Alas, my everlasting peace Is broken into pieces. - Thomas Hood. The orange orb that was the sun hung just above the treeline, casting long deep shadows over the red baked earth. A line of ten combat tanks rumbled in orderly precession, metal creaking on metal and tracks slicing and crunching through hard soil. Cyclic whining noises filled the air as the huge vehicles of war rumbled past, shaking the very earth and sending small creatures scurrying for deeper cover. The tanks were squat, the widely set apart tracks giving them the appearance of a crouching monsters hugging the ground. Atop the black smooth hull was a rounded turret and cannon that turned lazily like a head inspecting the passing terrain. Following closely behind the ten combat tanks were six rows of troopers in full scale battle armour, red sashes whipping in the breeze indicating they were of the Hartrias forces. There were five hundred in all, each moving with regulated steps to appear as one great interlinked machine.
