Post by Deleted on Oct 2, 2019 5:36:03 GMT -5
The Deep North - Blizzard Country - Abandoned Village 045 "Actombasnya"
Silent as the night, aided by the blizzarding snow and rough wind, six rough men of entirely Festria build, black fur and thick coats made their way slowly through the snow. They wore gloves to handle their weapons, and wore fabric masks to cover their muzzles, keeping the ice out and hiding slightly their breath, but not entirely, no. Never fully, much to their deep displeasure, though they would survive. Their frames were muscled, even the two females were buffer than most get, Amazonian in build thanks to genetic predisposition via selective 'breeding', of which is better called kidnapping and sex slavery, and as well a lifetime of endless training, brutal physical therapy and even hormone alterations. To think they all knew three or more languages and had college educations was absurd, but it was reality. It helped them to navigate their cruel reality, facing the hell that was the frozen north if not their homes in the various SITOC/SITONI mountain bases.
They had to trudge through this frozen hellscape all too often too. Their unit was a special exception to SITONI's policies on the application of their forces in combat - they were specialized entirely for dealing with the Ferals. The ferals, as they were called, were peoples of the north - the untamed and brutal, religion-less or perhaps just uncivilized civilization of the hellscape that was this deep territory. They had fought them for years, and they were a problem since well before the founding - they were scavengers, very resourceful and powerful, in their own right a nation but at the same time they didn't really seem to act like one. No cities, just moving tribes or isolated towns/villages that struck out to raid towns and all shared some form of commonality resulting in less internal violence, and more directed to their powerful southern neighbor that didn't consider them enough of a threat to try and wipe them out.
It was a quiet civil war. The kind that doesn't get news coverage often if at all, that kind that can't really be exploited very well either. The Ferals didn't like anyone but their own, and the Rovuellians would be immediately aware of any new equipment that showed up on the battlefield and where It came from simply because they knew that by and large, the Ferals did not make their own, lacking the facilities and industry to do much more than reclaim vehicles and make them work again if they could steal engines or fashion one together. Having electricity was itself a marvel here, though the Ferals still somehow managed, often stealing it by wiring discreetly into power lines or stealing mobile generators from the remains of prior engagements and sometimes engines out of damaged vehicles and finding ways to use them to power things.
If not smart, they were at the least resourceful, which made them such a difficult if somewhat low intensity opponent.
They were low in numbers, lower than Rovuellia, and their raids often only had about fifty men to a hundred if that, and not just twelve or twenty. Up here that was enough to destroy small villages however, and Rovuellia knew that allowing such to persist was a stain on its reputation, and would create many more problems in the long run. As such, SITONI and SITOC were hard at work trying to deal with the problem, both peacefully, and through organized but low intensity violence.
It meant of course, that the Black Furred Festria experiments and their three generations of offspring would be used in the task. Such was in the end, fine to them. It was a break from monotony, hiding in bases or working in the select villages they had to patrol thanks to their intersecting positions in the lines used for transporting things between bases. It made as well for some decent stories if things weren't dull. This of course was down time, despite the fact they were now actively on a mission.
They had reached the village earlier, though not long ago, forty minutes tops. They were having trouble recalling the time, as it was only daylight for a few hours here. That coupled with the intensity of the blizzard and fact they had no real equipment beyond ammo and weaponry, alongside a map and a useless compass and their weather specific gear, made for some information blackout in regards to time. They were still ahead of schedule though, so they weren't complaining. It hadn't quite been as long as it was projected to take, and it was still well within acceptable arrival times.
They would eventually reach a dirt trail hidden by a large rockface, saved from pilling up with snow. Resting over it, an owning made of old rotting wood and rusted, dented metal, partially collapsed over the remains of small shed of sorts at its edge. It looked to be burnt, though the fire had long since gone out. The group would collectively move forwards, and gather up by the edge, one examining the shed before coming back over to them and moving their helmet and hood a bit for visual comfort. They would all make final combat preparations - if they did find a Feral, they'd have to kill them most likely.
But they weren't likely to, they figured. It'd been days, and they were just scouting a last-known location. In all likelihood, they were already long gone.
Something they were good at being, given Ferals lived here. They knew this place better than they did, and they were better suited to being mobile in it.
The Festria would one by one begin their typical bump-and-bound, one moving ahead and waiting by the corner of a building as the others moved past, keeping their rifle raised and scanning the area ahead. They waited until they were last in line and got moving, others doing the same as they reached each building and each major road, working their way first to a partially collapsed church, empty and dark within, but calm. They entered it one by one, and cleared the building, no one to be found, just overturned bookshelves and a broken down barricade alongside some damage to the building itself and missing items of value.
They would all wait within its confines for a time, conducting visual recon in a lull in the intensity of their blizzard that let them see a bit further, but once it was over and the wind returned full force they were back out on the street and moving from building to building. Along the way they observed the bodies and remains. Heads on spikes were a common theme, but the bodies were gone, this done by intention - anything was food or raw materials to them. This village had been mostly humans with Kithium residences as second. It was brutal, and had they not been massively desensitized, it would had been harder not to vomit or at least heave at the imagery. Ruined homes, small one bedroom huts/ice brick houses or wooden homes for the wealthier residents were apparent, some collapsed from kinetic force, others brought down with fire, some just damaged. Others were seemingly in pristine condition, save maybe windows or doors. Few people likely survived, if any. This raid wasn't just for looting. They'd came to kill the people within.
This was uncommon. Wiping villages out was a rare practice, and it was usually because the village itself either posed a threat, or it looked like a tempting way to send a message. What message, and why, though?
The thought crossed all of their minds - but they didn't have any answer beyond the two that came up ' Stop coming this way' or 'This will happen again if you do not surrender something something'
In the end it wasn't a thought to be addressed. They would all gather up in a intact house and wait for a time as the storm cleared up again, scanning the streets. They soon reached the village center, what had been a market. The remains of a tank were visible, a very old landship once used by the Red Guard, now just a husk, rusted visibly. It was a surprise it was even mobile, but the loads of scrap and such on its framework made it obvious that it was only recently repaired, and it was not in the best condition to begin with. An RPG rested on the other side of the square behind some turned over crates. Maybe that was the reason such had been done, the total obliteration of the village population - They'd resisted themselves. The weapons here were old, not a shock really. The only new thing was the RPG itself, and it wasn't new by their standards, but was definitely new to here. They had left it behind, which was itself more surprising. They had left all these weapons behind.
Why, became the question. But they had no real answer as to that either. They found corpses belonging to both sides on the other side of the village as they advanced towards the edge of it leading towards the base of the mountain, hoping to find more answers there.
Silent as the night, aided by the blizzarding snow and rough wind, six rough men of entirely Festria build, black fur and thick coats made their way slowly through the snow. They wore gloves to handle their weapons, and wore fabric masks to cover their muzzles, keeping the ice out and hiding slightly their breath, but not entirely, no. Never fully, much to their deep displeasure, though they would survive. Their frames were muscled, even the two females were buffer than most get, Amazonian in build thanks to genetic predisposition via selective 'breeding', of which is better called kidnapping and sex slavery, and as well a lifetime of endless training, brutal physical therapy and even hormone alterations. To think they all knew three or more languages and had college educations was absurd, but it was reality. It helped them to navigate their cruel reality, facing the hell that was the frozen north if not their homes in the various SITOC/SITONI mountain bases.
They had to trudge through this frozen hellscape all too often too. Their unit was a special exception to SITONI's policies on the application of their forces in combat - they were specialized entirely for dealing with the Ferals. The ferals, as they were called, were peoples of the north - the untamed and brutal, religion-less or perhaps just uncivilized civilization of the hellscape that was this deep territory. They had fought them for years, and they were a problem since well before the founding - they were scavengers, very resourceful and powerful, in their own right a nation but at the same time they didn't really seem to act like one. No cities, just moving tribes or isolated towns/villages that struck out to raid towns and all shared some form of commonality resulting in less internal violence, and more directed to their powerful southern neighbor that didn't consider them enough of a threat to try and wipe them out.
It was a quiet civil war. The kind that doesn't get news coverage often if at all, that kind that can't really be exploited very well either. The Ferals didn't like anyone but their own, and the Rovuellians would be immediately aware of any new equipment that showed up on the battlefield and where It came from simply because they knew that by and large, the Ferals did not make their own, lacking the facilities and industry to do much more than reclaim vehicles and make them work again if they could steal engines or fashion one together. Having electricity was itself a marvel here, though the Ferals still somehow managed, often stealing it by wiring discreetly into power lines or stealing mobile generators from the remains of prior engagements and sometimes engines out of damaged vehicles and finding ways to use them to power things.
If not smart, they were at the least resourceful, which made them such a difficult if somewhat low intensity opponent.
They were low in numbers, lower than Rovuellia, and their raids often only had about fifty men to a hundred if that, and not just twelve or twenty. Up here that was enough to destroy small villages however, and Rovuellia knew that allowing such to persist was a stain on its reputation, and would create many more problems in the long run. As such, SITONI and SITOC were hard at work trying to deal with the problem, both peacefully, and through organized but low intensity violence.
It meant of course, that the Black Furred Festria experiments and their three generations of offspring would be used in the task. Such was in the end, fine to them. It was a break from monotony, hiding in bases or working in the select villages they had to patrol thanks to their intersecting positions in the lines used for transporting things between bases. It made as well for some decent stories if things weren't dull. This of course was down time, despite the fact they were now actively on a mission.
They had reached the village earlier, though not long ago, forty minutes tops. They were having trouble recalling the time, as it was only daylight for a few hours here. That coupled with the intensity of the blizzard and fact they had no real equipment beyond ammo and weaponry, alongside a map and a useless compass and their weather specific gear, made for some information blackout in regards to time. They were still ahead of schedule though, so they weren't complaining. It hadn't quite been as long as it was projected to take, and it was still well within acceptable arrival times.
They would eventually reach a dirt trail hidden by a large rockface, saved from pilling up with snow. Resting over it, an owning made of old rotting wood and rusted, dented metal, partially collapsed over the remains of small shed of sorts at its edge. It looked to be burnt, though the fire had long since gone out. The group would collectively move forwards, and gather up by the edge, one examining the shed before coming back over to them and moving their helmet and hood a bit for visual comfort. They would all make final combat preparations - if they did find a Feral, they'd have to kill them most likely.
But they weren't likely to, they figured. It'd been days, and they were just scouting a last-known location. In all likelihood, they were already long gone.
Something they were good at being, given Ferals lived here. They knew this place better than they did, and they were better suited to being mobile in it.
The Festria would one by one begin their typical bump-and-bound, one moving ahead and waiting by the corner of a building as the others moved past, keeping their rifle raised and scanning the area ahead. They waited until they were last in line and got moving, others doing the same as they reached each building and each major road, working their way first to a partially collapsed church, empty and dark within, but calm. They entered it one by one, and cleared the building, no one to be found, just overturned bookshelves and a broken down barricade alongside some damage to the building itself and missing items of value.
They would all wait within its confines for a time, conducting visual recon in a lull in the intensity of their blizzard that let them see a bit further, but once it was over and the wind returned full force they were back out on the street and moving from building to building. Along the way they observed the bodies and remains. Heads on spikes were a common theme, but the bodies were gone, this done by intention - anything was food or raw materials to them. This village had been mostly humans with Kithium residences as second. It was brutal, and had they not been massively desensitized, it would had been harder not to vomit or at least heave at the imagery. Ruined homes, small one bedroom huts/ice brick houses or wooden homes for the wealthier residents were apparent, some collapsed from kinetic force, others brought down with fire, some just damaged. Others were seemingly in pristine condition, save maybe windows or doors. Few people likely survived, if any. This raid wasn't just for looting. They'd came to kill the people within.
This was uncommon. Wiping villages out was a rare practice, and it was usually because the village itself either posed a threat, or it looked like a tempting way to send a message. What message, and why, though?
The thought crossed all of their minds - but they didn't have any answer beyond the two that came up ' Stop coming this way' or 'This will happen again if you do not surrender something something'
In the end it wasn't a thought to be addressed. They would all gather up in a intact house and wait for a time as the storm cleared up again, scanning the streets. They soon reached the village center, what had been a market. The remains of a tank were visible, a very old landship once used by the Red Guard, now just a husk, rusted visibly. It was a surprise it was even mobile, but the loads of scrap and such on its framework made it obvious that it was only recently repaired, and it was not in the best condition to begin with. An RPG rested on the other side of the square behind some turned over crates. Maybe that was the reason such had been done, the total obliteration of the village population - They'd resisted themselves. The weapons here were old, not a shock really. The only new thing was the RPG itself, and it wasn't new by their standards, but was definitely new to here. They had left it behind, which was itself more surprising. They had left all these weapons behind.
Why, became the question. But they had no real answer as to that either. They found corpses belonging to both sides on the other side of the village as they advanced towards the edge of it leading towards the base of the mountain, hoping to find more answers there.