The large, menacing blotch of darkness that hovered just out of sight of the clouds began to rumble louder and louder while it moved ever closer towards the canyons. It had almost seemed omnipresent to those who saw more of the huge blobs descend from the East and West as if they were vultures preparing to circle their latest victim that laid in its death throes. The sheer size of each behemoth testified to whatever power it had wielded, and it wasn't until one of the dirigibles closest to the scarlet wound that sat within the desolate badlands began to sink below the clouds did the full impact of just what was happening hit those that had witnessed it's steady progress.
Carving through the clouds like a searing blade through a hunk of flesh, The Lead Deluge came within sight of the canyons for the first time in a matter of hours. Sitting upon his cushioned throne, Captain Fijino could only watch as his destination crept ever closer, the canyons now so flush with crimson that they looked to be stained with blood. The zeppelin’s navigator held his brass sextant above a patchwork of crude maps that had been transcribed from the tattered bits and pieces of Wolfshead's latest transmission, attempting to plot a course that would give the entire crew a bird's eye view of the canyons.
They were nearly there.
Fijino's stubby fingers dug into the leather upholstery of his throne as he felt his ship continue to sink down into the abyss below while they prepared to cast the final survey that would make or break the battle that was to come. Both the Sky Fury and The Magellan were mere hours away from meeting at the agreed rendezvous, but it'd be too late. The pirate captain wouldn't wait that long for his bitter rivals to accompany him into battle; he had his standing orders, and he would relay the last piece of the puzzle needed for Saxon's horde to descend upon the enemy, but there was no reason to sit and wait for them to join him.
By dawn, the horde might've reached the canyons, but if the captain had any say in the matter, he'd give one last look upon the first life sign he saw upon the landscape and then give the order to pulverize it into oblivion.
Overhead, the zeppelin had reached the large, scarlet fingers of the canyon that sat profane amongst the rest of the wasteland. Turning with a whining groan as the steel plating felt the tug of gravity while the dirigible dipped right, the entire ship quickly swung right and moved into the cover of the pillars that had been formed to protect the canyon in the first place. In approximately ten minutes the zeppelin would make its first initial sweep as it circled the canyons, and once that had happened, it would ascend to the proper altitude to hover above the wasteland once more to make its final assessment.
And then The Lead Deluge would prepare to launch its first barrage.
~*~
The steady thump of hoof beats below the eldritch's feet gradually jarred him from his train of thought as he continued to plot and think of the various tactics he'd need to use to give his regiment the edge it needed in battle. Looking down to see the soft, powdered black mane of his young warhorse billowing in the wind, Saxon patted him softly and muttered," You'd better be worth the trouble.."
Ambrose merely snorted.
Pulling forward, the weird gently kicked the ribs of the horse into a gait as he held onto the reins, intending to catch up to Boris who had insisted in taking a portion of the army and using it to scout ahead. Glancing behind him, Saxon turned back to see the wall of shadows that was his horde that marched only minutes behind him, he knew that once the horde fell into battle formation things would become cohesive. That was if they wanted to survive.
Only a few tents remained standing at the base camp, mostly guarded by a few ogres here and there that had been assigned to protect the radio operators that had been unable to lug their cumbersome equipment to the battlefield. Once The Lead Deluge had trickled down the last of the information to the radioeers back at HQ, the message would then be transmitted through the huge, plastic handheld radios that both Boris, Saxon, and the lieutenants carried that had acted as the only landline and communications between the army and the ones the eldritch had handpicked for gathering intelligence.
Feeling himself able to control the wild spitfire colt more and more with each passing day, the eldritch gave one last kick and felt himself rock backwards as Ambrose broke into a mad gallop forward. At this pace they'd be within a stone's throw of the canyons in less than three or five hours, and the weird would do anything he could to insure that should they find the enemy, the first strike would produce fruitful results.
Or so he hoped.
~*~
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