Dolor watched, as his machines of war rolled across the barbed wire filled wasteland between the front line, and the enemy. He witnessed as one hit a shell crater, dipping down, and rising back up. Dozens rolled across ruined land, like ships over water.
"Safety belts may be needed." He thought to himself, thinking of the men inside who are being thrown around inside the metal box.
As it rose from the crater and slammed onto the ground, before continuing to move towards the enemy. Small holes opened up and automatic repeater guns opened fire from the holes. The artillery leveled itself out, before firing, pushing the tank back a bit from the force of the gun's blast. The enemy trench exploded, and a whistle blew from the trenches, the men following the land crawler across no man land.
The land crawler near the front exploded, before another, and another did. Belt guns opened fire on the advancing infantry, as the enemy has seen the land crawler in action, seeing it's abilities, mostly. The sounds of battle sounded......inviting to him, he had never seen such sights, such sounds, but.....it felt.........inviting.
"What is this feeling? This rush?" He asked.
Dolor walked towards the trench, ducking down, and grabbing a gun, and walked towards a forward trench. His hands went up the rifle, feeling the bolt handle, understanding how to use it....almost out of instinct. He reached the front of the trenches, and found a bayonet, connecting it to the rifle's barrel, and walked to a edge.
He stood up, and tracked the gunfire of a belt gun, before he suddenly fired the rifle, hitting the man who operated the gun. He suddenly pulled the bolt back, and loaded a new round into the chamber. He tracked another soldier, this one feeling special for some unknown reason. He fired, killing him cleanly. Dolor continued to pick off soldiers of Gaullacia, before he ran out of ammo. He looked around, seeing a belt gun, with no operator. He walked over to the gun, and saw a tank of liquid neck to it.
He grabbed a belt from a fallen soldier, hooked the tank up as a sling and lifted the gun up, hooking the ammo box to his belt and carried the belt gun into no man's land, and fired it. He walked forward, firing the belt gun as he walked.
"Follow me! For Premany!" He cried out, rallying the soldiers into a charge.
Something felt.....right about this. As he reached the trench, he fired down the lines, clearing it before dropping down. He felt liquid leaking out, the tank had been shot. He dropped the belt gun and grabbed a gun from a fallen enemy. With a quick look over of the weapon, he understood how to use it. With a pump of a handle, a new shell would be loaded in. As a soldier ran down a short path, Dolor aimed the gun, and fired, sending a blast of pellets into the man, killing him. Soldiers jumped down into the trenches, aiding in the clearing of the trenches.
"For Premany!" He cried out, leading soldiers into the enemy line.
There was a sudden rush of soldiers, making the charge lose it's momentum, before it reversed. Dolor used every weapon he could find to cover the soldiers as they retreated. He would use bayonets as a knife to cut through his enemies, guns to cover his retreat, and even hand explosives to break defenses. Soldiers fought beside him, died protecting him, while others would become inspired by him, and try to lean a charge with a squad.
Eventually, Dolor was forced out of the trenches, wounds covering his body. A medic got to him, and did bandage the large man, now called "the inventor of war". A bandage wrapped over his eye, which had debris stuck near it from a cluster of hand explosives.
Gaullacian soldiers rushed the Preman trenches, but suddenly, it began to rain. The clouds appeared suddenly, before the clouds were pierced by something, falling rocks? No, these were shaped like tears. As the objects fell to the ground, clouds of dust hid the impact. Premany soldiers waited in their trench, securing preparing for the enemy, when suddenly, figures stepped out of the dust, large figures, in armor of metal.
The figures in golden armor stepped out, before removing their helmets, showing that they were beautiful women. A larger figure stepped out, dressed in golden armor, wielding a sword in hand. Dolor felt.....a pull towards her. As he stepped out of the trench, she looked at him, their eyes meeting. Her beauty was impossible, he felt like he should kneel down and pledge his body to her, but he fought the urge.
The dust settled, and dozens of figures could be seen, all wearing metal armor, fighting off the Gaullacian soldiers with ease.
"Who are you? And are you friend, or foe?" Dolor asked, forcing the words out of his throat, his hands gripping a rifle in his hands.
"Hello son." The woman said, softly smiling.
