Coast off Goblin City
Corporeal Slow carefully climbed over the side of the metal ship, slipping his booted feet into the cargo net as he lowered himself down the net. He kept his eyes away from his feet, staring at the grey metal before him and he climbed down to the waiting boats behind.
Suddenly someone grabbed his back and he looked down, seeing the chasm between the ship and the boat he was supposed to be on. Hands pulled him over as the waves rocked the landing craft away from the side of the ship and cold salty water splashed onto Slow's face.
Finding his feet on the deck of the landing craft, Slow let off the breath that he had held in. He felt his legs turning slightly jelly and quickly found an empty spot to sit down.
One by one, Marines descended down the side of the transport and into the waiting landing craft. Once full, the pilot of the landing craft powered up the engines and made way for the next landing craft behind to take its place as more Marines climbed down.
Once everyone had embarked on the landing craft, the waiting started. To Slow, the wait was the worse. He found that they were always rushing here and there, but always, in the end, they had to wait for further orders. To him, it was like they rush to wait and waited to rush!
"Stand up, ya lazy shits!" The loud cry of the platoon sergeant jolted the men awake and Marines climbed up to their feet on the metal decks. Most of the Marines had huddled together to stay warm from the cold ocean breeze and now they formed up in rows on the landing craft. "Check your gear!"
Slow looked up to the skies and saw the sky starting to brighten as the sun peeked out over the horizon. He checked his gear and his buddies around him and turned behind to look for his little golem which was packed behind the troops.
Finally, a whistle blew, giving the signal to stop the attack. By then, due to the rough seas, plenty of Marines were seasick from the rocking boats. The navy pilots powered up their engines and as one they slammed through the waves, aiming for the shadowy mass that was slowly being lit up by dawn.
The Marine Expedition Force has approached the targeted beachhead under the cover of darkness and waited till the wee hours of the morning before having the Marines board the landing crafts. After that, they waited for the break of dawn to begin their assault, which was certain to catch any goblins on the island unaware of an attack.
The distance between the dozen landing crafts and the shore shortened rapidly as the pilots gunned the engines to the max. Suddenly, screaming artillery shells tore overhead and hammered the beach, turning the peaceful beach into hell.
The three UN Navy corvettes had lined up in a battle line, presenting their broadsides to the beach, fired their 3" guns in rapid succession. The artillery barrage bombarded the beachhead with high explosives, sending balls of flames and smoke into the air.
The Marines on board the landing crafts cheered the Navy on as they admired the fireworks display before them. Even those sick, felt better from watching the forest edge go up in flames. Slow roared out his emotions together with his platoon mates as the landing craft reached its final approach.
"GET READY!" The pilot manning the simple open hatched helm yelled out. "We are going to hit the beach!"
The landing craft was a simple design. Its hull was rectangular, with a basic 'V' shape bottom to reduce as much drag as possible. The bow was also shaped in a simple 'V' shape and was able to be dropped to create a ram. The pilot has an open hatch at the port stern next to the engine and simple mount on the starboard stern housed a mounted .50 caliber gun.
The pilot using his own judgment, powered down the engines, as he did not want the landing craft to run aground on the beach and get stuck there. He reversed the engines to kill off their forward momentum just as the bottom hull scrapped onto the sand.
Despite that, the sudden jolt of the landing craft and waves nearly made the Marines fall off their feet. The pilot yanked the release lever for the bow ramp, and with a long rattle of chains, the bow ramp dropped, slapping against the water and sand.
"GO! GO! GO!" The platoon Lieutenant and sergeants screamed at the Marines and they charged out of the landing craft. They stormed onto the beach and water and raced up the sand while the landing craft's machine gun manned by a goblin happily spewed tracers into the smoking treeline, to provide cover fire.
Once the last Marine and support golems exited the landing craft, the pilot gunned the engine into full reverse and closed the ramp, heading back towards the transport ships to pick up the next load of Marines and supplies.
Slow flopped down flat on the sand and spat out some from his mouth. He tried to rub away the sticky wet sand that had stuck on machine gun grip and gave up as the wet sand stayed stubborn.
He watched his front, scanning the forest line for any signs of movement, but could only see tendrils of curling smoke and flickering flames left behind by the Navy's artillery bombardment. There wasn't even a sign of a single feathered wyvern!
"Platoon Four! Advance!" Orders started coming down from the line as the Officers started to organize the attack. "Platoon Three, hold and cover!"
Finally, the order for Slow's platoon to move up came. He pushed himself off the sand and advanced with the rest, trying to ignore the wet sand chaffing his body.
The lone Super Sea Cobra circled in the air over the city, it's under belly camera attachment capturing the scenes below it as thousands of riled up goblins shrieked and yelled in their language, shaking crude weapons at it.
The scouting seaplane was assembled on the decks of one of the transports and lowered by crane over to the side of the sea the night before. It had taken off in the rough seas, just at the break of dawn, when the Marines landed. Now it flew over the island and provided intel for the UN troops.
UNS Victory, 'Victory' class cargo ship, Command and Control Center
Onboard the heart of the leading transport, UNS Victory, Joseph stood over a map table surrounded by rows of operators manning radio sets. Banks of displays sat on one side of the bulkhead which the largest display was currently showing an aerial view of Goblin City.
"Sir, UNS Warrior, and UNS Spear are leaving the flotilla and headed to blockade the entrance into Goblin City," One of the staff officers reported as information came in. "UNS Wolf is holding its position to provide fire support to the Marines if needed."
Joseph nodded as he kept his eyes on the screen, watching tiny dots rushing the fat clumsy looking boats out to sea. "Tell the Navy to ensure that none of the goblin raiding ships leaves the cove. Destroy them all."
"Sir, Major Lanfort is reporting the first wave of Marines isn't encountering any resistance on the beach," Another staff reported. "He is pushing the men forward towards the City. He expects contact with Goblin City within two hours if there is no resistance."
"Tell him to take it slow," Joseph replied. "I want him to sweep the ground thoroughly."
"Sir, the LCs are back to pick up the second wave!"
"Third Battalion reports enemy contact! They are engaging!"
Reports kept coming into the command center, giving Joseph a clear picture of what was happening on the ground. He looked at the table where staffers were moving tokens to indicate friendly forces and enemies.
"First Battalion reports of large numbers of goblins pouring out from the west of forest of the beachhead!"
"Sir! Estimated numbers of goblins are over 9000!"
"Tell the forces on the ground to hold and engage!" Joseph ordered. "Fall back towards the beach and engage the goblins from range!"
"Ladies and gentlemen, how nice of these goblins to come to us!" Joseph laughed as he joked with his staff. "Now our boys don't have to go murking around to find those scum! They are coming straight at us! Tell our boys to kill them all!"
"Sir, Yes, Sir!"
The sleek looking warship remained stationed with its broadsides facing the island when the sudden calls of fire support came into the bridge. The Captain, an middle aged elf whose previous experience was just on fishing boats stood at the armored windows watching the land with a pair of powerful binoculars.
He saw the Marines who had entered the forest retreat back out in a hurry before they formed a line of resistance as a horde of dirty green skins erupted out shortly after. The goblins were like a wave as they rushed out in a chaotic mess, throwing themselves without care into the tracer fire that was flickering non stop from the beachhead.
"Bear all guns to bear!" The Captain snapped. Despite coming from a simple humble fishing family, what he learned from the UN Naval Academy kept him calm. He was proud of his command, especially his ship. "Show those scum our firepower!"
The main guns of the UNS Wolf thundered, sending high explosive warheads screaming down range, while both secondary 20mm dual gun mounts on the side of the side joined in shortly after, spewing a storm of death into the goblins.
Eternal City of Burns, Palace of the Burning Hill
Strurruilk, the Mighty King of All Things Under His Feet and Ruler From The Throne of The Burning Hill and Sea Master of Thieves and Giver of All Goblin Life and Conquerer of All Lands and Grand Lord of Magic and Happiness! and the Only Chief of Love and Destruction, was a massive oversized hobgoblin.
He was bald with a polished shine that caught the first rays of the sun, glittering from the animal fat his servants used. Wads covered his face and he knew it attracted the females most, from their twisted faces of adoration. His chest and arms were bulging with muscles because you can't be a King without any impressive muscles that can scare silly a goblin just from one look.
He sat on a throne made from a collection of skulls and war trophies, heavily padded to ensure his butt did not get stabbed or poked by some spikey bits of bones or weapons. His throne room was sited inside a massive cavern that opened out to the main vent of the volcano.
His throne was placed just at the opening, giving the audience in his throne room a glimpse of his power as the ever burning flames behind him made him glow red. He especially liked to roar loudly, just before the Burning Hill rumbled, a trick he learned how to predict. It made his followers cowered most satisfying as they flattened themselves fully on their bellies and begged forgiveness.
His subordinates and followers laid flat on the dark rock awaiting his commands as he could hear and feel the dull thud of thunder even from the depths of the cave. "Summon the horde!"
"Yes! My Mighty King of All Things Under His Fe-" His hobgoblins and goblins leaders started to recite.
"Just... go!" Strurruilk sighed as he cut off the of his lists of titles. Normally, if any goblin or hob has forgotten his titles, they would be fed to the Burning Hill to quench his displeasure. But today, invaders were at his doorsteps and he has no mood for such fancy salutations.
"Nice invaders come to be food! It shall be feast feast time!"