(This little short story is set during AW-V of the VWP’s history, which I wouldn’t blame you for not having read about, but I think it’s neat enough to warrant a read)
Rifleman Onkaavl hurriedly dashed through the snow. Bullets and shells whizzed by overhead as his paws pierced the white sheet blanketing the ground. The deafening roar of the wind died down as he finally made it to a defensive position, throwing himself into the defilade before a stray shot could rip into his flesh.
The assault had come with little warning, as no-one expected an attack to come through one of the famously ruthless blizzards of the northern tundras, just what the hell were they thinking? Fighting had only broken out a few weeks prior, no-one much caring for the snow blasted plains until some rich plutonium deposits had been discovered beneath. Onkaavl’s home now enjoyed rich support from the superpower of Vif’Ream, a necessary evil to hold back their enemies, themselves now bolstered by Karrashian support.
A bullet flying close enough for him to hear a crack in the air yanked him back to the present. He pulled his rifle free of the strap on his chest, checking the barrel and mechanisms were clear before daring to glance over the edge. The raging blizzard reduced visual range to only a few dozen meters in front, even that only afforded by the thick set of goggles he wore. Orders crackled over the radio, and he joined his comrades in bracing over the slight hill, sights aimed towards their best guess of where the enemy was coming from.
A few tense moments passed, though not in silence as the battle raged on around them, heard but not seen. Onkaavl cursed himself for not getting his tail sleeve on in time, the frigid winds freezing his fur. He somehow found himself panting despite the cold, his heart thundering in his chest with anticipation and dread.
A vague dark shape, barely visible through the fog-like conditions. A gunshot. More. Recoil hitting his shoulder. The shape collapsed into the snow. They fired into the unknown, gunning down anything that moved for a few minutes. The fate of any infantry that crossed into their line of sight was already sealed; no Vaiaelon could fire accurately on the move, much less when under fire themselves. Even as entrenched as they were, every second that passed felt like an eternity measured in heartbeats to Onkaavl.
A gunshot, this time not from the side but in front. A comrade went limp beside him. The return fire came suddenly and with vengeance, the volume of fire impossible for anything short of a vehicle mount. Onkaavl dropped down behind cover, then found himself scurrying further back as the high calibre rounds ripped through the defilade like nothing.
He tried to stick his gun up over his head to fire back, only to hear that accursed clnnk of a jam. The rifles they’d received were cutting edge, but that blessing came with the curse of teething problems, only amplified by the harsh environment. He swore as he found a spot further down the hill, trying to fiddle with the complicated mechanisms of his weapon through the insulated gloves that were likely keeping him alive.
Heavy footsteps shook the ground and he looked up, the unmistakable lumbering form of an exoskeleton piercing through the mist and marching right past him. Smoke billowed from its exhaust as the engine furiously revved to keep up with the demands of the joints and mechanisms. The thunderous clap of its main cannon firing snapped Onkaavl from his awe, something exploding off in the distance a second later.
He turned his attention back to unjamming his gun, using the distraction provided by the exo. That accursed wind kept roaring in his ears, if only it’d calm down for a moment. It took a snowflake gently landing on his gun’s barrel for him to realise the blizzard had already died down. The mist was starting to disperse, and the battle accordingly growing in intensity.
But then, what was that thunderous roaring that still persisted? His question would unfortunately be answered by a shadow passing over his position. The reason the enemy had been able to attack through the blizzard wasn’t sheer stupidity and charging through the frigid winds, but because they’d been airdropped right at the front by an airship, now descending to join the fight.
The roaring of its engine grew louder as the gargantuan slab of steel descended to engage, the ground shaking under the deafening noise. Onkaavl’s ears popped as its dorsal turret opened fire, and he watched in horror as 3 shells streaked towards his home bunker, which promptly vanished in a plume of smoke and fire.
A short moment of quiet followed, all stunned by the arrival of the metal behemoth, before the all-encompassing crescendo of gunfire resumed. Onkaavl cleared the blockage of his gun despite the despair welling in his heart, before rejoining his comrades in the firing line. They would go on fighting for a dozen minutes more, but cut off from their only reasonable source of reinforcements, they soon lay dead or captured.
Admiral Graaviis Stevnic looked out over a balcony on the port side of his battleship. He took in the sight of his fleet cruising in formation through the skies, and allowed himself a moment of pride. The occasional cruiser dipped down into the blizzard to assist mopping up any remaining ground resistance in the area, but aside that they charged on unabated towards the dig sites. This field of radioactive gold sat in the northern hemisphere; hence it belonged by right to Karrash. If anyone held other ideas, then he would gladly persuade them otherwise, one high calibre shell at a time.
