Tiberius67
sharkbites
DX3214
kvlt
Dixie Fiend
Noctis
Crusader LordDecanus Cassius - Somewhere Near The Legion and Khan Border
Decanus Cassius and his explorer scouts had been tracking the band of the 80s for some time, keeping a careful watch on them as they approached the border. He’d been sending back regular reports to the Military Governor, Gaius Tranquillus, who had ordered the entire stretch of border carefully monitored and to keep him informed of the movement of any 80s force. Initially, it had been thought that they might veer west and link up with others of their tribe, but as the band came closer and closer to the Legion’s territory however, it was clear that their intent was to cross the border and enter Caesar’s domain. That could not be allowed.
Without new orders from the Military Governor, Cassius’s only option was to engage as it would unthinkable to allow an armed rabble to enter Legion territory unchallenged. The 80s were little better than an organized raid gang, albeit one that had been growing in significant strength, and to allow even such a petty group of them to plunder Northern Utah could not be allowed. Cassius’s contubernium was smaller, but the Legion had faced such long odds before. Each of his men were well equipped and experienced Legion explorers. They knew every crack and crevice of this landscape and could easily maneuver themselves into position for an ambush.
So it was that the Contubernium of Decanus Cassius crept up to the 80s encampment, the riders were feasting on roasted brahmin and passing around a bottle of liquor, no doubt celebrating the recent kills and captures they’d just made. The evidence of their attack was all around. They’d hit a caravan, and had no doubt taken a share of plunder from the carcasses of pack brahmin and dead traders. Although from the looks of it, the haul had not been quite as good as what perhaps they’d been expecting. Judging from the lack of supplies and general disarray of the pack animals, they’d not been carrying much. Cassius thought that perhaps this group might have been heading through Khan territory and perhaps had already been robbed by a less murderous gang and been forced to turn back.
Silently the Legion killers approached, treading lightly in the hard dirt as they crept slowly. Machetes and revolvers drawn and spears raised. Yet for all their skills at stealth, there were always unknowns. A camp sentry had been posted in a hidden location just outside. Cassius had hoped that with their minds addled and bellies full of meat that the 80s would be unlikely to take such precautions and few raider gangs in such a state ever did. Yet it was a calculated risk, one he had just lost. The sentry spotted the approaching Legion and raised the alarm. It was do or die now, there was still time to get the drop on them. Cassius ordered rapid advance and his scouts followed suit, closing the distance between themselves and the 80s at a full out sprint.
Battle was about to commence when Cassius heard the sounds of someone speaking in latin, a ghoul it seemed and a slave at that. The 80s had not yet gone to attack. While other Decani might have ran the slave through and continued the assault, Cassius happened to be one of the few where diplomacy just might work. He often worked with tribals and raider gangs at the fringes of Legion territory, pitting them against one another with well placed bribes of Legion gold and slaves. It had served him well thus far.
He ordered a halt, and his contubernium formed up in a semicircle around the encampment, not letting their guard down for a moment and ready to pounce if things went south.
Cassius approached the ghoul slave,
“You speak our tongue well for a profligate,” Cassius remarked coldly, “Although your accent is not of one born to the Legion, you speak as one of the New Canaanites....”
“I shall bring you before Gaius Tranquillus, Governor of Northern Utah and Prefect of New Ravenna. Be warned, any act of treachery and you will all be on crosses before daybreak.”
---
City of New Ravenna, Provincial Capital of Northern Utah
New Ravenna was a relatively small but heavily fortified border city at the edge of Legion territory. Only miles from the border, it was an important trade hub and stop off for caravans traveling up and down the length of the I-15 towards the Khans and the Great Salt Lake. With word of the recent sacking of Salt Lake City, Gaius Tranquillus had raised the cities defenses and fortified its walls and barricades. Legionaries of the town’s Urban Cohort patrolled its gantries while machine-gun and artillery emplacements zero’d in a deadly field of fire that would dissuade even the most foolhardy of attacker from approaching. Traders, farmers, and civilians had flooded into the town from the surrounding region upon word of the encroaching 80s horde, and many now formed a shanty tent city outside of its walls, hoping to seek shelter within or to be protected by the Legion’s strong military presence. Fearing a siege, Gaius had restricted the numbers of civilians allowed to enter the city proper and kept a careful watch on his food stores to ensure enough for each fighting man and defender. Such measures were temporary however, with word sent to Caesar of the threat, it was only a matter of time before one or more of the western legions arrived to reinforce Utah.
Cassius and his contubernium escorted the group up to and through the gates of the city leading them through the twisting streets and alleys that marked a strange mixture of old world ruins and Legion architecture. The Governor's House was a simple yet impressive looking building of brick and concrete. It had been a police precinct before the war and would act as a “fortress within a fortress” the last bastion from which the Gaius and his most elite troops would make a last stand in the event of the cities fall.
Cassius ushered the 80s inside, where Gaius waited upon their arrival seated on a rudimentary throne and carefully eyed them, surrounded by armed Legionaries. To his left was the standard of New Ravenna, a spear clutched in the talons of a watchful hawk. While a flag bearing the symbol of the bull stood proudly to his right: that of Caesar’s own.
A hooded figure draped in crimson next to Gauis announced an introduction, speaking in the common tongue of the 80s,
“You stand before Gaius Tranquillus, servant of Caesar and Governor of Northern Utah. Speak and you shall be heard.”
Lacer-Sergeant Robert Kyle - En Route to Briefing
Robert entered the debriefing in Hanger 2 to find Paladin-General Wilson and the rest of the attack contingent of Vertibird pilots already assembled. He quickly found a seat and sat down, a bit sheepish at having arrived late but hoped the knowledge it had been largely out of his hands would temper any reaction from the Paladin-General. Thankfully that appeared to be the case.
"Good work with the Legatus, Lancer-Sergeant", Wilson said in an approving manner, "Now that you're here we can begin. This, ladies and Gentlemen, is your next mission....Detroit."
Robert stared up at the screen, studying the map closely. He’d heard about the fighting in Detroit. That theater of war had probably seen perhaps worst action in this conflict to date. Being deployed there might very well be the most challenging mission of his career in the Brotherhood. Even worse than Maxson and The Commonwealth.
"The current situation there is critical, half of Detroit proper has been overrun, and Windsor is under constant pressure across the bridges. To compound things, their Chief of Staff is a traitor and staging a coup in conjunction with Cult sympathizers in their Legislature. Our analysts believe they won't last 48 hours without reinforcements. Commodore Hackett begins landing operations in Detroit and Windsor within the hour, but the commander of the IRD forces has made a urgent request, and Hackett doesn't have the means to accomplish it with the forces at his disposal." The map zoomed in to a area in central Detroit. "The front has largely stabilized along Eight-Mile Road. This is Highland Park, about four miles behind enemy lines. A large number of civilians, well over a thousand by the IRD's estimates, have taken shelter there. The only thing between them and the Cult is what's left of the two Infantry Battalions that managed to reach them before being completely cut off by the Enemy."
“Hell of a situation,” Robert muttered quietly to the Lancer next to him, who nodded grimly.
"In spite of their gallant defense, Highland Park will fall in a matter of hours unless drastic action is taken", Wilson continued, "The Plan is this....the Squadron will execute a combat drop of Knights directly behind the IRD defensive positions. To maintain surprise, the local defenders will not be told you're coming. At the same time, the IRD will drive on Highland Park from the North with all the forces they can muster. The Knights will need to help the defenders hold the line while the civilians are evacuated, then execute a fighting withdraw back to IRD lines. Casualties will almost certainly be high, but if successful, it will help convince the Detroiters we are sincere about assisting them against the Enemy. Once the Knights are deployed, the Squadron will report to Commodore Hackett for further orders."
"Wheels up in thirty minutes", Wilson concluded gravely, "Ad Victoriam!"
"Ad Victoriam!” Robert shouted enthusiastically, reveling in the camaraderie and strength of his Brothers and Sisters around him. He’d missed this: dearly. His service under Maxson had been some of the best years of his life, and it had all been torn apart tragically by the events in The Commonwealth. After that, he thought perhaps he’d never be able to say that phrase again with pride and vigor. Yet here he was, surrounded once more by fellow Brotherhood soldiers: by family. Once more he could say that phrase and never think twice about his convictions and about what his purpose was.
The Paladin-General was a strong leader. A good commander and a cunning tactician from what he’d seen. He’d reacted quickly and decisively when the Legion forces had been ambushed in Indianapolis, quickly deploying his forces where they were needed to best aid their Legion comrades. Between the two of them, the Legate and the Paladin-General: Robert was confident that the combined push towards Pittsburgh would succeed where others had failed. Now it was time for The Brotherhood to secure a wavering front up north and shore up a bulwark against the horrors that lurked beyond human understanding. Detroit would not fall, he’d do his best to ensure that. He had a purpose once more and a commander he knew he could rely on.
Robert looked to the Paladin-General, saluted proudly, and made his way to his bird to begin take-off preparation.
Time to rain hell on some mutie bastards. For The Brotherhood of Steel.
Decanus Cassius and his explorer scouts had been tracking the band of the 80s for some time, keeping a careful watch on them as they approached the border. He’d been sending back regular reports to the Military Governor, Gaius Tranquillus, who had ordered the entire stretch of border carefully monitored and to keep him informed of the movement of any 80s force. Initially, it had been thought that they might veer west and link up with others of their tribe, but as the band came closer and closer to the Legion’s territory however, it was clear that their intent was to cross the border and enter Caesar’s domain. That could not be allowed.
Without new orders from the Military Governor, Cassius’s only option was to engage as it would unthinkable to allow an armed rabble to enter Legion territory unchallenged. The 80s were little better than an organized raid gang, albeit one that had been growing in significant strength, and to allow even such a petty group of them to plunder Northern Utah could not be allowed. Cassius’s contubernium was smaller, but the Legion had faced such long odds before. Each of his men were well equipped and experienced Legion explorers. They knew every crack and crevice of this landscape and could easily maneuver themselves into position for an ambush.
So it was that the Contubernium of Decanus Cassius crept up to the 80s encampment, the riders were feasting on roasted brahmin and passing around a bottle of liquor, no doubt celebrating the recent kills and captures they’d just made. The evidence of their attack was all around. They’d hit a caravan, and had no doubt taken a share of plunder from the carcasses of pack brahmin and dead traders. Although from the looks of it, the haul had not been quite as good as what perhaps they’d been expecting. Judging from the lack of supplies and general disarray of the pack animals, they’d not been carrying much. Cassius thought that perhaps this group might have been heading through Khan territory and perhaps had already been robbed by a less murderous gang and been forced to turn back.
Silently the Legion killers approached, treading lightly in the hard dirt as they crept slowly. Machetes and revolvers drawn and spears raised. Yet for all their skills at stealth, there were always unknowns. A camp sentry had been posted in a hidden location just outside. Cassius had hoped that with their minds addled and bellies full of meat that the 80s would be unlikely to take such precautions and few raider gangs in such a state ever did. Yet it was a calculated risk, one he had just lost. The sentry spotted the approaching Legion and raised the alarm. It was do or die now, there was still time to get the drop on them. Cassius ordered rapid advance and his scouts followed suit, closing the distance between themselves and the 80s at a full out sprint.
Battle was about to commence when Cassius heard the sounds of someone speaking in latin, a ghoul it seemed and a slave at that. The 80s had not yet gone to attack. While other Decani might have ran the slave through and continued the assault, Cassius happened to be one of the few where diplomacy just might work. He often worked with tribals and raider gangs at the fringes of Legion territory, pitting them against one another with well placed bribes of Legion gold and slaves. It had served him well thus far.
He ordered a halt, and his contubernium formed up in a semicircle around the encampment, not letting their guard down for a moment and ready to pounce if things went south.
Cassius approached the ghoul slave,
“You speak our tongue well for a profligate,” Cassius remarked coldly, “Although your accent is not of one born to the Legion, you speak as one of the New Canaanites....”
“I shall bring you before Gaius Tranquillus, Governor of Northern Utah and Prefect of New Ravenna. Be warned, any act of treachery and you will all be on crosses before daybreak.”
---
City of New Ravenna, Provincial Capital of Northern Utah
New Ravenna was a relatively small but heavily fortified border city at the edge of Legion territory. Only miles from the border, it was an important trade hub and stop off for caravans traveling up and down the length of the I-15 towards the Khans and the Great Salt Lake. With word of the recent sacking of Salt Lake City, Gaius Tranquillus had raised the cities defenses and fortified its walls and barricades. Legionaries of the town’s Urban Cohort patrolled its gantries while machine-gun and artillery emplacements zero’d in a deadly field of fire that would dissuade even the most foolhardy of attacker from approaching. Traders, farmers, and civilians had flooded into the town from the surrounding region upon word of the encroaching 80s horde, and many now formed a shanty tent city outside of its walls, hoping to seek shelter within or to be protected by the Legion’s strong military presence. Fearing a siege, Gaius had restricted the numbers of civilians allowed to enter the city proper and kept a careful watch on his food stores to ensure enough for each fighting man and defender. Such measures were temporary however, with word sent to Caesar of the threat, it was only a matter of time before one or more of the western legions arrived to reinforce Utah.
Cassius and his contubernium escorted the group up to and through the gates of the city leading them through the twisting streets and alleys that marked a strange mixture of old world ruins and Legion architecture. The Governor's House was a simple yet impressive looking building of brick and concrete. It had been a police precinct before the war and would act as a “fortress within a fortress” the last bastion from which the Gaius and his most elite troops would make a last stand in the event of the cities fall.
Cassius ushered the 80s inside, where Gaius waited upon their arrival seated on a rudimentary throne and carefully eyed them, surrounded by armed Legionaries. To his left was the standard of New Ravenna, a spear clutched in the talons of a watchful hawk. While a flag bearing the symbol of the bull stood proudly to his right: that of Caesar’s own.
A hooded figure draped in crimson next to Gauis announced an introduction, speaking in the common tongue of the 80s,
“You stand before Gaius Tranquillus, servant of Caesar and Governor of Northern Utah. Speak and you shall be heard.”
Lacer-Sergeant Robert Kyle - En Route to Briefing
Robert entered the debriefing in Hanger 2 to find Paladin-General Wilson and the rest of the attack contingent of Vertibird pilots already assembled. He quickly found a seat and sat down, a bit sheepish at having arrived late but hoped the knowledge it had been largely out of his hands would temper any reaction from the Paladin-General. Thankfully that appeared to be the case.
"Good work with the Legatus, Lancer-Sergeant", Wilson said in an approving manner, "Now that you're here we can begin. This, ladies and Gentlemen, is your next mission....Detroit."
Robert stared up at the screen, studying the map closely. He’d heard about the fighting in Detroit. That theater of war had probably seen perhaps worst action in this conflict to date. Being deployed there might very well be the most challenging mission of his career in the Brotherhood. Even worse than Maxson and The Commonwealth.
"The current situation there is critical, half of Detroit proper has been overrun, and Windsor is under constant pressure across the bridges. To compound things, their Chief of Staff is a traitor and staging a coup in conjunction with Cult sympathizers in their Legislature. Our analysts believe they won't last 48 hours without reinforcements. Commodore Hackett begins landing operations in Detroit and Windsor within the hour, but the commander of the IRD forces has made a urgent request, and Hackett doesn't have the means to accomplish it with the forces at his disposal." The map zoomed in to a area in central Detroit. "The front has largely stabilized along Eight-Mile Road. This is Highland Park, about four miles behind enemy lines. A large number of civilians, well over a thousand by the IRD's estimates, have taken shelter there. The only thing between them and the Cult is what's left of the two Infantry Battalions that managed to reach them before being completely cut off by the Enemy."
“Hell of a situation,” Robert muttered quietly to the Lancer next to him, who nodded grimly.
"In spite of their gallant defense, Highland Park will fall in a matter of hours unless drastic action is taken", Wilson continued, "The Plan is this....the Squadron will execute a combat drop of Knights directly behind the IRD defensive positions. To maintain surprise, the local defenders will not be told you're coming. At the same time, the IRD will drive on Highland Park from the North with all the forces they can muster. The Knights will need to help the defenders hold the line while the civilians are evacuated, then execute a fighting withdraw back to IRD lines. Casualties will almost certainly be high, but if successful, it will help convince the Detroiters we are sincere about assisting them against the Enemy. Once the Knights are deployed, the Squadron will report to Commodore Hackett for further orders."
"Wheels up in thirty minutes", Wilson concluded gravely, "Ad Victoriam!"
"Ad Victoriam!” Robert shouted enthusiastically, reveling in the camaraderie and strength of his Brothers and Sisters around him. He’d missed this: dearly. His service under Maxson had been some of the best years of his life, and it had all been torn apart tragically by the events in The Commonwealth. After that, he thought perhaps he’d never be able to say that phrase again with pride and vigor. Yet here he was, surrounded once more by fellow Brotherhood soldiers: by family. Once more he could say that phrase and never think twice about his convictions and about what his purpose was.
The Paladin-General was a strong leader. A good commander and a cunning tactician from what he’d seen. He’d reacted quickly and decisively when the Legion forces had been ambushed in Indianapolis, quickly deploying his forces where they were needed to best aid their Legion comrades. Between the two of them, the Legate and the Paladin-General: Robert was confident that the combined push towards Pittsburgh would succeed where others had failed. Now it was time for The Brotherhood to secure a wavering front up north and shore up a bulwark against the horrors that lurked beyond human understanding. Detroit would not fall, he’d do his best to ensure that. He had a purpose once more and a commander he knew he could rely on.
Robert looked to the Paladin-General, saluted proudly, and made his way to his bird to begin take-off preparation.
Time to rain hell on some mutie bastards. For The Brotherhood of Steel.
