulous attention to detail in repairing her appearance wasted a good 20 minutes, and by that time, the square was a good deal more organized and passable. Seeing that she could probably get closer to the bar now, she started to head its way. One stern interrogation from a sergeant later, she had managed to arrive near to the front of the building, and saw the gaggle of squad leaders calling out names. ... But no one was saying anything about squad 4. Did she miss them? Where was this sergeant she was supposed to find? Lilly positioned herself near the wall of the building and stood there, hands clasped and looking very confused. She figured if she were to stand around here long enough, someone might give her some direction. She certainly hoped that the rest of the military's organization was not this chaotic.

Fifteen minutes, Fifteen minutes scanning the crowd. Fifteen minutes standing underneath a tree. Where was this sergeant? It took her between five and ten minutes just to get out of the crowd. Now here she was, looking for the squad she was assigned to. Brenna sighed and sat down underneath the tree. As she looked around, she noticed a smudge on her glasses, probably from when she was trying to get out of the mass of people. She pulled them off, pulled out a small handkerchief and began cleaning them. She was happy that her glasses weren't the typical round, but were rather rectangular in shape, and that her handkerchief was freshly cleaned as well.

After she finished cleaning the smudge off, she put them back on and looked at the crowd near the bar. It had died down some, but she'd still never enter. Too many people, way to high a chance that someone, if not multiple people, will attempt to socialize with her. Brenna turned her attention to the tree she was underneath, but before she could begin to admire it, a rather hot tempered sergeant came up and, in a almost demanding voice, asked what squad she was in. He got his response, although she could tell he wasn't any happier with that knowledge that she was in squad four. Brenna shook her head and moved away from the tree, as she realized that tree, like that sergeant, was generic and boring. She did spot a female near the bar that looked very clean, but at the same time very confused. Brenna wasn't about to start any conversations though, it just wasn't a thing she did.

It wasn't long before Harald's patience bore fruit. The man looked older than Harald, perhaps in his late 20s; fairly experienced too, if his attitude was anything to go by. 'Amusing ain't the word; I'd call it downright hilarious. Not that I can say much. My school training was run by the local town watch; never even fired a gun before I started work.' Taking a long, slow drag from his cigarette, Harald took a more careful look at the guy; his armband had corporal stripes, his hair was greying and his eyes betrayed more alertness than his appearance would suggest. Ex-town watch maybe, or a member of the permanent arm of the Militia? Casting one eye down at his paperwork, Harald's critical expression soon grew into a smile of genuine relief as the Corporal introduced himself. 'Well, ain't that some kinda coincidence. I'm part of your squad, number 4.' He reached over to take Krauss' hand in a firm shake, grinning heartily. 'Sergeant Harald, at your service. I reckon you've seen more action than I have, though I've had the odd raid in years past.' As they talked, he cast an eye around the square; the traffic had lessened considerably as the other sergeants did their jobs. By now there were perhaps thirty souls left unattended as the remaining sergeants had clearly taken his approach; now would be a good time to rally Squad 4 and see what they had to work with.

'Well Corporal, I reckon it's time to get some work done. We have... three privates and two PFCs to find.' Draining his remaining ale, Harald stubbed out the cigarette and slung his backpack over one shoulder, marching out into the centre of the square. He hadn't been issued a weapon or even a uniform yet, so he doubted he appeared particularly sergeant-y... but he could damn well sound like one if he tried. Harald took a deep, bracing breath, thrust his chest out and roared at the top of his lungs. 'Squad Four, assemble on me! Squad Four, over 'ere!' He paced back and forth as the other recruits scrambled out of the way and for a moment he had the attention of the entire square. The other sergeants soon joined in though and before long the stragglers were more or less assembled. Looking up and down the rather short line of Squad 4, Harald wondered if he had gotten the short end of the stick... Aside from being understrength, three of them were women for Valkyrur 's sake. Guess it doesn't matter... easy on the eyes at least. 'Well... good morning boys and girls, or perhaps good afternoon. I am Sergeant Harald and I shall be your NCO for this war. Um...' To be honest, he hadn't planned what to say once the squad had fallen in, and so was a bit lost. A few muffled cracks could be heard in the background, most likely some of the other squads in training. 'I... Yeah. Let's start with a few introductions. As I said, I'm Sergeant Harald; I was trained in reconnaissance, marksmanship and demolitions. No idea what gun they're going to issue me, but that's a problem for another day.' He turned to Krauss with an affirmative nod. 'This is Corporal Helfer, deputy squad leader.' Those guys are really going at it over there... As sense of unease crept in as the sound of gunfire intensified, but he doubted it was anything serious; he kept his calm smile for the time being.

"Listen, Damien, this isn't an option anymore. The recruitment board has been looking for you since you left. You have to do this, you have to, there's war coming and we need bright young men like you. Who knows, maybe you'll run into your dad out there somewhere but you can't just go exploring the countryside on your own looking for him, it's a deathwish. Listen, Damien, I've known you since you were just a boy and I know losing Vasel hurt but if you get on board with this, then you can help us take it back yourself. Listen, we managed to convince the recruitment office here in Rinneheim to observe your experience and education so you can maintain your private first class rank. Look kid, I even made sure they set you up in a good squad. Squad 4 will be just fine, your sarge, he's a freaking cop, you're in good hands okay? This isn't a sentence Damien, it's an opportunity to find your dad and make him proud. Plus if you say no they'll put you in jail, so take your papers and get moving." he finished, it was Riggs, one of Damien's old friends from Vasel who was passing through Rinneheim helping them with the militia conscription process, Damien was just unlucky enough to run into him and be thrust into the militia.

Making his way through the thick crowd in the town plaza, Damien waded through the mass of organized confusion just fine. It was just like the old street markets in Varen, where he used to run fabric back and forth for his mom. Felt good to being back in a town, albeit not one as big as Vasel but it was a nice play. Plenty of Darcsen, which was different, but didn't really bother Damien. Okay, where's squad 4? He heard shouts for every other squad in the 12th company, but no Squad 4. Looking down at his papers, it was Sergeant Harald he needed to find, which was proving to be a much more difficult task than it should have been. This guy was a police officer right? Shouldn't be too hard to find. Adjusting his uniform a bit, the plaza began to clear up and Damien still couldn't find anyone. Walking towards the next crowd, a large group of uniformed recruits piling into a pub, Damien was stopped just before stepping inside.

Damien turned away just to spot two older looking men walk towards the center of the plaza. One of them was a police officer, definitely, just look at how he walked. Filing in with the rest of his squadmates, Damien only caught glances of them as he looked forward and listened attentively to his Sergeant. A wave of eagerness rushed over him as he listened to his Sarge, mumbling answers under his breath. "...probably a Gallian-S1...should be armed soon..." as soon as his introduction was done, and time was given for his Corporal to say a few words, Damien stood forward, his hand ready to give a firm handshake. "Afternoon Sergeant Harald, I'm Damien Varrot, Private First Class and lead scout for your squad."

Krauss returned the handshake and said with a smile. "Well Sergeant, it seems we have our work cut out for us. We are in for one hell of a ride."

"Well then..." Krauss stood up next to Sergeant Harald gave a nod to the squad as they assembled. "I'm Corporal Krauss Helfer, and as the good Sergeant here said, I will be your deputy squad leader. On top of that I will be the Sniper of your squad. I feel confident in saying I'm a crack shot, so you scouts best tell me when you see a target of interest. Was in the actual army for a little while, now I've been in the Militia for two years now, saw this was inevitable, joined up early, so my gear is all set. Don't mind my accent though, I ain't no spy for the Empire." he said in good humor. "No but really, please don't accidentally shoot me during some night op when I call out friendly." he said, now only half joking. He was somewhat cut off by the sound of a distant explosion, the general crowd went quiet for a little bit before returning to the usual talking. "Well now, looks like the Empire's scouts are becoming a bit more troublesome.... Anyways, I do hope you will all function well as squad."

Merry had not seen the other squad member approach her, she had been too busy fumbling with her uniform, trying to get comfortable. “Squad fahr?” Merry spoke with a thick, almost muddled, accent. She fumbled through the pockets of her uniform for a few moments before pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper. It looked as if it had been creased and uncreased many times. Merry quickly glanced over the writing on the paper, confirming what she was about to say. “Funny yew ment'on that name. 'M lookin' fer Sergeant Harald as well.” Merry happily extended a hand out to the other man, a grin on her face. “'M name's Merry! Looks like we're gon'a be fightin' together!”

After giving the man a firm handshake Merry put her hands on her hips. “I suppose we ought ter go find-” Her thought was quickly cut off by an extremely powerful bellow. Merry grinned, normally she would be upset if someone just yelled in her ears. But knowing that such a strong voice belonged to their leader made up for the discomfort. Merry leaned over towards Felix, a smile on her face as she stood at attention towards her new leader. “Well i' looks like 'e found us.”

Merry listened closely to her new leaders, still grinning with excitement. But she couldn't help but feel a horrible anxiety build up in her as the sounds of explosions seemed to be getting louder and closer.

The loud shout startled Lilly, as Sergeant Harald began rallying squad 4 together. Looking around, she saw her fellow soldiers coming out of the woodwork and rallying around a rather imposing looking grey haired man, and a younger looking Darcsen.The grey haired man must be their sergeant and the Darcsen, his assistant. Lilly smiled as she took her position around the pair with the rest of her squad mates. A good portion of the recruits in the main square didn't have proper uniforms yet, and even the Darcsen was dressed in a police uniform rather than the official outfit of the militia. Having a rich father did have it's benefits, though, despite him not agreeing with her joining. He had managed to pull a few strings and get her a full uniform immediately, so even though she was inexperienced, she certainly looked the part of a soldier now.

Her happiness of finally having found her squad was replaced by confusion when the Darcsen spoke up and introduced himself as the Sergeant. A Darcsen? A Sergeant? Why was he chosen to lead them? Weren't Darcsens better suited to working in mines or manufacturing? She tilted her head, puzzled. Well, maybe the militia worked differently than she expected. She just hoped she wouldn't have to shake his hand. Father had always said Darcsens were filthy, and she didn't want to soil her gloves. Fortunately his Corporal seemed competent, so she didn't feel particularly nervous about following their orders. When Sergeant Harald slipped up, she was sure that Corporal Krauss would be able to pick up the slack.

In the distance, she heard some gunshots and explosions. My, my, was the militia practicing this close to a village? It seemed odd. Oh well, it was none of her concern where the military set up its training bases.

The enthusiasm of the young woman was heartening, to say the least. She had seemed polite and enthusiastic enough, and the revelation that she was a member of Sgt. Harald's squad made him a little less uneasy. She had echoed such thoughts, but before Felix had a chance to respond, he had been interrupted by the loud voice of his squad commander, who, oddly enough, had only moments ago been sitting around the pub with the man who soon revealed himself to be the company corporal. Following Merry, Felix stood at attention for his commander.

Felix couldn't help but notice that there was something odd about having a Darcsen commander. On the one hand, Felix had been raised a Southron by his mother and father, adhering to the Albigensian faith of the old Cathars: the Darcsen often featured prominently in Albigensian works as the victims of monstrous Valkyrur, On the other hand, Felix's life had mostly been influenced by Gallian culture, and he had certainly heard horror stories about the Darcsen, though he hadn't known any personally. All-in-all, the whole situation made Felix uncomfortable, so he elected to ignore it as best as he was able, and reserve judgement for a later time.

That being said, he was glad to see that both his Sergeant and his Second-in-Command were relatively young men. From what understood, the causalities from the Great War had been so great because so many of the commanders had insisted on using tactics built for the days before rifling and tanks. It appeared, though, that the Gallian army had learned its lessons from the last war, as evidenced by the small size of the squad, though that might have been due to a shortage of soldiers in general, which, if that were true, would be indicative of problems much larger than outdated tactics and commanders.

On the topic of outdated tactics, who insisted on having a training exercise in the middle of a densely-populated civilian area? The far-away sounds of gunfire and the distant smell of battery smoke indicated that someone was shooting something, but certainly the Gallian military had set up camps specifically for this sort of thing, which would make populated areas unnecessary for this sort of thing. Pushing the thought out of his mind, he continued to stand, waiting for his commander to do something.

The Sergeant's gaze roved over his squad as Krauss introduced himself. Aside from the unusually high number of women, there wasn't a whole lot of information he could glean from first impressions. At least one of them stepped forward to introduce himself. 'Good to have you Varrot. You look like you've a keen eye.' Returning Damien's handshake, Harald has pleasantly surprised to find some force in the scout's grip; he never could trust a man with a limp wrist. After Damien stepped back into line, the squad was silent for a moment as Harald waited for another to put themselves forward; he wasn't too surprised when no-one did however. He could tell from their eyes that a couple of his new squadmates were unsure of him as a Sergeant, another symptom of the prejudice endemic to Gallian society. The silence was cut short but another explosion, this time closer and accompanied by the faint sound of falling masonry. That can't be part of a drill... As smoke began to rise over the eastern edge of the town, Harald's expression grew hard. '... Squad Four, I think we may have a situation on our hands.' Drawing his old service revolver, he gave the others one last look over; a few were armed, but did they have ammunition? Would the others be safe without weapons? A fresh burst of fire erupted nearby and this time voices could be heard shouting orders with a distinct Imperial drawl.

Reaching a snap decision, Harald turned to Krauss with a calculating frown. 'Looks like trouble Corporal. Take a scout and get up as high as you can. And use...' He paused for a second, rummaging through his backpack to find his backup wireless. '... this to keep in contact. I'll take the others and try to make contact with company command. If things get too hot, fall back westward and hide out in the hedgerows until we can meet up.' Considering Krauss' experience, he was confident that the Corporal would know what was expected of him; rather, he was more concerned whether or not he would do the right thing... After Krauss took his scout, Harald waved the others to follow him east, cocking the revolver as he went. 'With me, people! Stick to cover and pick up any weapons you find.' The square was rapidly emptying as other squads set out to do the same; a good two-thirds of the Militia was unarmed at this point, a critical weakness in the towns defence. Without the order to retreat, their only hope was to scavenge the battlefield... Squad Four's first opportunity came all too soon. As the five of them worked their way along an empty street, they came across a pair of dead Militamen, riddled with holes. Swallowing his disgust wasn't easy, but Harald was able to unclip the dead soldier's ammunition pouches and weapons, passing them to the squad in silence. After a moment's thought, he also took their freshly issued dogtags.

Unbeknownst to Sergeant Harald and his troops, another squad was making its way up the street parallel to them. Pausing at an alleyway, the squad leader sent two men to investigate. As they crept slowly up the alley with their SMGs trained on the exit, the men did their best to hide the clanking of their heavy armour lest they give their location away. Imperial troops were well protected, but easy to hear.

The sounds of battle that had seemed far away were soon upon them as an explosion nearby shook the ground. The Sergeant was quick to respond. "Looks like trouble Corporal. Take a scout and get up as high as you can. And use...' He paused for a second, rummaging through his backpack to find his backup wireless. '... this to keep in contact. I'll take the others and try to make contact with company command. If things get too hot, fall back westward and hide out in the hedgerows until we can meet up."

Krauss gave a quick salute then nodded. "Roger that, stay safe out there. Alright, Private Varrot, with me!" said then took off down the street heading northward towards an old milling tower, sniper rifle in hand. They quickly made their way into the old stone tower. It had long stopped milling wheat into grain and now served merely as a storage building. They made their way up the small stone staircase until Krauss flung open a wooden hatch to the roof. The tower only gave them a slightly high vantage point over the town, Krauss cursing he did not have enough time to relocate. "I guess we'll have to make do with this." Krauss loaded his rifle and laid down prone, motioning Varrot to do the same. "I'm gonna need to you be on that radio and keeping our Sergeant updated with the enemy's position. Be sure to call out targets of interest like obvious squad leaders and such as you scout the area. Those will be the guys I'm aiming for. Also, after I pop off a few rounds we're gonna need to relocate before the enemy can get a bead on us." Krauss looked out across the area, seeing poorly armed militia facing down the Empire's invasion force. IT seemed road after road was being taken as the Empire's forces moved relentlessly through the town, killing anything they saw.

"Damn this is bad...." he thought to himself as he lined up his first shot of the war.

The crack of rifles, the muffled bellowing of grenades, sounds all too familiar to the young scout. No time for hellos, no time to get familiar with his new squad mates, no time to lay out a plan, but that was fine. He was here to do a job, and he would make sure he was the best to ever do it. Clenching his fists with searing eagerness, Damien peered towards the far streets, just waiting for Imp scouts to pop up. Suddenly, orders. Damien stood at attention and nodded in compliance as he received his first orders with his new squad. Nodding once again and giving a stern, "Yes sergeant.", Damien swung his Gallian-X1 from his back and checked his sights, made sure it was in prime condition. He hadn't seen anyone else with an X1 yet, they were pretty scarce. Corporal Krauss instructed the upstart to accompany him, and Damien readied himself for action. "Yes sir. Good luck guys." he spoke, turning back, looking at his fellow squad mates before picking up the pace right behind Krauss.

The tower was tall and narrow, but they made it to the top on no time. Lifting himself out of the hatch, Damien set his rifle down and picked up the radio, looking out into the network of streets and alleyways, very similar to Vasel. There were small squads everywhere, with large columns of soldiers sticking to the large roads that ran through the middle of the city. The advancement was passing the plaza right by, but that didn't stop squads of scouts and troopers from branching off towards them. Damien peered off in the distance, counting heads and figuring distances, lifting the radio to his mouth, "Alright sergeant I've got two small squads of troopers and scouts headed your way from the east, one has a lancer with them. The armory is just around the corner from you guys and looks like it's untouched. Our forces are retreating west but taking potshots when they can." Looking, scanning. "Sarge, scouts in the alleyway on the right, heads up! Coming right towards you guys!" he spoke as intensely as he could without shouting. Lowering the radio, Damien turned to Krauss,

"Sir, two scouts in the alleyway on the right, you have the shot. We gotta try for the top of the clock tower after this, we'll see so much more. That's if they don't have someone up there already."

So this was war... Lilly's eyes flicked around frantically, looking from alley to alley, window to window, rooftop to rooftop. The empire was here already? So soon... They hadn't even gotten to train. Fortunately she already knew how to handle a rifle, but she had no combat experience. How was this going to turn out for her? Drawing on her memories of the harsh structure of her home, she buried the rampant uneasiness rushing through her system, and focused on being methodical. It's just like a tea ceremony or a business meeting, Lilly, you can do this. Focus. Eyes on the alley, left, right, eyes on the roof, right, left, eyes on the road, left, right, back to the alleys, left, right, left. As they hustled up the streets, she kept to this tempo, donning her sense of structure and methodology as a kind of armour - an armour to protect against the stabbing arrows of doubt and fear that descended upon her. Just keep yourself focused, Lilly, left, right, left.

Unfortunately, this armour did not hold up when she was confronted by the sight of two young lads laying on the ground, covered in blood and bullet holes. The sight and smell caused her stomach to churn, and she probably would have doubled over and retched, had Sergent Harald not thrust a pair of rifles and munitions pouches into her hands. Trying to forget about what she just saw, she clipped on a pouch as fast as her trembling hands would let her, before passing the second pouch and rifle to the woman standing behind her. Only after she was sure her comrade had grabbed the items, did she let go and start to attempt to load the rifle. Had it been an unfamiliar weapon, she was sure that her shaking hands would have dropped the bullets or misplaced the magazine, but this was an S-1. Her muscle memory from the many times she practiced shooting with her father took over, and she successfully managed to prep the rifle for firing. In an attempt to distract herself from noticing the amount of blood that was dripping off her pouch and seeping into her clothes, she forced herself to think about just how fortunate she had been in securing one of the rifles her father manufactured. Come on, Lilly... Just ignore it... Just pretend like it's water. It's nothing bad, just water. Left, Right, Left, Alley, Roof, Street, Left, Right, Left.

Lilly's nervousness and fear were boiling over. It was much easier to focus on a routine when you weren't carrying something that previously belonged to a dead soldier. She had to concentrate. This was her duty. What was going on? Would she make it? A sudden, metal sounding noise came from a near by alley, caused Lilly to nearly jump a foot. She immediately trained her shaking rifle on it. "W-what was thaat?!" Her previous composure gone, Lilly's voice degraded into that of a terrified school girl - something she would undoubtedly berate herself for later. If she survived, that was.

Brenna wasn't impressed with the squad leader. A Darcsen squad leader? Hope he realizes that the squad leader title doesn't exempt him from prejudice. Brenna didn't entirely hate the Darcsen people, nor did she enjoy their presence. She always became slightly nauseated when around a Darcsen anyway, and he was no exception. She also wasn't going to pay attention to many of his orders until he proved himself a worthy leader to get behind.

Her thought process on the Darcsen leader was interrupted when an explosion sounded close by, as well as the fall of masonry. Those weren't recruits training in the distance, that was the enemy. She had her MAGS M10, but wasn't given any ammo for it, this was just a meet-up for the squads, no one had expected the Imperials to be attacking today. She hoped they would find some ammo on the way, if not, she'd openly take a rifle as a temporary weapon. Which apparently, is what would be happening as they approached a pair of dead militiamen. They only had the standard rifle and ammo for it. At least she had a sling for her MAGS, and slung her MAGS over her back.

Once the ammo pouch was clipped on and the rifle freshly loaded, and everyone else was ready to go, did they begin to move again. The subtle sounds of combat all around the town. So this is war? It's a bit unnerving. Brenna was a bit uneasy. But it seemed like she wasn't the only one, as a younger girl appeared to be nearing a panic attack, and almost sounded like she was going to have one when the sounds of metal striking metal was heard. As she ran past the girl towards the alleyway corner, then spoke up when her back was against the wall "Enemies" she hoped that might get the girl to focus. Brenna then poked her head around the corner only to be met with a brief flurry of bullets, she saw at least two, but knew there could be more. Brenna was more scared now, but kept her composure, she didn't want to end up like the dead militiamen.

Privates Nebelheim and Walker apparently, so the dogtags said. Both conscripted today, alongside Squad Four and Harald himself. While the human in him felt for the poor bastards, his cynical side reminded Harald that they had been issued full kit while his squad had been left in civvies. They had either been caught off-guard or were simply outmatched my Imperial regulars; either way, they had been well equipped to deal with the threat. As the other began to distribute the salvaged kit, Harald busied himself with the dead soldier's other equipment, taking an especially long bandoleer for himself; it even had a pair of old-fashioned grenades attached, probably circa 1910 at least. A sudden burst of static caught his attention and Varrot's report began to filter through; however before the scout could finish, one of the squad called out in surprise. Another reacted faster than Harald, taking cover by a tight alleyway.

The two Imperial shocktroopers paused in their advance, alerted by a shriek up ahead. One took a knee, leaning as close to the left hand wall as possible to minimise his profile while the other advanced, finger on the trigger. Within seconds a target presented itself; a small face poked around the corner, easily within range. Both men opened up with short, controlled bursts to force the Gallian back into cover; if the enemy had the exit covered, then advancing would only get them killed. With a brief flurry of hand signals and a nod of agreement, one soldier took off back to their squad at a sprint while the other lay prone to watch the alley.

'Valk's blood! You alright Private?' Harald couldn't see any obvious injury from his position on the other side of the alleyway entrance and not for the first time regretted not knowing everyone's name yet. Shit, he thought grimly. We don't have the kit for a firefight. There wasn't much room to manoeuvre here and those soldiers could easily double back to flank them; at the same time the squad was split on either side of the alley entrance so retreat wasn't an immediate option. They needed a distraction. 'Varrot, I need fire on whoever comes out the other end of this alley. We'll smoke 'em out, then pull back and find a way around.' Carefully clipping his wireless back to his jacket, Harald glanced at his squad. Half were armed now, but only with rifles, no use in close quarters; until such time as they scrounged up some SMG ammo, his revolver was the handiest gun they had. Switching to hand signals, Harald mimed a grenade toss, followed by a rapid retreat back the way they came and gave silent thanks to the deceased soldiers for the use of their nades. After a few seconds silence, the sounds of running boots echoed back up the alley; judging his time carefully, the Sergeant pulled the cord from his archaic grenade and slung it full pelt around the corner. A shrill cuss was soon cut off the explosion and Harald darted around the corner, unloading all six rounds aimlessly. Not waiting around to see if any had connected, he grabbed his nearest squadmate and belted it back up the street.

Several streets away, a squad was holding out in a bus shelter. Where every other man and woman had their heads down, popping up only to fire, one man stood brazenly before the Imperials, flourishing a great curved sabre. 'Corporal, be a good chap and get someone on the second floor. And you, Bonns, do try and fire your weapon; there are targets to spare.' Meulemann's hearty laugh was as disheartening to his own men as they enemy; he had already been hit twice and had both times waved away medical support. The first Imperial assault on their position had left three shocktroopers dead by his blade, hence their more cautious approach this time round. But that caution was paying dividends; even if the Captain was still standing, five of his squad were down. Even Meulemann knew that their position was rapidly becoming untenable and that the Militia might soon have to abandon the town.

Three shots in and Krauss heard his sergeant over the radio. "Varrot, I need fire on whoever comes out the other end of this alley. We'll smoke 'em out, then pull back and find a way around." Krauss gave a nod to Varrot, confirming that he two heard the order, and shifted his position, aiming down the alleyway. As luck would have it, one of the Stormtroppers rounded the corner, hoping to catch the squad off guard. Raising his machine gun, the Stormtrooper took aim.

Vrrrriiing! Ting!

Sparks flew as a jacketed rifle round pierced the Stormtrooper's helmet, then proceeded to tumble and deflect off the other side, turning the poor man's skull into mush. At that moment, an Empire Scout peaked around the corner, with his hand on grabbing the corner of the wall, ready to sprint out. He lost four of his fingers as Krauss's second shot missed the head by a little. The Scout fell backwards, yelling in pain. Krauss sat up and motioned to Varrot.

"Alright private, let's get moving to that clocktower you spotted, no doubt the Empire's forces will be raining hell down on this position in a few minutes."

"Varrot, I need fire on whoever comes out the other end of this alley. We'll smoke 'em out, then pull back and find a way around."

"Already on it sarge!" Damien responded, and before you knew it Corporal Krauss was at his side cracking shots and threading needles, braining one unlucky bastard right away and making sure another would never play the piano again. Varrot watched for a moment, taken back by the sniper's precision but what else did he expect out of a sniper? Picking up his rifle, Damien made sure there was one ready to fire before lining up his sights the best he could and taking a few pot shots down the alleyway in the distance. The range of his X1 wasn't nearly as close as Krauss' GSR but he was still able to lay down some decent suppressing fire, nailing one Imp soldier in the leg. As the Imp fell to his knee he caught one in the head from Krauss. It was an impressive display of coincidental teamwork. Looking around before taking his next shot, Corporal Krauss gave the order to move on to the clocktower. About the same time, Damien spotted an Imperian lancer being escorted by a trooper towards their position. He turned to grab the radio before putting it up to his mouth.

"Sarge, we got Imps closing on so we're on the move, heading towards the northeast clock tower. We will contact you upon arrival, Varrot and Krauss, out." he finished, grabbing his rifle and stuffing the radio inside his pocket, "I'll lead the way Corporal, I checked the route while we were up there." he said, opening the hatch and dropping in, hustling down the stairs he waited until Krauss was behind him to open the door. Cracking it open slowly, once he saw the coast was clear he swung it open and took off, rifle in hand towards the east street. Hugging the wall at the corner, he peeked over quickly to find nothing but rubble and smoke. Waving Krauss over, they made it to the other street just in time to hear the lance fire off and hit their old position, the old stone shook the ground it fell on. From their it was a straight dash to the clock tower already in view. As they approached the clock tower, Damien quickened his pace and reached the door before Krauss, swinging it open to find an Imperial scout sifting through cabinets. Damien raised his rifle and fired, nailing the scout twice in the chest. Poking his head back outside, Damien wiped the sweat from his brow, "All clear corporal, ladder's on the far wall."

Damien swung his X1 across his back and got the radio out, "Sergeant Harald, we just reached the clock tower, where'd you need our eyes?"