War of the Locust Part 1: The Battle for Vulture Valley

I stood tense. Surveying the battlefield. My heart quickened by the thought of the upcoming duels. The war dog Guinness at my side. “Stay here” I said. The war dog’s courage had not failed him, he was just ill equipped to destroy our current foe. There would be other days to unleash the hound.

The horde of Locust(trees) had wrought much heartache across the land. More than one muck boot had fallen victim to their bloodthirsty daggers. This war wasn’t new. It had been marked by many battles, many victories. But the cursed vermin refused to surrender. No matter, they will all fall before us. Along with all of their heirs.

With the sun sinking towards the horizon there was no time to waste. I gripped Trudy, my freshly honed double bit ax, and charged the edge edge of the nearest encampment. “DEFEND YOURSELVES!!!”

I swung at the nearest attacker, a clean kill. As it fell away I targeted the next. Every swing well aimed, calculated to create the most destruction with the least amount of effort. The fight would not be short. I would need my strength.

One by one I advanced on my enemies. They lashed out with razor sharp spears as my blade bit deep into their hide. The war dog whined at the edge of the battle. Not from fear, from frustration at not being allowed to take his revenge on the terrible menace invading the land. “Don’t worry my friend, you’ll have your chance soon enough”

By now I had settled into the rhythm of battle. Locating the beast and felling them with carefully aimed blows. An Ax is a weapon of skill, not strength. You don’t use your body weight like a hammer or splitting maw. An ax is swung from the elbows and wrist. Relying on speed and an accurate angle of attack to slice it’s victim rather than crush. Trudy was doing her part well.

As I moved deeper into the area the cowardly monsters started hiding amongst civilians. I had to be careful. This was a war of attrition, numbers, and they had more. I could not afford to sacrifice a single maple, poplar or pine to an errant swing. Every strike must be surgical. No collateral damage.

As the battle grew my strength waned. The enemy was relentless. Soon I was surrounded, but I knew the price of failure. No tractor tire would sink low to the earth due to my failure. This I swore as I slashed at the vicious beast!

Soon I was face to face with their greatest champion. Towering overhead more than 12 feet high she glared down at me, daring me to approach. Her twisted spidery arms reached out three feet in every direction, keeping me from maneuvering Trudy close enough to strike a blow at the root of the monster.

But I knew something she did not. I had chosen the timing for this battle, and it wasn’t at random. During the fall and summer this tyrant is most dangerous. It’s daggers are hard and sharp as needles. Some stretching out several inches.

But it was not fall.

In the spring Locust are more vulnerable. They surrender some of their thorns to sprout leaves which they use to steal the precious solar sustenance needed by the civilian population. This is the time to strike.

I saw the fear in their champion’s eyes as she realized this. She had not brought enough armament to keep me from my goal. Again and again I struck. Clipping off branches, parrying her blows and ever so slowly weakening her massive 6″ trunk.

Finally with a shudder she fell. Her descent from the heavens seemed to stretch on for hours( or a second or two). As she fell she reached out one last horrible time, trying to inflict a final pointless slash. But I was also ready for this. I sidestepped her weak attempt and stood triumphant over her massive corpse.

After dragging her still deadly body out of the path of unsuspecting tractors I surveyed the damage.

The field was littered with the bodies of my enemy. My muscles ached happily and Trudy was ready for some delicate attention on the bench grinder.

I warned my foe I would be back then rejoined Guinness the war dog as we marched back to Castle Manshop to store our weaponry and acquire a flagon of hearty ale.

The battle was hard but good. And I will sleep soundly knowing the threat to tractors everywhere has been lessened this day.

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