Grimoires and Gunsmoke

If there was a word to describe how 1st Lieutenant DuPont felt at this current moment, it was exhaustion. Complete and utter exhaustion

With the afternoon sun oppressively beating down on him, the Lieutenant found himself lazily sitting on top of a destroyed National Guard Humvee, his combat boots dangling over the side. The Humvee's desert tan paint was marred with scorch marks and several massive holes, a grim testament to the fierce battle that had recently taken place.

Looking down at his own combat fatigues, DuPont noticed that they were smeared with dirt, sweat, and maybe even a bit of blood, but he couldn't quite tell whether it was his or someone else's. All he knew was that he was simply too tired to give any kind of shit at the moment. Instead he considered whether all of this had just been some horrible fever dream or if someone had spiked his canteen with an extreme amount of acid.

DuPont’s fingers drummed a slow rhythm against the metal as his weary eyes took in another of his Bradleys, its front end and turret eaten away by what appeared to be an acid-like liquid. The vibrant emerald corrosion juxtaposed with the harsh reality of the situation: yet another piece of heavy equipment lost, but thankfully, not the crew. After facing the large variety of creatures in sustained combat, his men knew better than to stick around and wait to see what happened after being sprayed by something.

Looking around the once quiet and quaint Appalachian town, DuPont couldn't help but feel a deep sense of loss and bewilderment. The town, once probably filled with life and laughter, now lay in ruins after the sheer brutality that had been thrust into it. Buildings that once stood proud were now nothing but piles of rubble, collapsed under the combination of massive magical creatures and modern ordnance.

Fires raged uncontrollably, consuming what little remained of the town. The acrid smoke filled the air, teared the eyes, and the heat was oppressive, even from a distance. DuPont could see cars and military equipment, frozen in place in the middle of the road, their shapes twisted and contorted in ways that defied logic. He couldn't even begin to comprehend the forces at play that could cause such things.

Turning his head down towards the street, the Lieutenant’s eye then fell upon a scene of carnage. Spread out before him was a sight straight out of a twisted fairytale. An enormous ogre-like creature lay on its back with a gaping wound in its grotesque belly, surrounded by enough blood to fill up a public pool. Behind it, strewn in chaotic disarray, were the corpses of other beings.

While a good chunk of them were humans or elves kitted with equipment straight out of a fantasy game, others were simply humanoid in shape. Scattered around, DuPont noticed yellowish skinned creatures that he could only describe as Goblins were among their ranks, along with those lizard-like kobolds, and more of those suicidal werewolves.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, his musings were abruptly interrupted by a sharp hissing noise just above him. Glancing up, he watched an FGM-148 Javelin missile suddenly drop a foot or two before its rocket engine engaged to send it arcing its way into the distance from atop a nearby building. The once deafening sounds of warfare had largely dissipated into an eerie post-battle calm, but there were still occasional skirmishes as gunfire or muffled thuds of an armored vehicle's main gun echoing throughout the ruined town.

“Any idea why they just left their own to die?” Sergeant First Class Hofmann, DuPont’s Platoon Sergeant, spoke up as he wandered next to him, equally as worn out and disheveled. Hofmann hadn’t even bothered to remove his tanker helmet. He leaned against the Humvee and dug his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes.

DuPont didn’t respond immediately, too lost in his own thoughts and the sights before him. After a moment, he finally managed a tired shrug, his voice heavy with fatigue as he spoke, "Who the fuck knows." His gaze drifted towards the horizon, where he had expected to see the skies filled with a chaotic dance of dragons and jets. But now, the skies were empty, eerily quiet.

The contrast between the expectations of war and the reality before him was stark. Those mythical being dancing around the sky should have been an awe-inspiring sight, yet their absence now left a void, a silence that was almost more unnerving than the cacophony of battle.

Only just a few hours ago an intense ballet of dragons and jets had danced in the sky. But now, the skies were eerily silent, and empty. Now only just the sounds of beating helicopter blades hunting down any survivors and the roar of patrolling american airpower.

Hofmann rubbed his eyes before, glancing towards DuPont. "You think they're regrouping? Planning something bigger?" The underlying concern in his voice was palpable.

“Doubt that.” DuPont replied, sliding down to the ground. “They wouldn’t have given up on contesting airspace if they did.” The Lieutenant started checking his kit to make sure he was good on ammo before striding forward to where the rest of his platoon was waiting. “From what we've seen so far, they play for keeps. If they had something bigger up their sleeve, they would have shown it by now."

Following after his Platoon Leader, squinted his eyes towards the horizon. "So they just… up and left?

"Seems that way," DuPont responded, his gaze turned towards windows and rubble, searching for any sign of movement.

Clearly not satisfied with the lack of answers, Hofmann offered a frown. "But why? Why attack Ohio? There’s nothing here!"

"Why the hell would I know, Hofmann?" DuPont replied, his tone laced with fatigue. "I’m not paid enough to know. And besides, I don’t think anyone knows, considering how panicked and disorganized command is right now."

Hofmann gave a disgruntled grunt, as he shook his head, but as they neared their destination, they overheard an animated discussion among their soldiers.

"You’re a furry Jackson, between that small lizard thing and the werewolf, which one do you think you’d prefer?" one soldier looked over to another as they kept their weapons trained towards the front lines

Jackson, the designated 'furry' of the platoon, rolled his eyes and readjusted the M-249 SAW in his grip. "Seriously? You think this is the time for that shit?" He hesitated, glancing sideways with a smirk. "But, since you asked, probably the werewolf.”

Laughter erupted among the soldiers while both Hofmann and DuPont stood behind them with a look that said they didn’t want to be associated with the degenerate in front of them.

“I mean, have you seen the legs on those things?" Jackson continued enthusiastically, oblivious to his platoon sergeant and platoon leader’s evident discomfort. "Ripped, man. They've got these powerful thighs and calves… Like, no wonder they run so fast. they’ve got this wild, untamed beauty about them.”

The soldier continued to unashamedly gush. “Both the females and males are massive, but the males simply just tower over everyone. You can see the raw power in their muscles, and their jaws... man, I wouldn't want to be caught in those.

“And the females,” Jackson continued, his eyes lighting up, “they’re something else. A bit smaller, sure, but just as fierce. I can only imagine their fur is softer, smoother, and their eyes... Man… They just stare right into your soul.”

Another soldier, a wiry man named Lee, edged closer, intrigued by the discussion. "Talking about werewolves, eh? But have you seen the goblins?" He nodded towards a short greenish yellow figure slumped against a wall.

The man smirked. "Now that's what I call a compact bundle of beauty. I mean, look at her. She’s petite, yes, but there’s an undeniable scrappiness to her. She's got that well proportioned shape too?”

Lee then gave a chef's kiss. “Far better than your roid raging mutts," he teased. "Her posture, even when slumped, speaks of grace and agility. Those sharp ears of hers, probably picking up every little whisper, even our conversation right now."

“Sure she isn’t as voluptuous as the furries, but-” He tried to get out, but was interrupted.

“What the fuck is wrong with you all?” Hofmann’s stern and disgusted voice cut through the conversation causing everyone to snap their head back to see both their platoon sergeant and their lieutenant standing behind them with a repulsed snarl on either face.

In an instant the chatter and laughter that filled the line had evaporated and instead, turned into a heavy silence.

Lieutenant DuPont looked down on his men with a look that said he was looking at literal sacks of shit. “You people are fucking disgusting.” He said with his voice dripping with definitive disdain. ‘We just killed these… THINGS. And now you’re talking about wanting to fuck them?”

DuPont's face paled, a look of profound disturbance replacing the initial disgust. He looked around, his gaze sweeping over each of the men. Shaking his head slowly, he whispered more to himself than to the soldiers, "Jesus Christ… I’m leading a bunch of freaks…"

Hofmann's jaw tightened, his usual stoic demeanor momentarily shattered. With a deep sigh, he locked eyes with each soldier, his gaze piercing and unyielding. "Look," he began, his voice gruff, "whatever's been said here stays here. For my own sanity's sake, I'll try to pretend I never heard a word of it." Without waiting for a response, Hofmann turned sharply and began walking towards his Bradley fighting vehicle parked a short distance away.

…

“... Were we just kink shamed by the Lieutenant?” Was the last thing Hofmann heard as he walked up the ramp of his Bradley to join the rest of his crew.

As the dust settled on the ruins of New Philadelphia, the distant roar of engines began to fill the air. The sound grew louder and more insistent, culminating in a ground-shaking rumble that drowned out the soldier's playful banter. Soon, the streets were filled with the unmistakable shapes of the more modern M1A2 SEPv3 tanks, their heavy treads kicking up dust and debris as they rolled forward in an impressive display of military might.

Behind the leading tanks were columns of Bradley Infantry Fighting Vehicles and Joint Light Tactical Vehicles (JLTVs) full to the brim with fresh soldiers.

“Looks like the reinforcements finally arrived.” Sergeant Kim, Hofmann’s gunner, spoke up, trying to mask the emotion in his voice. But Hofmann, knowing the man, could sense the relief, disbelief, and shock behind Kim's words.

"Yeah," Hofmann replied quietly, letting out a slow exhale. "To be honest, I legitimately thought there was no way we were making it out of that alive."

Suddenly, The Bradley’s driver, Corporal Santiago, laughed so hard that it rang throughout the vehicle. “Que odioso! ustedes estan bien dramaticos!! Come on, man," Santiago grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. "There was no way we were going to kick the bucket, we're like the main characters of a movie, bro!”

“Santiago…” Sergeant Kim groaned as he slammed his head against the wall. “Shut the fuck up.”

Santiago just laughed louder, "Oye! Just trying to lighten the mood, mi amigo."

Shaking his head, Hofmann climbed out of the Commander's cupola and took in the sight of dismounting soldiers starting to slowly, but surely comb through the streets and building in search for any stragglers. Turning his head, he noticed that his Lieutenant was lethargically having a conversation with what appeared to be the commanding officer of this outfit.

“Colonel Hastings, 4th infantry.” The Colonel introduced himself, extending a firm hand towards the Lieutenant. “Out-fucking-standing work you and your boys have done here. I've been briefed about the hell you went through. ”

The Lieutenant, visibly tired and covered in the remnants of the city's ash and smeared with blood, offered a weak but respectful salute before taking the Colonel’s hand. "Lieutenant DuPont, sir. We did what we had to do."

Hastings nodded, taking a moment to observe the men around him. Everywhere he looked were completely exhausted and battleworn warriors did their best to stay awake and aware as they maintained their fighting positions. "Listen, Lieutenant," Colonel Hastings began, lowering his voice as he leaned closer. “Have you and your boys get some chow and rest, We'll handle the mop-up from here."

DuPont wanted to jump for joy at the words, but it still never hurt to play the big army politics game and get some good officer brownie points. Taking one good look around at his weary crew, the Lieutenant looked back at the Colonel. "We can still fight," he replied, making his voice a little hoarser than normal.

The Colonel gently put a hand on DuPont's shoulder. "You’re a fucking hero, DuPont.” The gruff man said with a smirk. “But we’d like to blast some alien ass as well. We can’t let you have all the fun!”

A light laugh left DuPonts mouth as the tension visibly left his face. "I suppose we can share some of the glory, sir."

"That's the spirit," Colonel Hastings replied, chuckling. "Now get out of here, Lieutenant. You all look beat to shit!"

With the conversation concluded, DuPont gave one more salute before turning around and walking away. Quickly turning his head, he saw that the Colonel was busy issuing commands to his troops who were bustling around, setting up defenses and preparing for the cleanup operation.

One more jolt of energy surged through DuPont as he pumped his fist in joy. Finally someone else was going to deal with this garbage.

"Alright, you freaks!" DuPont shouted to his unit as he rejoined them. The men, despite their fatigue, looked up attentively, waiting for their Lieutenant's words. "This is the 4th Infantry’s problem now, so let's make ourselves scarce! Find some chow, grab whatever water you can, and find the nearest rock to crawl under!"

The unit responded with a mix of cheers and relieved chuckles. They were all eager to get some well deserved rest after enduring what seemed like endless fighting. It was time for their fresh and well-supplied contemporaries to take the helm and kick the invaders out of their land. But they knew they were going to have to get back to the grind sooner than later.

There was still a lot of work to do.

The armies of the horde, though broken, had fragmented and dispersed into the vast terrains. Creatures and people of all kinds fled in mass into the Appalachian countryside, turning the once-peaceful region into a hotspot of fugitives and skirmishes.

And as the sun drifted slowly downwards onto the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange, the hordes' most dreaded hunters treaded softly through the hills and forest of Ohio. Captain Coleman and his elite special forces team slowly crept through the foliage with guns raised and eyes scanning. Occasionally the sharp staccatos of suppressed gunfire wound echo out followed by a death-curdling screech. They were the predators in this new twisted game, stalking their prey and eliminating them with lethal precision.

As Coleman and his team progressed, a small errant twitch caused the man to snap his weapon towards a bush not more than 10 meters away. In quick succession, the man let loose a 5 round burst from his rifle.

Suddenly, a small reptilian creature with dark scales, sharp pointed horns atop its head, and piercing yellow eyes let out a pained screech and stumbled out of its concealment. The creature, garbed in tattered blue robes adorned with worn belts and pouches, tried to scramble away. Its long, sinewy tail trailed behind it as it moved, and in its hand, it clutched at its wounds, however the thing only managed to move a few meters falling flat on its face.

The thing kicked and thrashed wildly for a few moments, letting out desperate, rasping breaths as it tried to find strength to flee further. But Coleman, mercilessly ended the creatures suffering and aimed his rifle at the head of the small monster. With a squeeze of the trigger, the small lizard violently seized up before its body finally relaxed and accepted its fate.

Without missing a beat, the group of elite soldiers continued on their path, their boots crunching softly against the forest floor. The dense canopy overhead shielded them from the sun's rays, casting distorted shadows on the ground.

As Coleman approached the body, the man kicked over the body and stared down at the crude, yet intricate designs on its long padded and baggy robe. Not too far away, the man then spotted the thing’s weapon. It was an unusual design, seeming like a fusion between a mage's staff and a spear. Intriguingly, a strange, smooth stone was embedded just beneath the blade, encased and protected by sturdy iron bands. The staff-spear leaned casually against a nearby tree, suggesting its owner hadn't expected any danger.

Just a few steps from the fallen creature, was an oddity on the forest floor. A small opening, seemingly inconspicuous at first, but upon closer inspection, it was shockingly deep. It appeared as though something or… someone had burrowed into the ground, carving out a subterranean path or possibly a hideout.

“Got something over here.” Coleman said, causing his team to stop dead in their tracks.

With a simple hand gesture, the closest of his team quickly converged on the hole with their weapons pointed at the entrance, while others swiftly formed a protective ring around the area, ensuring no surprises from the surrounding foliage.

Bennett was closest to the team’s leader and together, they moved closer, their boots making almost no sound on the forest floor. With synchronized precision, both of the special forces soldiers leaned over the hole and thumbed their tactical flashlights, sending blinding beams to pierce the darkness below. With the entrance fully illuminated, they revealed another of the lizard creatures trying to clamber up, its eyes reflecting a mix of pain and fear.

Suddenly caught in the blinding light, the creature let out a distressed chirp and instinctively shielded its eyes and without hesitation, both Coleman and Bennett unloaded their rifles.

Suppressed crack after crack rang out as the bullets met their mark. The creature tumbled backward deeper with the tunnel, completely riddled with holes.

Taking no chances, the two moved to ensure that any more threats deeper within were to be neutralized. They both reached for the grenades in their pouches and both pulled their pins simultaneously. With swift, practiced movements, they threw the explosives into the abyss below.

"Frag out!" they yelled in unison, signaling the impending explosion.

The team instinctively took a step back and waited approximately 4 or 5 seconds before a muffled explosion echoed from the depths of the tunnel, followed by a plume of smoke and debris erupting from the entrance. The ground shuddered slightly under their feet, and the eerie silence that followed was soon replaced by the muted sounds of pained squeals.

Clicking his tongue, Coleman took a deep breath and spun around, "Frag 'em again." He ordered as his hand went to his push-to-talk attached to his plate carrier.

As Coleman walked away, Bennett pulled out another fragmentation grenade and pulled the pin. "Frag out!"

"Warmonger, this is Baron, over." Coleman radioed to command.

A brief pause ensued before a response crackled through the radio. "Baron, this is Warmonger. Send traffic, over."

Coleman took another deep breath as he glanced over to the deceased creature not too far away from the tunnel's entrance.

"Warmonger, be advised. We've engaged multiple lizard-like hostiles in our AO. They appear to be subterranean. Over."