NationStates Jolt Archive

Bing...Bing...Bing...
KriegsMarine Captain Shelley, commander of the GOS Godwit looked up at the radar's quiet bing. A radar tech was already waving him over to look.
The captain stood and strode over to the station, jackboots ringing on the spartan iron of the cabin.
He leaned forward and examined the plot of the vessel on the radar.
"Very good. Have we identified them?"
A tech seated further back in the cabin nodded. "Yes Captain, they are bolsheviks." He spat on the deck and continued, "SeOCC vermin, the worst of the red scum." He spat again.
The captain frowned, "Accursed red pigs. They taint the ocean with their presence. We will make full speed for their pig selves, burn their ship to the waterline and claim their goods for the Fatherland. Heil!"
A roar of "HEILS!" greeted this command and the crew set to their jobs with a will.

Later

The SeOCC freighter burned steadily, the flames reflecting blood red as the sun set. The occassional body of a crew member bobbed next to the slowly sinking vessel.
Shelley smiled thinly. The communist vermin had no idea how to go about things. They'd squeaked down the radio as the Godwit had approached. With the activation of the Vegana built jammers they'd become silent of course. He assumed they'd started to scream again as the VLS system had cranked out of the hold into firing position. He didn't care. The missiles had made sure the bolshie scum scrambled to a halt. Then they'd run up the white flag, the cowardly fools.
Shelley spat. He had no time for cowards, especially red cowards. He'd shot the entire crew, then dumped their bodies overboard for the sharks.
The Godwit would take a rich haul from this raid, all of it loaded carefully into the hold.
He smiled, a horribly sharklike expression and ordered his helmsman to set a course for home. It would be good to see the Holy Soil of the Reich again. Even sweeter with red scalps in his belt...

OOC I don't give a crap what you say about this thread, I just burned one of your vessels to the waterline. Enjoy. ^_^

OOC: Great Yamatto! :mrgreen:
Arrrgh! Yaaar! There be pirates.

Shiver me timber amd hoist the mainbrace!

[tag] Ooh, my first tag *giggles* Good work Yamatto...

pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates treasure treaSURE pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates treasure treaSURE pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates treasure treaSURE pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates pirates Caaaptaainn Kiiiiiiiiid pirates pirates...

OOC: Can we try to avoid the bitchfest this time?

[Yar-har-har! A pirate's life for me!]

BUMP

OOC: We generally swat pirates...these ones I suppose I can let slide... :twisted:

~Siri

This has been a pointy-eared TAG.

KriegsCmdr. Hannah Clarkson smiled through her periscope.
"Yet another wallowing commie vessel. The subhumans never learn. Fill all tubes, then fire tubes 1 and 3 when we're in range."
"Aye Aye sir"s echoed from round the cramped diesel boat's bridge.
The Moray slid through the ocean towards the unsuspecting ship, engines shut down, momentum only moving the sub.
"We're in range Commander." came the whisper.
Hannah nodded sharply. "Fire."

"FFFOMPTANG!"
"FFFOMPTANG!"
The torpedos hissed out toward the freighter, far too close for the crew to do anything more than notice two white streaks in the water.

Hannah waited, tensed. One never knew with the scummy reds if some sort of demonic intervention would save them from a sure bet, like the God's Own assaults on their trade fleets were calculated to be.
Her sonar operater's face twitched, then he smiled. "Two direct hits Skipper, she's taking on healthy amounts of water."
Hannah grinned. "Fire tubes 2 and 4 as well to make sure. Then get us back to the Kea."
"FFFOMPTANG!"
"FFFOMPTANG!"
The torpedo launches came immediately. The Moray spun away from the dying freighter and headed swiftly back to it's support tender...

O.O.C Now I've noted that I'm pretty much calling the Orc's losses at this juncture, but A. He's a red coward and highly unlikely to dare to play and B. they're merchant vessels, there's very little they could do about these attacks. Not much room for a response. If you do deign to get involved SeOCC, you're welcome to start hunting these ships. But for now, the attacks continue to succeed. Thanks for reading.

ooc: okay, i'll play, though based on your ooc statements and choice not to TG me about it in advance i don't expect you to play fair. all my freighters, after a tense night in port, are now equipped with Rubicon based sensor nets and carry a compliment of two SC1 helicopters equipped with anti-ship and anti-submarine rockets. the ships have also, after another tense night in port, been equipped with AAM batteries.

now, if you want anything further, TG me or i ignore it outright.

OOC: Can we try to avoid the bitchfest this time?

hmmmmm.

"FFFOMPTANG!"
"FFFOMPTANG!"

"FFFOMPTANG!"
"FFFOMPTANG!"



mmmmm. the sweet sound of multiple Wuppets being 'Panked'.

“Pirates.” After the wretched taste that single word left in his mouth, it was all Admiral Sir Hunter N. Kennington, Commander Home Fleet, could do to keep himself from spitting upon the ground. The old man, who was positively ancient by Iansislean standards, had fought at Cape Deliverance, the Western Marches, the Noropian Head, Salvador, Galloquoi, and Second Augsburg: in fact, just about every major engagement of the Royal Iansislean Navy over the past fifty years, but there was still no word more vulgar than ‘pirate’ to him. His jowls wobbled as he looked up at Captain Norman-Penns, his staff-officer, and asked “Have you alerted their Lordships yet?”

Norman-Penns shook his head. “You know what Admiral Tri would say, sir.”

“‘Why should we stick our necks out for a bunch of damn reds while Rear Admiral Paul hasn’t even clamped down on the problems we’re having in the Northern Seas?’” snorted Kennington, shaking his head slowly. He stood slowly and started pacing his office’s fine carpet. “I remember when Richard was a brilliant up-and-coming officer serving under me, back during the Invasion.” Kennington paused to lean heavily against the wall, then turned and slumped into an easy chair.

“Admiral Paul has been having some more success in Noropia after, ah, that incident,” said Norman-Penns, who was caught between rendering assistance to his superior and standing with his hands clasped respectfully behind his back. “Just recently, he sent in a request that one Lieutenant-Commander Redford be promoted. According to the after action report...”

Kennington waved one hand to silence his staff officer. “Leave it, George. The basic point is that since he became the First Sea Lord, Sir Richard has not hesitated to make his political views known.” The Admiral rubbed his chins and leaned back. “George, could you hand me one of those Gallagans?”

“You smoke too much, Admiral,” said Norman-Penns, but he didn’t hesitate to hand across one of the cigarettes. “It’ll be the death of you.” Regardless, he ignited a lighter.

After puffing a couple times, Kennington inhaled deeply and sent a plume of smoke drifting across the office. “I know George. But I’m sixty-eight already. There’s lots of things now that can be the death of me.” He puffed contentedly for another few seconds. “And I’ll be damned if I give up my tobacco. I’ve lived a good life, and I intend to keep living it right up to the moment I keel over.” He groaned and reached over for a pad of paper. His hand only shook slightly as he handed it over to Norman-Penns. “George, I know it’s not in your usual duties, but I must do this right now. I am going to dictate a letter for Admiral Tri.”

This was indeed quite out of Captain Norman-Penns’ usual assignments, and his first impulse was to shy away from the secretarial duties. However, there was a look of sincere pleading in Admiral Kennington’s eyes, and he repressed them. “Of course I will,” Norman-Penns said.

---

Several days later, an international letter arrived at SeOCC’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The paper was of the highest quality, sealed with hot wax and the imprint of a ring (those well versed with Iansislean noble families would recognize it as the ring of House Brookner, the Barons of Linhower). In the top left corner of the envelope’s front was an elaborately drawn tiger, lying down but with its head raised and attentive. Behind the tiger stood the figure of the Greek god Hermes (Mercury by Roman accounts); left of him, a triple-deck ship-of-the-line, right of him the shield of the House of Callahan. Below the tiger, in small print, was written ‘arbitri aequi undarum;’ below that and in larger letters, ‘His Majesty’s Sword and Shield.’

Inside was a single letter, on fine parchment and hand-written:

Minister*,

I’m aware that our nations have not had much contact in the past, and that we may be predisposed to distrust one another. However, if you’ll permit me to skip directly to business, piracy is an issue that affects the world over, capitalist and communist; free trade and mercantilist. As such, it would be my utmost pleasure if you’d allow the Royal Iansislean Navy to assist in controlling the recent upsurge of raiding against SeOCC flag shipping.

The RIN has gained much experience over the past few years in deterring commerce raiders. Even if you’d prefer not to allow Iansislean ships in your national waters, we’d be glad to send experts from the Admiralty over to help your naval commanders organize convoys, increase local patrol coverage, create decoys for the pirates, and so forth.

I eagerly await your reply.

Grand Admiral Sir Richard Tri
First Sea Lord, RIN
Approved, Baron Linhower
First Lord of the Admiralty
Approved, the Right Honorable Edward Tarriff
Prime Minister, Commonwealth Combined Parliament
In the name of His Imperial Majesty High King James III

((ooc: I’m terribly sorry; I searched through a couple of your older posts, but couldn’t seem to come up with the name of your MoFA.))

What used to be the Beehive, Wellington, Capital of God's Own..

Great Leader Shelford smiled coldly at the IntelligenzCaptain standing nervously nearby. "So the bolsheviks protected their freighters? Haha, fools. They really think that will help? Anything that can be put together that swiftly will be shit. Whatever it is will be next to useless. And ASM helos on freighters? Truly, Aperin is a land of freedoms! And they call us militarists!"
He laughed, the sound echoing in the room. Then smiled. That smile had preceeded many deaths down the years, and now...
"But as they have tried so hard, we will let them keep their pretty ships, today is not the day to rub our superiority in their coward faces. After all, the cost of all that work must have been enormous. It would hardly be...nice. Tell the Kea and the Tui they have permission to well...thin out the skies, shall we say?"

International Aviation Flight Path 21, The South Pole.

The deck of the Tui was covered completely in containers. Hundreds of them, brightly painted steel boxes. All uniformly sized and shaped. Except for some...
The polar winds whipped across the decks, spraying sleet on the windows of the bridge. Captain Colin Fitzpatrick glowered out at the sky.
"Horrible weather don't you think Hans?"
His helmsman nodded. "True sir."
Colin sighed. "Ah well, not much longer." He eyed the chrono in the console in front of him. "In fact they should be in range now. Search radars to active please."
A chorus of sirs came via intercom. Colin shivered. He didn't envy the crew sitting in the containers with the launchers. He didn't envy the SeOCC airliner that had just wandered into their launch area either. However, duty was duty. And they were only subhuman bolshies after all...
"Launch when you're ready people, numerical order."
"Aye-aye!" echoed back through the coms.
Colin leaned back into his chair and quietly uttered a prayer for the souls of any innocents on the bolshie airliner...

O.O.C Well now. I'm not even going to bother dismissing the amount of wank in your post concerning ship upgrades. Instead I'll skip right through to the demanding I tg you before any action. Guess what?
I'm a free agent and I make my own damn decisions about what and who I attack. Warning you would have *entirely* defeated the point of these attacks, to unsettle CACE, and specifically you.
Oh and Watfordshire, yes this is a puppet, but my main nation is NOT a current or former member of SATO.
Have a pleasant day and thanks for reading.

OOC:obviously, you are unable to distinguish between OOC and IC info :roll: ive got no idea why SeOCC put up with you. i wouldn't.

It's called Elint. or Humint. Or any of the myriad ways humanity has developed for FINDING SHIT OUT.
The systems my communist colleague *poorly* describes would be easily detectable, just by doing their jobs. The ASM choppers are a bloody great helicopter sitting on a freighter. I think anyone would notice this and maybe mark it as a mild anomaly. However, sure, why not, declare me a OMG MODOGER! and have done. It's not like it'll come back to haunt me.
Oh and neat fact, AAM = Air to Air Missile. Just for future reference SeOCC old chap, this means they shoot from plane to plane. The ones you're after are called SAMs. Surface to Air Missile. Hope this clears that up.
~ The Arrogant Fascist Pig behind God's Own.

actually, i'm ignoring this. beyond the huge god moding this is going into miraculously finding what few freighters and aircraft i do have, it's clear this is entirely ooc motivated and no real, enjoyable RP can come of this.

Iansisle, i appreciate the offer and would have taken you up on it but, fortunately, this incident has ceased to exist. perhaps the next time i'm attacked by pirates they'll have some basic skillz.

God moding of looking through satellites or even checking public shipping registers?

Please, if you're calling god moding on that, what's fitting a freighter to military standards in a day count as?

((It's no problem. I had high hopes for the rp when I first saw it, but it's quite obvious God's Own sees this game more as something to be won than something to be enjoyed. A pity. Some other time, perhaps?))

Well I enjoyed it at least. :lol:
VICTOWEE!

Some other time, perhaps?

word to your mother.

and who said military standards? bolting a couple missile whatever to the deck of a ship can't take that long. whatever, i'm quite happy not to know anything about the military, it's a statement to my character.

But I guess you can refit your entire merchant marine up to military standards overnight, and I'm sure you have all those anti-sub choppers, missile launchers, torpedoes, rubicon sensors, and other such things just sitting in a warehouse just in case you have to slap them onto a freighter, and I'm sure you can afford to do all this after spending 95% (your own figure) of your already-not-very-big military budget on crappy PC's.

And you're calling someone on godmoding.

~Siri

and who said military standards? bolting a couple missile whatever to the deck of a ship can't take that long.

Oh no, that wouldn't take long. Installing and testing the control gear, sorting out power supply for the launcher, fitting detection gear and tracking systems, strengthening the deck for use by helos and fitting landing lights, fitting storage for the helos, adding in safe areas to store weaponry [hangar storage and magazine], that would take time.

whatever, i'm quite happy not to know anything about the military, it's a statement to my character.

That you're only into realism in areas you know? Seriously, knocking someone else's knowledge as in some way 'bad' is ridiculous.

*You are a NOOB & a GOMODDER.

The End.

*God's own

*You are a NOOB & a GOMODDER.

The End.

*God's own

1. N00B, not NOOB.

2. Godmoder, not Gomodder.

~ Angstian pupil, first year, elementary school.

What a surprise bitchfest für alles!

1: NOOB, if you use numbers in words... you got issues.

2: Argh he's correct.

The Hague, 4:34 am
A soft female voice that really reminds you of Star Trek whispers in a top-secret bunker below The Hague.

"Attention. Temporal Anomaly detected. Thread that can potentially hurt SeOCC. Analising..."

The staff looks up, paying heed to the message and he voice continues to whisper...

The Hague, 8:06 am
"general warning. It is 99,87 percent probable that ignore cannons will be used within the next ten minutes. *beep beep*

"Sweet mother..."

"WARNING Ignore weapons detected. Rippling effect destroying this timeline. Impact in five... four... three.. two... one."

The staff brace for impact; general de Kaste and his assistant exchange a last, passionate kiss before they are overcome by the rippling effect.
"see you in another timeline."



---



The Hague, 4:34 am
A soft female voice that really reminds you of Star Trek whispers in a top-secret bunker below The Hague.

"Status report. All systems nominal. Minor temporal quantumshift detected. A report will be forwarded to the CiC."

Somewhere in a rural area, a male voice resembling that of a drunk that had been spending to much time lying in the alley screams through a secret hidden bunker:

AANDACHT!!!...AANDACHT!!!...AANDACHT!!!....ER IS NIETS TE MELDEN!!!

Somewhere in a rural area, a male voice resembling that of a drunk that had been spending to much time lying in the alley screams through a secret hidden bunker:

AANDACHT!!!...AANDACHT!!!...AANDACHT!!!....ER IS NIETS TE MELDEN!!!

The drunk stands up, trying to regain his balance, but then he falls over again. He groans in pain and shouts:

"GODVERDEGODVERDEGODVER..."

Analising..."


*laughing my head off*

Analising..."


*laughing my head off*

:) <--- has nothing more to contribute in terms of usefulness.

ooc: occasionally, a spelling error just makes my day. Sue me for my overly linguistics-based sense of humour. I can't help it.