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Around 8 years ago

Dwarven Marches

The sun was angry.

It beat down upon the unhappy inhabitants of the waste every day without relent, suckingall moisture from the air and shrivelling any plant life that dared to sprout. The days got

scorching hot, to a point where life had two options: hide or die. The nights got

blindingly cold as well, so most form of creature made due at dusk and dawn, collectingmoisture from the dry cacti and the low places where dew formed. The landscape was a

mixture of rolling sand dunes, breaking up to mud flats or rocky outcroppings, with an

occasional copse of stone mesa.

It was mid-morning, and Scout Corporal Chex Fleet suffered inside her heavy thermal

suit. It consisted of heavy pants and coat, a treated apron, thick mittens, hood and goggles

made of cut volcanic glass. Meant to protect the wearer from the dangers of the waste,Chex still felt winded and uncomfortable under all the layers, even after several weeks of

acclimatization. Their platoonRecce Roc Six-Two - had gone out on patrol to the north

west of Fort Amalgram, and was around 500 miles out into the dry. They were due to

reach the river Amalgram today, and replenish their dwindling water sources. Currentlythey were making good pace, and soon they would stop to dig shelters to escape the noon

heata foe more dangerous than most of the desert inhabitants.

Chex was glad they would reach water soon, the sand got under the heavy layers and

chafed, leaving her skin raw and blistered. They treated their feet as often as possible,

applying creams and drinking potions to alleviate the blisters and pain. She squinted

through her lenses against the glare, a distant shimmer on the horizon. Was it just heat?She knew men could sometimes see things that werent really there, claiming to see

grand trees or massive lakesall lies of the sun and sand. Turning sunwards, she held her

hand horizontal over her head and brought it down to tap her hood thrice. From the longstaggered formation behind her, a form broke off and approached.

Sergaent Jean-Luc Par was a tall man with a long nose. He hailed from Bellange andspoke with a thick accent, sometimes interspersing Bellangian throughout his Common.

Dressed in similar garb, with a pack and rifle slung over his shoulder, he quickly covered

the distance between them. Quest-ce que cest, Cheques? She turned around, used to

his odd way of speaking after the years of training and co-habitation, not to mention thelong patrols and sudden ambushes.

Il y asomething there, Jean. Turning back westwards, she raised a hand towards the

distant shimmer, a sparkle that seemed to stretch a fair distance along the arc of thedistant desert. The man peered closely; his vision was lauded to be the best in the platoon,

maybe the whole division due to his marksmanship.

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Je pense que He let out a small laugh, Cheques, it iz water! We ave made it tola

riviere! He quickly turned around and raised and arm, quickly bringing it across his

body in a chopping motion westwards. There was a relieved murmur from the column asword spread that they had finally reached a place of rest.

Chex nodded stiffly, not out of emotion but because the heavy clothing restricted hermovements. Re-joining the ranks, she began the long trek towards what would be theircamp, hopeful they would reach it before the sun reached its zenith. She missed the sound

of moving water, a concept nearly unheard of in most parts of the Dwarven Marches. The

Amalgram River was an exception, bringing fresh water as well as trade from the south.It was also the place where she grew up, along the dockyard of Bunyans Bend, far to the

south.

The march passed relatively quickly, and well before noon they had reached the blessedlycool waters, small groups splitting up to dig shelter trenches and latrines. Chex pulled

down her face mask, taking a deep breath of the cool air carried by the rushing waters.

She smiled and approached the bank, shedding her heavy gloves to pick up a smooth

river stone. Flat, round, and worn by the passing of water, perfect for skipping. She

hadnt done that in years. Weighing it in her hand, she glanced out over the water before

raising her hand to throwand something caught her wrist.

She looked back to see Sergeant Par there, a hand grasping her wrist and a stern

expression on his similarly bare face, Pas maintenant, caporal. Get over to the duty line,we ave to resupply before we can relax. He let go of her wrist, and she turned towards

her duty, the stone slipping from her fingers,

Oui, sergeant.

The heat of the desert was great, it was dry and the sand chafed. Sometimes bad things

happened and people got hurt, but it was out here that she felt free. With people who feltthe same way as her, who wanted to help and put their lives on the line, this is what

mattered in life.

Soon, they would head north to patrol the borders therestrange beasts had been

reportedly attacking expanding pioneers, and they were to investigate before reporting

back.

Observation Post M228

If used, please reseal.

Hegemony of Oz

My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Calendar for gold collection.Hegemony of Oz