Zaan has a point, not that you liked to admit it. You’re a sapper, not a strategist… if someone asked you where to place a dozen blastcaps to topple a curtain wall, you’d have an answer before they were done asking the question! But deciding how to make or break this battle?

History would remember you one way or another… and the thought terrifies you.

The Chytree don’t make mistakes, you grunt as a spear of ice crashes further down the hill and showers your armor with dozens of tiny little ‘tink’s, so you need to be cautious…

You know the trenches like the back of your claw by now–not even a column of giant Magi’bah and the world collapsing around you could hope to defeat the days you spent digging, reinforcing, and pacing from one end of the trenches to the other.

Monotony is one hell of a teacher.

Spurred onward by the ground shaking beneath your feet with each step the giants take, you and the others nearly catch a few blades to the face when you run smack-dab into the middle of a squad of Gnok swordsmen–their tall, armored forms making them resemble scarecrows wobbling in the middle of a storm.

“Gentlemen,” Remarks their sharptoothed leader with a weary grin, “Care to join the charge?”

You never liked Gnoks. Always scheming. Always hiding behind backhanded jokes. No, you growl with a frown, you’re here to ask a favor.

The footmen creak in their armor. “Oh?” Replies the captain, “Well ask away, comrade,” He adds, stealing an amused glance at the rest of his troops, “We aim to please…”

You’re headed for the Conjuring Camp, you croak as you give the payload on your back a good shake. And we’ll need some footmen to cover us.

“Then they’ll paint a nice, big clanking target on us!” Scoffs Modd with a derisive shake of his head. “Come now, Tuz-”

“Shorty’s right,” Nods the Gnok Captain, “That thing on your back won’t make it past the outer trenches if-”

Which is why they’ll be heading in the opposite direction, you continue, earning a pair of stares from your comrades.

“A distraction, ey?” The Gnok asks, his armor creaking as his head cocks to the side. “We were ordered to cover the snipers, Mox.”

An explosion rocks the trenches just ahead of you, showering your helmet with a fresh layer of dirt, mud, and something… warmer. They’ll cover everyone by covering your approach, you argue! Without their constructs and conjurings, the Chytree are dead in the water!

The Gnok leans in closer to meet your hard stare with one of his own. “And if your plan doesn’t work, we’ll be dead here. No snipers, no bombs. That sit right with you?”

It doesn’t, but you don’t bother sharing that. You’re a sapper, not a strategist, after all, but if you only have a dozen blastcaps and you need to topple a curtain wall, well…

It’s not about force... It’s about placement.

>CONTD.