• The local time in Ixnay is
18 May 2028, 0100 hours
The Vatari Strait, Aquilonem Ocean, Central Punth
84th Royal Reservist Regiment
Private Homer Wiles stood cradling his rifle staring stone faced at the helmet of the man in front of him, the weapon he held was one he was overly familiar with; back in his days in the Royal Army Cadets he had used this weapon countless times on the range, however why modern Dmanian troops had a long out of service rifle issued to them was beyond him. The sound of another private vomiting over the side of the landing craft broke his stoic look as he rolled his eyes. The sea was beyond calm on this night yet some of these soldiers had never seen the sea until they were deployed out to this god forsaken place.
Homer could only pray they didn't encounter any resistance, they were hardly trained in basic combat manoeuvres let alone an amphibious landing under fire. Some of his comrades had barely two week of training under their belt before they were deployed falling short of the 5 months that were expected. Clearly the defence ministry felt that securing a bit of beach from an unarmed tribe was above the regulars who sat comfortably back at New Vatari.

The sound of the engine cutting caused everyone to straighten up and begin fixing their night vision goggles and readying their weapons. The calm seas allowed the landing crafts to drift ashore without exposing themselves with the roar of the motor engine. After five minutes the craft juddered to a halt impacting sand and the ramp lowered shortly after. The troops rushed out in an disorderly mob, some taking up defensive positions behind the rise of a sand dune like Homer while others continued sprinting in the open towards the tree line.

Homer watched as one soldier reached the treeline moments before a loud explosion and a blinding white light filled his night vision goggles, when they finally readjusted there was only a smouldering crater and bloody chunks left where the soldier once stood. The sound of yelling and rapid gunfire erupted as panicked troops fired blindly into the tree, this was answered by a roar of machine gun fire from the dense foliage. Those who didn't have the sense to hit the ground when the shooting first started were cut down where they stood as the shooter strafed the open beach adding to the chorus of screams and shouts. NCOs desperately tried to regain unit cohesion however they could only try to yell over the gunfire as only one fire team in every section had been issued with personal radios while the others had to rely on a single designated radioman to stay in contact with the others.

The sound of his comrades calling out enemy positions over radio helped his fireteam adjust their fire, hoping to aid the others Homer turned on his IR laser and pointed it at enemy positions showing those without radios directions to begin returning fire. After a period of fighting suddenly everything fell silent and the sound of orders being yelled finally breached the chaos and brought the regiment back into some order.

'2 Section Gather the dead and leave them on the beach for collection, sections have your corpsmen treat any wounded. Everyone else take up defensive positions and wait for further orders!' barked an unknown voice from nearby.

Upon hearing the command Homer dragged himself up to his knees and peered around into the darkness, numerous bodies scattered the sandy beach and judging by their gear they looked to all be Dmanian troops.

'What a shit show', Private Amber Dekker, one of Homer's fireteam members muttered as she surveyed the carnage.

Homer could only nod as he finally stood up and moved to find his fireteam leader further along the beach.
Last edited:
18 May 2028, 0900 hours
The Vesneau Principality, FOB Cromwell, Central Punth
84th Royal Reservist Regiment

It had been eight hours since the landing of Dmanian Forces on the beach of a foreign kingdom, apart from the initial contact from the trees no further attempts were made to harass the landing forces. Homer Wiles, now Lance Corporal Wiles had been given a field promotion following the death of their 2IC in the initial engagement. His predecessor now joined the other dozen Dmanian dead who were in the process of being shipped back to New Vatari. Due to the dense jungle ahead command had ordered the construction of an FOB just off the beach, which had involved hours of felling trees and assisting the regular engineer company sent in to build fortifications.

Though there was some work to be done Homer had been instructed by the Section leader to ready his fireteam to sweep the surrounding area following reports of what were believed to be enemy scouts observing their position. Homer after a few minutes of searching found his fireteam gathered at the ramp of a hovercraft that had arrived with rations and other supplies. His eyes drawn to their discarded weapons resting against a nearby rock, he scowled and snatched a rifle up.

'Charlie Fireteam, on me!' Homer barked, after a brief pause the group realised they were the were the target of the command and quickly turned to grab their weapons and form a line. All but Private Horace were now in line who now desperately looked around from his rifle.

'Is something the matter Horace?' Homer asked as he stared daggers at him.

'I can't find my rifle' he replied sheepishly

'That's because I have it, next time don't leave your weapon laying out of sight. Never put it down when outside of the FOB. Had I been one of the enemy scouts that watch us as I speak, you and most of the fireteam would be a dead.' Homer growled as his eyes passed over his fireteam. Most of his four man team tried to keep a blank face but could not help and glance towards the dark trees that sat nearby.

'That goes to all of you, should I find myself on the receiving end of a Dmanian Rifle because one of you dickheads left their weapon unattended I will haunt you for the rest of your days. Am I clear!?'

'Yes, Lance Corporal!' the line answered in unison.

'Get your kit and prepare for a patrol, I want you all formed up at the front of the FOB in ten minutes.' he ordered before shoving Horace's rifle into his hands and walking back towards the FOB.

Five minutes later and they all were gathered at the entrance to the FOB with the rest his Section who had been joined by 2-Section, another member of their platoon. The departure was swift and the 16 man team set off into the jungle along cleared out paths which provided the only viable route through some of the more denser areas.

'Watch for traps, we didn't make these paths and I doubt the natives want us using them' Homer warned as his head and rifle moved simultaneously in an arc.

They had only been going ten minutes or so when a man from the other section shouted, 'Look over there I see one!' before anyone could stop him he burst from formation and ran in the direction of where he pointed.

'Get back here you damned fool!' His section leader yelled to no avail as the man disappeared into the Trees, moments later a yelp was heard and then silence.

The order to halt was given and his section leader sounded over the radio, 'Lance Corporal Homer, take your fireteam to check it out, bravo fireteam from the other section will back you up.'

Tapping Private Amber on the shoulder he signalled her to lead the way in the direction the eager soldier had ran off to, 'Take it slow, no need to end up like him' he whispered before checking to see if the rest of the fireteam were following.

Upon reaching where the soldier believed he saw the scout Homer signalled them to get low and they began creeping through the trees. Suddenly Amber gasped as her next step found no footing almost sending her careering down the slope she was saved only by Homer's hand snatching out and grabbing her webbing before hauling her backwards. The look of surprise on her face quickly faded and she nodded in thanks before joining the others is peering over the slope. The soldier who had ran off before clearly had been injured, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle and he did not appear to be moving. A tap on the shoulder interrupted Homer's thoughts. Turning his head he faced the Bravo Fireteam Leader

'What's the situation down there, is my man okay?' he asked clearly nervous.

Homer shook his head, 'Looks like he's injured bad and seems to be unconscious, we'll need to get him back to the FOB quickly.'

Sighing the fireteam leader sucked air through his teeth as he considered his options for a moment, 'Okay we'll go fetch his stupid arse while you guys provide overwatch.'

Homer's fireteam who had overheard the conversation raised their weapons and squinted at the surrounding area in front of them, the area below was relatively clear of foliage allowing for a greater field of view. Two members of Bravo Fireteam passed them and began to carefully navigate their way down while they kept their third man covering Homer and his team's backs.

Thankfully the pair managed to reach the bottom in good time and while one covered the other checked on their fallen comrade. However he suddenly recoiled and raised his weapon saying something inaudible to the other man. 'His throat has been cut by the bastards.' informed the fireteam leader over radio. The worried muttering and curses among his fireteam were cut short when the sound of gunfire erupted in the direction of the rest of the patrol.

'Lance Coporal, we've taken contact get your arses back here now!' barked his Section leader.​