The Quagmire of the Black Crusade

The orange griffon, Hesperus, closed the hatch. He resumed his position as gunner. Climbing past the light armored vehicle's commander, a cold and prideful griffon. Old and gray, who had fought within the Empire’s ranks in their maintenance corps before being drafted into an armored unit. The old griffon grunted as Hesperus climb overtop of him. “Why bother? We are wasting time dawdling with these ponies.”

“Such a kind and caring old bird.” The driver, a younger griffon said, while shifting gears.

The old griffon’s beak was closed tight at this, “Back in my time, insolent chicks like you would be whipped into shape.”

“Yeah, well it's not your time anymore, in case you need a reminder. Look outside, the dead are fighting back.”

The sounds of battle became more clear, and the orange griffon began looking for targets. The old griffon began to call out targets. Hesperus let loose a hail of high caliber rounds upon the hordes of undead. Many were behind cover, sending shots towards their own infantry. The gun fired, and the machine vibrated as the gun barked loudly at the undead. A few of the undead appeared to try to bring out anti-tank weaponry but were quickly dispatched as the old griffon called out their location. The vehicle bounced over the bodies. A sickening thought which Hesperus had forgotten until he heard the squish.

A spell from a necromancer hit the vehicle, shaking it and causing a small amount of damage. It was a minor hit and would require no attention. The radio was making noise, and the old griffon quickly relayed information.

“Forward, go north and swing right on the first road. We should arrive near a small park.”

“Aye aye, old bird.”

The old griffon gritted his beak, “disrespectful chick.”

Hesperus jerked around as a shell from an anti tank gun suddenly flew by. The shell made contact behind them, erupting into a cyclone of flame and smoke. Shaking and sending rubble raining down on them. Hitting like hail on the vehicle. The soldiers following the armor support hide behind the buildings. A squad was pinned down ahead of them.

“Due west, dues west. At 10 o clock!” The old griffon pounded on the metal of the armored vehicle.

Hesperus quickly turned the sights of the gun, spying the anti-tank gun in the garage. He let the gun bark. The high caliber rounds shredding any fleshy undead around the gun. A large explosion erupted after one of the gun's ammunition was struck. This caused a massive blast. The garage and part of the building erupt in flames and crashed down in ruin. They advanced forward, heading towards the small park, which led to the headquarters of the Dread League. A few close calls were had, as undead widely carried anti-armor weaponry. Hesperus assumed this was a few per squad.

“Up, up! 5 o’clock! Third story, blue building!” The old griffon shouted.

The glint of a rocket appeared in a window. It fired off, smacking into the side of the vehicle, but bouncing with a thud and exploding elsewhere. Hesperus shredded the window and surrounding ones as the vehicle moved onwards. Allied infantry stormed in from the lower floors. They sought to dislodge the undead.

After battling through the streets, it became clear the Dread League’s necromancer were gathering the bodies of the fallen, and those from graveyards, to be reanimated. As all sorts of ghouls were found in the Dread League. The scattered pile of bodies in large containers, were future soldiers of the undead. Hesperus was disgusted by this, any of the fallen could be used in their ranks. It was then, Hesperus and the crew saw a Dread Tank. The tank was painted a void black, with various runic symbols drawn in white alongside it. Spikes, resembling bones, alongside barbed wire, hung all around it. It was hidden, only slightly visible to the group. As soon as they saw it, the pounding of the old griffon was frantic. The young griffon who was driving quickly put the vehicle in reverse. It jerked backwards, racing towards safety, only to get trapped in a large, collapsed trench. Hesperus fired, but it was no use, none of the shots would penetrate, they were done for.

As the void of the barrel rested upon them, Hesperus felt like it was death itself. Completely unavoidable and down to luck. Maybe if the crew wasn’t hastily put together at the last second, this could have been avoided. Perhaps if they had stronger armor, or been given a tank. Instead, they were assigned this outdated vehicle. Hesperus prayed to Arcturius that maybe one of his shots would penetrate. Then he found a peace. Even with the fanatic scene around him. Like the gods had given him, some peace. It felt like time itself slowed down. He thought back to his sister, who was further south and safe near Wingbardy. He thought of his brother. Not only that, but he wondered if his brother had felt the similar. After being killed in the fallen territories of the Griffonian Empire. Finally, his mind rested on his fiancé. A beautiful crimson colored griffon from Talouse. He thought, at the very least, he would see the others soon. His brother, father, mother, and friends. But he would like to see the living one last time.

Only to Hesperus’s shock, the tank briefly was struck by something. A large thud and then a burst of black smoke and flames. The explosion rocked them, and Hesperus could hardly believe his eyes. The whole vehicle was silent in disbelief.

“By Arcturius’s name, it's the volunteers.”

“Volunteers?” The young driver questioned the old bird.

“Aye, the changelings,” the old griffon said with a hint of relief.