Torga was furious… again. “Lynks, Singleton, Kerr… ah hell, Gunmages, to me!” Torga called across the riverbank to all his men.

Lt. Torga's commission was new, very new. In fact his commission was only two months old. He was also the first trollkin to earn a commission as a gunmage. He has sworn fealty a long time ago to Cygnar. He’d felt the call of the pistol even longer before that. But to achieve his dream of being a gunmage he would have done almost anything. And when he heard of them in the Cygnar army he’d left his moot that day to find himself as both an adult and a gunmage. Torga was large for a trollkin, almost nine feet tall. He was also ugly, and even he knew it. His albino skin stood him out from even his own people, and the tribal tattoos that covered most of his body, a custom among his people for those such as Torga, always got him curious glances from onlookers. He was still more first sergeant than second lieutenant but he was trying. Torga had known T’mys Willis for four years and had worked under him for that entire period. When the Lieutenant had suggested a commission he thought the idea was ludicrous but allowed the half-elf his folly. When he was select by the commissioning board he couldn’t believe it. And now here he was, a 2nd lieutenant in the Cygnarian army on a secret mission, working for a decent half-elf and one ass of a human. All together though, he liked T’mys, the elfling had always treated him fairly, and maybe more importantly he always treated Torga like he was normal. On the other hand, he wanted to rip Eaton’s arms from their sockets and beat him into the ground with them.

As the men and women of his unit began to gather around him, he looked up at the hill to see Lt. Willis heading up to Capt. Eaton as the fog began to enclose around the unit.

“What’s going on sir?” Lynks asked, her minuteman cap barely keeping the rain out of her face.

“We should be regrouping with the salvage team in a few minutes. I wanted to get you all back together before the fog rolled in. Once we’re back well begin to set up camp. Did you all leave everything pre-staged like I asked” His troops responded with a mixture of ‘Yes Sir’ all around. “Good, good. It shouldn’t take us long to have it set up then. I told him the salvage team wouldn’t finish today.”

“Sir.” One of his gunmages requested his attention.

“Yeah Holtz, what is it?”

“Sir, Vasquez and I found tracks along the water line. I think there may be a Fog Drake out here somewhere.” Holtz informed

“Understood private, you heard the man people stay sharp. Lynks, prepare a watch schedule for tonight after camp is set.”

“Yes sir.” Lynks replied.

“All right,” Torga began, “ as soon as Lt. Willis gets…” Torga was cut short by the sound of a firearm discharging. Everyone either grabbed for the grip of their magelock, or actually drew their pistol.

“Easy people.” Torga ordered even as his own hand was on his pistol grip. The gunmages all slowly walked towards the hill. The fog had fully moved in over them and no one could see the hilltop to know what was going on up there. For a fleeting moment Torga envisioned T’mys shooting the captain but then brushed the thought away from his mind. “Elfling doesn’t have the balls to do it.” He mumbled to himself.
Moments passed and everyone was starting to feel a bit easier when the bombardment began. The gunmages could feel the earth shake from the first strike and heard the destructive ring of the other two strikes.

“On Your Ready, People!” Torga commanded. Sergeant or lieutenant, this is what Torga knew how to do. Every gunmage drew his or her weapon at the ready, locked backed the firing mechanism and wrapped both hands around their pistol grips. Torga heard several different spells being worked into the chambered rounds. From up on the hill they heard the crashing about of the Sentinel.

“What the hell is going on up there?” Vasquez question.

“Secure it, Vasquez!” Torga ordered.

“Yes First Sergeant!” Vasquez responded. The rank dropping wasn’t intentional. Many of these people had known Torga as their first sergeant. In fact it was almost comforting to hear it again, not only for Torga, but for his troops as well.

“Form a defensive circle. Anybody sees anything… you know the drill people.” Torga once again was happy with his men (and women when you counted Lynks and Kerr). They trained hard, and were better then most units. Out of the one hundred units of gunmages in the Cygnarian army, the 92nd was always ranked among the best.

“Gunmages, To Me!” It was Lt. Willis; Torga found he was glad to hear his friend’s voice.

“Move.” Torga commanded and the men and women of the 92nd charged up toward their leader. As they almost reached the top when they first saw the silhouette of the warjack thru the fog. It wasn’t until they were almost upon it that they saw the damage it had taken. Next to the damaged Sentinel walked Lt. Willis. He looked angry. He was covered in mud from head to toe, the serious look of concentration on his face. It was Singleton who asked first, “Where’s Capt. Eaton?”

“Dead.” T’mys answered in a low angry tone.

“Are you all right? You’re bleeding.” Torga asked his friend as he placed his large hand on T’mys’s shoulder.

“I don’t like being sucker punched.” Was the only answer T’mys gave, “Gunmages, let us find who wants our attention”, again in the low angry tone.

As they began to walk down hill the salvage team crested it from the other side. One of the gobber mechanics was almost gunned down by a slightly skittish Holtz. The mechanics and gobbers stopped for a moment at the remains of Capt. Eaton but then moved on immediately to the Sentinel. “What have ye done to my ‘jack” was cried out in a thick Rhullish accent. T’mys didn’t look back but he knew by the voice it had to be the dwarven engineer. The engineer began issuing commands to the field mechanic and his gobber crew. T’mys knew he’d have to wait for the Sentinel if it were to be fixed to at least a serviceable level for the fight ahead and commanded it to stop. Again the contest of wills with the cortex and the splitting pain of a migraine assaulted him, it was however slightly less painful from the time before.

“Gunmages listen to me,” Lt. Willis commanded,” Form a defensive line here. Let us hold the high ground for the moment. Let whoever it is that would attack us have to come up to get us.” The gunmages started to line up six feet apart from one another. Kerr however came up to Lt. Willis.

“Sir, I have a scroll of ‘Daylight’ if you think it will help.” She stated both quickly and matter of factly.

“For Dhunia’s sake woman, Cast it!” Torga boomed

Kerr looked from Lt. Torga to Lt. Willis in confirmation. Lt Willis nodded his head once sharply. “Do it.” again in the angry low ‘I’m only half here’ tone. Kerr nodded her head and re-holstered her magelock. She then took her pack off knelt down and began to rifle through it. T’mys drew his sword; Torga now noticed that his Lieutenant’s magelock was missing.

The human field mechanik grabbed hold of the hood above the Sentinel’s head by both hands. With a loud groan he pulled it open. Steam billowed forth in a thick cloud as the hood opened above the warjacks head. The steam rose slowly from the engine compartment as the pressure spewed forth from the conduit in the shoulder. He then picked up a gobber and placed him on the warjacks cannon. They bickered back and forth for a moment while the looked for something under the hood.

Kerr brought out a bamboo scroll case from her pack. She stood back up with the scroll case in her hand, opened one side with a sharp popping noise, and then dumped all the scrolls into her hand. She began to leaf through them, discarding them one by one to the muddy ground as she went on searching.

The gobber who had the spare arm on his back began to un-strap it from himself. Two other gobbers began to help him. T’mys cast a sharp glance at the three goblinoids.

“Don’t bother!” he yelled at them. The gobbers looked up confused, and then over to the dwarven engineer.

“Son, if we don’t replace that arm your machine here is going to lose all its pressure. If that happens, then now amount of magic in the world is going to make it go.” The engineer informed him as he moved over to T’mys’s side.

Lt. Willis looked down, “There’s no…” he began to yell at the engineer as another three bombardments hit ground somewhere in front of all of them. Presumably where the gunmages had gathered together on the riverbank only a few moments ago. T’mys looked back down to the dwarf and finished in a much more regular voice “…time.”

“All right son,” the engineer acknowledged ”but we have to stop that leak!”

T’mys gave a sharp nod and acknowledged, “Do it.”

Kerr found the scroll she had been searching for a dropped all the others. She began chanting to release the spell from the scroll. Lt. Willis could see the ether around here as the spell began to form over the scroll, drawing its energy from the parchment. It’s lines and runes fading from the page, the ends of the paper crumbling as she recited the incantation. As she finished a small ball of yellow light appeared above the crumbling parchment. Kerr flicked her arm upward and the swirling ball of light launched upward into the sky. Everyone could track the ball through the fog; as if the ball was burning it’s way through. As it reached it’s apex it seem to explode like a giant firework. A miniature sun hung in the sky. At once with the flash the fog was burned away instantaneously.

There on the riverbank lay their attackers.