The War for the Riverlands

------xxxxxx------

General Eisen Silberkrone clenched his claws into the desk, slowly carving deep scratches in it as he listened to the reports of what just had happened.

“Are… you… kidding me?” he asked at the officers in front of him. “Are you trying to tell me that a bunch of filthy dogs along with the happy-go-lucky hippies that the cossacks have degenerated into... actually managed to stop the offensive?” His voice was calm, yet his slowly curling talons digging into the table and the absolute glacial storm that was his tone said plenty.

“Y-yes sir.” One of the officers answered. “On both sides of the river.”

“...what are the casualties?” Eisen continued, locking the lieutenant with his glare.

“...to the south, Battlegroup Steel Claw was destroyed, with 80% casualties. Battlegroup Tartarus are in a fighting retreat.”

“And the north?”

“Battlegroup Fireburst was destroyed near the Maneceaster crossing. Our reports suggest no survivors.”

“Colonel?” Eisen asked, his second-in command being by his side in a moment. “Radio high command and let them know. Tell them to send two battlegroups as replacements.”

“Only two?” the colonel asked, having expected twice that at least.

“They’re trying to divert our attention from Jezeragrad, and I will not dance to these creatures’ pipe. They’ve lost the element of surprise: now all they have are primitive guns and a weak position. Send Battlegroup Bugbear to the south to secure the forest pass, that way they can’t outflank us, and bring up our artillery within firing range of Maneceaster. Start levelling the city, short bursts, use seismographs to detect the dogs if they try to dig closer. If they do, bury mines to blow up their tunnels.”

-----xxxxxx-----

“Faster faster!” Zelenka roared, being responded to with “KILL THEM ALL!” as the cossacks surged across the field towards Kicoltinda, artillery roaring far behind them and making smoke burst across the plains to cover them as they charged into the massed machine gun and mortar fire of the entrenched Hellquillians. Ducking and weaving, the cossacks wove erratic and unpredictable paths through the air to avoid being hit. Still, the blind barrage took its toll among the griffins, leaving warrior after warrior to drop from the air and crash into the ground.

It did not stop the cossacks, however, nor did it even slow them down. If anything, they threw themselves forward even faster, screeches of rage rising to the sky as they shot out of the smoke and into the fortified line, guns blazing. Some cossacks turned themselves into giant spears by bracing their bayoneted rifles against the body and diving straight at their enemies, throwing the Hellquillians back several meters as the cossacks crashed into them at full speed.

Guns blazed and grenades detonated all around them, the smoke slow to clear and instead creating a hellish inferno in which the Hellquillians heavier weapons were not half as useful due to the limited sight and the fact that the cossacks already were among them. A gout of flame spewed forth from one of the Sturmgreifen, burning several cossacks out of the machinegun nest they had claimed, but in the next moment a cossack, still burning from the fire, threw himself onto the Sturmgreif and ran him through with his bayonet, puncturing the gas tank through his body and making them both vanish in a giant cloud of fire.

Yet, as the smoke cleared and the roar of machine guns and the whistling of mortars began again, another thing became clear. Looking back over the field they had come from, Zelenka realized that there were movement back there. Tank movement. But how the hell… A tank shell struck the sandbags right next to him, courtesy of the newly spotted tanks, and Zelenka realized they were in a trap.

“Get the griffins to push into the town!” he roared to his subordinates. “They’re behind us, if we stay out here we’re dead! Push damn it, push like you’ve never pushed before, smash through them!” The subordinates dispersed to deliver his orders, even as the tanks barreled down on them.

Despite the chaos, the cossacks managed to respond admirably, even as the Helllquill jaws closed around them. They pushed forward into the city, throwing themselves into it and through sheer grit and audacity. One of the larger buildings, even if it was covered with machine gun fire, was stormed in seconds as the heavily armored Ritsars led the way, shielding their brothers in arms with their armor and even bodies when the latter were not enough. Even as the gunfire ripped into them and ended them, the sheer momentum allowed their bodies to crash into the windows and the machineguns, sending them tumbling as the Ritsars died so that their brothers in arms might live and extract vengeance for them.

In the end, the Cossacks managed to take the city and turn their enemies’ weapons against them, meaning that when the tank brigade that had been flanking them rolled into the town they were met not with an outflanked enemy force, but one who had managed to entrench itself in record time and fight back. Colonel Zelenka had spearheaded the charge into the former Hellquillian headquarters, which now became theirs as they organized to bite back against the attack.

“You live the most when you are about to die, no?!” his second-in-command asked with a wild grin, Zelenka laughing in response.

“To death and glory!” he yelled. Their people might have gone onto a new path, but considering all the things that wanted to bring harm to the weak in this world, he was right where he should be.

------xxxxxx------

The detonation collapsed the tunnel, leaving the Diamond Dogs to run and curse as several of them got trapped under falling debris and dust was kicked up throughout the tunnels, leaving them coughing and snorting.

“Everyone not dead, sound off…” Gnasher growled from the entrance to the side tunnel, only scowling even more when he was told the casualties. “Clever, clever knights,” he said, realizing what they were up to. Parking their forces out on the plains with seemingly all the heavy artillery they had, they had started to bombard Maneceaster while burying mines all around them. There was no chance to get closer to them without triggering the explosives, at least not underground. Above ground, however, the bastards had tanks, and plenty of them.

“Dig out to the sides,” he ordered, “Report back to me when the position is encircled at least one hundred and eighty degrees. What’s our distance to them?”

“Four, maybe five, kilometers.”

“Perfect. Let the reserve forces know that if they haven’t disassembled and brought up the light guns within six hours I’ll be personally ripping their guts out. I don’t give a shit if they carry them on their backs, just do it! Biter! Over here, I got a job for you...”

And so it was that as the evening slowly fell and the thunder of artillery continued, explosions detonated all around the artillery encampment in a wide circle, with diamond dogs swarming out of the holes like cockroaches, shovels and paws both at the ready as they threw up earthen works and dragged up light cannons out of the holes, sometimes outright blackpowder such, and furiously reassembled them on the spot to begin firing towards the artillery encampment, even as the night left them firing almost blind at times.

While the dogs of the Diamond Mountain always had kept to themselves, their sense of community was ironclad. Their new Queen had managed to play on this well and for months hammered home constantly how the river ponies, apparently, were part of their community now. Many dogs hadn’t really understood it, a lot of them hadn’t really believed it to begin with, but when push came to shove they were a people who understood, more than anything else, that when someone hurts your pack you tear their damn throats out. As Gnasher had ordered: they’d drown these murder-birds in death!The earthworks grew quickly, turning into barriers that in turn turned into trenches, as the dogs worked tirelessly and furiously to fortify their positions, dragging up more and more heavy guns out of the holes.

Yet, as dawn came, so came Hellquill’s counter attacks. Their guns were top modern and began pounding the ramshackle earthworks of the Diamond Dogs to devastating effect. Adding to it, tanks and heavy infantry assailed them ferociously, starting to break the improvised strongpoints one by one. Though Hellquill paid for each victory, the diamond dogs did so twice as much, and before long, Gnasher was snarling in rage as the enemy surged towards the last, surviving strongpoint - his - from three directions at once.

“Hold the fucking line dogs, hold it! The bugs will come through. Hold!”

------xxxxxx------

“The cossacks have been pinned down at Kicoltinda,Coltljevo and Novi Ponezar,” the colonel reported, pointing to the map. “Our battlegroups are failing to dislodge them, however, and casualties are mounting.”

What about the north?” Eisen asked.

“The dogs have surrounded our artillery encampments. They created tunnels just outside the minefield and blew them to create improvised trenches. They are putting the pressure hard on them. Lieutenant Colonel Heidenreich is dealing with the strongpoints one at a time. She is requesting reinforcements.”

“Granted,” Eisen said monotonously. “Commit the northern reserves to shore up the artillery. Inform high command that we are holding them for now. What are the news from Jezeragrad?” he continued, looking to the radio crew, where the radio operator looked up and nodded.

“The second army has broken through the outer defenses,” he told the general. “Fighting in the streets, but resistance is scattered ,the city is falling steadily.”

“Then the flanks hold,” Eisen said, a cold, slow smile spreading over his face. “Tell all forces to keep pushing. They may exercise some discretion, but I will not accept a single step back. Hellquill doesn’t need us to triumph, they need us to keep the enemy occupied. Let the griffins know that if they die, they die to bring their brothers in arms victory. Hellquill triumphs!”

“Hellquill triumphs!” the others responded before something exploded outside, leaving them all to startle in shock, Eisen’s claw going instantly down to his gun as he looked to the entrance.

“What was that?” he growled, demanding his soldiers to investigate at once, right before gunfire started echoing from outside, yelling following from outside.

“Halt, halt!” one of the guards yelled angrily.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” another voice came. “Captain Erhart, 8th battalion. Changelings have entered the base! They blew up the motorpool and have spread among the HQ staff! Don’t shoot.”

“Get him in here!” Eisen demanded harshly, his feathers standing on edge as the guards outside escorted the captain into the tent. “Who is your commanding officer and what is your service number?” he demanded of the griffin.

“Major Sieglied, 675-234-2!” the griffin stated and Eisen, while not letting go of the griffin with his eyes for a second, signalled for his staff to check the information and after a few seconds of furious scrambling they affirmed the information, with one glaring exception, which made Eisen draw his firearm and point it at the griffin.

“You are part of Battlegroup Fireburst, which was destroyed a week ago. What are you doing here?” he asked harshly.

“I escaped captivity,” the captain said rapidly, trying to explain himself. “Those damn changelings stole my face. I’ve been running for days to get here, only just...”

“And when I turn my back you will be one as well, good attempt,” EIsen said, executing the griffin point-blank. “Secure the inner perimeter, have the soldiers cut their arms to show they are not changelings, kill anyone who hesitates and inform command!” he said, looking to the dead griffin as it transformed into one of those disgusting insects that infested the island to the west of griffonia. Turning his gun to his colonel, he narrowed his eyes. “Bite your arm, now, I want to see blood!” he ordered with a hiss, the griffin quickly obeying. When seeing blood, Eisen backed off and quickly ordered the others to show they were truly his griffins as well before calling in the guards from outside.

His elite guards, the Totenkrallen, were all too eager to show they were who they seemed to be and swiftly began to quell the unrest outside. They swept the camp, forcing every last griffin present to, at gunpoint, bleed themselves to show they were not changelings, and though one of the changelings had managed to bomb the radio tower, he was quickly chased down and dealt with. Within the hour, order was restored and the tower was starting to be repaired. Eisen, meanwhile, was standing in his tent, watching the changeling corpse as it was dragged away from the tent. Those damned insects were trying to outsmart him, were they? He’d have to make sure that when their final victory was won, they would annihilate their entire breed as well!

-----xxxxxx------

Deep in the woods, several kilometers from the base, a small group of changeling Jaegers were hiding, listening in on the transmissions from the enemy HQ. They had hidden there for three days, barely even moving, and yet now went into action, flying up into the nearby trees to set up a large, improvised radio mast. They relayed the news of the message back towards the Coalition, sending it in the form of a furious chittering noise that was incomprehensible to anyone who didn’t speak the changeling tongue, filtering back through the front lines and eventually reaching Rijekograd, where OHS director Arclight was given a personal report of it.

Arclight was an utterly heartless pony. No one who knew him could say anything else. He was completely without any, pity, mercy and seemingly simple decency at times. Everything fit together into the greater plan, no matter how much blood was spilt, and the end always justified the means. They had to when you were where he was: Harmony was the goal, not the method. It was, however, this ruthless mindset that had left him one of the few who had been able to take the invasion in stride and immediately start doing all he could to help the defense. Stepping into River Swirl’s office, the OHS director studied the mare sitting behind the desk, trying to gauge her mental state as he did with everypony.

She was a wreck. Her face was haggard and she had thick bags under the eyes. Her teeth were clenched, he could tell from her jaw muscles, and she read through the papers in front of her with a stressed, uneasy flicker in her magic.

“News from the front ma’am,” Arclight said, putting the folder in front of her.

“Give… give me the cliff notes,” River Swirl said tiredly, putting the papers down and taking a deep swig of her coffee.

“Jezeragrad has fallen,” he said succinctly, watching her deflate in her seat.

“How bad is it…” she asked quietly.

“Bad,” Arclight said. “We don’t know much yet, but their MO seems unchanged from earlier conquests…” River Swirl sat quietly, no doubt struggling to absorb the fact that he had all but said that everyone who hadn’t died from the plague in Jezeragrad currently would be dragged out of their hideouts and murdered by the Sturmgreifen.

“Ancestors help us all…” River Swirl whispered. “What are the good news?”

“Nonexistent,” Arclight said. “Our Jaegers attempted to infiltrate and destroy the enemy HQ. They failed. We can’t presume that we can deploy similar methods from now on.”

“What of the flanks?” River Swirl’s voice was even quieter now.

“They are keeping up the pressure, but the attacks have stalled. They will not be able to save Jezeragrad at this rate. The Hellquillans are too strong.”

“Thank you Arclight,” River Swirl said. “I will debate this with the council…”

“If I may, ma’am,” Arclight said, not moving. River Swirl looked up to him and silently nodded for him to speak. “Militarily speaking, only dogs and griffins have bled so far. Ponies can die to the plague, or they can die fighting. That is all ma’am. Good luck,” he said, turning and leaving the room.

River Swirl had always been a pony so desperate to have consensus, and right now she didn’t know what to do. As Arclight left the office, he smiled though. River Swirl would work out in the end. Maybe she would need to be coaxed, but it’d work out in the end. Stopping by a window, he looked out over Rijekograd as he collected his thoughts. Even if it had taken some… work… to get the dogs and cossacks to launch themselves into the fight so fervently - not to mention the changelings - their sacrifices would make the Coalition stronger for it. The Coalition had not yet fallen.