Wolfran the Knight Avenger

In

The Last Crusade of Altraumzen

Episode 3: No Mercy for the Wicked

For a brief moment there was darkness then green words appeared across the cockpit forward facing plate that read,” System Booting.” Several large screen panels sparked to life showing a vast panoramic image of the surroundings around the mech. Konrad slapped his helmet in a poignant fashion before jumping into the cockpit of his own scarlet mech across from his Captain’s.

Nodding Wolfran sighed one last time, and gave a final prayer before donning his helmet, and latching it to his armored suit. The second he did so the intercom became audible, and the Captain caught the end of the automated message sent from the bridge.

“Knights run diagnostics and course correction for dropzone.” Droned on the calm feminine computer generated recording. Wolfram had long put the voice from his mind, and was well on his way past his diagnostics. His systems were operational, and his weapons stowed for their descent onto Ishtar’s throne. All that was left for him was to check on his men to be sure their mounts were prepared for the coming trial.

First he would have to wait for the recording to free up their channels. Wolfran tapped his plasma shotgun next to his sword impatiently as he waited for the regurgitation of all the briefings and planning they’d endured for the last several months.

“Be advised that the light Irregulars and attached Auxiliaries are already on the surface. Check fire and mount clearance upon planet fall.” Continued the computer without missing a step. Still, they were nearing the end. Wolfram didn’t have to read his sensors and intel updates to know the oversized carrier was entering low orbit for their insertion. A veteran soon learned the moans of a craft under strain from a heavenly body’s gravitational well. Soon.

“As per briefing instructions this will be a high orbit insertion. No Heavy mounts, air support or orbital strikes available due to ground based orbital and air defense platforms.” Redundancy was the key to stable engineering as Wolfran’s cousin had always claimed, but it was the bane to an impatient warrior's sanity. The Knight Captain waited an extra heartbeat to be sure the endless blather had subsided.

The upper echelons of their fleet were a pack of busy bodied maids in the hen house. Soon they would be out of their reach, and cleaving through the demonic denizens of the nightmare world. Wolfram would enjoy the freedom whilst it lasted. Those who survived would doubtlessly be subjected to the elderly hag meddling, but they would be alive.

Some may wish they weren’t living with a certain busy body Grand Marshal’s staff nagging like women on blood cycles. Nonetheless, despite the nattering time passed on, and Wolfran was free to speak to his troops for a change now that the command deck wasn’t attempting their usual ramblings.

“Blood Squadron Obenbruderns report in. As I understand it we have some heathans to cleanse,” Wolfran keyed into his communicator while simultaneously checking each mech and riders’ status on his screen.

Obenbruderns were in charge of twelve mounted knights each and as a Captain Wolrfan had four Obenbruderns to command his knights. Each chimed into the radio in a timely fashion.

“Magnus Present for the cleansing.” Konrad started the roll call as expected.

“Bloody Lance is all present Knight’s Captain. Give the word,” Obenrittenbruden Otto’s voice was the next over the air waves. These were their long range lancer specialists with railguns in their lances and additional grenade launcher mods on their shoulder plates.

“Bloody Cross all present Knight’s Captain,” Obenrittenbruden Dietrech confirmed his section of twelve lancers were present.

“Bloody Scythe present, and waiting Knight’s Captain,” Obenrittenbruden Walter’s voice confirmed his men and their mounts readiness with their Zweihanderkriegers electro swords and burst missile shoulder launchers.

“Bloody Long Sword present for the Lord’s Judgment Captain,” last was Obenrittenbruden Cunradus the old man of their small cadre of mechanized knights. His men were Zweihanderkriegers mechs as well giving the company of fifty knights both range, and aggression to pin and overwhelm their enemies.

A good commander knew his men, his arms, and his business of destruction. The best also understood his enemy. Unsurprisingly, with their heaviest armor being the Zweihanderkriegers medium rated plating offset by their heavy firepower all meant any defensive operation should best be handled as an offensive action towards their rear bleeding the enemy with every step.

The issue that was on every captain’s mind was the obvious. Ishtar had blood to spare. Only a true slaughter of end of days proportions could hope to dent the horde of giants, demons, werecreatures, slaves, marauders, and willing machinations of the dark goddess. Lord willing that was just what Marshal Andres and his favored Captain Wolfran intended to create, but first they would need their fleet's orbital support and air superiority. To that end the Knight Captain would ask much of his men.

He knew just how to motivate them for the same thoughts were coursing through Wolfran’s mind. Death and vengeance that he’d dreamed of since the first raids on his father’s estate was, but one drop away. No fire, brimstone, or shade of the devil’s schemes could hide them from his wrath now.

Today not the denizens of Ishtar were the hunters. No, today their roles were reversed. Today they hid in the holes as the hunters bay at their walls. Those who thought their raiding, enslaving, and consuming of the flesh of their enemies would never be punished by God would have a rude awakening. With that last thought on his mind and the flashing images of his cousins and sisters burning in the fires of his youth, or being dragged off for dark rituals by demons and slavers seared into his mind Wolfran keyed his intercom.

“You are all men of high standing, and veterans of more than one bloodletting so I will not patronize you my Rittenbruden. Below lies fire, death, and gnashing of teeth. Below is Ishtar’s Hive. Their portals of darkness, and her minions’ holes waiting for their raids. From this rats nest has our enemy terrified our children, and haunted their dreams with torture and slavery.”

“There is her best,” continued Wolfran with a stoic voice,” The demon whore’s raiders’ hive where their millions rive underground in their ancient holes waiting for their mistress’ call. And we are dropping right into their nest. Alone, with nothing but our heavy infantry, Auxiliaries, and the good Savior our Lord Jesus Christ for support,” The Knight Captain paused as he let his men digest what they knew to be true. Fear was natural, but now was not the time for fear.

“I should tell you there is hope. Fore there is hope. Your Obenrittenburdens are receiving their briefing even now as we launch. So secret and against all chance is that hope that we dare not share her even with the other Rittenburdens less our Grand Marshal, for his internal reasons we shall never glean, kill her stillborn in her conception,” Wolfran paused again, and let his mounting wrath flow through his veins.

The Lord’s fury was upon this world, and like a true son and servant of the Most High the mere existence of those sniveling prideful whores below his feet boiled his blood. And with all he was, the Knight Captain told his men the truth.

“But that doesn’t matter,” Wolfran let the phrase permanent through his men’s minds before continuing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Konrad was now mass broadcasting to the entire forward invasion fleet. Knowing him he was most likely using less than moral means to broadcast to the entire fleet. So be it.

“Below lies the creatures, slaves, and vermin who for so long have taken your sisters, your daughters, your wives, your children from you with impunity. Who come again and again for their depraved rituals and sacrifices to their dark gods, and the evil one under it all.”

“Our Father in Heaven has given us a great gift. Vengeance. Fury. The instrument of the Savior wrath falls on those who have tormented our families for generations. Think of those you lost. Hold their face in your mind,” Wolfran’s face hardened underneath his helmet as the flood of memories washed over his nightmares once more.

All the portals and raids that rained down on their home on the moon called Callisto now terraformed into a paradise fashioned after the homelands of their forefathers. They called their new home Oasverbergen. Today the beautiful woods and lake studded valleys of his home would not burn. No. Today was the nightmare world of Altraumzen to be bleed dry.

“Remember their names! Those this fallen hellscape has forgotten and callously tossed into the flames. Scream their names! This is the reckoning of these demons who thought that God had ignored their twisted sins. We are here to show them he never forgets, and judgment always comes,” Wolfran allowed his roilling emotions to fill his being, let God control his words for his final exaltation.

“We are the righteous hand of God! We are judgment! What are we my Rittenbruden?!”

“Judgment!” The cry was so powerful, the voices so many over the gathered fleet that the intercom could not contain or emulate the cry.

The ships shook from the lowly refuse airlocks to the Grand Marshal’s Headquarters. The Heavens cried with them, and Wolfran felt his Savior's hands upon him. This day was theirs. The minions below were already dead Wolfran and the knights and men at arms of the Rittenbrudens were the God of Heavens’ Armies’ messengers in the matter.

“Dues Volt! No mercy for no mercy is deserved!” Was Wolfran’s cry as the doors beneath the gathered mechs, and infantry capsule opened to the burning planet below. A second later the clamps released, and the first wave of judgment fell on to the world of Altraumzen.

The Story Will Continue Every Friday.

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