In the vastness of the Nexus there's no such thing as a day of peace. Even when the Triumvirate's champions aren't called to battle, conflict still ensues for a countless number of reasons. Such was the situation that led to a relatively small skirmish between the thee factions in the a barren region known as the Ocher Plains, a wide valley covered with rust and debris as far as the eye could see and beyond. What could be the benefit of achieving dominance over what amounted to a pile of scrap metal and acid pools was unknown. However, it was known that it interested the leaders and so it was worth it.
The first ones to break the deathly silence that encompassed the valley were the Machina. A salvo of heavy phase cannon fire target at the Angel's forces would do the trick of beginning this battle with a bang and enough sparks that would make even this dreary place look like one of the Supreme Queen's live concerts. As soon as the opening volley was fired, the ground troops advanced, not losing any momentum in their path of conquest. Well..."relatively small skirmish" might have been cutting it short. After all, it was not by the hundreds or thousands by which Heaven responded in quick turn, but by numbers closer to the millions in soldier and supply.
The Nexus bred its own near-limitless count of creatures and monsters, those that would be molded into the ranks of either Heaven, Machina, or Hell. The first shots of the battle had been taken, returned in short quickly by Heaven's own fire. Bolts of divine energy rang from the skies to skewer those in defiance of the Imperator's might, while great spheres of heavenly flames rocketed from the skies to bombard any left standing. From a distance, one would mistake the rushing tide of gold as perhaps a river of treasure to sweep forth the land. But nay, these were but the usual forces of Heaven, marching forward to combat Demon and Machina alike. All were enemies in their eyes and all would pay in defilement of their great Imperator.
Yet what was the fury of gods and resolve of machines before pure avarice? The ground shuddered and tore asunder, chasms of heated rock belching tongues of fire into the air as clawed horrors scrambled over the clefts and plunged themselves into the Machina's ranks. Imps swarmed among the metal men, fingers thrust into eyes as flames bellowed from their palms and burnt circuitry to cinders. They were frail petty creatures and died in droves greater then they could claim from their foes ranks, but such was the lot of cannon fodder. Those both strong and smarter then the minuscule hellions erupted forth amidst whirlwinds of hellish magic and laden with arms and armor wreathed in auras of palpable dread. Uniformity was forsaken among the champions of Hell, their ranks varied by those who had distinguished themselves through the eons of ceaseless conflict.
Like an assassin's dagger they thrust themselves into the heart of their foes, all too eager to tear the wings from angels and send them hurtling into the infernal chasms they emerged from. There attack was all ferocity and none of the coordination found in their enemies, but what was organization when they were shattered upon corrupted steel before issuing a single order?
The attacks would meet a resistance of equal power. While the first infantry wave suffered at the hands of the demons, the mechanized cavalry that follow suit didn't have much trouble finding purchase into enemy territory. The mighty bipedal and arachnid-like war machines that thrived in such uneven ground as the one in this valley marched forth crushing any who were corrupted, or already dead, while while another wave of infantry cleared any survivors.
The Angel's attacks would fail to connect with their intended target when the Machina deployed their next advantage to this conflict. Shields. They blocked the brunt of the attacks without much effort as the artillery retaliated, aiming particularly at those that were already weakened by the Demons. Nothing is more efficient than shooting two birds with one bullet, after all. Of course, to what end would Heaven be without sheer might of its own. For while their lesser became casualties to the Machina's artillery fire and demonic meddling, measures were being taken fold.
Thunderous war cries rang out from the fire-filled skies, the demonic hordes soon being rushed from the side by a flurry of steel, blade and lance alike. For the mighty Valkyries had been called to action, several dive-bombing to purge the demons with holy blasts and blessed armor. While they did battle with Hell, several magicians had formulated their own ploy. Gathered to the back of Heaven's mass armies, they brought to life ancient and arcane mutterings, each of which had breathed new life into powerful allies. Great dragons of white, monolithic beasts adorned in armor, and several more monsters of biblical standards lay waste to all in their sight, the Machina war machines being their primary target. One in particular, a four-legged beast glimmering in silver and horns and heralding the face of a lion, charged headlong into the Machina's advancing tanks, scaling uneven terrain with ease.
Such utter devastation raged upon the sundered earth and the demon's shrieked in agony as they were torn apart upon Angelic bombardment and mechanized retaliation. It was a proverbial meat grinder, yet into such fury did more demons pour forth undaunted. The strong trampled the weak as the bodies grew higher and higher around them, and they never ceased in the feverish rush to meet their enemies up close. The longer it drew on the greater the forces, and with a titanic heave one chasm buckled outwards before the might of a corrupted machine. Giant in scale, it resembled nothing less then a city sized dragon with flesh erupting like cancerous pustules between once ordered rows of armored plates. Thruster and wings bathed the scorched earth in their exhaust and tore into the sky to crash upon the Angelic lines with lances of arcane energy cast by horrors too warped to gaze upon.And from its decks came the cackling of deranged warriors flinging themselves into open air if only to embrace a winged warrior on the end of their blades and drag them to the abyss below.
As the battle continued to rage, the forces of the Machina continued to push forward. The introduction of the big guns for every one of their opponents weren't a deterrent but rather a reason to fight even more zealously. There was yet one move that they could make use in their arsenal that would stand tall even against a literal apocalypse like the one unleashing in front of them.
With a word to the high command the sky itself would flash. A rain of energy projectiles coming from high above, from space itself began to crash upon the battlefield hitting targets with surgical precision. Orbital Bombardments were usually a very last resort tactic but one that rarely failed to work when the Machina didn't bring the main guns to a campaign. It would be brief, however, one could only wonder who would be left standing when the debris and dust began to settle.
But even all this was to no one's surprise. The addition of a corrupted behemoth in control of the Demons and now lasers bombaring straight from the edges of space within the confines of the Nexus itself; none of it was all too shocking for the combatants involved. There were gasps of weary nature of course, in many of abundance as both Hell and Machina began to unleash their full powers. Such was the fate of those in the Nexus however, for this battle, this grand part in escalation; it was nothing new to the inhabitants that lived this different kind of hell each and evert day. It was also no surprise to come when the myriad of bellowing roars shook the landscape itself.
For revealed among the smoke and dust, among the remains corpses and over the clashing music of battle, came the copious wave of beasts. Of monsters and men, towering constructs of astral energy took shape in the form of minotaurs, their horns reached high as if to stab the Nexus' sky itself. Weapons ranging from axes and hammers, to cannons dripping in holy magic adorned these monsters. With another bellow, they flung themsleves without cause or abandon towards the two other armies swallowing the earth whole. Unrespondent to the orbital fire, some sought to crush whatever Machina they could find-which was plenty in on itself-while others converged their streams of holy beams right towards the hell dragon the Demons had managed to create. All the while, the sky rang down in a melody of crushing fire, dragged corpses ridden by demons, and plasmic bolts from the Machina's domain over the stars.
And over this concerto of carnage came the blaring of speakers dragged forth by corrupted machine and lesser demons, bleating forth a war cant to summon up great titans of lava and stone from the earth's shattered skin. Leviathan's that burned the air and glared upon the celestial's with all consuming contempt. Curled fists of primal rage clashed upon holy horns as the demons poured their blackened hearts into the fierce melee that swept up saint, sinner, and agnostic alike into the depths of barbarism. And in the sky the malignant drake of flesh and metal soared above the field and breached the clouds, only to crash down with all the fury of the Machina's own bombardment, sweeping down those caught before its spread wings in a meteoric crash upon the battlefield.
Even when the Chaos reached never before seen heights, the Machina didn't give up on their cold and mechanical take on the battle. Every move was calculated with painstakingly complex algorithms and executed with machine-precision. Now that the battle had devolved into a pure blood and coolant bath, the Machina snipers picked their targets like death gods on the prowl. A swift bullet or beam at the back of the head or center of mass could take any target and, if that failed, there was always the option of entombing all of them in this technological graveyard. For this purpose alone, sappers were disposed in great numbers, ready to blow heavy explosive charges and drop the mountains of scrap on everyone's head, if need be.
So too then, did Heaven's wrath descend on the battlefield. Congregations of stars and celestial bodies gathered into various, swirling swarms in the far reaches of space. Raised higher than any Machina technology could dare dream of, the forces of Heaven began their own orbital bombardment, eager to level the planets themselves if it secured them a final victory. Because at this point, the purpose for their conflict was long since forgotten, given sway only by their desire to conquer and win. Those who could still remember why they fought were much too jaded by the strife, this war of the three, to care. For war was war and so long as the Nexus continued to fester and pulse, those living in it would continue to be subjugated in this ever lasting torture.
