NationStates Jolt Archive

It was noon in the dessert outside Cha Lung, and the sun beamed down heavily on a small group of tents. Accros the area, about 20 metres apart where self contained clusters of baige tents. They had sagged through the years of camping, and many where filled-or atleast showed the effects of-bullet holes. One distinctive tent sat outside the main group, it was not secluded, or rejected nor did it appear so. But it was easilyrecognisable, and especially visible. The main reasoning for this was that the tent, was not so much a tent. Through the years of violent rebelious fighting it had been reduced from a high class tent, to a torn down tree branch with a patchwork green and beige covering, which reached only half way down.

Below wooden beem hung a thin rope, supporting the dimmest of candels above a small crowd.

Three men were sat arround the candle discussing the actions of the government troops, and watching the horizon. To the East and South Where towering dunes of sand, which sheltered the camp from the sandstorms which often blew through the area. But to the North and West there was nothing. A flat barron wasteland of cacti and sand. The winds threw sand into the air in these parts, making blinding walls of sand which could last for 20 or 30 seconds-this was when the campers were at great risk.
As the group spoke, in an accented English, they laughed, but only for seconds as they returned to scouring the horizons-ever conscious of the threat the government militia posed.
As the sipped from there small golden cups, filled with a spiritual wine a sand wall blew up arround the north and east. A sand seemed to turn thne camp into a golden fortress, 30 or 40 metres high, which was subsequently leveled by a second gust of wind. When the snads finnaly receeded completely, a man in white robes- which were now tinted in gold- stood to address the men.

He had an AK-47 strapped over his shoulder, with one hand never leaving the barrel area, ready to engage with anyone, at any moment. As he stood there motionless and silent he was not seen, untill the sand lying on his robe blew from it towards the group of sitting men. Two of them turned and spat their drink out, before realising it was a man of peace who approached them.

One man, wearing a green turban and a similar cloak, partially covering his white robes cleares his throat and looked up to the eyes of the new arival.
"Ahmed!? What is it?"
He spoke as he uncrossed his legs and began to stand up.
"A meesage from Commander Sinjahd sir"
Ahmed saluted as he took out a note from inside his robe, and held it out to Commander Divon. Divon took it in his hand and toor open the envelope.From it he pulled a crumpled sheet of papyrus paper.

Commander Divon, we have come under attack from the government. They have more forces than ever before, and have destroyed over half of our food. Many of our men were masacred, and more captured. I have 12 men with me, but we are fleeing. We have little ammo, but I feel we can make it to your camp.
Commander Sinjahd

Divon was pacing around the area. He cursed loudly,
"This is all we need. Genet, Jumpai come with me, Han Sin-your in charge here. We need to stop the government pukes getting here."

Two men, dressed identicly, with blue turbans and cloaks stood and followed Divon closely. They marched to the outskirts of the camp,reaching a tent with long holes cut into it, and wooden boards placed againts one side. Divon crouched inside and spoke to the 20 men who were cramed inside.

"Men, fight couragiously, Commander Sinjahd is coming here, and I think the pukes are chasing him. Ready yourselfs."
He saluted and ducked out of the tent, seeing arround 15 gun barrels peering through the cut holes. Then he walked, still being followed to a small fire in the center of the camp. He bent down and picked up an AK-47 and a handfull of cartridges, as did his companions. They then began walking with pace towards theire original position.

As they came to a distance of arround 100 metres they saw a body slumped, leaning forwards.
"Han Sin!" They ran forth, weapons drawn to find the deceased Commander with blood leaking from two wounds in his back. He had been shot from atop the dunes.

Commander Genet shouted,
"Lets go, get out of here! We cant stay!"
A tear rolled down his cheak, Genet and Han Sin shared the same father. Commander in Cheif Yarun had directed the army of the rebbels to their first victory, winning them back their land.
Now the government had re-engaged the plan to destroy the rebbels and take the land from them, but the rebbels fought back harder and stronger, more resiliant by the day.






For this Rp you can take up a series of characters;
Commander of a government force, of which there are three.
A fighter in the rebbel army.
A politician.
Anything you can think of.

OOC: OOH! I'll be a butcherous commander of the Government, with a mighty big grudge against someone...

Sounds good to me....

"You mean we don't actually know where Divon is?!" Roared Major Remsblod, sat in his tent with a quivering messenger standing in front of him.

"N..n..no sir... But s...scouts have b..b..been dispatched!" The man stammered.

*BADAMM*

The messenger's corpse slumped to the ground, a mass of torn flesh and bone was all that remained in place of his head.

Major Remsblod stood up and walked outside, waiting for a cleaning crew to take away the corpse before it stank up his tent. Remsblod was a butcher, but a damned good leader. The Government tended to look the other way when he took matters into his own hands, like the time when he ordered 200 prisoners of war to be used as bayonet practice.

And he hated Divon. Divon, that name still made his eye twitch. That defecting fool that had caused him so much grief. His wife had left him because of his unhealthy obsession to find and kill Divon. His family had disowned him, but he didn't care. He didn't care how many troops he lost getting to Divon (His eye twitched again), he just wanted to be there, face to face with him, when he pulled the trigger...

As the body of the deceeased leader was lowered into the sandy ground grown men sobbed. Hin Sin died un-gracefully, and un-dignified, shot in the back from a sneaky opponent. This very fact made the gathered troops want to leave this barron place and slaughter the government troops. But for now the ceremony must be dealt with, a good send off was esential in the ranks of the rebbel army.
Divon stood at the head of the grave pit, watching as the final adjustments took place.
"God bless his sole, and send his spirit to battle with us every day of our lives! Commander Jonah Hin-Sin!"

The gathered troops encored, with;
"Commander Jonah Hin Sin, Rest In Peace".

The ceremony finished a few hours later, and the grave was left with a small fire burning near it.
After the funeral, Commander Divon had ordered his men to take up arms, and head to the East. They knew that there would be heavy resistance, but thats why they left.
The two hundred or so men left the camp with an arsenal of weapons, knives, Automatic rifles, some carried pistols. They were wary of the enemy and knew he was watching them.
After hours of walkin through trecherously hot sands, the group emerged atop a tall dune. Below them they saw a gunfight in a camp. The tents had Pablicostan flags on the sides. This was it. Staring down the dune Divon spotted an old man, commanding his men arround well, but they were still being torn up by machine gun fire. Sinjah.
Without hesitation he gave the call to charge, as his men began to sprint, fuumbling as they went, down the steep hill. After little time they were amongst the tents of Pablicostan men, they fired. Round after round tore through the well made rows of tents, peircing the skin of Government troops.
Gunfire was quickly returned, and 24 rebbels were massacred.
Three men from the rebbel group sprant arround the outer perimiter of the camp, cut back through the center and began hurtling shots at unsuspecting troops.
The screams stopped. But, rebbels remained standing.

OCC: Could I be the rebel armored element, consisting of several Centurions, a few Walker Bulldogs, and a BMP or two, some tanks driven by members of the LRRA in incognito roles with the rebels?

"SIR! AN ATTACK WAS MADE AGAINST THE FORWARD CAMP, SIR!"
"DIVON?!"
"We believe so, sir."

Remsblod stood up, and began kicking the people who were in the tents nearest him.

"Get up, you limp-d**ked fa**ots. The enemy just made an open attack on us, and one that will not go unpunished. Gear up, smoke 'em if you got 'em, and get into line."

5 minutes later, the regiment was tearing towards the slaughtered camp.

OCC: Could I be the rebel armored element, consisting of several Centurions, a few Walker Bulldogs, and a BMP or two, some tanks driven by members of the LRRA in incognito roles with the rebels?

Yeah, but keep it as minimal as you can on the future tech stuff, its a rebelion force, not a superpower military. :lol:

OCC: I think I can do that.

IC:

A short, grizzled man dressed in khaki shorts and uniform shirt, with a turban over his head, walks over the top of a sand dune, his Ak-47 slung over his shoulder. He is Major Abraham Greene. In tow are two other men, dressed in baggy pants and robes, wearing soviet tanker helmets. They carry a large barrel with them as they go.

As they reach the top of the dune, they look down to see C platoon of the Rebel army armored group, consisting of two Centurion tanks and a BMP-1. Parked nearby is an MI-2 helicopter, hand painted in desert camoflauge. As soon as they see the helicopter, the three rebels drop the barrel and start running down the dune. The khaki clad man runs over to a tall Centurion commander dressed in DPM pants and a white T-shirt.

"Bismallah! You should have told me there was a helicopter inbound! We walked six miles for that oil, and you've got enough here to supply an army for a week! Ai yai yai!"

He throws his arms up into the air.

"You two, go get that oil!"

The two tankers run back to get the oil barrel. meanwhile, Major Greene has a funnel inserted into the fuel tank on his centurion. The two tankers lift the fuel barrel vertically, and, with much practiced precision, pour the barrel into the fuel tank, which they had armored far more than necessary, to a point where it was probably the heaviest, besides the engine, object on the tank. After the barrel is emptied, they toss it into the sand. Major Greene and his two other tankers clamber up onto the turret and into the interior of the tank.

"Hey, get that oil into the sled!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Sir, radio for you."

The radio operator/loader hands the microphone to Major Greene.

"Hello? Oh, yes, sir! We can be there by nightfall. Wait, wait....Bismallah! Ibrahim, get off that antenna!"
"Sorry sir!"
"Ah, the battery's probably about dead. Ok, everybody inside. Hey, you folks ready to go?"
"Yes, major."
"Is the oil in the sled?"
"Yes, major."
"Ok, follow us."

The centurion starts up, the makeshift emissions filter catching much of the usual black smoke produced by the tank. The MBT starts off over the sand at a good 30 kph, followed by the second Centurion. The BMP-borne troopers gather up their equipment, consisting of an Eryx ATGM, five missiles, a Stinger, six missiles, a pair of Negev MGs, and a casette player/radio. They quickly board the APC as it begins to careen over the sand behind the two tanks. The BMP's turret hatch remains open, with a stinger-armed rebel scanning the skies for any hostile aircraft.

They head to the nearest government camp, intent on capturing vehicles, oil, and weapons.

"This is Greene calling infantry, over. Green calling infantry. Greene calling A and B, over."

The rebbel force move further East, gaining on a known hide away of Remsblood. They walked in silence untill the horizons clear lines were broken by an off colour stone building.

It was small and slightly mis-shapen, but was still standing. They advnaved further, with weapons drawn ready top engage anyone they met.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere the formation came under fire. Rounds bounced off the dry sand as they ran from the engagement, returning fire as they fumbled through the dessert.

They found themselves ever nearer to the building, untill eventually they were had fallen through its old wooden door.

Nothing.

The group took up positions under windows and began returning fire, as the now hundred or so strong force began moving in on them.

"ENGAGE, ENGAG,E ENGAGE!" Shouted Remsblod at everyone near him, and they began charging towards the trapped Rebels. Bullets flew asunder, and no one was really sure if the Rebels were still inside the building, until the returning fire was made.

Troops dropped the the ground, and continued their barrage with renewed gusto.

Greene and his tank company make quick time to the trapped rebels. Soon, they are within sight of the building.

"Fire on the government troops! HE!"

The loader/radio operator shoves a 105mm round into the breech of the Centurion, and the gunner brings the tank's gun around to bear on the government troops. He pulls the trigger and sends a shell into the attacking troops.

The second Centurion then comes into view over the dune next to Greene's tank, and it also fires into the government troops. The commander of the other centurion then opens the hatch and begins using the .50 machine gun. The BMP also comes into view, and it deposits its infantrymen, who use RPGs and their Negevs in support of the Rebels. Not far away, B platoon and their T-55s and haftracks approach.

"CHRIST! ARMOUR! GET INTO COVER!" Yelled Remsblod, as his regiment was torn apart by the explosions. His men obeyed, throwing themselves behind rocks and other pieces of terrain.

"GET SOME ANTI-TANK ROCKETS OVER THERE!" He shouted, and a team of men ran up beside him, with rocket launchers resting on their shoulders.

Men begin to file out of the building, firing relatively aimlessly into the government ranks.

"Straight ahead, Anti Tank fire, get them!"

Fire was instantly redirected to the small number of troops. Divon peered down his binoculars at the Anti Tank weapons.
"Remsblood"
He said it quietly, and nobody arround heard him. He pulled off his long sniper rifle from his shoulder sash and dropped a bullet down the barrel. Dropping the sight to eye level, he focussed on Remsblood. A sinister grin. A gentle squeeze. A silent shot.

Remsblod made a face and turned slightly, as he heard a strange whizzing noise. He knew (Too late) that a bullet had been fired at him. The bullet punched into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He clasped a hand to his wound, as the blood oozed around his fingers.

Meanwhile, the troops around him were laying down suppressive fire at the Rebels, while the anti-tank squad were launching their deadly rockets at the tank division.

Remsblod made a face and turned slightly, as he heard a strange whizzing noise. He knew (Too late) that a bullet had been fired at him. The bullet punched into his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. He clasped a hand to his wound, as the blood oozed around his fingers.

Meanwhile, the troops around him were laying down suppressive fire at the Rebels, while the anti-tank squad were launching their deadly rockets at the tank division.

"Dammit! Out, out, out!"

The crew of Greene's centurion bails out moments before the rocket strikes. The other Centurion fires its 105mm gun at the anti-tank troops as it charges down into the midst of the battle, machine gun blazing. The BMP also follows the Centurion in its charge.

Suddenly, nearly without warning, a pair of BRDM-2 armored cars come bounding across the sand, and fly skid to a stop near the Wrecked centurion. They each carry troops dressed in LRR desert camoflague, but with Ak-74s and other generic weapons. The 12 troops set up machine guns and RPGs, and begin firing down on the government troops along with the BRDMs' cannon.

"Sir, we came as fast as we could! A platoon should be close behind....."

Before he finishes that sentence, a T-72 comes crashing through a dune at full speed, and fires its gun in mid-air. It has a customized 20mm cannon on the gun turret, which fires into the ranks of government troops. behind comes a BTR-60 and Saracen armored car, guns blazing.

"I didn't know we had those."
"Recently, captured, sir!"

"FALL BACK!! FALL BACK!!" Yelled Remsblod, and the troops obeyed without hesitation.

"Sir, you've been hit!" Said one of the troops.

"I'll be fine, Private, if we get out of here now. We badly need reinforcements."

The troops turned and bolted away from the carnage. They would be back, with a lot more men, weapons and armour.

As the final bursts of fire retreated from the government troops the rebbels through up their weapons and screamed. They had won, but they knew that an enemy as cold as this will allways return.

Move out! Screamed Divon accross his ranks, the air of urgency was evident in his tone. He was scared.

But, before asking any questions, the new-larger unit said goodbye to their dead and moved out.

Greene and his troops also move out across the desert, the different platoons scattering away into the sands.

"Casualty list." Growled Remsblod, while a medic wrapped up his bloody shoulder.

"Those rebels chewed up half our regiment, sir. We're in pretty bad shape, and we're not sure how long it'll be before reinforcements turn up. In short, I think we're pretty much screwed if any rebels attack us right about now."

Remsblod's eyes turned cold, which the soldier noticed and made an effort to put things into perspective. "Look at it this way, sir. We had a small regiment to start with, we charged at a group of rebels who had dug themselves pretty heavily in. They were cutting us apart, the an armoured division showed up, just to really make things complicated. Then you got shot."

Remsblod nodded. The soldier was right. But that wouldn't alter his fate.

"Sergeant, this man is to be executed for insubordination. He will be shot by every man in the camp tomorrow at dawn. Then we'll see if we have any other people who presume to question my authority."

The private's yelps for mercy were ignored.