Taurians Invade Brusett

[DeJaVu]

(2 October 3071)

Brussett [FSNS]—The mercenary unit Gordon’s Armored Cavalry has invaded Brusett. While no surprise, considering the aggression of the Taurians of late, what is of concern is the brutality of this attack.
Riding along with rescue workers, we traveled to the small, valley town of Pride. Settled in the foothills of the Grascow Mountains along the Bourgeshe River, many would mistake the town as a tourist's retreat. A place for some fishing, or a leisurely float down the river, or perhaps a hike into the hills. While such attractions exist, the people of Pride make their living as livestock herders and fish farmers. A modest logging operation runs a few kilometers out of town.
That was a month ago. Pride is now little more than a rubble-strewn ghost town. The charred remains of the town hall, school and a few churches dot the cracked and broken streets of the town. Blackened skeletons are morbid reminders of the peace that was until only recently found here. Some businesses and store fronts survived unscathed, but their exteriors belie the damage done to the psyches of their owners, and to the town itself.
Though the full story is still not clear, it's believed the mercenaries received faulty intelligence from either Taurian spies or sympathizers to the invaders. Regardless of the source, the GAC command had reason to believe that Pride was home to a detachment of the Brusett Home Guard Militia. While a detachment had passed through during the initial attacks, it had not lingered. The mercenaries refused to believe the claims of the town council, and took their mistrust out with a vengeance.
I find myself with the rescue workers in the home of young Abagail Yanglin. She is eight, and has spent the last month eating what boxed, canned or other processed food remained in the house where she lives. Now alone, her parent's remains lie rotting in the front yard, near her blasted swing set, all victims of a wayward missile. She is dirty, teeth stained brown from lack of brushing, scalp infested with lice, and fingernails ground to stubs from chewing and excessive scratching. She speaks little, but her silence speaks volumes to the real damage done during these times of war.
While leaders and generals fight over aged borders and what they see as a holy mission, Abagail Yanglin wishes simply that her mom and dad would get up off the ground and hold her in their arms.