NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is a summary thread from the "A political powder keg/ AMF on the brink? (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=103704)" thread. I suggest you read it all to better understand what's going on here.All who are participating in this expedition need to post their movements, or else I will say to hell with it and do it myself.

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The Sentinel Stalkers waited in a van across the street from the library. When the staff packed up and left for the night, the Stalkers exited the van equipped with silenced SBP-90 assult rifes outfitted with targeting computers that had thermal sensors and advanced tracking/locating hardware. Slipping silently down the dark alley inbetween the library and a residential building, the Stalkers shot their grappling hooks onto the roof and begun towing themselves up. A slight pitter-patter sound barely echoed it's way into the streets as the Stalkers finished their ascention onto the roof and readied themselves. The team leader took a glass cutting kit out from his utility belt and began carving a circle into the skylight. After a few minutes of sawing, the leader removed a piece of glass a few feet in diameter, and the other Stalkers placed their eyepieces over their eyes and did a final check of their equipment.

Rappeling into the room slowly, the pointmen scanned the room with their rifles, one hand on the gun and one hand on the cable. The main foyer of the library checked out, so the 3 pointmen signaled the others down. 12 other Stalkers rappeled down and began securing the main room, paying special attention to the shadows. So far the Stalkers were right on schedule as they finished clearing the foyer. They decided against using the elevators, so they made their way into the main entrance area where a staircase lead to the basement. The pointmen opened the large oak doors slowly, clearing the hall inch by inch. With a slight gesture of their hands, the Stalkers moved forward towards the stairs. They placed fiber optic cables under the door, scanning for booby traps or other devices. The team leader opened the door slowly and the other followed down the stairs. So far, the leader was a little disappointed in the lack of defenses Rayne had set up. Sir, we're nearing the spot. a Stalker whispered to the leader. Tiptoeing across the concrete tile floor, the same Stalker paused and peered at his rifle's computer. I'm standing right on top of it.

Another Stalker pulled out a few large crowbars and passed them around. They placed the ends on the seam of the cracked tile and began prying it open. After minutes of trying to break the seal, the tile poped open banging on the floor. The Stalkers winced because of their mistake, but they knew their opponents were expecting them. Again the fiber optics went down, and the leader saw a narrow hall filled with pipes and dust. They switched on their night vision goggles and one at a time began moving into the hole.

The concrete pebbles crunched as the Stalkers jumped down the shallow hole with their weapons drawn. They had a feeling that now was the time the shit would hit the fan, because now they were nearing the location fo Damien's torso....and the Strikers. Moving slowly in formation, they silently made thier way down the dank passageway. There wasafaint light at the end of the passageway, and from there the room expanded abit. They were now in the drainage system, and the room was slightly steamy because of the water pipes and moisture of the place. The lead pointman continued making his way further down with the rest of the Stalkes right behind him. Out of nowhere, a flash of red and black passed in front of the pointman, and suddenly he stood still. After 3 or 4 seconds of standing still his head slowly slipped off his shoulders, hitting the floor with a thunk sound. The Stalkers snapped into action, moving their weapons across the room scanning for this presense. They moving tighter to the wall and took a staggered defensive position, waiting for the Striker to make it's move again. Towards the rear of the Stalker column, a Stalker stood pressed up against the wall near a series of pipes. He began scanning the shadows for the Striker, but got nothing so he turned and began clearing the other shadows. He was suddenly lifted off his feet, and without a sound he disappeared into the shadows above him without a trace. A lone Stalker saw this and opened fire into the shadows, and this triggered the other Stalkers. They began firing into every shadow and into every nook and cranny until the team leader shouted Cease fire! Don't shoot what you can't see! Stalkers, move forward towards the light, we don't stand a chance in here.

The Stalkers moved double quick towards the lighted room, and as they did a sound similar to a bowling ball echoed through the room as another Stalker head rolled quickly past the other men. Keep moving you dogs! shouted the leader. They ran into the larger room and immediatly took up positions around the doorway. The lit candles provided enough light to fill the room, so the Striker would be at a disadvantage. A whoosh sounds came from the doorway followed by a blur, and again the Stalkers opened fire. The blur zigged and zagged through their ranks, and a few Stalkers took friendly fire, but continued as if nothing happened. They were not made to feel pain nor fear, and this was their only saving grace. The Striker took a hit surprisingly considering how fast it was moving, and in a move of desperation slashed the throat of another Stalker. As the Striker paused to do this, the Stalkers saw it for what it was....a female. As she hacked into the soldier's throat, a deafening yell filled the room. The Strikers eyes suddenly grew wide, and a her moth went agape as she looked at her chest and saw 2 large blades sticking out. The team leader had skewered her with his War Blades (OOC: It's a forearm mounted device that has 2 razor sharp claws inside that can project out. Think a mechanical version of Wolverine's claws), and his anger was visable. The Striker moaned and shrieked as she was lifted off the ground with 1 arm of the leader. The leaders rage grew as he held his prey suspended above him, but then he suddenly retracted his War Blades, sending the Striker to the floor. He then drew his sword and in a flash the Striker's head went sailing into the air.

With 4 of his 15 men dead, the leader gathered his men and moved out. There were still 2 of these things out there, but the bloodlust of the Stalkers grew as they felt the aura of Damien driving them forward.

1 down, 2 to go... the leader thought to himself. These Strikers were far too dangerous even for highly trained genetically modified beings as themselves. The leader knew that this could not continue because there would be no way in hell they would survive fighting 2 of these things at once. Dropping pack, the team began assembling a robotic combat drone. It was together in a matter of minutes, and a Stalker gathered the SBP-90's of the fallen men and placed 2 of them on the turret locks. Fully loaded and assmebled, the drone was set to detect motion in both the front and sides of itself. The Stalkers wore identification tags so that the robot would recognize them as friend and not fire upon them. A soldier stood in the middle of the now ready Stalker column, and with the robot out front they began making their way into the final room where Damien's torso lay. The lighting was decent in the dank caverns, and the robot had no problems operating as it's mini rubber treads rolled across the floor. The turret rotated back and forth scanning the walls and ceiling, and the rest of the Stalkers moved in slowly with their rifles drawn. The robot stopped and began firing in all directions as the 2 Strikes darted back and forth. The Stalkers in turn opened fire, spraying madly to try and take these ungodly whores out quickly.

The Strikers change course and came whizzing right at the Stalkers. The sentry was running low on ammo, but actually managed to hit a Striker in the torso, dropping it to the ground. However, this also provided enough of a distraction to allow the other Striker to move right into the Stalker ranks, slashing open the stomachs of 2 men, sending their entrails to the floor. The Stalkers dropped their rifles and drew swords as the Striker's warblades sunk themselves into yet another man. Screams and metal clanking drowned out all other sounds as the sentry put the last few dozen rounds into the downed Striker, spraying her black blood against the cold stone walls. The last Striker was slicing her way through the Stalker ranks and easily overcame them considering the Stalkers were some of the deadliest fighter in the world. Without fear the Stalkers continued fighting until a lone sword connected with the Striker's arm, and with an upward motion the limb was sent flying and was followed by a large jet of blood. A cry of agony rang out as sword after sword slashed her bit by bit, slowly disecting her alive until she drew breath no more.

At last, the way had been cleared to the alter. The remaining Stalkers placed their swords in their sheaths and walked very slowly to the glass case on top of the alter. Inside was the torso of the great warlord Damien, and with all it's appendages missing, it didn't even look like a human torso. The Stalkers bowed in respect, then with great haste took up the case and retreated, leaving their dead where they lay. The night air was calm as the Stalkers climbed atop the roof once again. A truck was parked across the street, and its driver was none other than Hartman himself.

Come, we must make haste to the Halls. I pray our friends were successful in their quest, because time is indeed running out. The priest is ready, we must leave! And with that, the truck sped off headed towards the Halls of the Dead.

OOC: Bump for those involved.

The van arrived outside the blackened gates of the Halls of the Dead, and as soon as it stopped the doors flew open. Rifles drawn, the Stalkers were the first ones in, followed by Hartman and the torso and blood of Dreadfire. As the group closed the gates of gloom behind them, they saw a singular figure standing dead center in the corridor. Surrounded by the faded and decomposed corpses of a thousand man, the figure stood without a motion. Come.....there is great evil here, but take heart.....the darkness is not here to comsume you. All those that are unjust have already been expelled by the mighty specters that dwell here. As he said this, he motioned towards his feet at the piles of ash...the ash of the Strikers. Come now my children, there is much work to be done. Lowering their rifles the group made their way down the dank corridors past many a grizzly sight, but they continued undaunted. The cries from the Halls had long since faded, and making their way past the holding cells where many a man went insane, they stepped into the main torture room. As big as a cathedral, they starred in awe at the unworldly devices around them. Spots of red still stained the cold stone floor, and if you listened carefully enough, you may even yet catch a hint of a scream still echoing through time.

The priest placed the torso on the sacrificial altar, right next to where Damien's head sat encased in glass. Removing the decomposed head of Dreadfire from it's case, the priest chanted unworldy words as he connected the head onto the torso. The priest closed his eyes after doing so, and with an exhale, said Can you feel that...... He then inhaled deeply. Even now, His aura intensifies.......can you feel it? The priest removed an ancient book from his cloak and opened it on the alter mere inches away from Damien. He then lit the candles that sat for ages, and the room was filled with warm light. Yes my friend, we call to you....

The eight figures wore simple street clothes now, and each carried a medium-sized duffel bag as they approached the towering St. Freeks cathedral in St. Freeksburg.

"So, this is the place?" Bolt asked as she brushed back a lock of reddish-brown hair.

"That's right," Mark Reiner replied. "The long-lost extremity should be in the tunnels below the cathedral."

Shading her eyes from the sun, she read the sign near the cathedral entrance. "'Under Renovation.' Seems Hartman's pulled a few strings to get us in here undisturbed."

They strolled up to the hard-hatted man by the entrance, who waved them away as they approached. "Sorry, we're closed today."

Reiner didn't even slow down. He just looked up at the clear sky, shook his head, and recited the phrase he'd been given in Hartman's last message. "Yeah, we just wanted to get in out of the rain for a bit." The man let them pass without another word.

Scott Mead, Squad One's heavy equipment specialist, glanced about the spacious interior of the cathedral as they entered, then cast a sidelong glance at Bolt. "Hartman may have been more interested in getting us in than in getting us all out. I don't see our backup."

Medic Glenn Daszkowski nodded. "If those Strikers are half the fighters Hartman said they were, we're going to need the help. I don't like our chances alone."

"Everyone's got a weakness," tech specialist Danny Ingram interrupted. "The Strikers will be strong and quick, but they've been in the system since birth, and they won't think fast on their feet. It's like beating a computer program. We just have to give them situations they're not trained for."

"That's right," Reiner said. "And while I fire off a quick 'Where is my blasted help?' to a certain rebellious Foreign Minister, I want you guys to get to work on figuring out just what those situations might be."

(OOC: AMF, I took the liberty of creating a location or two. Hope you don't mind.

Any other nation involved, please feel free to have your guys show up at the cathedral. My squad really would appreciate the help.)

OOC: That's more than fine, it saves me time.

The eight figures were inside the darkened cathedral now, and inside it was as silent as a tomb. Except for the occassional clap of thunder and flash of lightning, not a sound was generated inside. The eight figures took a few steps forward, sizing up the situation. As they did this, the sounds of gravel or concrete hitting the floor broke the silence. The figures stopped, and yet more of this substance fell from above, hitting a few on the head. They looked up into the darkness, and in a sudden moment, 4 sets of green lights peered back at them. They grew alarmed quickly as the lights began moving downward at a rapid rate, decending all the way to the ground. The thud of 4 sets of combat boots broke the silence yet again, and all of a sudden words filled the air. We've been waiting for you. There is no time to lose. The 4 switched off their targeting computers, instantly killing the light. One of the 4 spoke again. Stalker #407-599-01 reporting as ordered by R. Hartman. I take it you are here to accomplish objective #3 of Operation: Silent Hammer. Come, we will lead the way. We do not expect to make it out of here alive, but our job is to make sure you all do. Come, make haste.

The 4 began moving quickly to the cathedral's stairs, securing each corner and shadow as they passed. Fiber optics went under the door and thus one Stalker gave the go ahead. With a rush, the door flew open, and the Stalkers decended into the darkness.

In southern AMF, a mysterious convoy of black Hummer's made their way to an "abandoned" Military Base. Driving along the coast, there were no other cars in sight. Than again who would be up in this hour?

"Well so far, there has been no snags with the coast guard or anything. Hartman's doing pretty good. OK, listen gents, the intelligence we have is that after Damien returned to the planet, they didnt occupy the Kaye AMF Naval Base, and it ran into disrepair over the years, but Rayne used this for one of her locations, and we dont know if their will be any guards, or Kungshao Forbid, Strikers. But there will be counter measures for sure. Lets go!"

As two dozen Humvees pulled up Three Teams ran across the sand to the fences blocking entrance to base, with faded "Authorized Personnel Only" signs with some AMF Government Insignia's.

Immedeatley, A few dozen men approached the gate, and one pulled out a cutting torch, the blue flame turning the rusty gate into a hot-orange color. As it fell, the Three Teams immedeatley rushed a few dozen yards, virtually invisible in there black BDU's. There Combat boots making crunching sounds along the sand as it made way into concrete.

Than suddenly, there was a horrific explosion, one of the men who made his way along the sands stepped on a mine, his body landed a few feet from the first team.

"SHIT! Everyone DOWN!" Said a team leader into his Whisper-mic. The other two teams immdeately fell onto there stomachs and made the rest of there way stabbing the sand looking for mines.

"Do we proceed? If there is any resistance in there, they will be alerted to our prescence now!"

"We NEVER abort the mission! You got that?"

The teams minus one unfortunate Black Guard, made there way to the base, they than Immdeately spilt off, too prevent a crowd from running through everywhere. They made there way past barracks, buldings and mess halls, until they came to the adminisitration building.

"Ok, Tillema. Open the door!" Whispered a team leader, and a man came forward, and entered some strange looking electronic device into an obviously new Computer-Controlled access point, while the rest of the men pointed there weapons in all different directions, monitoring the enviroment, Tillema, made some beeps with the device, finally there was a green light.

"Ok! All teams move in!" Whispered a Team Leader. And the men scrambled into the building.

"All right, keep an eye out, that was too easy, our next step: Access the room that his left leg is being held in through an Security-Monitored Elevator. The room can be accessed through only the one shaft., and if a single wrong code, incorrect Identification, in inputted, the Elevator will shut down, being automatically welded to the walls, and than a countdown for an explosion to destroy the room and elevator will begin."

"Well, do we have the ID or codes for the computer?"

"No. Hartman couldnt get them."

"Then....what?"

"We intentionally shut down the elevator, blow the floor, rappel down, break in, grab the leg, and leave, letting the explosion destroy any evidence that we were here."

The other Team Leader blinked.

"Are you fucking crazy?" he asked very matter-of-factly. "If we dont get out in time, the leg will be destroyed, and the mission will be a failure!"

"Believe me, we've been over it a million times, this is the only way."

He sighed.

"All right, lets do this."

tag for a guaranteed good read

Bolton shrugged, then followed the Stalkers down into the depths of the cathedral. Behind her, without a word, the rest of the squad fell into position. Just behind her was Reiner, looking right, then Mead, looking left. Machine gunner Marek Stastny, by far the largest of the eight, scanned the ceiling, and O'Brien watched the floor. Further back, covering the back left and back right respectively, were Ingram and Daszkowski, and Lee Kang, walking backwards, brought up the rear. We may be up against a stronger, quicker enemy, Reiner thought, but they're sure as heck not going to sneak up on us.

"Hey," O'Brien whispered to Ingram. "What do you think the 'R' stands for?"

"What?" Ingram asked, not taking his eyes off his assigned arc, though it was currently nothing more than a tunnel wall.

"R. Hartman. What do you think his first name is?"

"Shoot, I don't know." Ingram shook his head impatiently. "As far as I'm concerned, the 'R' stands for 'Right now you'd better pay attention to where you are, or we'll all be dead'." He heard a grunt, but O'Brien said no more.

The group stopped as they came to the intersection of two tunnels. The Stalkers that had led them down were nowhere to be seen.

"Great," Bolt said. "Where to now, Chief?"

Reiner consulted his map. "Looks like a right. At any rate, we should enter a large circular chamber after going a hundred yards or so. If we don't, we'll know we've gone the wrong way. Drop a flare by the tunnel we just came out of." He traced a line on the map with his finger. "We're getting close, squad. Stay alert, Rayne won't have left this place unguarded."

( http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=107206&start=120 Posted towards the bottom of the thread. )

Hartman's phone went off, and he reached inside his pocket and picked it up. On the caller ID, it said "URGENT", and Hartman knew that when this number called him, the news wouldn't be good. Yes, what is it? Hartman said. You are not going to believe this AT ALL. One of your teams was spotted, and Rayne has been alerted! She has already left Melkor Unchained and will be here very fucking soon man. You need to get Damien alive and kicking immediatly. The phone call disconnected, and Hartman stood with a look of disbelief on his face. He turned to the priest and the Stalkers, and in a grim tone, uttered. I have very bad news...Rayne has found out, and she's on her way here along with her Strikers. Looks like we failed. The priest bit his lower lip and looked down. He thought long and hard, then in almost a whisper, he spoke. I can continue without the rest of Damien's parts. We have the most important ones, his blood, his head, and his torso. Although I am a very well trained individual, there is 1 task that is almost inpossible that could very well bring Damien back whole. It would involve me sacrificing my own life, and by channeling all my energies, when I pass across the realms, I can hold the fabric open long enough to pull Damien through. Normally, his spirit would be channeled through an alternate realm. These realms are very different, as the fabric of the stronger realm, called the God's realm. This is our only chance, and I am one of the only priests of my kind left in existance. We must move now, or we may never have this chance again. I need you to root through these corpses and find me parts that are proportional to Damien's. Go now!

The Stalkers did as they were told, and they began rooting through the decayed corpses of 1,000 men, brekaing off parts that would suffice. The priest opened his book, and began chanting.


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<At the cathedral>

One Stalker got word over the radio of what was happening, and he immediatly paused. A slight gust blew up towards him, and he shouted. Abort! Abort! Mission has been compromised! No longer than a half second after he said this, a squish sounds was heard, and slowly his face slid apart diagonally. The remaining Stalkers opened fire and began their retreat. Get out of here now!

Piece after piece was gathered, and as carefully as they could, they placed them on the alter and lined them up. The priest was semi-satisfied with the replacements, and when the stalkers were finished, the priest began readying himself for his task ahead. Great Gods above, I thank you for your blessings. While we mortals do not dare question your wisdom and your great plan, we must defy you in this hour...our hour of need. You have in your possession a special flame, and that flame is needed to right the many wrongs that have emerged. We must steal this flame from you, but I will repay you with my own soul. I will cast myself into Oblivion in exchange for the soul of Damien Dreadfire. And with that, the priest rammed a dagger into his chest, exhaling hard as he dropped to his knees.

There was a great flash of light, and the room grew dark. The priest could no longer feel the pain as he watched the Stalkers fade into the shadows of the Earth Realm as it passed him by. He began walking towards the light, and the closer he came, the brighter it was. The priest stopped, and looked behind him at the darkness that was the Earth Realm. He then turned and looked into the light, and with all his might, he screamed DAMIEN!!!!!! DAMIEN!!!! The priest extended one hand towards the shadow and one hand towards the light that was pulling him in. He held on as tight as he could as he looked into the light, hoping Dreadfire heard him.

Damien awoke from his slumber as he heard his name. He knew not where this voice came from, but he began moving towards it. Nothing but light surrounded him on the Other Side, except for a distant shadow. Having never seen this shadow before on the Other Side, Damien moved towards it with curiosity as he heard his name again. What devilry is this that a shadow should appear in the light? Damien said aloud. Teh priest was struggling to keep from being sucked into the light, and in a scream he shouted Damien! Blood and Fire calls to you again! Your people are in need, and the Dread Fires are burning! Step towards me Damien, there is not much time! Damien doubted the accuracy of what this being was saying, for he had passed on and cared not for the troubles of mortals. As he went to turn the priest shouted again. Damien, Rayne has toppled your Empire, and now has thrown your people into despair! You must rise again before it is too late! Damien stopped dead in his tracks. He had a flashback to that night in ULE City. Rayne drawing the gun and firing.....walking miles towards the hospital and collapsing....the hospital....the funeral....and Rayne smirking. A scowl crossed Damien's face, and a great fire began to burn inside him that had not burned for some time.

The Gods were not ignorant to this, and they spoke to Damien. Damien, you cannot go back, for your place is here. You have no need to go back, for your business is finished. This is the will of Us. Without turning Damien shouted with great anger. Too long have I been a slave to your Plan. Too long have I denyed to obvious. Too long have I been cheated out fo what is rightfully mine, and I will not see my work be undone. My business is yet unfinished, and I defy your "Plan". With a great leap, Damien flew towards the shadow, reaching inside for the being that awaited him. The priest grabbed Damien's had, and with all his might pulled. The Gods also pulled at Damien, trying to keep him in the Other Side. The priest's strength was fading, and he began reciting a chant in the forbidden tounges of the Heathn Gods. Across both realms, a great rumbling began, and in one final act, the priest's soul detonated.

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The Stalkers watched the dead body of the priest, and the mish-mash body of Dreadfire. Per the priest's orders, the blood of Damien was poured over the severed parts and into the mouth. After his blood was spent, a white sheet was placed over him, and they waited. A great tremble made the stone walls shudder, and the sheet stirred. Suddenly, Damien sat up slightly, his back arched and his head thrown back. A great roar came from the mouth of Dreadfire and the sheet thrashed and stirred. Then slowly he laid back down, the sheet still ontop of his body. The scream finished echoing throughout the Halls, and the Stalkers stood motionless, their heart's barely beating.

Rayne had arrived back in ULE City quickly, for Damien's SR-71A2 was extremely fast. M'Lady, the intruders are inside the Halls of the Dead. Also, the library was broken into be Stalkers, for they left alot of their dead. Most of the other locations are still secure, but the intruders remain inside the Halls. Rayne was both pissed and worried at the same time, and she said to her assistance, Fine, get me over there. I will deal with them myself. A short drive followed, and Rayne stepped out of her black limo, and several armed Strikers awaited her. M'Lady, we are ready when you are. Rayne nodded, and all at once they entered, Rayne leading the way. The Stalkers and Hartman still starred at the sheet, but it did not stir. Hartman looked down, a tear forming in the corner of his eye. A click sounds broke the silence, and in a instant the Stalkers were surrounded by Strikers, their weapons drawn. A tapping sound came down the halls, and Hartman peered into the darkness. Rayne stepped forth, her War Blades drawn. So, Minister, treason is your business today? Hartman did not fear Rayne, and he defiantly snapped No Rayne, I do not commit treason. If anything, I am the only thing pure left in this damn country! Rayne laughed loudly, and stepped forward again. Drop your weapons or Hartman dies. Rayne barked to the Stalkers. They complied, for in their loyalty they could not risk Hartman's death. I should have disposed of you a very long time ago, heathen! Rayne raised her War Blades high, and prepared to strike Hartman down.

Halt! A might voice called out. Everyone looked around for the source of this voice, but they saw nothing. So we meet again, Rayne Xolantra. The voice bellowed again as the sheet stirred. The sheet slowly slipped off as the 7 foot warlord stood tall once again, his body restored and unscarred. The priest was successful, and through his sacrifice, Damien was whole regardless of the replacement parts. I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and fiery anger, for you have poisoned my well. You have bastardized my anem, my legacy, and my country. No more shall my people suffer under your tyranny Rayne The world shall be rid of you now. The warlord stumbled forward towards Rayne, and the Potentate Striker laughed. You are in no condition for battle, "Dreadfire" She said mockingly. No, but I am Yet another voice said.

http://207.44.246.95/85/131/upload/p185.jpg

With his hat covering his face, The One That Shall Remain Unnamed materialized from the shadows, and instantly Rayne's Strikers were turned to dust, their bodies fading into ash. She stood in horror as the figure spoke to her. In an explosion, the Dread Fires have been rekindled! Their fury knows no limits, and you shall now be consumed by their fire. May it's cleansing burn purge you from this life forever! The figure drew a mighty sword and stepped towards Rayne. No. Damien said. She shall not die by your hands, o great Death Dealer, but by The Creatures Of The Night. Cast this heathen bitch into the Tomb of the Mutilated. She will be most welcome there, and she shall suffer eternal torment at thier hands. The One Who Shall Remain Unnamed glanced at Rayne, and in a wink blew her backwards at great speed. The cellar doors blew open, and the Potentate Striker was cast down inside them. Her scream was the last thing they heard. Hartman, the Stalkers, and The One bowed to Damien in great respect For the Flame had returned!


*************************************

<Open transmission to all naitons>

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned the world have been re-ignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

A single image popped into the screen for a few seconds, then faded.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)

Dr. Derek Kurosawa's home, Golden Agate Larkinia, a couple hours later

Derek had finally sat down after another long, painful day lecturing at the University of Larkinia's Chemical Engineering Department.

Damn, this has to be the worst group of freshman I've had in many years, he thought as he picked up his pipe and sat down on the futon in front of the TV system.

He lit the pipe and hit the button on the TiVo remote, he'd decided to catch up on some of his favorite shows instead of torturing himself by grading papers...

<Open transmission to all naitons>

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned to world have been reignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

A single image popped into the screen for a few seconds, then faded.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)

He looked down at the pipe, he'd sworn he only had tobacco in it this time. Then he looked up at the TV, which was slowly changing back into the program he'd recorded.

What in the hell?

He hit the rewind button and slowed down the broadcast.

OOC: Consider this Watertest....Damn puppets :x :x

*************************************

<Open transmission to all nations>

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned to world have been reignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

A single image popped into the screen for a few seconds, then faded.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)

"Mr. President, a little while ago a transmission was broadcasted through our T.V stations. Perhaps you should take a look at it". Ryan replied "What is it now? Communist propanganda or Militant Country Farmers?"



*************************************

<Open transmission to all nations>

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned to world have been reignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

A single image popped into the screen for a few seconds, then faded.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)

Ryan's eyes widened for a moment, and he muttered "What........In.........The.........Hell.......Was.......That?"

Damien had finished putting his old clothes back on, and it felt good to be aware again. Damien thought about it, and he could not remember where the time went. Had he been in a coma this whole time? And why was he in the Halls? To Damien, it was like walking into a room, then forgetting why you're there...he had forgotten everything that happened on the Other Side. Tell me Hartman, what has happened since I've awakened?

A long conversation ensued about the GDODAD, Rayne's abuse of his people, and the merger of GDODAD, Arda, and The Reich. Preposterus...such a union is not possible! Damien said in near shock. I'm afraid so my Lord. The talks continue as we speak in Melkor Unchained. Damien grumbled, then said to Hartman Ready my plane. I will attend these "talks", and see what happens.

*************************************

<Open transmission to all naitons>

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned the world have been re-ignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

A single image popped into the screen for a few seconds, then faded.

http://207.44.246.95/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg (http://home.eznet.net/%7Edeck/fe/Finger%20Eleven_Slow%20Chemical.mp3)


"Most bizarre yet intriguing."

Seraphim Order Embassy

As Damien started for the door to the Halls, he suddenly stopped and turned to Hartman. Tell me Hartman, how long have I been absent? Hartman paused for a few seconds, then grimly looked Damien in his feiry eyes and uttered, It's been many long years since you left us Damien. You were in no coma, you were dead. Damien was in shock. Dead? How could he be? He didn't remember a thing except a long blackness, but other than that he had no memories. I'm sure I would have seen the afterlife if I was dead Hartman. Hartman showed Damien the date on his watch, and said to him, I am not lying Damien, you died and were torn into tiny pieces. We managed to recover all your parts and save you. He had lied to Damien, because it would have been too much for him to take all at once.

If this be my destiny, then so be it. Said the warlord proudly. We make for Melkor Unchained first, I have business to attend to.

OOC: I will probably not be on as often now that I'm working full time. I'll give it a few days time between now and when Damien arrives in MU. This is now an open RP, so feel free to drop in. :)

In Menelmacar there was only the briefest flicker of holographic images as the pirate transmission was quickly slapped down by automated safeguards in the Menelmacari satellite broadcast system. In fact, there was only three frames that got through; human viewers wouldn't even see it, and Elves would see only a slight reddish flicker. Some of these might get up, move closer, and peer at the image in an effort to determine if something had malfunctioned in their holoprojectors; however, these would inevitably return to their sofas when the anomaly turned out not to repeat.

It did get a brief mention on ISN and other holonets, though, once word had circulated through the corporates, the government, and several less technologically-advanced realms, including a playing of the transmission in full; the people had a right to know, of course - but they also had the right to watch their other shows without interruption. Such was the Menelmacari way.

Reaction was ambivalent. In an ISN-Statsmenel comm-in poll that evening, more than two-thirds of respondents replied that they Didn't Really Care At All. The leading comment was that this Damien Dreadfire fellow would probably just die again, he'd done it before, and come back again, he'd done that before too, ad nauseum. And he'd never affected Menelmacar before anyway; so what of it?

~Siri

Rather mysteriously, a handscrawled message in an archaic yet strangely elegant writing style will have materialized where Damien might find it.

"We are watching these developements closely. You do not know us, or may think you do not, but soon we shall be in contact."

The letter is undated, unpostmarked, and unsigned. It didn't even appear to have arrived by mail at all. Strange.

Edmund was sleeping, than suddenly, a jolt of energy awokened him. He immdeatley turned on his Television.







<Open transmission to all nations>

The picture on the T.V's faded, and nothing but blackness engulfed the screen. What once was lost has been born again from the ashes of those slain. The sick song of warm blood and cold steel has sung to me in the shadows of the netherworld, and it's call has awakened me from my slumber. Yes my friends, the fires that once burned the world have been re-ignited...the Dread Fires rage yet again. The Flame Has Returned!

He smiled, so....his team had been successful, in his own small way, he had allowed the return of the man whom had so inspired him. Thusly he felt a feeling....the rumbling of his dreams. Kungshao would also be here soon. And he would be him.

What did the future have in store now?

In Menelmacar there was only the briefest flicker of holographic images as the pirate transmission was quickly slapped down by automated safeguards in the Menelmacari satellite broadcast system. In fact, there was only three frames that got through; human viewers wouldn't even see it, and Elves would see only a slight reddish flicker. Some of these might get up, move closer, and peer at the image in an effort to determine if something had malfunctioned in their holoprojectors; however, these would inevitably return to their sofas when the anomaly turned out not to repeat.

It did get a brief mention on ISN and other holonets, though, once word had circulated through the corporates, the government, and several less technologically-advanced realms, including a playing of the transmission in full; the people had a right to know, of course - but they also had the right to watch their other shows without interruption. Such was the Menelmacari way.

Reaction was ambivalent. In an ISN-Statsmenel comm-in poll that evening, more than two-thirds of respondents replied that they Didn't Really Care At All. The leading comment was that this Damien Dreadfire fellow would probably just die again, he'd done it before, and come back again, he'd done that before too, ad nauseum. And he'd never affected Menelmacar before anyway; so what of it?

~Siri

OOC: Um...this is the first time he's risen. And also, was there really even a point to your post?

OOC:

:sigh:

Bump while I work on a post.

Dreadfire hurridly climbed into his ceremonial armor as his plane started to take off. Hartman assisted him as he placed his cloak around his mighty shoulders and tightened it just right. The steel breatsplate slipped on next, and easily conformed to his chest like it used to. Hartman, I'm having very mixed feelings about going into Arda. It's like jumping right into the frying pan, you know? Damien sighed and continued. At any rate, this is something I must do..I have assumed my mantle, and now I must right Rayne's wrongs. My feelings are mixed because on one hand, there are these discussions....discussions about a pending alliance that will surely dominate. On the other hand, I have the rest of the world.....divided, scattered....Which path shall I take Hartman? Which side needs me most? Hartman shook his head, and placed his hand on Damien's shoulder. That is a decision that YOU must make Damien, for you are our leader. We would follow you to the grave if that was your will. I'm sure that whatever choice you make will be the wisest one.

Damien opened his mouth to speak, but then abruptly closed it, nodding instead. He placed the Relic's Sword around his waist and slowly drew it, starring down the blade with a cold glance. To the grave, eh? He thought. Damien knew the next few hours would be some of his most difficult yet. He blinked a few times, then sheathed his sword. He said to Hartman Open all comms links until we arrive. I wonder if Rayne's actions have left Automagfreek permanently forgotten and cast aside....

Emperor Gorrm reviews the transmission several times. Most in the Empire don't get general feed from the broadcast stations, but rely on the holovid circuit within the Empire for any information needed. The Emperor, however, keeps tabs on the rest of the world through this means.

So, Dreadfire has resurfaced. This, coupled with flagrant Jesus and Elvis sightings, will give the newspapers something new to shout about. The AMF Empire will be sturdy again, however. Perhaps we should take this opportunity....

Gorrm comms his staff. "Get CEO Kargaah and General Gaarm here A.S.A.P."

"Yes, my leige."

A few hours pass, and both beings show up promptly. CEO Kargaah of Hreer Weapon Works, un-official trade minister, and General Gaarm, apprentice diplomat and Commander of all Sakkra forces, take their seats in the Imperial Chambers. "To what end do we enjoy your company today, Emperor?" Kargaah always had that casual streak to him, born of excessive confidence in his indisposability.

"The AMF nation has, once again, undergone a change in leadership. Dreadfire has risen from the dead. The fate of Rayne is unkown, but i'm certain it was unpleasant. But that is of no consequence. I want us to take advantage of this, and open formal relations with the AMF nation and its leader."

Pointing a clawed finger at Kargaah, the Emperor Continues. "I want you to draw up some manner of trade agreement. Open negotiations. Find out what they need, and what we can offer. And General Gaarm...."

The General shifts his eye slowly, pupils dilating just a touch. "Dreadfire is known for placing great stock in strength and prowess. You will be our 'face' to all this. I will need you to travel to AMF territories, and hold discussions. It's a new and foreign world to you, i'm sure. All this 'diplomacy'. But your brand of diplomatic behaviour may work to our advantage this time."

The General snaps a swift salute as he stands. "Understood, my leige."

"Excellent. Now prepare yourselves." Both figures turn and leave the room, Kargaah sparking up one of his potent cigars as he leaves the chambers.

OOC: Most excellent, this will make a good spin-off thread. Thank God NS is fexible (fluid time), so I can have Dreadfire in 2 places at once.

(OOC: To wrap this up...)

Reiner swore, more in shock at the Stalker's gruesome death than in anger or fear. Nothing he had seen in his military career could have fully prepared him for that sight. With an effort, he composed himself "Squad One!" he called. "Invert and withdraw, this mission is over!" The remaining Stalkers ceased fire for a moment, and he heard one of them say "One down!" He looked just in time to see another Stalker impaled by a blade of some sort, the bloodied tip protruding from his back.

Stalkers and Scotian commandos alike were moving now, heading back up toward the exit. Another Stalker fell, his head completely severed from his body, and the last was quick to follow, taking two deep slashes across the chest before managing to stick his war blades into the leg of his unseen adversary.

Squad One had quickened its pace considerably once it became apparent that the Stalkers would not make it out alive. Scott Mead saw the moving form first, firing a quick burst from his H&K G-36K carbine that failed to find its target. Now clearly visible, the Striker turned to charge the group.

Ashlee Bolton coolly brought her carbine into line, and fired off three shots that would have brought an ordinary human to a dead stop. The momentum of the now-dead Striker, however, brought it crashing into Bolton, its blade drawing blood. Reiner and Mead dropped to one knee to provide cover as Daszkowski pulled the corpse off of Bolton. "You okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said, smiling weakly. "Just grazed my arm."

"O'Neil," Reiner barked. "Take Bolt's gun and her spot. I don't think there are any more of them, but I'm not willing to bet anyone's life on that. Let's get up, and keep moving."

The squad stood once more, and as they filed past the dead Striker, Reiner couldn't help but whistle. Three in the forehead. Only Bolt makes that shot.

A few more minutes, and the squad was once again in the cathedral proper. Reiner knew he would have to get in contact with Hartman, and tell him what had gone wrong. He sighed, and fished out the secure satellite phone he'd been given. Now's as good a time as any.

OOC: Looks like I'm really behind on this one...

IC: His work only beginning, Nova Starfighter had left the temple grounds to head to the plane in which Damien was headed. The second wave of Mobile Suits, consisting of 50 Taurus Mobile Suits and 70 Leo Mobile Suits was to arrive shortly, but he just wasn't fast enough to prevent Damien from rising, and hopefully the Mobile Suits wouldn't suffer the same fate.

Why couldn't I stop them? I had the Wing Gundam, capable of destroying any number of their soulless killers... but why? Still, this does give us an opeining... hopefully Damien and Rayne will be too busy between themselves to notice their third enemy. It's time, then. I have to show the people of AMF the light, liberty, and prosperity of true democracy.

OOC2: Nova = total idealist; Tiburon = Idealism in action to create one of the strongest nations.

IC2: Nova signaled to Tiburon Main Base.

<This is Gundam 01. Come in, Main Base.>
<Hey, Nova. Main Base here. What's up?>
<I'm headed towards the enemy. You think you can launch the second squad to AMF now?>
<Sure thing. It'll be there in 00:30.>
<Thanks, man. Nova, over and out.>

OOC:Erm...you're really late. I closed down the RP since nobody posted. Damien is in Melkor Unchained discussing the merger of Arda, GDODAD, and The Reich. Mind you, this is OOC info.

OOC: Seriously!? 0_0;

^_^;

Ah, well. Looks like it's all over.