Armada: Agony of the Gods

Claws of the Raptor

The Lyran supply factory, its chimneys billowing smoke in an unyielding dance with the winds, operated with a relentless fervor. Kilometer-long conveyor belts snaked through the sprawling complex, delivering fresh ammunition to a horde of soldiers who hustled to transport the vital cargo. Shells were deftly loaded into tanks, bullets meticulously slotted into hungry guns, and gas pumped into barrels with mechanical precision, ready to be dispatched by trucks.

Kaboom!!!

A seismic explosion ruptured the air, sending shockwaves through the factory. The initial blast echoed with thunderous force, catching the Lyran defenders off guard. Before they could muster a response, a secondary explosion cascaded through the labyrinthine network, setting off a chain reaction that turned the bustling hub of war machinery into a maelstrom of chaos.

The once industrious factory now became a spectacle of destruction, as fiery tongues of devastation licked at the remnants of what was once an essential stronghold for the Lyran war effort. The symphony of destruction echoed the success of Darius and Calista's strategic prowess, leaving behind only the echoes of destruction in the smoky aftermath.

"They didn't expect to be obliterated by the long defunct Raptor Stronghold," remarked Calista with a wry smile. "We must press the advantage".

Darius, his gaze fixed on the strategic display, noted the lingering threat from active cannons along the Lyran supply lines.

"They're not retreating quietly. We've got active cannons in the supply zone," he stated, a furrow forming on his brow.

In response to the assault, the Lyrans unleashed a torrent of shells from their autocannons, a relentless rain seeking vengeance for the surprise attack. The walls of the revitalized fortress bore the brunt of the onslaught, each impact leaving a dent in the intensity of the retaliation.

As the echoes of the barrage resounded through the air, Darius and Calista exchanged a determined glance. The advantage gained was under siege, but within the reborn stronghold, the werewolf commanders were ready to weather the storm.

"Basilisk Tanks, attack formation! Return fire!" Darius's command resonated through the radio waves, penetrating the chaos of the battlefield.

Lieutenants, attuned to Darius's orders, swiftly transmitted the directive to the waiting tanks. In a synchronized display of precision, the tanks rumbled into position, forming an imposing line that stretched across the battlefront.

The werewolf commanders, standing within the reinforced walls of Stronghold Raptor, observed as the tanks aimed their formidable cannons at the distant Lyran supply factory. The air crackled with anticipation as the tanks locked onto their targets, ready to unleash a torrent of destruction.

With a thunderous howl, the tanks fired in unison, unleashing a barrage of shells that tore through the intervening space. The factory, once a pillar of Lyran war machinery, succumbed to the overwhelming force of the Basilisk Tanks. Explosions blossomed within the factory's confines, consuming it in a fiery spectacle of destruction.

The werewolf commanders, witnessing the obliteration from their vantage point, nodded in satisfaction. The Basilisk Tanks silenced the retaliation with resounding force, securing the upper hand for Stronghold Raptor and the forces under Darius's command.

"Splendid victory," proclaimed the Great Mother Wolf as the once tumultuous channels fell silent in the aftermath of destruction. "Yes, I admit, Cardinal, I have been watching, if only to witness the grandeur of the explosion."