The Heat of War

The battlefield was before them.

A great empty expanse with a slight rolling hill. A dead tree stood in the center as the two forces prepared themselves.

The general rode out and with his commanding voice called out to his solders.

“We have come here today!- Not by our own desire! As I’m sure, except for the security of our great empire. To maintain our lands  from the hoards who besiege us. I will not Lie to you today.

The one to your left…the one to your right, they may not survive to the end.

Things will get frosty! Delicious fillings will be everywhere!

However…we will remain strong. As cakes. We must defend what is ours!

THOSE OTHERS! Those you see on the opposite field from you are our most bitter rivals. The PIES…we know now that they have destroyed the croissants, and the Muffins have joined their satanic cause. In fact as I speak now, they come to flank us. But they are not fit TO CALL THEMSELVES PASTRIES!!

This battle will decide which side the doughnuts of the north will take in our struggle, as well as the Churo in the south and the creme brulet’s to our east. So I ask you, not to fight as separate layers to a whole, whether you be pound, single double,  fruit, wedding, chocolate, lemon, vanilla, or iced cream, I ask you to remember your cupcakes back home and abolish those Pie BARBARIANS BACK TO THE BAKERY OVEN!!!!”

The cakes cheered on the mound, brandishing their knives and platters. The birthday cakes redyeing their candles and bows.

The Vast Cake army was one.

“TO VICTORY!!!” The general called and charged across the plain with his army towards the line of pies.


The pie general on the hill at other end saw the cakes break over the field in the distance like a fluid. He sneered atop his Danish mount a moment but relaxed into a confident smile. He turned slightly to his Lemon Morang knight.

“This battle will be over quickly” He said. “They have no strategy and have broken towards us like squelching barbarians.”

The Morang Knight said nothing.

“Do you not agree? These cakes stand no chance!”

The Knight remained quiet save for a “Yes my lord.”

“Hmmm good.” The pie general said, leaning back in his saddle. “Ready the apple filling.” He said, turning to the head Sergent.

“Ae M’lord!” the pan pie said and raised the red flag with the apple filling on it. Trumpets gave a toot as the apple pies rolled the pans of searing hot liquid filling.


The cakes approached, pounding up the hill towards the pies. Their battle cries issuing strong.


The apple pie Sergent let his hand fall and announced “RELEASE!!!”

The apple pies released the mechanisms under the pans and the steaming filling was flung out down the hill.

The Cake general gave a call “HALT!! PANCAKES TO THE FRONT!!”

The majority of the force halted to let the pancakes do their duty. The Pancakes at the front formed a testuto and the filling struck them like syrup.

A few pound cakes did not hear the order in time. The hot gooey substance engulfed a small exposed group. As the cakes hid behind their wall of pancakes, their horrid screams filled the air. their cries would not be the first.

The Apple filling burned through their spongy forms and they were left as nothing but a mushy pile crying out in agony.

Damn The cake general thought and when the filling had been soaked by the sturdy exterior of the pancakes he gave the order: “FORWARD, IN FORMATION!”

The cakes stayed huddled behind the pancakes and slowly crept up towards the line of pies.

“RELEASE AT WILL!!” the apple pie commander called and another volley of the sticky substance was flung down to the wall of pancakes.

A chink in the pancake wall was hit by one fling and the searing substance splattered into the ranks. The  cries of the melting cakes that were hit became the symphony of the charge.

Soon the pies were launching a scattered assault with apple filling going well over the Pancake wall into the back ranks of the cake army.The pancakes were soon unable to keep in formation as the ground was covered in sticky apple filling, melted ice cream, and the mushy forms of the pound cake comrades.

Some pancakes became too weighted down with the filling. “GET TO BETTER COVER!! I CANT HOLD IT!” one pancake screamed and soon afterward fell into the buildup of material in the grass and was covered with the filling.

The assorted cakes huddled behind whichever pancake remained advancing, unable to do anything but hold back their grief, latch to what resolve they could find, and press on.


The pie general turned to the head Sergent.

“Fire the pecans”

“Yes M’Lord” The Sergent bowed “PECANS!!” he called raising the brown flag with the symbol that correlated to the order.

The Pican pies advanced to the front under the arc of the filling volleys. The teams set their guns in a line. Loaded them and the order was carried. With a blast the pecans were launched down the hill towards the advancing units.

The brown nuts ripped through the spongy pancakes and flung into the ranks behind them. Cakes were being hit all around as the guns boomed above.


The Cake general turned to his runner, a pecan ripping through his cover and striking a young wedding cake in the eye. “ARE THE DAMNED BIRTHDAY CAKES IN RANGE!!!” He demanded.

The small cake was little more than a cup, his fear was plain but he remembered his duty “N-nearly sir, we need a few yards!”

“By the Baker.” he cursed under his breath. “Have them fire as soon as they are in range!!” Another Pecan whizzed by “AND GET THE FRUIT CAKES UP HERE!!”

“Aye sir.” the cupcake said with a curt nod and ran through to the back of the lines where the birthday cake archers were. All around him, the sounds of pecans and fillings crashed around him. The screams of fallen cakes were like a physical tunnel as he lept over comrades and piles of solidified filling.

The Birthday cakes in the back were moving forward, farther from the onslaught at the front lines. He found the B-squad commander. “General says to get in range as soon as you can!”

“Aye.” the commander said and sent the orders along.


The pies on the hill watched as the forces advancing below stagnated under the pecan guns. Soon however, the sturdy fruitcakes were charging through the battered Vanguard. Picans sunk deep into them, but they continued unvexed. One Fruit pie was hit with such a barrage of pecans that it was knocked back and fell apart soon after.

“Should we charge sir?” the Morang Knight asked, turning to his general.

The pie general stroked where his chin would be if he wasn’t a pie. “No, continue the Barrage, let them come to us.”

“Those fruit pies will block most of the artillery.” The knight stated.

The pie General turned to him for his insolence but pondered the thought.

“Fine, if you’re so certain. Send in the Pot Pies. They aren’t even a dessert.”

“Aye My Lord”

The barrage halted a moment as a force of chicken pot pies charged through and rallied to meet the cakes.


“B-SQUADS!!” the birthday cake commander called as his cakes readied themselves. “FIRE”

The Candles were lit  and the Birthday cakes drew their bows. In a resounding chorus they called out as they loosed.


The candles sang through the air, their burning wicks streaming with flame over their cake forces and headlong into the charging pot pies.

Most of the candles hit their marks and the pot pies that were hit fell behind the charge.

“ARE YOU TWO!!!” the cakes cried as they launched another volley.

Several pot pies were struck with so many candles that they bursted into flames and screamed out their last  moments on fire. Others were simply stopped dead and fell face first into the grass. Yet still they came.

“ARE YOU THREE!!!” the birthday cakes called, launching once more.

The Pot pies who were not impaled or set ablaze by the third volley were soon broken and began fleeing up the hill.

The slowly advancing cakes cheered.



The pie general furrowed his brow as the pot pies headed back for their lines.

“Resume the pecan barrage.”

The Lemon Morang Knight turned to him “Sir?”

“Did I stutter?” the pie said, unflinching.

“But the pot pies are still down there.”

The Pie general looked to the knight. “They are not pies…they are cowards.”


Soon the pecans began to fire once more, tearing through pot pies and cakes alike. Their screams heard between the gunfire.


The cakes were nearly at the lines of pecan guns. The force of the guns ripped through several of the fruitcakes.

“CHARGE!! the cake general called “TONIGHT WE DINE ON THE STOVE!!”

The fruitcakes broke their protective stations and ran for the guns with infantry behind them.


“CHARGE!!” was the rally cry of both sides as the infantry of Pies met the Cakes. Knives sliced through layers and pie filling flew as the forces met. Plates and Platters were battered into each other. Candles Pecans and Apple filling rained down indiscriminately overhead.

The Pie general watched from the back as the cake general cut swathes through the line.


The forces cut through each other and battled without a marker of which side was superior. A pie hefted an axe overhead and bashed through an ice cream cake. in it’s last moments the ice cream cake thrusted it’s knife up into the pie spilling it’s cherry insides across the grass.

“Sir, the cakes are matched to our forces. Should we send the cavalry.” The morang knight asked with a calm steadying of his danish steed.

The general smiled. “no..not yet”


As the battle raged on a thunderous trumpet resounded from the west.

The muffins had arrived.