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Neo-Confederate States of America

Georgian Frontier

Fierce gray clouds covered the sky. Rain cascaded from the sky. The earth was wet and muddy. It was only getting worse as time passed. Carts were getting stuck in the mud, along with the boots of men. Luckily, it wasn't the acidic rain that Georgia was cursed for. Horses were panicky as well. It was a long march, the men hadn't stopped since they left the train station, which was the quickest and effortless way into Georgia. Although the railroad didn't go as far as many hoped. It was so bad, a few of the men started to develop foot-rot or commonly know back in the Old World as trench-foot.

President Andrew Griffith and General-in-Chief Harley Crawford decided to send a company of men into the Frontier to resecure it. Over the winter, the amount of creatures in the Northern sector of Georgia tripled. There was no explanation of it. As soon as the snow and ice thawed out, these creatures started heading south, almost into the borders of Florida. They caused quite the stir up, as frontiersmen and settlers began losing their lives. The creatures were always a constant threat, but now they are an immediate danger, or so Andrew declared during an address. Crawford used the crisis to his advantage, as he wanted to station some soldiers in the North, hoping to maintain a military outpost that would force the railroad to be built further north. So, Crawford sent Lieutenant-General Elrod Soyer to oversee this operation.

Soyer took out a pair of binoculars, hoping to see through the rain and out into the distance. This action proved fruitless, as the rain only seem to be thicker further north. "There is no goddamn way we can make it down this ridge." He said openly to his troops. "If we try to descend, we will most likely lose a few carts. If we don't descend, then we remain in the rain." Soyer stroked his face, as if he had any facial hair on it. "Shit..take it slow. I want one cart at a time." Soyer declared. As he ordered, so they did. Those under his command were not as experienced as he wish they would be. They were fresh recruits. The experienced soldiers were back in Florida, trying to bring order. Apparently, rebels were making a foothold down there. Regardless of what was happening in Florida, Soyer carried on in Georgia.

Soyer and his men descended down the ridge, slipping through the mud. The carts repeatedly got stuck. They kept pressing on. By a miracle, they managed to get down the ridge without incident. The company made camp by the ridge, finding an overhang they could take cover in. Soyer took out his crudely-drawn map. "Now, reports are coming from this area... here" He pointed on the map for one of his junior officers. "And here." He pointed again. "We are in the middle of those two areas and I don't see a god damn thin-"

Soyer was cut off by one of his scouts. "Sir! We have movement to the north-west. Moving this way, quickly."

"Alright, defensive positions!" Soyer ordered. His men hurried, some taking cover behind carts, others found some else where. As his men were doing this, Soyer kept observing the surroundings, looking for any movement. All he saw was rain in almost every direction. Some movement caught his attention in the corner of his eye. Just as he turned to face it, from behind him he heard a bloodcurdling scream. 

"They're here!" One man shouted.

"So many of them!" Another shouted.

The rain was too thick for Soyer to see. Some of the men were too far away. Yet something was picking them off. Several shots went off and hair-prickling roar erupted from the rain. "Arms at the ready! Fire at will!" Soyer shouted, one of his junior officers repeated it further away. More shots went off, he watched muzzle flashes go off. More screams, more roaring. It seemed to get louder and more frequent. He hoped they would make it through the storm.

Tallahassee, Florida

A horn blared, warning anyone who is supposed to be a board that the train will be leaving shortly. To confirm this, a gawky man stood out from the train, shouting at people to come aboard or be left behind. Most of the passengers that boarded were settlers, believing that Georgia has new opportunities for them. The rest were soldiers on their way to Pensacola

The train sighed and shuffled. Its wheels churned, smoke bellowed out from it. Stragglers hurried with their belongs, making last minute boarding attempts. Two of these stragglers were Delmont Huckleberry and Second lieutenant Gale Buxton. Delmont and Gale were going to Pensacola, as Delmont was to be escorted to there and into Badyoyo Tribe territory.

Delmont's objective was to represent the Neo-Confederacy and discuss relations with the tribes. Mostly in the interest of borders and trade. Gale was sent to oversee the success of the diplomacy and the safe return of Delmont. Gale believed that the tribes were rather barbaric people, that they needed to be revitalized and civilized. He preferred to eradicate them instead of conversate.

The duo sat in one of the high-class cars, which were rather ornate in design, specifically for VIPs or maybe the President himself. Delmont sat down at the mini bar. Gale decided to sit behind him, in a booth that had a window. 

"So, Mister Ambassador." Gale said as he stuffed a bit of chew behind his bottom lip, packing it tightly. "Yous think we can come to reasonable terms with the Bad Land savages? 

"I believe we can come to terms with these people." Delmont exclaimed as he pulled out a freshly wrapped cigarette and placed it between his lips while he dug into his pants in search for his matchbox. "The President wants to expand into Alabama. Most of Georgia is a commonly known shit-hole. The further North you go into, the more dangerous it gets." The cigarette bobbled between his lips as he spoke.

Gale nodded, listening with half intent. He didn't really care about diplomacy. The only diplomacy he ever knew was the barrel of his gun. "So? Whys can't we just take care of that problem?"

The Ambassador found what he was looking for, pulled out a match and struck it against the side of the box. The match flared with life and he brought it to the tip of the cigarette and took a drag. "The beasts in the North are far too difficult for us. We lose thousands of people in that region. Alabama, well, you see..." Delmont exhaled. "If we don't do this, if I don't do this, we could have troubles in the west. These people are expanding and if they decide to expand towards us. They definitely could." He placed the cigarette between his two forefingers and looked at it, smoke dancing off the tip. He then placed it at the ashtray, to end up pouring himself a glass of whisky. Delmont gestured to Elrod if he wanted some, the officer nodded. Delmont poured another and gave it to him.

Gale brought the glass to lips and tossed it back and slammed the glass on the table. It was damn good, too damn good of whisky. Gale thought he was blessed by God to be on this car. "So if these... bad boys? If theys come, there be no stopping dem?" 

"Our army may be professionally trained, but they outnumber us. We wouldn't be able hold and we have no allies. The President has yet to decide about the R.S.C." Delmont took a quick swig. "Personally, I believe we should have gone to them first, because if negotiations with these people go sour, we may as well have a war on hands. We don't have the weaponry, the manpower, the proper resources. Oh God, it will be a fucking mess" Delmont trembled at the thought of his head being cut off and used for the children to kick around. Gale quieted, understanding the importance of this mission. 

Although Gale and Delmont had around two hundred soldiers with them, they knew it wouldn't be enough to bring them home if anything occurred. They would be miles away from their border and most likely in the heart of Badyoyo territory. "God help us.." Delmont mumbled and finished his drink.
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