Citizen/Soldier (The Battle of Falcon Ridge)

I look at the faces of my troops. They come from all walks of life: sons, daughters, wives, husbands, and lovers. They look to me, they look to the officers to lead them into battle. None of them want to live a life under Gilda. If she comes to power, she will enslave us rebels, griffon subspecies, and make war on our neighbors to the south.

That I cannot allow. I can see it in their eyes, a drive stronger than all. Lieutenant Von Lowe is right. They will follow me against the armies of hell, but the Gilda Faction will have to do for now. The gunfire never ceased from enemy artillery nor from the guns of our navy. The navy have been shelling the fortifications for several days now.

"In war...sacrifices must be made, it pains me to say this as I care about you as I would my own family, you are all my family," I said to my gathered troops amid the roar of the cannons and shells slamming into the ground, "when this war is over, I promise to you all, to all the Griffon Kingdom, a future brighter than any time in our past,"

The navy has done all they could to soften the lines. When the shelling stopped, it was our turn, "FIX BAYONETS!" I ordered to my troops, the order echoed from the officers to the soldiers. The receivers of Bergmann machine guns were cocked back, "this is our time now...FORWARD!" with that, we charged with bayonets at the ends of our rifles.

The cries for battle from thousands of soldiers came out of the trenches supported by our machine guns and artillery. Even with the shelling from naval guns, the Gilda Faction artillery rained shells upon us. Rifles were picking us apart bit by bit while machine guns reaped a harvest of flesh. Many commanders would have fallen back in retreat.

Not these soldiers, from grenade to rifle they charged up the hill under my lead. I shot a maxim-gunner in the head with my Walther and helped pave the way. No matter how much ground we gain, there were still losses on our side. While I led the first line into the first line of concrete trenches into the forts, a machine pillbox was bringing death.

I can feel the bullets fly passed me as I leaped over the trench to take out the pillbox. I fought off a couple Gilda Faction soldiers killing one by smacking him across the cheek and coming down on another to bash his brain in with my trench mace, and made my way to the back of the pillbox. I peered an eye into the back entrance and saw the crew.

I tossed in a stick grenade, and the gun ceased firing. I went inside with my pistol, and saw the grenade had done the work it needed to do. Another pillbox was hit by a shell. We were attacking a line nearly two miles long between our trench and the forts, and nearly three miles wide. Through all of this, Gabby and Gretchen were still at my side.

A bullet went passed me, and hit Gretchen in the back leg, "Gabby! Get me your dressing, NOW!" I yelled to her in the thunder of battle. Gabby was in a foxhole getting ammunition to a machine gun, and answered my call to help a wounded friend. She ran as fast as she could with shells bursting all around. Such bravery is a sight to behold.

"Don't worry, we'll get you out of here," said Gabby stroking Gretchen's top feathers. Gretchen weakly smiled. I looked around at the field from the shellhole, and saw others that were not so lucky. Facedown in the mud, missing limbs or wings. Gabby was shooting back to cover her from her position. I attacked with the troops to attack the trench.

I aimed a headshot between the eyes of the officer in the trench as the rest of the troops poured in to take the trench. They maybe the enemy, but they held their ground to the last griffon. What brave soldiers they are. We did what we could for them, and gave them a burial with full honors. Thousands of bodies littered the field from our trench.

It seemed there was not one area of the field where there wasn't a dead body, killed in the most horrifying way imaginable on the field. There are worse ways to die than just getting shot. Sometimes living through it all is worse than dying. I saw a soldier where the only thing left was his head, looking at me with a dead look in his open blue eyes.

I closed his eyes, "You are in a better place...any place is better than this," I said, and went to the foxhole and helped Gretchen to her feet to the trench with the help of Gabby. I went to the trench where Gunther was giving food to the survivors and wounded. I sighed, and shook my head. I swear that griffon has a guardian angel at his side.

"Colonel! Colonel! We have a runner!" Gretchen called out, looking down the sight of her M1906 Luger Rifle. A few shots fired off at the escaping griffon. From her white head and brown fur and wings, I knew who it was. I had a shot, and took it as she was leaping for cover. I hit her in back of the thigh with my Model 6. A good pistol for the bits.

I went up from the trench to the ravaged earth to see Gilda limping back to the fort. I caught up to her, and she looked back to see my pistol pointed at her head, "Nice shot," she smirked, the clicking sounds of thousands and machine guns aimed at me and Gilda sounded as we met in the middle of the field. I signaled my soldiers to hold their fire.

I kneeled down to her, and pulled out my dressing from my belt, "You maybe my enemy, but your army cannot function without a leader," I said, turning an eye to her and dressing her wound, "I know of your plans after this...when you oust me...they are plans I cannot allow to go into effect, I will do everything in my power to stop you, Gilda,"

"You think you can stop me, your navy is wasting their shells...they will never break this fort, and when this war is over...I won't just kill you, no...I will have your head hang out the walls of Griffonstone Castle, and your soldiers will be my slaves, so no one will ever rise up against me," Gilda said with her back in the frozen mud, I shook my head.

"No...history will remember you and I, how would you want the future to remember you? It is yours to do as you wish, good day to you," I said, and went back to the captured trench. I heard the click of her pistol. I turned and shot the Webley Self-Loading Pistol out of her talons with a hole in her taloned hand, "you best get that tended to, Gilda,"