[h3][color=9e0b0f][b]The Pitt - Ohio River Crossing - Battle of The Ford[/b][/color][/h3] [b]Mags Black[/b] “Come on then you big green bastard! Get some!” Thick mutant blood splattered across Mags’ face as her commander, Reddog, brought his heavy super-sledge down on the crippled mutant’s skull, shattering it into a ugly pulp before the green monster collapsed into the muddied ground of the Ohio River. She was nearly knocked down as the Pitt Raiders behind her surged up and out of their trenches, killing off the last wave of ferals and mutants that had managed to ford the river crossing. After the last of them had been brutally dispatched, the raiders retreated back behind the safety of their barricades to prepare for the next wave. Mags gagged and retched as she wiped the foul smelling blood from her cheek; before rubbing her fingers clean against the chaps of her leather armor. The mutant’s blood didn’t even smell like a human’s - but like some kind of weird chemical shit. It was absolutely disgusting. Reddog hopped down into the trench next to her, a grim look on his face, “Hell they just keep coming,” He said through gritted teeth, pulling out a cigarette with his bloodied hands and lighting one up, “There ain’t no end to these assholes. It's just wave after fuckin’ wave.” Mags slumped down against the trench wall, curling herself up and resting her head against her knees. Two full days on the front line had taken its toll on her and she felt her body starting to give out. The constant shelling, night attacks by ferals, and the always present sounds of FEV abominations wailing across the river reminding the raiders that there were yet more horrible things waiting to come: it was all too much. “I’m so tired,” she moaned, “I can’t take this shit anymore.” “We get rotated out to the back lines tomorrow,” Reddog growled, then roughly pulled Mags to her feet, “But until then, you fight like a soldier of Ashur damnit. Don’t be going weak on me bitch. You don’t wanna fight? Then the Foreman can always use more hands down in The Mill, I’d be happy to arrange that for you.” Mags suddenly heard a shout and the crash of a limp body as one of the raiders lingering at the top of the trench was suddenly struck by a bullet and collapsed down in a heap. The sounds of gunfire echoed up and down the line, and the rear artillery batteries began opening up yet again. “Another wave!” Someone shouted. “Let’s fuckin’ go,” Reddog gritted his sharpened teeth and hefted up his super-sledged. He reached into a pouch at his side and pulled out a syringe that he immediately injected into his arm. His eyes grew wide and his muscles pumped with whatever chem he’d just shot up with. Mags shrunk back, clutching at her assault rifle like it was a childhood stuffed animal. She made up her mind there and then. The first chance she got - she was getting the hell out of here. [h3][color=0072bc]Lake Huron - Kingdom of Luth Ore Freighter “Ironheart”[/color][/h3] Ellie de Blay stood upon the forward deck of the [i]Ironheart[/i] as the large Great Lakes ore freighter plowed its way through the choppy waves of Lake Huron with ease. The rear coal-fired engine of the freighter sent great black plumes of smoke skyward as it churned the ship's propellers to full speed. Their haste was fully against the Captain’s wishes, the veteran mariner uncomfortable with pressing the vessel’s ancient engine so hard, but Ellie didn’t want to linger in these waters any longer than they needed to. With the outbreak of war, she needed to get back to Luth and inform her father what was happening in the south - and if the rumors were true mutants were already infesting the great lakes. She was quickly running out of time. Her father’s partnership with The Pitt had been a fruitful one - wealth and weapons flowed from The Pitt back to Luth in exchange for the great quantity of Iron Ore than the Kingdom took from its mines at Hibbing. The exchange made sense, and mimicked the shipping routes of old that had once traversed the lakes to Clevand before the war. Ellie’s concern now though was that it was this very same lucrative partnership that could make Luth the target of the mutant army. If The Pitt’s supply of ore could be severed, it could cripple their ability to make war in the long term. Luth’s army, the Sons of Iron, was an elite group of heavily armored warriors - but relatively small in number compared to places like The Pitt or Ronto. They were equipped to fight off tribals and smugglers - not wage total war. A bosun’s whistle sounded from the raised pilothouse above her, and Ellie looked back to see the frantic motions of a lookout pointing towards something off in the distance, “Starboard side! Its coming in fast!” She heard him shout. Ellie immediately directed her gaze out to where the lookout was pointing, straining her eyes to see a small object approaching them from the distance - and rapidly closing. She motioned for one the nearby sailors to bring her a pair of binoculars, and when they did she focused in on the unknown object. It was a small ship, a pre-war sport boat of some kind, and it looked to have had its engine heavily modified to push its speed well past what it was designed for. A mutant was steering the craft, its body wrapped in heavy chains and with strange symbols painted in red all over its body like an odd form of tattoo. Ellie’s mouth fell open in horror as she saw what was piled around the mutant. She’d been around the Hibbing mines enough to recognize makeshift explosives when she saw them. “Sound the alarm!” She shrieked, “All hands on deck! Open fire on that craft!” The deck of the [i]Ironheart[/i] became a buzz of activity as the Luthine marines aboard the ship manned their posts, aiming down the sights of their rifles and directing mounted swivel guns towards the approaching vessel. The waters of Lake Huron were lit up with an untold number of bullets, but the mutant suicider was quick and nimble as it closed the distance, while some sort of heavy plating protected its operator from any shots that found their mark. Ellie’s heart sank as the ship drew closer, and she fully believed she was about to go down with the [i]Ironheart[/i] and all crew aboard - until one of the marines brought up a missile launcher and aimed it downrange. By luck or a steady hand, the missile hit home and triggered the explosives onboard the small ship. A massive explosion followed, violently shaking the [i]Ironheart[/i] and sending Ellie flying to the deck behind her. Bits and pieces of shrapnel embedded in the explosives ripped through the hull and killed several of the unlucky Luthine sailors caught out in the open. With ears ringing and unsteady feet, Ellie stood up back up and looked out at the empty smoke-covered water where the craft had been vaporized. It was completely gone, having been packed with enough explosives to level half a city. “Get us out of here!” Ellie called up to the helmsman, her eyes filled with fear, “We need to make for Whitefish Point and radio Luth for help!” Suddenly Ellie felt her legs give way underneath her, and she looked down to see a piece of shrapnel embedded in her thigh - shock and adrenaline having allowed her to ignore it until now. The last thing she saw before she passed out were a group of sailors rushing to her aid.