Warblade

Breath before the storm

After many hours The legion of Tempered Steel finally finished fortifying the base which they began calling "The Forge." Now the troops who had set up tents and fires in the plaza where sitting idle, playing cards, and cleaning weapons. There were ambient sounds of battle from the distance. Explosions, gunfire, the signature sound of laser cannons set the troops on edge.

"Those explosions are getting too close for comfort." A soldier said.

"Let them come, I'm waiting eagerly to destroy the collective traitors, or die trying." Another said boldly.

"It intrigues me why Warblade Revius hasn't ordered us to push forward, not that I don't enjoy a long break but I feel that we must move forward before the enemy does first." Tanev said as he polished his auto rifle.

"Forget the warblade, I say we move forward and take the enemy's next line." Vulcan interjected.

A few older soldiers chuckled at that statement, and one replied "And be slaughtered like animals?, the legions without warblades spend hundreds more lives throwing themselves uselessly against the enemy's fortifications." "Furthermore, we took this base on the first try with minimal casualties thanks to Righteous Fury." He continued.

"Righteous Fury would have perished if it wasn't for us!" Vulcan exclaimed.

"I suppose that means that one cannot survive without the other." Tanev said while he was inspecting his auto rifle.

Meanwhile on the lookout battlements of The Forge three soldiers stood watch over the hellish wasteland of battle, searching for signs of enemy advancement. The battlefield was a huge expanse of barbed wire and craters with tall blackened trees creating a skeletal canopy that casted a jagged shade across everything underneath them. Small dying fires burned, and the bodies and wrecks of the enemy and friendly troops littered the ground. The sky was a dark, dead, grey color and ash was always drifting through the air creating a orange haze when the sunlight sifted through it.

"Well this is officially the most boring job in the legion..." one of the lookouts said while staring through his binoculars at the dead grey battlefield.

"Shut your trap Seran, I'm not interested in your complaining." Another said. *Click*

"What was that?" The first one said as he looked around.

*Clack*

"Probably just a Rodent looking for scra-" before he could finish, a blade pierced through his armor and into his back. He writhed in pain for a short moment before falling to the ground in a heap with blood pooling around him.

"Horen!" The other lookout exclaimed before a hand clasp over his mouth and a blade slipped between his ribs.

The last lookout turned to see three collective soldiers standing over the corpses of his friends. Before he could react a steel mace crushed his helmet in, killing him immediately.

The lead collective soldier took out a radio transmitter, activated it and placed it on one of the dying soldier's chest. The three collective troopers turned and looked over the battlement and saw on the horizon, a group of bombers.