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Neve Al, day break
It was shortly after 0600, when everything went quiet. The relentless attacks against FCL troops went on throughout the night suddenly stopped. The Azanis and Nooslanders, they seemed to have withdrawn. Except for the screams of the injured, the smells of oil, high explosives, sweat, and Death, the blown-up buildings, and the burning wreckages, it seemed almost normal. The FCL troops were both puzzled and relieved at the same time. Their nerves were stretched to the breaking point -- and for some, beyond.
Then, slowly, a low humming noise started to reverbrate through the ravaged city. A noise that somehow invoked dread.
There they were, three huge, ungainly, and ponderous shapes cut out ominous shadows against a dawn sky. These shadows were almost like dark voids, portals into nothingness.
If you were at the right place at the right time, you could see a flash. A whoosh sound accompanied the flash, which was drowned out by the enormous bang of a HEAT round exploding against a FCL tank dug in somewhere in the city.
It had begun. The low whooshing sounds were punctuated by the higher tug tug tug of machine cannons. Occasionally, a small boom was producted by a missile hurling itself at several times the speed of sound. On the ground, FCL vehicles were destroyed indiscriminately. From tanks to AFCs to jeeps and even cars and motorcycles. The whole city was continuously rocked by explosions of various sizes.
The three dark shapes of death were almost like dragons of legend, gliding through air while breathing fire upon a hapless village, as the villagers cowered and prayed to their gods, and so did the FCL soldiers. Most of them were hiding behind covers, only a few brave souls dashed forward to help their injured brethren.
After what seemed like infinity, the attack ended. But the nightmare was not yet over. The low humming sound of these planes was soon replaced by another sound, that of a low and slow heartbeat. The sound of rotors.
Attack helos swarmed through the city sky, blasting FCL defense points with missiles and machine cannons. The defenders, many of them conscripts, were so completely stunned that they could only shiver in fear and stare staright ahead.
At long last, even the attack helos left. A nice soothing woman's voice filled the air of the city, beckoning the FCL soldiers to lay down their arms.
"Brave Franklychanland soldiers!" The voice began, "You are fighting an unjust war against the people of Azan, a war that you cannot win. Why are you fighting? You are not fighting to defend your own country, but to satisfy the ambitions of a madman. You are in another country, shooting at the Azani soldiers. You would buy anyone of them a drink if you meet him in a pub, and so would they.
"Brave soldiers of Frankgchanland! It is now time to bring an end to this conflict, so peace can start to heal this wounded land. With peace, you can go home to your parents, to your family, to your loved ones, and to your friends. You have fought with courage, even though your fighting is misguided. You are outnumbered and you are short on supplies. A lot of you are hungry. Many of you are wounded.
"Lay down your weapons. You will be treated humanely. We will tend to your injured, we will feed your hungry.
"Further resistance on your part will only bring more deaths to your side, and it will all be for nought, for you are fighting an unjust war, and unjust wars cannot be won."
It was shortly after 0600, when everything went quiet. The relentless attacks against FCL troops went on throughout the night suddenly stopped. The Azanis and Nooslanders, they seemed to have withdrawn. Except for the screams of the injured, the smells of oil, high explosives, sweat, and Death, the blown-up buildings, and the burning wreckages, it seemed almost normal. The FCL troops were both puzzled and relieved at the same time. Their nerves were stretched to the breaking point -- and for some, beyond.
Then, slowly, a low humming noise started to reverbrate through the ravaged city. A noise that somehow invoked dread.
There they were, three huge, ungainly, and ponderous shapes cut out ominous shadows against a dawn sky. These shadows were almost like dark voids, portals into nothingness.
If you were at the right place at the right time, you could see a flash. A whoosh sound accompanied the flash, which was drowned out by the enormous bang of a HEAT round exploding against a FCL tank dug in somewhere in the city.
It had begun. The low whooshing sounds were punctuated by the higher tug tug tug of machine cannons. Occasionally, a small boom was producted by a missile hurling itself at several times the speed of sound. On the ground, FCL vehicles were destroyed indiscriminately. From tanks to AFCs to jeeps and even cars and motorcycles. The whole city was continuously rocked by explosions of various sizes.
The three dark shapes of death were almost like dragons of legend, gliding through air while breathing fire upon a hapless village, as the villagers cowered and prayed to their gods, and so did the FCL soldiers. Most of them were hiding behind covers, only a few brave souls dashed forward to help their injured brethren.
After what seemed like infinity, the attack ended. But the nightmare was not yet over. The low humming sound of these planes was soon replaced by another sound, that of a low and slow heartbeat. The sound of rotors.
Attack helos swarmed through the city sky, blasting FCL defense points with missiles and machine cannons. The defenders, many of them conscripts, were so completely stunned that they could only shiver in fear and stare staright ahead.
At long last, even the attack helos left. A nice soothing woman's voice filled the air of the city, beckoning the FCL soldiers to lay down their arms.
"Brave Franklychanland soldiers!" The voice began, "You are fighting an unjust war against the people of Azan, a war that you cannot win. Why are you fighting? You are not fighting to defend your own country, but to satisfy the ambitions of a madman. You are in another country, shooting at the Azani soldiers. You would buy anyone of them a drink if you meet him in a pub, and so would they.
"Brave soldiers of Frankgchanland! It is now time to bring an end to this conflict, so peace can start to heal this wounded land. With peace, you can go home to your parents, to your family, to your loved ones, and to your friends. You have fought with courage, even though your fighting is misguided. You are outnumbered and you are short on supplies. A lot of you are hungry. Many of you are wounded.
"Lay down your weapons. You will be treated humanely. We will tend to your injured, we will feed your hungry.
"Further resistance on your part will only bring more deaths to your side, and it will all be for nought, for you are fighting an unjust war, and unjust wars cannot be won."
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