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The long, bulky, armed metal shell slid into the tank's receptacle with a 'clunk' and the orc turned next to the aiming mechanism. He'd not had chance to practise, and he unsteadily cranked it up with a hopeful grimace.

"Steady, soldier, you're only giving them a fright, don't fret. We won't actually hit anything from this distance. I don't think." Anar's knowledge extended to 'tank go boom' and 'tank crush', and that was about it.

The metal machine reverberated as ahead of them, a big chunk of earth was joyfully lifted into the air and settled back down again with a deafening noise.

"Again!"

"Yessir!" Kallo was grinning from ear to pointy ear as he slammed a green hand on the trigger and more pretty landscape was obliterated.

As the mud and dust settled, sure enough there was activity from within the walled city. Someone somewhere would be going mental at all this commotion. From this distance, all Anar could see were flags waving about on long poles from over the fortress boundary.

Still the tank drove onward, "again!" he ordered.

His Private obliged, loading up and moving to the turret position to fire. More debris. More noise. More chaos. Soon there was more hole than meadow.

Gritz readied his machine gun but Anar held a hand to stay him. "I don't want to have any casualties. Yet. I'm just getting their attention so I can worry them a bit." He hit the brake with a 'clunk' and watched through his tiny viewing window as elven fighters on white horses galloped through the wide-open gates. Robes flowed, swords gleamed, flags waved and bridles jingled. There was a faint clatter as arrows landed uselessly against the machine's armour.

A line formed before the city, spread out. Horses whinnied. Anar wondered what all of this looked like to these people - an unnatural metal beast roaring across their immaculate terrain, blasting away impervious to their longbows.

Anar turned to Gritz, "I'm going to pop the hatch and have a little chat. If any of those guys takes a hoof forward or fires a shot, I want you to aim just in front of the horses, ok? Scare the shit out of them."

He saluted, "you can count on me, sir."

"I bloody hope so!" He clicked at the radio attached to his webbed belt, "I've got the channel open. If I say 'fire', get that turret hot, Kallo, and blast 'em!"

"Anything you say, sir!"

Before leaving he gave them both a look, "you're working together now, I'm relying on you. Got it?"

They both straightened their shoulders and saluted once more.

He nodded and grabbed a rung, exhaling loudly. If he could deal with Demons, he could deal with elves...

The hatch flipped with a bang, and his ears popped up over the rim. His eyes followed, scanning and searching. There would be a leader, probably dressed in the flowiest robes and the shiniest armour. Biggest sword too.

Heads were turning, probably wondering as one just what the fuck this thing was that was emerging from the otherworldly contraption.

Sure enough, as soon as he was out an arrow whizzed by, and Gritz answered with a line of fire directly in front of the shooter's horse that whinnied and stepped back, visibly frightened. The adjacent steeds weren't too happy neither.

A massive stallion with fiery eyes trotted smartly forward. Astride it was an elf with a big, winged helmet and a smirk full of self-importance. Dear Leader.

Anar wasn't daft, he remained standing on the tank's front slope, ready to beat a retreat if he had to. He met the gaze of the approaching warrior. His hand slid to the pistol at his side, reassuringly.

"If you have come for war, stranger, you will receive it!" Head Elf shouted as his horse came to a stop before one of the massive troughs that the Kaos Army's tank shells had dug before him; they would be able to make their way through them in one piece, the horses wouldn't, and this was likely not lost on this angry fella.

Anar puffed his chest out, the shiny buttons on his fancy jacket sparkling in the sunlight, "I am General Warlock of the Kaos Army, and I have come for the Immanok orcs that you have taken."

The massive white horse shook its mane violently and blew air through its nostrils, dancing its hooves restlessly, causing the sitting elf to tighten the reigns and steady it.

"I have heard not of you nor your army," the elf spoke to the General in a mocking tone, but not too mocking as his horse was clearly giving him trouble. "I am Commander Nightfall of the Imperial Troops, surely you have heard of me?"

Anar shook his head, shrugging, "I'm kind of new around these parts..."

"Evidently!" The snooty elf snapped, steering around in a circle, muttering under his breath as the unruly horse shook its mane distractingly again.

"This vehicle is built for war, Commander, unlike your misbehaving pony," Anar jabbed. "You've seen the mess we've made of your front lawn; you can imagine the mess we can make of you!"

He felt that odd feeling again, what would once have been a bubbling of his magic-laced blood... it made him feel bold, daring, brave. Cocky.

He kind of liked it. He lifted his head and bunched a fist, legs planted squarely. Posing, if you will.

The Commander looked almost as furious about his prancing ride as he was at this funny-looking troublemaker in front of him. "You make a lot of noise, General, both you and your... thing! If you want the orcs we have, and Heaven's mercy only knows why that could be, you can come and take them!"

The elf had managed to gain enough control of his battle pony to stand in an untouched part of the grassland, leading straight to them. He lifted up his sword and his men began advancing, carefully.

Anar didn't move. "Fire!" he snapped.

The turret recoiled with a clunk beside him and more earth exploded. Gritz wasn't about to be left out of the fun and machine-gun fire chatted, springing up clods around the elven soldiers. Whatever they had trained for, this wasn't it and sure enough they all retreated towards the safety of city walls.

The Commander watched them as they backed away and snapped his head back towards the aardvark, "our beautiful city has stood for a thousand years! You are no match for us!"

"Well this tank has been around for millennia, and it's still going, so we'll see about that! We just want the orcs. Hand them over and we'll get lost, simple. You don't want any trouble, right? Not over some stupid, smelly green-skins?"

There was a muffled "oi!" from within the steel beast and Anar smiled, hissing into the radio, "don't take it personal, lads..."

With a shake of the reins, Nightfall had clearly had enough of this peculiar talking mammal, and he urged his skittish horse forward, thundering plate-sized hooves smashing deep into the ground, its twinkling jewelled harness jangling. He lifted his shield, protectively, blood-curdling cry coming from his pink lips, "I'll cleave you in half!"

"Drat!" Anar didn't want to have to shoot the idiot, he'd hoped the threat of violence would be enough to get what they wanted. Nightfall was too close to be hit by the machine gun or turret and that left his handgun as the only remaining choice of weapon to use against him.

But could he do it? If he couldn't bring himself to shoot the bastard, scurrying back to the safety of the tank wouldn't look good on him in front of Gritz and Kallo!

Even through this, his gut was telling him that things were fine, he didn't have to do anything, this situation would sort itself out...

With a mighty scream, the stallion's front hooves dug deep in the grassy sod, and it reared up coming to a stop, throwing the noble Commander clear out the ornamental saddle and into the dirt with a tumble.

It's mane flowing, flanks steaming, nostrils flaring, it gave its whole body a lurching shake as though suffering a fit, and Anar watched, open-mouthed as a beautiful pair of shimmering green-blue dragonfly wings reached out splendidly towards the suns.

"What the -?!" Commander Nightfall recoiled, clearly as amazed at this as everyone else, rolling away from the creature he had been failing to control for the last few minutes.

Anar didn't think, he just did. It was what he was good at. With a monumental leap, he landed in the warm seat and grabbed a fistful of long, flowing hair as the Nightmare reared again, screaming anew.

"Steady, boy!"

With a thud, he landed back down again and trotted around the fallen Commander. "Master Warlock! What happened to you? Where did you go? How have you been?"

The connection of Warlock to Nightmare was instant, an immediate bond that was unshakable and tangible.

"All in good time, Menthe, all in good time," he soothed, patting the strong, pale neck. He peered down to the distressed elf who was hiding under his nice clean shield, "so... about these orcs?"

A pale, nervous face appeared over the shiny, golden rim. "Of course, General. Your orcs. I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement..."