Lupercalia, Wolf System
6th District
Meiji Shogunate
Its hot on the equator, hot as the deepest pits of Hades. Dry as well, you can only assume the air, sun and sandy dirt are in an eye searing skin peeling conspiracy to rob you of every last bit of moisture in your body. This is Lupercalia, a death world deep in Shogunate territory settled long ago by several Neo-Pagan tribes from old Earth. Death worlds aren't usually paradises. Lupercalia is no exception,
Death stalks you in a million ways, everywhere you walk. If it wasn't the Desert Dragons here around the equator or the Ice Lions of the northern coasts of the single land mass of this hemisphere, it was your fellow Lupercalian trying to rip your life from you. Then leaving with everything you owned. Death worlds don't generally produce saints or angels. Lupercalia is no exception.
The Iron Wolves had been chasing the Red Scars for days. Little sleep and lots of moving were part of life on Lupercalia, the Iron Wolves prided themselves on taking it to a whole other level. No sleep and long days of hunting were standard fare for the Wolves as they stalked the galaxy fighting for whoever offered them the best deal or the best cause. They had run the Red Scars down in retaliation for a minor raid on a caravan of merchants the Wolves had allowed safe passage to. Now the Red Scars would be no more, or the Iron Wolves would all be dining in Marodin's Halls with the war god's Glorious Legions.
"War Captain, I have 43 contacts showing up on screen," Pack Leader Ragnar reported, continuing over the Iron Wolves Battle Circuit, "It would appear we have finally caught up to them brothers" The War Captain could hear the grin in Ragnar's voice.
"Agreed, Pack Leader" The War Captain responded, equally excited. " Come now brothers no long speeches or dramatics, we came here to end these Red Scars and take their Gates, Mecha and land for our War Band. We do it today, none get away, bonded or killed, everyone of em." As the Captain began to nudge the speed of his own mecha up "Now at them brothers in Marodin's name shed their blood!" He finished with a growl.
With the War Captain's command the howls of a pack of hunting wolves erupted over the Battle Circuit and 25 Mecha, the meanest war machines to ever stalk humanity's battlefields, began moving from the column of march into staggered skirmisher lines. Picking up speed as the lines shook themselves out, all 25 pilots were powering up weapons and calling targets over the battle net.
The War Captain kept one eye on the terrain ahead, on the oncoming host of the Red Scar Mecha.The raider tribe's Mecha were a collection of medium to heavys with a few assault class beasts, Torrents and Dreadnoughts likely belonging to leaders of the Scars. The Captain's other eye was on his own Mecha's targeting computers waiting for the range to be perfect. The War Captain's Antithesis was a massive humanoid machine itself, weighing in at 90 tons, and this particular machine boasting a pair of looted Harmonic Disrupters in each arm with a Vadhar auto-cannon in its chest.
His own pack would be the firstinto the fire today. On his right flank in rear echelon, his personal pack hunted. His pack was completed by two Dilophos bracketing an Ignis. Similar in appearance to the ever hungry desert Dragons that called Lupercalia home, this Ignis was the most recent loot for the Wolves during a recent mission off world. Once they closed with the Scars the Ignis' ability to generate a massive plasma cone called the Jurassic Blast, would be useful in the soon to be close quarters mayhem the Wolves preferred. After all, there's only one way to Marodin's Halls, glorious death in battle. A common cause of death on Lupercalia.
"Ragnar's pack take my left flank. Floki's take my right. Smitty, find cover and put those missile systems to good use. Rollo, wait till we are stuck in, then make speed and get around one of those flanks, then hit em. Hard." The Captain snarled out.
A series of Ayes followed, each Pack leader acknowledging his orders. Rollo's Scout Pack, four Luisons equipped with suped up Hot Rod engines, peeled off first, they had the most ground to cover in the least amount of time. Moving with their signature bird gait, the Luisons quickly pulled away from the other packs moving at break neck speed to the right of the Wolves main formation. Kicking up puffs of dust with every step the scouts would hopefully be in position right on time. As the scouts began their run Ragnar and Floki's heavy Mecha packs were coming on line with the Captain's Alpha Pack, racing directly at the Scars clearly disorganized lines.
Pack Leader Tyler "Smitty" Smith was commander of the Iron Wolves Missile Pack. A pair of 75 ton Rook mecha, acquired while under contract to the 99th Chessman RND months ago, with a pair of 75 ton Bishops for close in security made up the Missile Pack. Smitty's own Rook and his battle brother Thar's Rook took up positions in what would soon be the back field of the battle. Taking advantage of a small outcrop of rocks and boulders both Rooks deployed their heavy anchors and started locking onto Scars. They would be in range very soon.
As the Wolves closed the distance with their prey, a storm of fire was already being traded by the two lines. Cannon shells screamed across the field smashing into dirt, stone and armor. Energy weapons connected opponents to one another for the blink of an eye, as missiles poured from the sky falling on both lines with blossoms of flame and steel.
The battle didn't last long. The Assault pack led by the War Captain, with Ragnar and Floki's packs on his flanks, slammed into the Scar center. He drove Garm, his Antithesis, straight at a Scar Dreadnought, howling over his own comms, firing all of his cannons, the Captain blasted tons of armor off of his first target in a matter of seconds and drove through their center, leaving the doubtlessly shaken Dread for his pack to finish off. The War Captain's next target, a fearsome Torrent didn't fare much better. The normally fearsome Mecha was still charging its main guns for another shot at a Wolf when the Captain simply slammed Garm's wrecking ball of a right fist into the heart of the Torrent, with his left he punched the shoulder of the Scar assault Mecha as he pulled his other fist back, sparking electronics and armor plate ripping out with it. The Torrent simply spun and crashed to the parched dirt throwing up a great cloud of dust and sand.
In the rear, Smitty's pack was getting target locks across the field as the War Captain made his charge. The missile pack unlike the rest of the Wolves wasn't piloted by natural born Lupercalians. The four warriors driving were former enemies taken in battle off world. Smitty had proven the Lupercalian custom of bonding captured enemy warriors to the pack after victory. Leading his pack to victory in countless battles and raids as Iron Wolves.
"No frakkin blue on blue boys, make sure we're rainin Hades on these frakkin Scars or ill frakkin gut you frakkers myself!" "Aye sir" the instant reply from all three of his pilots, followed by Thar's steady "Target locked, missiles away, re-loading" Thar's modified Rook, like Smitty's own, sported a pair of twin Tandem Launchers. A missile system designed to mess up a whole lot of folks day all at once. The Tandems threw a wall of flaming steel up into the air arcing across the barren field and slamming into the oncoming Scars, many where already beginning to stall as their lines were being chewed apart by the Iron Wolves.
That's when Rollo finally got where he needed to be, far to the right and coming in on the Scars back side. All four warriors opened up with missile and cannon fire as they entered into range of the Scars. Missiles and cannon rounds tore into the relatively thin rear armor of many of the Scar Mecha. 80 ton beasts fell to the ground with cataclysmic shudders as the "lttle" Luisons opened up with everything they had. The Scar lines were in disarray as the Wolves marauded through their formation.
The Captain had reached the Scar's biggest monster. Likely their own War Captain's mecha, a gargantuan Jadoon with a pair of battered Ogguns flanking it. All three were blazing shots of steel and plasma at the Wolves in their midst.
Cannons blazing, and alarm klaxons blaring as his mecha began reaching the heat danger zone. The War Captain shredded the Ogguns spitting both of them with massive rounds from the Harmonic Disrupter cannons on each arm of his mecha. Mecha guts and shredded armor blew out the Ogguns' backs as armor buckled, systems overloaded and the cannon rounds passed through.
Now standing directly in front of the Jadoon, the Captains mecha sent a heavy kick with its right leg smashing the Jadoons own leg, with Garm's hands the Captain slammed the mecha to the ground slamming multiple ton fists over and over into the Jadoon's cockpit. After he straightened his Mecha back up he glanced at the scanners and was rewarded with nothing but his own Wolves' IFF transponders.
Looking out of his cockpit at the shattered mecha all over the field, the Captain opened up his comms, so all of his War Packs would hear then flipped the switch to the external speakers mounted on Garms humanoid skull. "LOOK HERE MARSODIN! LOOK HERE WHAT WE HAVE DONE FOR YOU! THIS BLOOD WE SHED FOR YOU, GOD OF WAR!" The Iron Wolves once again let loose long fearsome howls. Their savage call the only sound to accompany the dry wind barely lifting the desert sand in to the air.
"Pack Leaders, get me status reports real rikki tik, meet at the remains of this Jadoon, might as well see how much of it we can take home with us." He finished.
"Aye War Captain!" the Pack Leaders answered. With that the Wolves began sorting through the new loot from the Scars, pulling out wounded pilots, accepting their bonds when deserved and giving the quick end to those deemed to weak for the packs. What could be salvaged was loaded up in the nano-steel loot bags every Wolf Mecha was equipped with. It would be a good haul as far as loot went. A couple of decent pilots bonded from the Scars as well.
The Scars had been on the run for days. They were tired. They were desperate. They never had a chance. Even outnumbering the Iron Wolves nearly 2-1 not a solitary Scar would leave the battlefield today. Some would be bonded to the Wolves, Scars no more, A chance to earn their way into the pack themselves. The rest would be dead. Like their tribe.
Good day for the Iron Wolves
Bad day for the Red Scars
Just another day on a Death World.
Welcome to Lupercalia.
Submitted by Justin Bertelli#583634