Balsam's Tent
Zulu Warrior Stronghold
180km North West of the Restored Aksum City and FOB
3:00 am
Balsam slept on his soft bed courtesy, of the foolish Celestial sisters. He smiled as he dreamt wonderful dreams of his next conquest and the countless riches to follow. One of the many broken in mares on his bed twitched before slowly making her way over to one of the many stone tables lined with food from countless villages under her masters control. Her shaky hooves reached over to the food, it's enticing smell already making her mouth water; however, she paused, looking back to the bed to make sure Balsam was still asleep, lest she get caught eating without permission again. She only heard the load snores of her master and his herd. She quickly smiled, before a glimpse of her reflection in one of the decorative brass plates nearby wiped it off her face. It nearly broke her heart to see what she had become; all she saw was a teal mare with a brand where her cutie mark once was. The ugly burn depicted shackles and left her with a scar running from her left to right flank. Her own mane was shaven, and the hair was woven into the leather armor of Balsam's Zulu Warriors; the minuscule amount of magic her hair contained could be used to channel a number of enchantments used by the few zebra Mages under his control. Finally she worked up the courage to look at her own face and what she saw only further proved what she was; her muzzle was covered with bruises from countless “corrections” as he called them, since apparently mares were supposed be subservient to stallions. She shuttered, remembering the times she was used as a “reward” for his elite warriors after a successful conquest. Her hooves shook as she remembered why she was here. She wasn’t some forsaken princess or some disposed member of the elite; no, she was a simple earth pony mare without a bit to her name. Did she care? No; she worked hard, lived with her employer and despite her hardships never complained, but still she was exiled. Why? For the act of defending a scared and desperate pickpocket, just a colt, from getting his wings cut off by a noble mare who had everything. What did he steal? Scrap Coal for the winter……a cheap piece of coal that was too poor of quality to even be used by commoners in the lower classes. But she didn’t care; she lifted the colt and began to tear out his feathers while grabbing one of her bodyguard's swords. It was at that point she bucked a rock at the cruel noble mare, and clocked her in the back of the head. The colt escaped, but the noble didn’t move. She tried to run, but it was too late... She was tackled to the ground by the Canterlot guard and arrested.
Her trial was a sham, done only for the elite and Celestia, who sat idly by while they screamed out accusation after accusation of her hatred of the unicorns. The same day she was declared guilty, her explanations fell on deaf ears. Celestia sat on her throne with a look of pity; she thought for a moment that she would pardon her before she said one word……exile. She was dragged to the Zebrican boarder and was forced to stand for the whole 3 day train ride before she was thrown over the border and chased away by unicorn blasts. After 2 days of wandering the Zebrican savana, she was attacked and dragged to a camp where a massive hulking zebra looked at her with twisted glee. She tried to fight for the first few times but all too soon she learned to back down and accept it. As she lifted one of the warm bread rolls too her watering mouth she was struck in the side of her head.
“Apparently, after all this time the mare STILL doesn’t know her place” Balsam struck her again, forcing her to the ground. His muzzle opened into a twisted grin. “Let’s try again” he said looming over her.
She didn’t even scream; there was no point.
Britannian Army and Zebra Militia
Temporary joint forces camp
5km from Zulu Stronghold
3:10am
Shujaa looked at the stronghold through the field binoculars he was loaned; despite seeing it with his own eyes he still could not believe what was about to happen. As he watched the fortress, countless artillery pieces from the south were preparing to fire on it, the Britanians prepared their walkers, and the Zebra Militia were loading and checking there rifles. Never in his life did he believe that his people would be able to directly strike Balsam's Stronghold; he. like many of the mature members of the militia, believed that the fall of Balsam would be through indirect attacks against him. Today that changed. He turned to a Britannia communications officer, waiting for orders from command to begin bombarding the fortress. A short bulldog with an under bite, the dog looked at him for a few moments before he seemed to pause. He nodded. Shujaa knew what it meant; the artillery was in place and ready to fire. He waited a moment before giving the conformation. All throughout the ranks their hearts began to beat. It was about to begin.
“Begin the assault….” He said simply. If he was younger he was sure he would have said something far more heroic or memorable, but he was a grown stallion and had a job to do.
The operator sent the order to fire to the guns; even from this distance he could hear the thunder of the artillery. He heard the sound of shells falling to the earth, their eery whistling sending a tingle down his spine . Within moments explosions rippled throughout the fortress. Even from the distance he could her the shouts of Balsam's men as they were ripped from sleep by the shells detonating. The barrage lasted for 10 minutes, and around 30 to 50 heavy shells impacted the stronghold before the second signal was given. Am eerie silence loomed over the area as the Artillery stopped, and all chatter within the militia forces died down; they were awaiting the order to attack.
“Form up behind the Walkers! The Diamond dogs gave us the keys to the fortress but it will be Zebras who claim it!” he shouted. Within moments the walkers snarled to life, belching fumes into the air as the militia formed in rows behind them as they advanced on the fortress.
The walkers moved forward, their crew working to stop the machine from crushing any overzealous militia members. The advance was quick but controlled in order to both prevent giving Balsam time to reorganize while also making sure they could keep track of their own forces. The continued to walk unopposed until the walker crews started to hear the pinging of small ballista bolts hitting their cockpit. They couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the idea that wooden bolts could stop a machine made of iron and steel. They soon stopped, and the gunners aimed the main gun and the two Gatling Guns at the defensive armaments on the walls before unleashing hell. The crude wooden artillery was reduced to cinders and the warriors into a cloud of red mist and fragments of bone. They then turned their guns to the oak gate that was the final defense the wall had, knocking it down with a single kick from the walker's legs. Within moments the militia members rushed in and opened fire on the confused enemy.
Balsam's Tent
Zulu Warrior Stronghold
3:27am
Balsam was shaken from his fun by the sound of explosions. He left his mare on the floor to look outside and what he saw angered him. Countless tents and storehouses were on fire, and his great warriors were running around land screaming like scared children! Who would dare attack him! Who COULD attack him? He yelled in frustration as he watched the fires rage through his camp, until he saw one of his warrior's head explode, and his corpse fall into the mud. It was then he saw them; even under all the strange wrapping's he could tell they were other Zebra's. They continued to make their way through the camp killing his men with their brutal weaponry. From his vantage point he watched their relentless slaughter, the blood of the Zulu soaking the ground. He watched as one of the rebels threw a stick with a piece of metal on the end into a barricade of Zulu trainees. He waited unsure what to expect until an explosion blew the barricade and the colt's to pieces. A small piece of lacerated flesh flew from the detonation and landed on his face. This was it, a new age of war! He could only imagine his own followers and prophets with such deadly weapons; they even made the crystal armor and weapons he had lost seem so insignificant! He continued to watch his forces get slaughtered, his perverse glee rooting him in place. He noticed that some of the rebels were starting to get too close to his tent. He smiled; this was it, the great battle he had been waiting for to test his followers faith. He made his way over to a rug and teared it off, revealing an old trap door. He opened it, but before he could escape he had to leave his favorite mare with a parting gift. He ran his hooves over the broken mare’s eye swollen eye, before he plunged an old nail from his armor into her eye. He laughed, watching her scream as he made his escape down into the tunnels. This was the great test he had been waiting for. Once he had taken the rebel;s weapons and pillaged to his heart’s content he could begin his great crusade into Equestrian territory, killing all those who would worship the false prophets instead on him. He could already see the Celestial sisters broken and in chains as they laid in front of him, begging for mercy.