NationStates Jolt Archive

creatures cause more trouble then they were worth…" That was the though running through the mind of Bill as he looked at the at barrier before him.

The Mail Road cut through a deep part of the forest here. It was a bit strange in these woods, and few people dared to go in them on a regular basis. The Mail Road was a two lane, hard topped surface that cut across the western half of the Gonnad almost on a strait line. The road seemed to actually be protected by two, low stone walls on both sides. Beyond was the deep forest of the Gonnad, little pentrated by man since the fall of Christofi so many years ago.

Bill wasn't really thinking much of any of that now. The day was growing long into evening, and now his way to the waystop and Inn was blocked by a pile of logs. It was a good place actually, the Mail Road cut through a section of earth such that the traveling around the blockage was equally impossible.

Bill just muttered about elves and stepped forward to see if he could dislodge the logs. He heard something swishing through the air before pain and darkness took him.

****

The elves were being damned by other people, but for far different reasons. They had, by a chance of fate, and a desire not to recognize State boundary lines, had become the final killing blow to the Nekoa Bay negotiations. With the presence of these undisciplined, pointy-eared people had led to severe interest in demanding elven protection clauses in the treaty. For a variety of reasons, the Klatch refused, and the Emirates demanded.

Now the elves, long the subjects of Jiggady, were back under Federal Control as the Jiggady government attempted to work out some of it's own problems. As such their territory was under the guidence of the Privy Council again. And by fate the Privy Councils leader, if not legally, morally, was the Landgravine of Hubris.

The Landgravine of Hubris, being a member of the Royal House of Crawford, really had little warmth in her heart for most elves. She, like most of her family, saw them as foolishly worshiping a pumped up little woman with an ego so large it had convinced itself that she was a God. The Crawfords had various names for the elven queen, the false goddess, the goddess wannabe, the pointy eared twit supreme, over promoted manager of a taco bell, Ego Girl, Melkor's wet dream…. well you get the picture.
But peace, perhaps…their had been talk around the KIST campfires…

Klatchian Coast News
Gonnad Elves
Official Announcement: Klatchian Privy Council

The recent unfortunate events in the Klatchian State of Jiggady have made it a sad fact that we must temporarily take control of the State until such time as the lawful government of Jiggady can be restored.

As part of our current mission to deal with several issues of longstanding diplomatic importance, a study of the Gonnadian Elf population is being organized. At the present time very little is known about these elves or their social structure. As they have become an issue of contention between ourselves and other nations, we have decided that a more in depth study and communication with these people living within our borders should be done.

We are realistic, it is unlikely that a Klatchian study would be considered either unbiased or unpolitizied in the current circumstances. As such we have asked that the Klatchian Marshall Office organize an international team to conduct a contact and information gathering mission to the forested deep of the Gonnad Peninsula.

The mission will be organized in Port Olympus. Any nation not currently in active hostilities with the Klatch may participate in this study. Please forward all information such as names and qualifications to Marshall McGerhry.


(OOC: This is a character Rp, if you want to join please post but final say is mine...Second, this may get a bit PG-13 with some nasty 'implied violence' Third, if you want to make some IC comment without joining, fine
TO TAG THIS TREAD, PLEASE JUST SUBSCRIBE, which is available at the top of each page in the pull down menus...

(OOC) Hoe you don't mind a small band of Dyellians trying to stop any studies on the Gonad elves. Studying the wrong stuff could get messy for Dyelli Beybi. This RP ties in so neatly with DBs big secret.
(Provided of course you don't mind what I'm up to) the following is just an introductory post to create atmosphere. The Dyellian armed forces aren't going to show up again any time soon, there will just be four of the sneaky little sods hanging around in the jungle.

Out over the Gonad Peninsula the Dyellians were doing something that could get them into trouble...

Oberst James Slaughter was his name, and it was a very apropriate name considering his role in all this. He was a tall man, black hair and pale sking with sharp features and shocking blue eyes. He was now standing on the back of a heavily armoured experimental helicopter. An arrow clattered off the side of the helicopter, "Damn these creatures are so primitive!" Slaguhter declared to the men seated at the back of the small transport, "We're going to land in a moment, and when we do, you know your job. Kill any of them that resist. Round the others up into the transports. The Ministry of the Occult wants live specimens before those damned Alconians and their stooges get them all."

That wasn't the reason. James Slaughter knew the truth, he alone of his men knew the real reason why the Dyellian Ministry of the Occult wanted the elves. He knew how much bother they'd gone to to track down this settlement. He also knew the other reason he had been sent here, to make sure the Marshalls and their fact finding team didn't find things they shouldn't.

The helicopter touched down. Others did likewise. Between them, encircled, was a small elven village. More arrows clattered off the helicopter as the doors swung open, and troops began to pour out. An arrow hit Slaughter dead where his heart should be and came clattering off, Well I'll be damned, the new armour works. He hefted his Case Gun, another new invention, although one the Dyellians had been working on for a long time, flicked the gun's computer system off and stepped into the jungle.

For someone firing a bow, there was one chink in the Dyellian Armour. It existed at the chin, and if timed perfectly one could pass an arrow, shattering the chin on the way, and into the spinal column. Slaughter hadn't even known that before today. Two of his men were down already, overhead a microphone was blaring something in what he presumed was elven.

An elf was drawing his bow, without thinking twice Slaughter fired, opening a fist sized hole in the creature's chest, "Lay down your ^*^$(#@ing weapons!" he shrieked.

And abruptly it was over. The roar of gunfire ceased, and all that was left was the sobbing and wailing of the survivors. Slaughter pulled off his helmet. It was difficult to see from behind the tinted visor, "How many down?" he asked an officer he identified as Leutnant Colchester, despite the fact that he was still wearing his helmet with the visor down.

"Three men dead Sir. Two suffering minor grazes to the...."

"Chin?" Slaughter suggested.

"Yessir." Colchester nodded.

"Very good, very good. Captives?"

"Twenty Six Sir." Colchester replied smartly, "Unfortunately we had to kill Ten when we stormed the place, and it looks like quite a few ran off into the jungle."

"Good work Leutnant." Slaughter said, offering his subordinate a brief smile, "Round up my special group, then the rest of you can take this catch back to the Ministry."

"Yessir." Colchester saluted, slapping a gloved hand to his helmet, before hurrying off to find Slaughter's group.

Slaughter crossed over to the elf he had killed during the fighting, while he was waiting for his men to arrive for the special assignment. The elf stared at him through dead blue eyes. He suddenly felt it bore a remarkable resemblance to his younger brother...it was the eyes. He bent down and closed them, "unmenschliche Geschöpfe weniger gültig als Menschen." he pronouced over the body.

Institute of Cultural Studies, The City of Waters {Tephet-Sheta}, Duat

“Well,” said a man leaning back in an old leather chair, dressed in such a manner that he wouldn’t have turned heads in Edwardian England. The costume lacked the stiffness or just-cleaned look of something brought out for fancy dress, and it was perfect in every detail, right down to the watchchain on the breast pocket. He spoke again to a hologram of a woman in much less eccentric dress, “I’m afraid the professor is out of the country at the moment, on business from the Office of the Emperor.”

She seemed a little disappointed, and frowned, “Well Doctor Provost,” she paused again at the odd name, as eccentric as everything else about this fellow, “if you could recommend anyone else able to go and assist in this investigation,” she was cut off almost instantly, “Of course I can Madame. Myself.”

“I see,” she said hesitantly, “you understand that while it’s going to be subsidised,” he nodded.

“Fieldwork is always a joy my good Lady, have no fear that I shall object. Though my own talents are somewhat less than Doctor Artemis’, he’s a borderline genius after all, and my experience is little less. I would be delighted to accept this assignment.”

She seemed to still have doubts about this eccentric’s suitability, but nevertheless nodded, “Very well,” she said, “come in for a briefing at one PM tomorrow if you will,” she paused, “then we can have you on your way.”

The Senatorial Assistant was somewhat surprised by the fact that the man was still dressed much the same when he arrived in her office the next day, stalking toward her with little taps of his cane on the ground as he walked. Eventually he smiled, and threw himself into the chair opposite her, “So Madame,” he said, “I believe you have some kind of briefing?”

She nodded, “Well, in essence, what we have on this Klatch place says that these elves have proven to be a major problem for them diplomatically in the past,” she said. Surprisingly, he was already up to speed on the whole matter and added, “due to the difficulty of having an anti-elven policy and negotiating with the United Emirates which contains as a member, Menelmacar, yes?”

“Quite,” she replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I was burning the midnight oil last night reading up on the matter,” he said.

“I see,” she said, picking up a data-panel, “In that case, can we discuss your record?”

“Certainly,” he said, leaning forward, “does anything seem amiss?”

“Well, yes,” she said, “This panel lists your date of birth as classified…”

He smiled and nodded, “I’m afraid that I doubt you have the clearance to do anything about that,” he said, “and if you don’t, I don’t have the clearance to tell you.”

“I see,” she said, “well, in any case, would you care to review this letter?” she said, passing him a letter.

To Marshall McGerhry, Klatchian Marshall Office
From Secretary Rittenhaus, The Senatorial Subcommittee of Culture and the Arts,

It has come to our attention that you wish to form an international team with the intention of investigating the lifestyle and culture of the elves within your borders. It is our desire to assist such laudable efforts in any way we can, and as such we have recruited the services of a Dr Keith Provost, the foremost academician involved in the study of Elven Culture in the nation. We shall of course, arrange for his transport to Port Olympus. Dr Provost has received in his long career several high academic honours in this field of study and we believe that he would make an invaluable contribution to any such team.

He smiled, and passed it back, “Excellent,” he said, “were I you I would send it immediately.” She nodded, “I shall get on it as soon as possible.”

John Parker was the head of the National Research Agency. He was in his office, when a uniformed Army Intellengce officer came in. "Sir, The President has ordered you to do a research project." the officer said. "What is it." Parker said. The officer give him a file, that stated what the President want. "So, Im to study these elves, and report back to the Department of State about my findings." Parker said. The officer leaves and John picks up a phone. "Hello, this is the Chief, I need a research team in Alcona and Hubris, to study a group of elves." The team enters Parker office, and he gives them the file. The leader of the team was Jeff Handson, a famous sciencist in the field of elf research. They board a 747 to Alcona and Hubris.

<The Tower Institute of Misc and Etc, Hall 12, Room 22-91>

Something moved amidst a pile of papers that lay in geological layers on a battered desk located in a tiny office lit by a naked sunlamp. it looked more like a broom closet, although it was in fact the office of the Institute for Cultural and Anthropological affairs. It was also a safety hazard, due to the many overflowing filing cabinets that looked ready to topple at any second.

"Get your bags, we're going to..." Alex glanced at the pair of skyplane tickets lying amidst the clutter that was his desk. "...we're going to Alcona and Hubris," he continued.

'I don't have any bags," a tiny voice said from amidst the pile of papers.

"Then just get out of there and come along," Alex said, unperturbed.

"Fine, fine, sheesh, can't a girl get some sleep ... " the sprite continued, muttering, scattering papers as she got up.

A sprite's wings are not made of glass, at least not in Weyr. Indeed, hey look nothing like those cute insect wings that can be found in many a children's book. Nami's wings were like those of a sea bird, save that they were semi-transparent and able to fold into tiny spaces.

"Ready?" Alex asked as the sprite settled on the right shoulder of his alchemist uniform.

"Yeah, yeah," Nami muttered into his right ear.

The alchemist slammed the door shut, and the lock clicked.

"Did you remember the key this time?" Nami inquired.

"Meh," Alex shrugged walking down the corridor towards the elevators with the sprite riding on his shoulder.

To Marshall McGerhry, Klatchian Marshall Office
From Secretary Rittenhaus, The Senatorial Subcommittee of Culture and the Arts,

It has come to our attention that you wish to form an international team with the intention of investigating the lifestyle and culture of the elves within your borders. It is our desire to assist such laudable efforts in any way we can, and as such we have recruited the services of a Dr Keith Provost, the foremost academician involved in the study of Elven Culture in the nation. We shall of course, arrange for his transport to Port Olympus. Dr Provost has received in his long career several high academic honours in this field of study and we believe that he would make an invaluable contribution to any such team.

From: Klatchian Marshalls Office
The Rotunda
Port Olympus
To: Secretary Rittenhaus
The Senatorial Subcommittee of Culture and the Arts,
CC: Dr. Keith Provost

On behalf of the Privy Council, and the Klatchian Parliment, we wish to welcome Dr. Keith Provost to help in this investigation. We are most gratified to have an expert on Elven Culture join the team. We should point out that currently this mission may have some danger as the elven population live in a sparsely settled area.

Please let us know of the Doctor's travel plans. Presently all International Commerical flights for Port Olympus arrive at Vrak III International Air and River Port. If a private, or government aircraft is to be used, we will direct it to land at Kuzu JDF Air Base. The international team will be housed on the base for saftey. Day trips will be permitted into the city if we are delayed in deploying to the Gonnad.

Again, we welcome you Doctor Provost in helping investigate this matter.
- Marshall McGehry,
KM Special Investigations Feild Director
Jiggady Territory


OOC: Ctan, have the good doctor and any assistants arrive as you desire. Or just have him pop-up at the Villa Demarco assuming arrival and transport there (read below). edit: same for Wyer...

Brydog, and for everyone else, Port Olympus is a klatchian city state that acts as the Captiol. A cross between Washington D.C. and Ankh-Morpork. It is Not in Alcona and Hubris...It's sort of 'Free to be Rped' by any Klatch member as long as they stay to the basic ground rules.
***
IC:
"Er, this is Klatchian Air Control...Your a what going where?...repeat your information. Elves...Alcona and Hubris...Hold on Brydog Research Fight Tango.
*static*
In the background can be heard:...Alcona and Hubris Elves? They...wait...I remember something in the paper...
*static*
"Brydog Research Flight Tango, this is Klatchian Air Control. We have identified the problem. It appears that the study you are part of is orginizing in Port Olympus, the klatchian captial. We reccommend changing to course ----- and proceeding to Kuzu JDF Air Base....over"

(assuming you do)
The plane began its final decent over the massive Lake Olympus. The inland freshwater lake was the source of both the Benji and Deylbi Rivers that cut across the Southern Klatch. One could see the increasing size of lake boats, called 'Lakers', plying up and down the body of water. The lakers moved the wealth of the Inner Klatch out to the rest of the world, and then brought the world back.

Port Olympus lay near the head of both rivers. The glints of skyscrapers could be seen in the low bowl between five emerald green hills that rose from the surrounding man-made city like sentinals of nature. The city rolled south across the flat plains of the Upper Benji. The smog held over the low 'old city' that seemed to have ribbons of bluish green crisscrossing it. They were the ancient canals of the old city. At the south and west edges of the metroplis rose thousands of modern industrial chiminys and the smoke and steam of industry. Here, modern docks, their cranes rising eight stories above their surroundings, unloaded and reloaded the produce and product of the Inner Klatch.

Kuzu was likewise a study in contrasts. The old airport had been converted to a bomber base after the creation of the new constitution. The city had ignored it for decades, most of the buildings were old, 'mondernist' buildings that looked tired and worn. Neglect had make the stucco look shaggy, even under the bright coats of white paint now covering them. Nearby, modern structures and bunkers seemed to spring up from the ground. Long rows of bombers, B-52, Calgarys and about six other typea of heavy bombers, stood patiently waiting for an enemy.

The 747 from Brydog was met by a pair of black rovers, and a ladder truck. The ladder truck looked like it had been around before WWII. Rust streaked the white painted sides, and the truck didn't have a hood over the engine, or a windsheild. Compared with all of the other well painted and maintained equipment, it must have been pulled out of mothballs for this.

The driver attempted to guide up to the side of the aircraft, stopped for a second and then continued. The stairs were secured at a slight angle, apparently one of the tires had blown out when putting it into place.

The group was met by a man in a black uniform. He had a small gold hydra pinned to his colar and three blue stripes on his arms. "Good Day Mr. Handson, I'm Assistant Marshall Quinn here to see you and your team to the staging area. The JDF has been kind enough to allow us to use one of the older hangers to store large equipment if needed. Now, I expect you want a bath and some food after that trip...good...if you would sir."

After shepperding the group into the two black rovers, the small convoy turned and drove along one of the taxi ways. The drivers were constantly talking on radio's to ground control, but Quinn was a bit talkative.

"Well, welcome to Kuzu Airbase, old Kuzu International Airport. The Klatchians turned this into a bomber strike base after they pushed us into the Federation. Of course they built the new Vrak III Air and River Port over off the New Canal so it made sense. We're going to be borrowing a few flying boats the JDF has to hop over to the Gonad...So Are you Dr. or Mr. Handson? Your country wasn't very detailed in its breif on you...Ah, good. Now any questions about stuff...like where the PX is?...the bar?...entertainment?...Ah, here we are. Villa Demarco..."

The rovers passed two small gatehouses and into the grounds of the Villa Demarco. The Villa stood two stories at the front. It was built of yellow brick and showed its age, but it had been cared for. The roof seemed to need to be replaced, but the windows and woodwork were all covered in a ocre colored paint.

The group departed the car and entered the front hall. The room wasn't huge but it was fairly large. The floor and the half-wall paneling were white marble. The wallpaper looked to have turned yellow long ago and was now turning to dust in situ. The furniture was old, wooden, and well polished. They were meet inside by three men in a white jackets and black pants. The one at front had a red sash around his waist. "Ladies and Gentlemen this is Cawday. He is the head steward for this house...he will be seeing to your quarters and your needs while at the Villa. Marshall McGehry is out at the moment, but his office is right around the corner. I will be sending a note about a full breifing when when all the researchers have arrived. Thank You..."

The Note arrived mere hours before they did, but how exactly it arrived was a mystery, it just seemed to appear upon a Table as if it had always been there.



Sir in response to your request for aid in conducting a cultural study of your Elven population we have sent two of our people to you. The first High-Magi De'mnar of House Aldsonis is Head of Theoritical Studies at the Tower of Light and one of the formost thinkers in Giltheran.

The second person will offer you her services as a Tracker and Scout to help in locating these Elves and to hopefully aid in gaining their trust. Her name is Silvanis Of the Clan Hawks Claw.

Royal Council of Houses



A Few hours after the letter arrived it did, shaped like a butterfly it cut through the air seemingly with no means of propulsion, it's hull glistening in the light. It settled just off the coastal waters of Port Olympus and a longboat was lowered into the sea and rowed over. The Elven forms of the crew and of the visitors was clear as they approached the docks.

The Doctor had been waiting for some time, nursing the occasional cup of tea and the occasional sweet wine as though he’d not a care in the world. Occasionally he would take a ring out of his pocket and simply place it on a table and look at it. To him it seemed incredibly heavy. It wasn’t really, but they’d insisted he take some kind of weapon, and so he had eventually caved to pressure and taken a small needle pistol ring, though he’d pressured them into making it merely loaded with tranquillisers, reasoning that if he really wanted to kill someone he could always simply shoot them three times and overdose them.

That hadn’t been pleasant. Indeed, he’d found it downright horrid, but he’d agreed to take the thing, and so he kept it with him, hoping he’d never need to use it. The trip had been brief, infinitely more so than such a trip would have been in the days of his youth, that was for sure.

With a sigh he stood and wandered out of the bar, once again going to explore, as best he could without someone large armed and imposing taking exception to his prying. That he’d found, happened quite a lot. He didn’t trust these people at all. Those black uniforms and hydras reminded him of the nazis and communists far more than he liked. “Why is it that the smarter the uniform, the less moral these people are?” he said to himself, wandering around, “I imagine I could actually make a silver button-shininess to evil comparison.”

((OOC: No, no assistants, I’d rather just play the one person this time.))

OOC: Giletheran, please change "Alcona and Hubris" to Port Olympus...and take note of my last OOC post. (I know it's a bit odd, and I don't mean to be an a** about it but I've made the comment before Also, be careful how much magic you bring into this.

IC: Marshall McGerhy listened to the latest report of some new arrival landing in one of the harbors. "I know they don't like it, they should have gone to the River Port. Now, listen...keep the JDF from flying off of the handle." He hung up the phone and closed his eyes.

God, do I hate this...Having to track down a bunch of recluses in the Gonad? Just to keep that elven queen happy? God, if only I had joined the theifs guild. Of course their so busy trying to maintain their "monopoly" its a joke. Their Charter gives them the right to rob anyone who doesn't pay the protection fee, and to charge anyone who robs without a licence or robs a protected individual. Since everyone pays their fee's except those no one would want to rob in the first place, the Thieves guild is now the bleeding cops.
No, I had to join THE Guild, prove myself and gain acess to the riches of the world I desired. Then that idiot Demarco had to take that massive contract in the name of THE Guild to kill the Landgravine. Well, a Queen beats a Jack anyday of the week. Demarco learned that, I wonder what he was thinking when she drove that Challenger over him? Well he wasn't too bright at anything but inner-Guild politics anyway.
Now I have to do as the Privy Council says, oh well...better than being part of the foundations under a city pool.

***
Of course the good doctor was being kept out of restricted areas by the Joint Defense Forces. It was a bit weird infact, several uniforms of Klatchian states seemed to pop up on occasion. As did the grey and red of the JDF.

Trucks and cars passed by as the occasional fighter, bomber, or cargo plane landed on a distant tarmac. In reality, this was the middle of nowhere. Port Olympus itself lay across a wide estuary and bog. The days passed slowly out here and most people on post spent a good deal of time playing games of one type or another.

In one hanger which was guarded by a JDF officer the Doctor was allowed in without much question. It was actually the storage hanger for this mission. At a small table sat a young JDF crewman reading a thick old tome. The thick leather spine had long ago faded, and the edges of the book were worn.

If the doctor had inquired to what the young man was reading, he would have been informed that it was a history of the First Great Blood War and was written in Archaic Vrakian. When asked where he had found such an item, the young man noted the "Book Room in the Villa". Aparently, even though the Libary of the Villa was nothing more than a few empty curio cabinets and a large confrence table, underneith in the basement was the actual book room, which contained a good number of oddities and assortments.

**
In the nature of things no one seemed to care. Port Olympus wasn't the kind of place where people asked too many questions. Unless of course you were the JDF or the Marshalls. Then no one wanted to answer any questions.

The longboat and its crew got almost all the way to a passenger warf before a river monitor showed itself and hailed...

"Ahoy, who goes there? Identify yourself, you have landed a Grav-Ship in a shipping channel."
***
And since most people don't just send notes out of nothing, well the letter vanished under a pile of paperwork as an office steward dropped a stack of files that needed to be reviewed on McGerhy's office table. After all, it was just some odd bit of routine mail that had been baning around McGehry's office forever. Wasn't it?..well he had better things to be doing at the moment than reading some silly old peice of mail. Hell, it didn't even have a date stamp on it.

"Um, alchemist ser, we have a slight problem," someone was poking Alex in the shoulder. He turned over. "Um, ser, I think we're gonna crash," the person continued speaking, meanwhile jabbing his pointy finger into Alex's spine.

The first thing that Alex's mind registered was the noise. The entire skyship, the Flying Daisy, clanged and rattled as though it was about to fall apart. The second thing that Alex registered were the words "we" and "crash".

*******

The skyship landed heavily onto the tarmac of Port Olympus, leaving pieces of itself behind as it skidded several dozen meters before inertia took over. More bits of rusted mithril-steel were scattered over miles of land, bog, and ocean. As it lurched to a stop, the Flying Daisy's forward wheels collapsed and the whole thing came crashing onto the concrete.

"Next time, we take a jet," Nami coughed out as the cabin door of the skyship opened and black smoke poured out.

"Right, now we gotta get to wherever this expedition thing is supposed to be," Alex said, standing near the skyship. Black smoke was pouring out of its main rotary turbines. The two crewmembers -- the pilot and pilot apprentice, were standing nearby, and hoping that someone would bring up a fire truck and put out the fire.

The skyship landed heavily onto the tarmac of Port Olympus, leaving pieces of itself behind as it skidded several dozen meters before inertia took over. More bits of rusted mithril-steel were scattered over miles of land, bog, and ocean. As it lurched to a stop, the Flying Daisy's forward wheels collapsed and the whole thing came crashing onto the concrete.

"Next time, we take a jet," Nami coughed out as the cabin door of the skyship opened and black smoke poured out.

"Right, now we gotta get to wherever this expedition thing is supposed to be," Alex said, standing near the skyship. Black smoke was pouring out of its main rotary turbines. The two crewmembers -- the pilot and pilot apprentice, were standing nearby, and hoping that someone would bring up a fire truck and put out the fire

The crash klaxon sounded across the airfeild. The sirens of several emergency vehicles could be heard screaming across the tarmac. Luckly the thing had been landing as far from the ready bombers as possible.

The yellow fire trucks pushed down the runway. As they approached the burning wreck the opened up on the smoking airship. The grey foam seemed to cover and stick to everything, smothering and cooling the fire. Warm, white liquid ran across the tarmac, the remains of the foam that had desingrated from the fire's heat.

An ambulance appeared amoungst the fire trucks and several men in green dress jumped out. The whole group was rounded up and ordered into the ambulance.

(assumes that no one was badly hurt in the crash...if so they will be in emergency surgery and then the same room as you, but obviously recovering)
***
Fourty minutes later...

Alex, Nami, and the airship crew found themselves cooling their heels in the 'Sick Bay'. The white plaster cealing contrasted well with the puke green tiled walls, and the black and white hexagonal floor tile. The long narrow room had a row of iron hospital beds along one wall.

The other wall had small locked rolling cabinets, a few faded pink chairs, and a couple of wall mounted sinks. Small windows, long welded shut by the layers of paint on their metal frames, overlooked a small circular parking area. Apparently, they were on the second floor, and near the old terminal building.

At one end of the room was a wooden door that led to the bathroom. It was a dark closet that smelled of ammonia. The light worked, but having it on actually was worse. The light was so bright, and the glazed white tile so reflective, one almost went blind from the intensity. At the other end of the room was a pair of double doors with glass side lights. And beyond the doors were two, very unhappy looking men in grey and red uniforms with side arms and rifles. Trying to step out of the room got one..."Please remain in the ward sir..." with the obvious indication that deviating from that request would likely have one needing a doctor again.

Fourty minutes into the forced "bed rest", a fairly old gentleman wearing what appeared to be a golfing outfit, strode into the room. He looked at those from Wyer and said, "Alright, what exactly happened out there? You boys have both screwed up my base and my tee time. So don't piss with me or I'll drag a Klatchian Croc out of the estuary and toss in here with you. I want an explination...Now." The voice was one of obvious command, although the odd Hawiian print shirt seemed to contrast with that effect greatly.

Someone, probably Alex, produced a deck of cards in the meanwhile, and the four Weyreans were busily playing a game of Weyrean poker, which involved a lot of swearing and ganging up on the little guy.

All four looked up when the elderly gentleman came in. It was strange to get interrogated by a golfer, but then again, High King Alicia somehow managed to look imposing in a nightie ...

"Engine four exploded, which caused engine six and seved to go, and that made our skyship go boom," the pilot shrugged, getting off the hospital bed. "On the bright side, we've landed in the right country, and I have a blank government check for any damages."

"Yes, and you've almost managed to get us all -killed-," Nami snapped, leaping off the bed and settling on Alex's shoulder

"Anyway, I'm here for the elf-study thingamajig," Alex headed Nami off. The sprite had a horrendous temper, although Alex didn't think in those terms.

"Engine four exploded, which caused engine six and seved to go, and that made our skyship go boom," the pilot shrugged, getting off the hospital bed. "On the bright side, we've landed in the right country, and I have a blank government check for any damages."

"Yes, and you've almost managed to get us all -killed-," Nami snapped, leaping off the bed and settling on Alex's shoulder

"Anyway, I'm here for the elf-study thingamajig," Alex headed Nami off. The sprite had a horrendous temper, although Alex didn't think in those terms.

The old man eyed the pilot. "Well you seem to have a good answers for everything. Which says that you get to go give testimony before a impromtu evidential inquiry. You see we happen to be in a war, not a shooting war at the moment, but a war. And you just made a very nasty little mess on a Scramble Base runway. As you can likely judge, such things generally don't go over well with the brass or the press. You will get to enjoy being grilled by both for the remainder of the day." He looked at the assistant pilot, said nothing and moved on.

"As for you...Ah, I'm sorry what was your name? You and your ah, assistant...are to be handed over to the Klatchian Marshalls office." He said this with the kind of joy in his voice, the kind you hear when someone is about to turn their enemy into ravioli or some other dish which involves long hours of pain.

He pulled out a sheet of paper and began to read. "The passengers are to be turned over to the Klatchian Marshall's office at once. They will then be transported to...Oh, your going over to the Villa." His voice deflated as he realized that the wrath of the Privy Council was not going to decend on these two individuals.

He pushed open the doors behind him and yelled. "You, go call up the motor pool and get a car to drive some...individuals out to the Villa. It seems we have guests of the Marshalls who need a lift. And you see that this man..." pointing to the pilot..."gets to make a call home before I wisk him off to the deal with the board of inquiry. Hop to it...go go go..."

He looked at them again, shook his head and mumbbled about resting in the arms of his good girl burbon.

One of the guards waved the pilot forward and almost dragged him off to his fate. A fate which would involve being dragged before two admirals, a General, and something eight feet tall, in black robes, and glowing red eyes. He got to enjoy finding new versions of trying to explain the incident as question after question was thrown at him. The pilot had a few moments of horror when one of the Admirals demanded that they perform several violent acts opon his person, including hanging him upside down from the Parliment Building Tower by his genitalia and then castrating him. This idea wasn't even commented on by the others. The pilot's day finished with being left alone with a room of press for several hours. Considering the number of variations on "Are you an agent of the Emiriates?" (even after the last twelve answers) likely made him wonder if they, or perhaps he, was insane.
(OOC: Pilot gets a nice rest and then is shipped home, with the assistant pilot)

Alex and his shoulder riding companion were called on a few moments later by a JDF sargent. He escorted them out to a six wheeled open truck. The sargent was one of those large Irish fellows that seemed to populate the NCO ranks of the world armies. This fellow apparently learned to drive on the dogems. One couldn't have much of a conversation with him as the horn beeping never stopped, either by the sargent, or his near victims. After a long, harrowing drive which seemed to go past endless numbers of bunkers and hangers, and the bar (the driver slowing down to a crawl here to discuss some matter of betting with a fellow walking along), they arrived at the Villa.

The sargent stopped before the gate, pointed up to the old building and said,
"That's where you want to go, hope you enjoy the Gonad. Just remember us humans are the prefered dinning choice for nine out of ten forms of Klatchian wildlife...." He laughed as he sped off and around going back down the street.

A man in a black uniform with a small gold hydra stood at attention at the gate and eyed the alchemist. He said nothing, but the Villa stood waiting silently.

(I'm assuming the assitant pilot will wander off with the pilot but no one is paying him any mind...)

The Doctor was nothing if not a collector of oddities, he had a large collection of objects of antique and strange characteristics, not least a large ‘police telephone box’ of the nineteen sixties. Thus, he headed for the Book Room, pencil thin flashlight in hand, keen to explore anything of any significance he could find on the elves. He knew a good number of languages, but not Vrakian, though he’d probably figure it out eventually.

It was evening time on the Gonad Peninsula and Oberst James Slaughter had led his weary band of men into the shelter of a sort of cave, created by the bower roots of one of the gigantic trees that reached above the jungle canopy. Men he decided was really the wrong word for them. There were four of them, one was a woman and one wasn't even human, team he supposed was a better name.

The woman in the team, Commisaar Chlarissa Dashwood would not have been his first choice on this Mission. But the Cheka had insisted he took someone who spoke, and could read and write elvish, and nothing went forward in Dyelli Beybi without the Cheka's aproval. He didn't ask how she knew elvish, he didn't want to know, but he had been pleasantly surprised, she hadn't been some bumbling desk jockey, and had been able to move with the stealth of the rest of his team. She pulled off her helmet with a sigh, once under the roof of roots, shaking free her curls of black hair, it was long hair, hair that framed her delicate features, combined with her slim athletic body, she was a striking beauty, with a keen and devious mind, exactly the kind of woman the Cheka recruited, Slaughter thought to himself. The hair was also non-regulation for a woman in the army, but the Cheka had never adhered to any regulations anyway, "This tree isn't going to kill us while we sleep?" she asked, prodding the root with a boot.

Feldwebel Kay Davis snorted. He was a rugged looking man, a patch covering where one eye should be. An elf had taken a swing at him with a sword some years earlier, and he had never forgiven the creatures the insult. His hair was also longer than strictly regulation, but unlike Chlarissa's, his hang in a damp black mass, combined with the stuble on his chin he would have fit in perfectly as a street bum on the streets of Cyro. Slaughter however knew the man to be the best tracker in the armed forces, and a man born close to a border which had always had it's problems, "This isn't a Klatchian Oak." he said derisively at the Cheka agent, "If it was we'd be dead already."

"And you're sure we havn't been followed?" she seemed determined to bait the older scout.

"I'd bet my life on it." he said, reaching into his pack. This made the final member of Slaughter's enterage sit up and pay attention.

He was seven feet tall, making the already cramped space under the roots even more cramped, but what was especially unusual about him was the green skin and tusks. Grenadier Agrag Gargson had these because he was an orc. He had also removed his helmet, his tufted ears twitched in the small space, "Is it dinner time?" he rumbled in his deep orcish voice.

Slaughter hadn't picked him for brains (in fact he suspected the great brute didn't have two brain cells to rub together), he'd picked him for the ears, even for an orc he had good hearing, which meant by human standards his hearing was beyond belief. He was also surprisingly cunning in battle, immensely strong and could move quickly and quielty when he wanted to. All important when moving through what was essentially enemy territory, "No, slaughter said. Not yet. I think now is about the time to tell you all what we're doing out here."

Immeditely Kay stopped rumaging in his pack, setting it to one side, listening intently.

Slaughter sighed, then reached inside his own pack, "I think that these could be of some assistance in understanding. These are some pictures from the great pyramid at Quisa. The bits the tourist's aren't allowed into."

He handed the photos around his small team as he explained the mission. At the end, when he had retrieved the photos and carefully stowed them away again Agrag shrugged, "Humans and Elves." he left the rest unsaid.

"I don't believe it." Kay stared aghast, "I mean I always heard rumours, but well I thought that was all there was to it."

Chlarissa just smiled, watching the scout's expression of consternation with an all-knowing one of her own, but of course she'd known the truth of all this before even Slaughter had.

"So the mission gentlemen...and ladies." Slaughter continued, "Is simple. We know there is another one of those in the jungle somewhere. We're going to blow it up before the JDF find it."

"The elves won't go near it." Chlarissa added helpfully, "They say it eminates evil."

Slaughter had no idea how she knew this, but he wasn't going to press her, "Which of course can be useful. We will probably need to catch another of the buggers and find out exactly where this forbidden zone is."

Kay's eye's had lit up at the mention of this, "They'll tell me anything after just five minutes." he said smugly.

"And how will you know what to ask when you don't bloody well speak their language?" Chlarissa demanded of the scout.

"Trust me." Kay said, refusing to be goaded, "They understand the language of pain."

"Quiet you two, you'll wake up all the little elvies." rumbled the orc, from where he still sat eying Kay's ration pack greedily.

Slaughter smiled to himself, the whole conversation had been held at little over a whisper, but he supposed it would sound a lot louder to Argag, who still had difficulty understnading not all other living creatures shared his sense of hearing, Slaughter tapped him on one enormous shoulder, slipping his helmet back on but keeping the visor up to aid visibility, "I'll take first watch."

There were no signs of Elves that night, although the next day was to prove very different.

It's Mr. Handson, he said. The team walks into the villa and sit down.

The Doctor was nothing if not a collector of oddities, he had a large collection of objects of antique and strange characteristics, not least a large ‘police telephone box’ of the nineteen sixties. Thus, he headed for the Book Room, pencil thin flashlight in hand, keen to explore anything of any significance he could find on the elves. He knew a good number of languages, but not Vrakian, though he’d probably figure it out eventually.

The book room was not what likely what he expected. It was a long room with a vaulted cealing. Bookshelves stood in large alcoves with allagory fresco's over them. In one wall, three large windows filled the spaces over the bookshelves in their alcoves. The pen light was unnedded, between the daylight through the windows and the wall sconces between the bookshelves the room was well lit.

There appeared to be several books on elves, except most of them were obviously fictional stories. They involved ancient lands on maps looking more drawn by five year olds than serious catographers. Apparently, there was a section of old fantasy novels down here.

There were four things on the elves he did find useful. The first was the Deylbian Report on Elves, 230 pages of psudo-science that boiled down to a grusome display of people burning elves alive with flame throwers, and a bunch of meaninless comparisons to various types of wood. The fact that elves were considered to be a spongy form of Willow based on caloritic values of burning, seemed to be a joke.

The second was an older book called Flora and Fauna of the Greater Klatch Volume II, The South and The Gonad . This was quite a nice little tome with illustrations of various plant and animal life some notable entries were:

the Triffid
(Dionaea podocarpus) is a native of the jungles of the Gonnad peninsula, which also house the infamous enchanted oaks. Triffids are large plants related to the venus fly trap. Among their many peculiar habits is their motility: Triffids do not renmain rooted in one place, but in fact move by growing new roots and letting the old ones die, travelling up to a metre a day.

The Enchanted oak or Klatchian Oak
(smeered) is described to have homicidal tendencies involving large decending shoot vines. It is also the Host species for the Klatchian ferret, probably the worlds only parasitic mustelid.

The Klatchian Ferret
(Mustela parasitica) and its host, the Enchanted Oak (Etherobotanus klatchia) are restricted to the Gonaad peninsula and a few offshore islands by a 100km buffer zone. One of those creatures that cannot exist in a low magic environment, once mated the ferret burrows into the oaks trunk and lives there, sucking the sap from the trees veins until the young are ready to be born. these young then dig their way out of the tree, leaving their mother inside, trapped by her own growth. The trees themselves are the most dangerous species on the continent.

The Oxyaena
(Canis oxyaena) is a dog-like member of the hyena family, with a long slim body and a low bushy tail. they are fast runners that shun others of their kind. Several subspecies exist, with unique colourations,calls and habitats. C. o. imperialis is golden all over, and inhabits the deserts of western Dyelli Beybi. C. o. benjia is golden with black spotting on its shoulders and pale cream belly fur, nad dwells in the wastes of Fasta Benj. C. o. sylvestris dwells in the enchanted forest of the gonaad peninsula and is chestnut brown with a white tail and belly. C. o. extremis is an island dwelling version that is substantially smaller and tawny yellow shading to black on its back.

The Night Cat,
(Panthera melanopardus), is the dominant predator in the rainforests of the far east, including the enchanted forest. It resembles a leopard, but is slightly larger, has larger eyes with green colouration, and a pure black coat. It hunts only at night, and its ears are large and sensitive, as it uses them to locate prey. The animal climbs well, and often hunts by dropping from a tree onto its prey. Nop markings are visible on the coat, unlike that of a black leopard or jaguar.

Elves
(Botanis elve) Was found to be unwilling to particpate in the study in any manner. I can assure you that 400 meters is still not far enough to maintain one's self out of their bow range. Apparently, they have some metal working ability as well as chemistry. However, they are hostile to all outsiders.

The thrid item was a journal, written in a lanquage the good doctor wouldn't have seen. Well it looked like a form of Archaic Greek, but not any variation he had seen before. The doctor's inital attempts at deciphering only came up with "Day long as night shall ride to evil if one I shall find the tomb." The most intresting thing were the drawings, scetches really. A few showed what appeared to be elves both in profile. Of course the journal included other scetches of walruses wearing hats, a Polar Bear with a spear and jacket, an orc, a dragon, a griffen, something large in robes standing by a shore, drawings of buildings, pyramids, the plan of some building. It was a treasure trove of information. If one could decipher it.

The last item was on the wall, locked in a case. It was an elven runed sword. A tag said Narca 1238-1432. There were several other swords and knives in the case, which was locked with small iron bars forming the doors.

The sargent stopped before the gate, pointed up to the old building and said,
"That's where you want to go, hope you enjoy the Gonad. Just remember us humans are the prefered dinning choice for nine out of ten forms of Klatchian wildlife...." He laughed as he sped off and around going back down the street.

A man in a black uniform with a small gold hydra stood at attention at the gate and eyed the alchemist. He said nothing, but the Villa stood waiting silently.


"Strange," Alex shrugged. "First time a Weyrean got mistaken for a human."

"Just go," Nami stabbed the alchemist in the neck with a small but very sharp knife.

"Wasn't very nice," Alex responded, ignoring the silent statue person and walking towards the villa. It wasn't as though the sting hurt or anything, and it wasn't poisoned like Nami's oversized butterknife, which she carried in a shoulder harness.

"I'm not a nice person," Nami snapped.

"Evil; so do we ring the bell?" the alchemist mused, scratching his closely-cropped orange hair. He might have passed for a military officer in some circles, for that was what an alchemist's uniform was -- an old military outfit of the sort used at the turn of the centuty.

"What bell," thr sprite sighed.

"Good point," Alex smiled, and opened the front, entering the front hall of the villa. It . . . looked like the old Royal apartments at the Tower of Kings back home, right down to the peeling wallpaper and ancient furniture.

"Good point," Alex smiled, and opened the front, entering the front hall of the villa. It . . . looked like the old Royal apartments at the Tower of Kings back home, right down to the peeling wallpaper and ancient furniture

A wiry small man appeared from one doorway. He was wearing a white stewards jacket and black slacks. His footfalls made little sound as he carried a decanter and several glasses on a metal tray. He paused realizing the front door was open.

He looked at the two for a moment. His eyes seemed to be trying to judge the uniform, but were quickly narrowing realizing that it wasn't Klatchian.

He asked in a polished tone that dripped annoyance like a leaky faucet, "Who are you two? What are you two? That thing on your shoulder, is that a sentient or just a pet?" His left hand held the tray while the right hand appeared to make for the wall behind him next to the fireplace.

After long searching the Doctor decided to keep a good hold on those books, especially the untranslatable one. The so called report on elves he found more than a little disturbing, and sat with it open on a table in front of him for some time, before finally muttering, “Sweet Lord what have I gotten myself into this time?”

Then he puzzled over the text from the undecipherable manuscript, “Day long as night?” he asked to himself, “an equinox perhaps?”

He knew this book shouldn’t have any significance to him so far, but it did, somehow he felt that it was a very important find. He wished he were at the Institute at that moment, for he knew several scholars whose skill with such ancient texts was renowned, and it would be likely that showing it to them could do something for his little quest, and he resolved himself to get some of it copied and transmitted home in order to get a bit of translation work done, though frankly, that would take days.

Before leaving he felt himself drawn to the cabinet with the weapons in it. It was a strange sense of ESP he had sometimes. As though he were destined to do things. Another little oddity among many of the Doctor’s that few living people knew of. He examined the lock, “Must get around to picking that,” he murmured, examining the runes on the blade. Elf styled yes, but certainly not any of the languages of the Quendi. Odd.

He asked in a polished tone that dripped annoyance like a leaky faucet, "Who are you two? What are you two? That thing on your shoulder, is that a sentient or just a pet?" His left hand held the tray while the right hand appeared to make for the wall behind him next to the fireplace.

"Well, that's rude," Nami growled, her wings cuffing Alex on the ear as she sprang into flight. "Never seen a sprite, have you?"

Alex sighed, hoping that she wasn’t going to poke the small man’s eyes out. Sprites had a short temper, and a habit of carrying poisonous weapons that could take down a rampaging hippo.

"I'm alchemist Alex Dublovsky," he said, not noticing the servant's tone or motion, "here for the elf study, or whatever it's called. That's Nami s'Niggs, head of the Misc and Etcetera Institute of Weyr. She's a sprite; I'm either a human or a dog of the king, depending on your perspective. So where’re we supposed to go?" Alex inquired, meanwhile moving towards the waiter/person/whatever.

Before leaving he felt himself drawn to the cabinet with the weapons in it. It was a strange sense of ESP he had sometimes. As though he were destined to do things. Another little oddity among many of the Doctor’s that few living people knew of. He examined the lock, “Must get around to picking that,” he murmured, examining the runes on the blade. Elf styled yes, but certainly not any of the languages of the Quendi. Odd.

The sound of a footfall filled the room. A tall, weiry man with white hair and goatee stood almost right behind the doctor. The man's craggy face seemed to complement the dark green set deep into it, above a thin mouth and aristorcatic nose. The individual was wearing a light blue silk jacket, kaki linen pants, and a light blue dress shirt. A gold hydra above a enammled red bar with silver star stood out on the breast pocket of the jacket. Below that, a small ebony and ivory name tag said McGerhy.

He had his hands behind him, holding a cane and a pair of white gloves. A white, wide brimmed hat sat on a libary table. Next to it one of the bookcases was out of place, revealing a 'secret' set of stairs climing upwards.

"Ah, you know...Doctor Provost is it not?...I forgot these were down here. Really, they should have been housed in the Guild Museum rather than here, but then they would be so much scrap metal by now. Well, perhaps not, a good deal of the collection survived the bunker buster." He just shook his head and turned away from the doctor.

"You didn't happen to see an anotated copy of the Klatchian Atlas of 1730 did you? Hmph, can't figure out where it got to. Seems someone actually mapped a few elven villages and gave them names. I had it, but the stewards here get to be such cleaning freeks. Oh well, I'll see if I can get Quinn to find it."

He stopped for a moment and then chuckled, "I seem to be a bit rusty in the manners department. Marshall Lawrence McGehry, although I think you guessed that by now." He gave a short bow, and a wry smile, to the doctor before turning and picking up his hat.

"Well, I'm about to do the whole welcome speil, so we had best be on our way upstairs." He pushed the bookcase back into place and it appeared to latch. He waved the doctor out of the bookroom and towards the stairs. "Doctor, I hope your not planning on hauling that idiotic report by the Dyelbians around on this trip? Although it shows the lunacy of so called Dyelbian Science, I don't see what good it can do for us on this mission, except as a fire starter." He turned and began up the marble stairs up to the ground floor.

***
The steward listened and then said in a dry, and less arrogent tone. "Ah, Mr. Alex Dublovsky and Ms. Nami s'Niggs...we were expecting you." The last part, and its hesitation, indicated that he had no clue who the people before him were, or any real reason to care.

"....follow me please to the Salon. Marshall McGerhy will be welcoming all of the foreign research scientist and giving a breifing on the expidition shortly." He turned and walked through another door, past the staircase, and into the Salon.

The Salon was a bright cheery room room usually described as a 'double cube' with large doorways to the Library and Dining room on opposite sides. The far wall had four large windows and a doorway that opened up onto a large screen porch. The interior wall was dominated by a large, hooded stone fireplace. The wooden floor had a parquet of some intracacy running around the outer edge while three oriental rugs filled the center of the floor. The rugs still showed vibrent colors contrasting with their deep reds, though they were a bit worn. The cealing was actually curved with a fresco of clouds and stars. The artist had put small gryphens and nymphs poking out of the clouds, playing hide and go seek. A few bare patches showed where someone had patched some damage.

The furniture was an eclectic mix of old antiques and slightly worn art deco international stuff that had been rummaged up from somewhere. It appeared everyone was gathering in the room. The Brydog group was lounging about, both out on the porch with it's wicker furniture and inside.

A woman sat in one corner listening to an old 30's radio that apparently was playing some game. The play by play was in Vrakian and an occasional cheer could be heard in glourious mono eminating from the antique.

The steward said, "Ah, Sir...Gentlecreature...please find a seat. I have been informed that the Marshall will be along shortly." He put down the tray on a side table and then hurried off to fetch something else.

“Yes,” he said, having straitened up ramrod stiff when he heard the unexpected footfall. It wasn’t that he’d not anticipated being joined, but that it came from a completely unexpected direction. Spinning on his heel he looked around at the man, taking his dress and demeanour in at a glance.

“Yes that is the name for me,” he said. At the question about the implements, “Yes, they’re museum pieces alright,” he said, “what can you tell me about them. I have a feeling,” he said that in a rather compelling way, as though there was more behind his words than mere mundanity, “about the sword,” he finished, starting up the sword. He didn’t comment on the Dyelbian artefact, “And there’s something about this too, Dyelbians perhaps, perhaps.” He remained silent as he climbed, taking the three books with him, concealing them in some way under his coat, making such seem effortless and natural. One could easily see that he had books there but not the spines, just their sometimes-faded pages and covers.

He had of course bowed in return and given his own full, assumed, name. A simple shake of his head had sufficed for the question about the atlas, he assumed that the journal wasn’t the book in question, and thus said nothing about it for now. This man he liked, the most civilised person he’d met thus far in this place. He nodded inwardly, deciding that this McGerhy could perhaps be trusted.

"To study elves...Curious. I still remember the big fuss in the international community when we tried to study humans. They raised so many arguments about how we were attempting against the integrity of sentient beings for our arrogant scientific purposes", said the Prince Hyral reading the document. "Sometimes, Aly, I think we need improve the respect those cubs of humans have for the elvenkind, and you know what I mean".

"Their ignorance releases their guilt. Send a message to them. We're glad to greet some lost kin, and also to teach those humans in how to understand us, and to accept us", said the Princess Aliria, Heir to the Everqueen, directing a disciplined stare to her old friend. "We need to guide them, not to punish them"

"Then let me guess your future actions. I have a foresight on me. You're going to send a team of scientists to help them, right?", answered the for mer ShadowPrince, a wry grin in the corner of his mouth.

Aliria laughed a little bit. After all, she knew that most people didn't approve her open policies with the outside world, but after all her policy was the one that finally turned Aelosia in a power to be feared and respected. "Yes I will. that will help us to build relationships with that country, to overwatch their actions regarding elvenkind, and also to study and know those relatives of us. Everything is perfect, Kithail, don't worry about it", she said, grabbing a peacock feather from her desk. "Now, with your leave, I have a letter to write".


To: Marshall McGerhry, Klatchian Marshall Office
From: Princess Aliria D'Hyru, The Sindarin Jewel

After reading the news about your discovery, I would be glad to send a team of our best anthropologists to your country in order to help you to research and investigate about the elves you have found. I'm sure the Edoriath University would delighted to cooperate with your goverment in any aspect of the investigation.

Colchester was watching the window. It had been no more than 10 minutes since they had taken off. Colchester was watching the window when he sait it sailing up from a small clearing in the trees, and with a sickening certainty he knew where the sharpened stake was going to hit, "Brace for impact!" he yelled.

A moment later the whole helicopter shuddered as the tail came shearing off, sending the craft spinning out of control. Colchester held onto his chair as the wrecked craft ripped through the canopy, finally crashing into the side of a tree, throwing everyone to the floor. Colchester's head collided with a metal bar, sending star's swimming in his vision. A small voice at the back of his head reminded him he would have died if he hadn't kept his helmet on. Others weren't so lucky. The pilot's head was seeping blood from where a tree branch had punched through the cockpit window.

"Everyone out!" Colchester belowed, "Get into position and prepare for incoming enemy."

There had been two prisoners on this helicopter, the other seven would be fleeing the area with their precious cargo. He was on his own for now. He drew his pistol, grabbing one prisoner by the collar, a female, he flung her down on the floor and emptied three rounds into her back. Aparently it hadn't quite finished her off. He crouched over her, pressing the pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger again, sending brains splattering across the cabin. The other was huddled whimpering in a corner, it babbled something in elvish at him as he walked over to it. He ignored it and emptied the rest of his clip into it, "unmenschliches Geschöpf" he pronounced over the dead.

Outside there was silence. The Dyellians had taken cover behind tree roots, broken sections of tree root and whatever else was available, one was crouched by the shattered remnants of the door.

Colchester clambered back into the cabin where the dead pilot still lay slumped over his control, he pulled the man away, tossing the corpse back across the floor of the cabin. His face was a mangled mess, the controls sticky with his blood. Colchester reached for the radio, picking up the reciever , he fiddled with the settings, sending out his message on all channels.

"Mayday, mayday. Dyellian Provincial Army helicopter down. Eleven survivors. Request immediate assistance. Coordinates are..."

As he read it out, Colchester realised the JDF would hear the broadcast as well, butit hardly mattered to him, he just wanted to get himself, and as many men as possible out of here. He was just about the broadcast the message again when he got a reply crackling across the air waves,

"Downed Helicopter, this is Theta Base. Expect a rescue mission in your possisition within 14 hours. Over."

"Affirmative Theta Base. Any chance of it getting here a little earlier? Over."

There was no reply this time. "Damn!" he smashed his gloved fist into the controls. It would be a long 14 hours.

The steward said, "Ah, Sir...Gentlecreature...please find a seat. I have been informed that the Marshall will be along shortly." He put down the tray on a side table and then hurried off to fetch something else.

"Gentle-creature! I'll give him gentle-creature! I'll cut out his figgin'..." Nami shouted, rising into the air and drawing her sharp knife, which glinted with an eery sort of octarine light.

"Come off it," Alex said amiably, sitting in the nearest unoccupied seat. "We're in a place that wants to study elves. Don't expect them to know such things."

"Yeah...well..." Nami muttered, flying to the fireplace and settling down atop it. Unlike fairy-tale sprites, Nami's flying was closer to a bird's, just like her wings. No fluttering, just a slight sound of moving air.

Dyellian armour had made Colchester's men very hard to dislodge from their position and the first attack had been driven off without losses for the Dyellians, although a dozen elven bodies littered the forest floor. Colchester was worried though, he leaned back against one of the chairs in the ruined cabin, the corpses in the corner were gathering flies, "Looks like we've frightened the bastards off Sir" the man by the door suggested with a grin.

"I doubt it, Grenadier." Colchester replied, "They know they've got us cornered. They won't rest until we're dead."

And then it came again, a whisper from the trees, muttered words in elven, there was one word he recognised, that was 'Djel'. Around the wreckage, Colchester's men checked their rifles, Colchester himself hefted his case gun, slithering on his belly towards the wrecked door, he scanned the jungle, there was no movement, then he caught it, a flicker off in the distance. He lifted the gun to his eye, peering down the scope, "Shit!"

He rolled out of the way just in time as a huge rock slammed down next to where he'd been sitting, the man next to him wasn't so lucky, he was pinned under the rock. Thankfully he had died instantly, his skull and chest crushed beneath the weight. Outside one man sprung to his feet in alarm, seconds later he was hit by five arrows, his visor was up and two took him in the face, knocking him backwards, dead, "Stay down!" Colchester roared, "You! He pointed to the man closest to him, follow me...and stay down."

Carefully, Colchester climbed out of the wreckage, and led the young Grenadier to the left, away from the wreck, when they had made it a few paces, he dropped down, "We need to knock out that catapult, or we're all dead." he explained.

The Grenadier nodded and copied Colchester as he dropped to his belly, inching his way forward, they edged their way up a low ridge, Colchester peered over, there were elves down there, and yes...maybe 700 metres further off, the catapult.

"Sir." the Grenadier hissed, pointing down the way they had come.

A small band of elves had tracked their movements, Colchester swore under his breath, "Hold them off."

He flicked a dial on the Case Gun as the Grenadier's rifle opened up in a roar. Dyellian Assault rifles were loud. He ignored it, taking careful aim, the computer told him to aim up a little, and he did, then pulled the trigger. In the distance the HESH round exploded tearing the catapult apart and sending splinters biting into it's crew. Pain lanced through the back of Colchester's leg, he cried out, dropping his gun, his hand came down, as he turned, and he felt it before he saw it, an arrow embedded in back of his knee, a small gap in the armour.

"Sir!" two more of Colchester's men had appeared on the scene, he cried out, grabbing his gun as he was hefted over one man's shoulder . They ran back to the shelter of the wreckage, arrows clattering off their armour, although thankfully none found their mark this time. They laid Colchester carefully down inside the pilot's cabin. tossing the pilot's body into the back with the other corpses.

Colchester, even the organiser, pulled out his notebook, and jotted inside it.
3 men dead.
1 man injured.
8 uninjured troops.
12 confirmed kills.
Unknown enemy numbers.
12 hours to rescue.

The Marshall had ignored the question on the blades for a moment but then returned to the subject. "I am afraid I can't tell you much about those weapons. I do know that they were the favored weapons of notable Guild members. Why they wound up here or who exactly those people were is not something I ever really knew. Unfortunately, why they are here vanished under a pair of tank treads. As for who the owner was, I suggest you try to find a copy of the Guild's Biographical Encyclopedia."

At the top of the stairs Quinn met the senior Marshall. The young man started to bow with his hand over his chest, but McGerhry just waved him forward. McGehry listened to the young man make some whispered comments. "radio contact…unknown…near border…intercept?" was all that could be overheard.

The polished voice replied, "Fine, oh and on the other matter would you write the response back for me. I think what you outlined was the best option we have available. Show me when you're done. Thank you Marshall Quinn." He returned to the subject as the walked into the Salon, "I don't know of a copy here. However, the 1870 edition is on the internet. If I recall those dates, the former owner of that blade should be in that volume." He stopped and waved the doctor to enter the Salon before him.

***
The Salon…Early

"Then perhaps you would be so kind as to inform us of how to address you?" The woman remarked to the sprite. "At present, you’re the first of your kind to ever visit these shore as far as I know. She smiled, "and I should know". She lowered the volume of the radio as she stood and walked over. Her red hair framed an older, but lovely face. She was dressed in a kaki multi-pocketed jacket, a worn blue oxford shirt, and olive pants that had bulky pockets. Her gray eyes seemed to dance as she strode across the room and then gave both of them a short bow. "Dr. Ann Piper, Cultural Anthropologist…And you sir are?….and our winged collogue?….very nice to meet both of you. I should point out that not even the Vrakians get annoyed when they get called Gentle creatures. It is considered a respectful type of address."

She continued on, just placing her hand on the hilt of a twenty-inch sword bayonet she was wearing.
"As for saying we are studying elves, is a bit wrong…the problem is that we are both a diplomatic mission with the world observing and advising, and a cultural study to demonstrate the validity of what we say about the cultural notions of these people. The best term I've heard for this is a 'first-contact' mission. Some bartender kept on referencing some T.V. show. However, this isn't the 'first-contact' by any means. It’s the first contact which will hopefully have world wide visibility and transparency."


***

To: Princess Aliria D'Hyru, The Sindarin Jewel
From: Marshall McGerhry, Klatchian Marshall Office

Discovery, I think is the wrong term for this situation. I would prefer to call this an "opportunity". We have known about the elves of the Gonnad for centuries. But due to internal political realities a comprehensive attempt to meet and understand these elves by the Federal Government has not been possible until now.
We welcome your help in this matter. At the present time the research group is planning on departing for Gonnad and base camp at 800 hours local tomorrow morning. If you and your equipment can reach Kuzu Airbase near Port Olympus by 600 hours local you can join us there. Otherwise we will be forced to make arrangements for you to travel from Jiggady International directly to the base camp.

***
The Salon…
Two men entered the Salon, the doctor and the Marshal behind him. The Marshall showed the man a chair as stewards began to put out snacks on a side table. "Ladies, Gentlemen, and Gentlecreatures, I am Marshall McGerhry…Head of special investigations in the Jiggady Territory. And I am head of the research group that you have all volunteered for. I'm sorry for the somewhat odd conditions of our housing, but this old villa has become something of a way stop for the Marshall's Office. I can assure you your beds are new, the sheets are clean, and the food is excellent. Now we have prepared a variety of snacks and drinks for you while I describe our initial agenda in more detail….
(Briefing later, I need to edit a few maps…)

***
The Gonnad

Three gunships with JDF painted on their black sides began to move in an arrowhead formation in line with the direction that a radio station had picked up the transmission. They were moving slowly forwards, watching the forest below. Above them an AWAC rotodyene held at several thousand feet. Behind trailed two old heueys that had been dug up incase they had to pull people out of a sticky situation.

During the last few hours another man had been injured and a further four elves had been downed, but now Colchester could hear rotors, he looked at his watch, "They're early...5 hours early" he noted to the man sitting next to him.

The Grenadier shrugged, "Suits me."

Colchester shrugged in response and settled back. The arrow had been pulled out of his leg, and while it was painful it seemed likely he would not be maimed permanently. A few moments later another soldier came dashing into the wrecked remains of the helicopter, "Sir! It's the JDF."

Colchester swore under his breath, rescued by the JDF, this wouldn't look good.

The Initial Briefing
"At the moment I suggest everyone grab a bit of food, drink, and one of the info packets…oh, well they are up in your rooms it appears." He glared at the steward with the red sash.

A few minutes later a screen had been raised at one end of the room with a computer projector placed in the center of the room on a table. The three stewards were either setting up the equimpent or offering sherry, lemonade, tea or water to the guests.

A few moments later, McGerhry began again to speak. "Our basic itinerary is as follows…
We will be departing for the Gonnad at 800 hours tomorrow local time. We will be taking flying boats south to Backbay and then traveling along the major highway to the old city of Black Lodge. The next day we will continue on along the Mail Road indicated on this map," The map appeared on the screen, a road was highlighted in pink. The mail road travels through the "Enchanted Forest which is indicated by this glittery ink on this old map from the lost nation of Christofi. We will be setting up base camp at an old inn and way station on the road. The reason for this is that most of the major settlements appear to be clustered east of this area. You will note that the Christofi map has an indication of a city location at the very heart of the Enchanted Forest." He marked the dot with a red circle around it.


"Now I know most of you have likely heard of, or read one of the reports that claims we do not like elves and actually think they are a form of fauna. I should point out that is a severe simplification of the situation. The reality is that the elves have never recognized any state government over the Gonnad since the fall of Christofi, nor have they been inclined to recognize our state boundaries. Now I do not know the reason for this behavior, or what they want. That is what the Privy Council would like to know. And my task to gain an understanding, and if possible start diplomatic contacts with the Gonnad Elves."

"Now your information packets in your rooms contains detailed lists of the dangerous fauna and flora in the peninsula. Also, when we reach Black Lodge we will be picking up our JDF component and those of you without weapons will be issued then based on skill level. A writer once said that the Klatch was Hell on Earth, and that the Enchanted Forest was the Central Park of Dis. Now then, what are your questions?"

(OOC: Either ask questions or wander off to your rooms…)

***
The Rescue
The Birddog-gunships (similar to the Kamov
Ka-50 Hokum ) spotted the wreckage first. "Hello, this is Pyro one, we have visual conformation of a chopper down at ____. It appears to have been under repeated attacks…over."

"Pyro, begin evacuation and evidence gathering…bring those fellows back…over"

The three briddogs set themselves up to form three points of a triangle over the site. The chop, chop of the old hueys could be heard as they descended towards open ground near the crash site. The huey's didn't land but just hovered over the ground.
A group of JDF hopped out and ran for the wreckage. Several of them stopped and scanned the surrounding trees.

A JDF lieutenant appeared at screamed over the sound of the gunships opening up with their 20mm guns, "Come on, we sighted numerous bogies coming this way…"

Someone grabbed Colchester and carried him on his back. The sound of gunfire was interrupted as a flaming ball came sliding towards one of the gunships. The chopper dogged it, and the ball went slamming near the wreckage. A huge blast of flame and heat erupted as greek fire spilled over the ground. The dark smoke rising as flames consumed the grass and dead bodies nearby.

As the remaining Dyelbians were thrown onto the hueys, A maday was heard as a ballista bolt smacked into the cabin of one of the gunships. It began to spiral out of control as the both the pilot had been skewered. The huey's raised themselves up out of the former village as the crash of the gunship could be heard in the nearby trees.

The first heuy raised iteslf above the tree canopy and kept on running. A chain gun spewing rounds back towards the crash site. The second heuy followed, but then an RPG flew out of the treetops and into her. The blast sent debris and people flying out as the craft began to circle back down towards the ground. A second later, a second RPG slammed into her. The heuy tumbled into the trees a burning wreck.

The surviving Birddogs turned and followed.

"Looks like we're late. As always. This civilian people is always bothersome", said the pilot to his partner as the shuttle raced at an unearthy speed to the landing pad. "And this civilian shuttle is a tincan, my car has a better velocity than this piece of crap", finished to say the military officer, looking upset.

The pair of scientists sitted on the passenger compartment in the back of the shuttle just sighed. The tensions between civilian and military personnel was a common debate in aelosian society, due mostly to the noble ascendance of most of the navy and army officers. Yet the Cúthalion House held a lot of respect for their investigator, researchers, and scientists, and both the passengers preferred to ignore the comments of the noisy and annoying pilot.

The woman, sitted with her legs crossed, was dressed in sober, executive clothes, sporting a grey blazer and a simple skirt up to her knees, her hands quite occupied in writing complicated runes in a notebook, although the turbulence of the flight barely allowed her to do so. Her dark, pitch black hair was st loose over her shoulders, and she furrowed her brow over her beautiful, big and bright blue eyes to focus a little bit her writing through her silvery glasses.

In front of her, a chubby and smiling elf was sitting, opening a suitcase, revealing a huge mess inside the metal accesory. Papers, used feathers and electropens were all piled inside, and almost jumped out as he opened it. The man scratched his head a little bit, and laughed, just drawing a single wry grin from the female passenger next to him.

A voice filled the comlink. "Ground control, this is aelosian vessel RTF-1056, carrying an investigation team due to authorization from the Klatchian Marshall office, asking permission to land".

Colchester had been on the first Huey that hadn't been turned into mulch, "By God." he muttered, his eyes widening in shock as the second one went down, "I hadn't even realised they had weapons like that." he shivered, "We wouldn't have lasted another hour down there...they must have been waiting for us to run out of ammo...we were expecting Provincial Ground Forces in the area within the next five hours, but well"

He shrugged and looked around, aside from himself there were three other Dyellian survivors, "Who do we extend our thanks to?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

War Hugh Yeah! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing...
The Dyellian armoured column was making a hell of a lot of noise.

To start with there were the engines. That made up most of the noise. Then there were the trees that were being bulldozed out of the way nearly continuously, the column was headed by two huge Model 6s fitted with bulldozer blades. Then there was the radio. Someone had fitted PA systems to a couple of the half-tracks, and they were playing an odd mix of music from the 70s, heavy metal and Beethoven. Last but not least were the somewhat nervous crews who would occasionally fire off a few rounds at shadows, although most elves were sensible enough to realise that attacking tanks wasn't a healthy hobby.

Inside one Model 5, acting as a Command vehicle, a crewman in the turret tapped the commander's leg. The Commander dropped down, "WHAT?" he yelled, trying to be heard over the racket.

"-----horse-----" the crewman replied.

"WHAT?" the Commander demanded again.

"I SAID WE'LL BE AT THE CRASH SITE IN 4 HOURS."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------


Some time later in a research facility in Dyelli Beybi
The walls were grey, lit up dully by the soft glow of overhead fluorescent bulbs. Cheka agents wandered the coridoors, heavily armed, although not wearing any form of body armour. They watched the retired High Chancellor as he walked past, but were not overly concerned by his prescence.

Herr Otto Himmler, strode towards the door he was looking for. It was not too different from the other doors he had passed, except for the fact that it was guarded by two Cheka agents. One nodded to him, and opened the door.
He walked in. The room he entered was even darker than the coridoors, in fact the only light source was the back lighting for the slides displayed on every wall. To someone without a background in biology the slides, displaying columns of horizontal grey lines, would mean very little. They meant nothing to Himmler, but they did to the small wiry scientist in the corner. He blinked at the intruder through thick rimmed spectacles, "Ahh Herr Himmler, I suspect you're here to ask whether the test is positive?"

Himmler nodded with a rare thin lipped smile, "Absolutely Claus."

Claus nodded in reply, "Yes. The test is positive."

"The same way you address anyone else," Nami shrugged, just as two men entered the salon, and the briefing began. . .

Now then, what are your questions?"

"And you've never tried to establish contact before?" Alex asked. "As far as I can tell, you've had elves living there for a while, and your problems with them are not exactly recent."

The Eastern Dyellian Border

This was the killing zone. It was an open wasteland, completely defoliated. Anything green was quickly sprayed. The Dyellians wanted this land dead. They wanted it to stand as a reminder to any elves that felt like crossing the border. A reminder of exactly what waited for them on the other side.

But still they came, sometimes they were warbands, armed with a variety of mostly medieval weapons, sometimes they were civilian, leaving the forrest for whatever reason. The Dyellians killed them regardless.

Today, however things were different. A Commisaar in a grey greatcoat stalked through the blasted landscape, a few Border Sheriffs were warming their hands around a fire in an oil drum, despite the balmy tropical climate.

One spotted the Commisaar and stepped forward saluting, "Thought I heard a helicopter land, but there've been so many coming backwards and forwards these days...Got some prisoners Sir. Want us to burn them?" he grinned showing yellow teeth.

The Commisaar glared, "No. If I wanted them burned I wouldn't have asked you to take prisoners would I?"

The Sheriff shrugged, "Sometimes we take prisoners, it can be fun to...."

He trailed off, the Commisaar was giving him a highly hostile glare, and nobody in their right mind would want to be offside with the Cheka, "Where are the prisoners?" the agent asked.

The Sheriff led him around a small wooden hut with an IR searchlight on the roof and pointed down into a pit covered by a grille, "In there Sir. Five of the bastards."

The Commisaar nodded, "Good." he was about to walk to the other side of the pit but noticed a rusty warning sign, "Ah what's over there?"

The Sheriff grinned, "Land mines Sir."

"Right." the Commisaar nodded, a little distracted by the fact that he'd just about walked into a minefield, he looked down into the pit onto it's occupants, "Kill that one." he pointed to an elf suffering from a gunshot wound, "We only need healthy individuals."

The Sheriff's grin widened, "With pleasure Sir."

"There will be a half-track for the other four in the morning."

The Sheriff nodded, "Where are you taking them Sir?"

"The Grignard Botanical Research Centre." the Commisaar replied as he turned.

The Sheriff had picked up a hunting rifle from a rack on the side of the hut. He pulled the bolt back, "...And if you kill any others" the Commisaar continued, "You'll regret it."

"Not to worry Sir." the Sheriff replied cheerily.

"And don't leave firearms lying around." the Commisaar yelled over his shoulder.

There was a gunshot and a scream, then a second gunshot.

325 Hours Local

A voice filled the comlink. "Ground control, this is aelosian vessel RTF-1056, carrying an investigation team due to authorization from the Klatchian Marshall office, asking permission to land".

"Aelosian vessel RTF-1056, this is..Kuzu Airbase..only water capable landings are permitted at this time. We had an incoming flight from Wyer that decided to blow up and disintegrate on our landing strips. We haven't finished the debris clean-up yet. If your not water capable, we can divert you to a civilian facility…over."

***

"And you've never tried to establish contact before?" Alex asked. "As far as I can tell, you've had elves living there for a while, and your problems with them are not exactly recent."


Well I could give you the long or short answer to that question. However, considering the supposed anti-elf bias we have, I will provide you with a long version.

The Klatchian Constitution grants the States the right to manage their own populations as they see fit. The constitution grants some rights but only to interstate travelers and visitors. Now, at the current time only three State Governments have either ruled over the elves or had extended contact with them.

Deylli Beybi has long had a border with the Gonnad Elf Area on the other side. And much of what has been said about our stance towards elves is based on what happens to elves who cross that border.

The last, or current state, that rules the Gonnad is Jiggady. They have had some internal problems since the death of their leader, and recently the government completely collapsed. Before their collapse they tended to focus more on seaborne trade then internal improvements. Although, they did have some contact with the elves. Now they were mainly about trade of eldar drugs or permission to set up bases near the border. I should point out that neither one of these contacts do we have much data on.

Christofi was the last government that had good control over this part of the Klatch. Of course the only published information we have on elves by Christofi is primarily calling them the children of Satan. And several episodes of the Slaughter of Sin involving elves. These may have or may not have been Gonnad Elves but trying to dig that information out of the sands of time is impossible. Christofi was an Absolutist Christian Theocracy with tendency towards violence against non-humans.

I should point out that no contact between the Federal Government and these elves has occurred. Nor has any reasonable international team been assembled to advise and witness any contact.

In the end, we don't know anything substantial about the previous contacts." He shrugged as he said this, looking about to see if there were more questions.

***
(Why do I have a bad case of Déjà vu with this.?)

He shrugged and looked around, aside from himself there were three other Dyellian survivors, "Who do we extend our thanks to?"


The lieutenant looked over at him and said over the rotors, "Lt. General Castor sir, Third JDF Air-Calv. I'm sorry to say sir we have been ordered to return you for questioning to our base at Black Lodge. I think the Privy Council wants your hide sir, seems there on the war path about your incursion into elf land without permission." He looked Colchester in the eye, his side arm in his hand, laying flat on his knee, "I'm going to have to ask for your weapons sir." He held out his other hand.

Everyone sat in silence as the choppers made their way east towards Black Lodge. The eight JDF Calvary men sat with their assault rifles at the ready, although not pointing at their "guests."

The Thrid Division of the JDF Air-Calv was known as the "Hog Killers" they had been a front line force on the Eastern Wilderness for years. Keeping large parties of orcs from attacking any of the human settlements along the lakeshore. They had a reputation for being as ruthless as their advisories.

This is Pyro two, we have made contact with the enemy. Pyro one and Pyro four are down, assume no survivors. The survivors appear to be uniformed Deyllbian personnel…over

***
On most maps it was not much of a creek. In reality, it was almost a lake, being so wide and deep here. It lay on the path between the border and the small village. It was well known to some, specifically those with pointy ears.
There was a ford across it, marked by a few stones poking up out of the slow moving water. A moment later with a crack and a splash another stone appeared at the ford. The new stone was cracked from the impact with the submerged stones.

The gun crack was drowned out by the noise of a jet engine. Three jets appeared to be running along the other side of the border. A keen eye would have seen the gold hydra's on the tail. Naval jets from one of the carriers taskforces protecting Jiggdian waters from 'pirates'. Now they appeared to be running along the border for some reason.

Colchester shrugged, he handed over his pistol, he'd dropped his case gun somewhere in the jungle and was right now hoping the elves would leave it alone, "Adrew Colchester, Leutnant, thats Second Lieutenant of the Dyellian Provincial Army, A6849221" he nodded to the rest of his men.

They copied his lead, handing over their weapons and announcing names, ranks, both the Dyellian and usual versions, and serial numbers, then shutting up, although one man did pull out a packet of cigarettes, offering one to the JDF soldier he was closest to.

Colchester was the only officer onboard although one of the other men was an Obergefreiter (Corporal).

(OOC) I'm partly posting this to serve as a BUMP

At the Crash site
The Dyellian vehicles were parked around the crashed helicopters, there wereno signs of elves, aparently they hadn't wanted to fight an armoured column. There were also less bodies than there had been, in fact, the only bodies were those of the Dyellians, all elven and JDF dead had been carted off into the jungle, most of the troops had more than an inkling as to what would happen with them. The Dyellian corpses had been hacked at brutally and left gruesomely dismembered, aparently the elves had wanted to make absolutely certain they weren't getting up again.

A pair of Dyellians had hopped out of the vehicles, one a Cheka agent, waved at a downed JDF chopper with his cigar, "That." he said with certainty, "Can't mean anything good."

"Looks like they're all dead then." it was a tank Commander in a black uniform.

"No." the Agent shook his head, "Not enough corpses. Elves won't touch us, remember? I'd put money on the fact there were more than 2 JDF choppers here." he paused, sucking on his cigar pensively, "Nothing good can come of this"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know there's an opperation for that." Kay muttered.

Chlarissa shot him a glare, although it wasn't particularly hostile, "I'll have you know some people find it very attractive."

Kay shrugged, "That's as may be, but there are people who are into all sorts of things" he gave a roguish grin.

Slaughter sighed, it had been a mistake to bring those two along. Although they'd only met a day before they had an incredible ability to bicker over anything and everything... it was begining to get on his nerves.

"Hold up." it was Agrag. He pointed off to the left of where they had been walking, generally heading towards the mail road.

Immediately the pair at the back fell silent, as the four all dropped down to a crouch, Kay edged his way forward, "How many this time?" he asked in a hoarse whisper, they had had two near misses with armed bands earlier that day.

The orc held up one finger.

Kay nodded, and began to edge his way forward, Slaughter caught his shoulder as he passed, "Take it prisoner if you can. We need to find out where we're going."

Kay nodded, then vanished silently into the undergrowth. Silence followed, then their were obvious footsteps. A moment later they stopped, their was a faint rustling and a few moments later, rather more noisily this time, Kay reappeared dragging a kicking female elf. Slaughter presumed it would be screaming, were not one of Kay's gloved hands clamped firmly over her mouth, "Now what?" Kay asked, "She's got a mouthful of gauntlet, and I reckon as soon as my hand comes away she'll bring the whole bloody population of the Gonad down on us...kill her now I say."

Chlarissa shook her head, rolling her eyes then muttered something in elvish. Immediately the elf stopped pretesting, Kay looked at the Cheka agent in confusion, "What did you say?"

"I said if she didn't stop kicking and trying to scream you'd break her spine, then we'd let the orc eat her alive." she replied sweetly.

Kay frowned in puzzlement, "I thought we were going to do that anyway?"

"Shut up, and stop flirting, this isn't the place or the time." Slaughter muttered angrily, he would have liked to shout but he felt it would be unwise with the possibility of other eleves in the area.

They obeyed immediately, although both were wearing agrieved expresions, Slaughter continued, "Now... Commisaar Dashwood, can you ask her where to find what we're looking for?"

Chlarissa nodded, speaking in Elvish again, when she had finished, Kay took his hand away and the elf responded. Slaughter couldn't understand a word, but he could understand the sneering tone in which the elf made her reply. Chlarissa sighed, "Seems she isn't willing to talk to Djels or non-sentient monsters."

Slaughter grunted, "Figured it might be something like that...Kay, would you like to try to convince the prisoner otherwise?"

Kay let go of the prisoner who was quickly grabbed by the orc, her scream cut off prematurely as he clamped his huge palm over the prisoner's mouth.

"Keep an ear out for anyone aproaching." Slaughter ordered.

Kay was meanwhile laying out a selection of rather unpleasant looking sharp implements, "What are the tent pegs for?" Chlarissa asked, a perplexed frown maring her features.

"Couldn't find any nails." the tracker replied, his single eye gleamed with fanatical hatred as he selected what looked to all intents and purposes like a fruit knife, "Tell her to nod if she changes her mind..."

[[might as well]]
"Thank you," Alex nodded, getting up. The information packet in his room would probably contain more information.

We're trying to establish peaceful relations with being whom you've commited genocide against. Lovely, Nami thought, but did not say, pushing herself off the fireplace and into the air, following the alchemist.

"If it's not a problem, I'll take a look at the information upstairs," he said, bowing towards the two men before exiting.

The Villa
"Well I suggest that we disband until tommorow morning. You are free to move about the Villa or the grounds this evening. You can either wait for dinner at 8:00 tonight or go to the canteen down the road. I can not vouch for their food."

Black Lodge
(Er, I'm going to create a Tarist character...)
The JDF man just shook his head no to the smoke and said, "my wife would kill me..."

The whole group sat in uncomfortable silence till they reached Black Lodge.

The landing strip could be seen first. Obviously someone hadn't been very happy, large holes dotted one end. Several buldozers and other equipment were filling in those holes.

The two remaining gunships went off to the far end to land and refuel. The huey turned to land infront of an old brick building.

The building had seen better days. The brick was spalling and panes were missing from the windows. The Dyelbians were waved out and across the open grass to the door. Two guards stood to either side of the worn wooden door. They saluted the Lieutenant as he opened the door.

Inside was a bit of a mess, the beams of the cealing bended slightly down at the center of the room. piles of debries were swept into the corner. A campaign desk sat in the middle of the room before a fireplace. The brickwork showing where the mantel had been removed.

Behind the capaign desk sat Lt. General Zuzana Castor, formally of AWM. She seemed to get a very grim glee looking at the four 'guests' walking into her office.

The Lieutenant snapped to attention and saluted. "Lieutenant Abrams reporting for Captian Grimes sir...I'm afraid the captain was lost on this mission..."

The General cut him off..."I'll address the after action report later, I'd like to talk to our detanies..."

"Ah, this is second lieutenant Adrew Colchester of..."

"Yes, I can see he's a flunky of the new socialist order. Tell me Lietuenant Colchester, are you going to tell me what in the hell you were doing out there? Or do I hand you over to the Marshall's back in Port Olympus? I personally wouldn't want to disappear into the labryinth of dungeons under Parliment Hill, they say they now even rival those of Benji House."

Colchester considered for a moment just repeating his name rank and serial number again, but then thought about Benjia house, the Cheka Headquarters. He'd been there quite a bit, it had several long coridoors down which Tzarist sympathisers tended to go down and never come back.
Calling him a "Socialist flunky" was quite accurate, if the JDF had checked his record, which he was sure they would have, they'd have realised he was quite openly earmarked as 'suitable for politically sensitive missions' while his record was basically a glowing account of daring missions during the civil war that had seen him rise from the ranks. The only reason he wasn't in the SS was the fact that he had opted to stay in the Airborne, in the 8th Airborne Infantry Battalion or 'Black Dragoons'.

He also considered mentioning the Geneva Convention, although he figured he'd save that until later, "I was not the commanding officer." he answered truthfully,

"I do not know the true purpose of the mission." a lie.

"We were there to take prisoners, again I don't know the exact reasons." half the truth.

"We did leave a small detachment to attempt to retrieve a stolen artefact of some value to the Dyellian Government." half the truth again.

"As for what the artefact is...well I have no idea." that was all true.

He considered leaving it at that, then decided he'd rather drop the line Dyellian Officers had invariably dropped when facing interogation since the 1700s, "I'm an Officer in the service of Dyelli Beybi and expect to be treated accordingly."

“Are you sure they know we’re coming?”
Ismael didn’t look up from his book. “Yes, I am sure they know we are coming.”
“If you’d heard what I’ve heard…”
“Piracy, hijacking, rape, pillage, murder, yes, yes, you’ve said a thousand times.”
“I mean – Dyelli Beybi? Have you read what they do to…?”
“I am sure I have read every report which finds it’s way to your desk. And many that do not. It is Berhe’s wish we go, and we return. Beyond that, it is not my concern”. The large man turned the page. “For all I care, Ahmed, our hosts could create mermaids in every pond and centaurs in every field. None of that matters”.
“But…”
“Enough”. He turned another page. “Check on the men, check on the cargo. We have a job to do. And I have reading to catch up on”.
Ahmad swallowed, but bowed and unlatched the door between their inserted cabin and where the troops were. He closed his eyes and passed through.


A Mi-26D HALO Transport copter was heavily latched down, its sides still glossy with new paint over the new armor plates. Inside, each side opened to a weapons pod… Ahmad shook his head, trying not to think about that.

The platoon worth of men they were to carry as escort were equally strapped in place, resting on the comfortable seats temporarily emplaced. Suits of CAVEX body armor were put away, as were their FN-AS assault rifles and various incapacitating ordinance.

Behind them, the SV-90 IFV they’d modified. Sure, it still held the main 60mm cannon, and one 14.7mm gun, but the missiles on this one had been replaced with a 20mm grenade launcher and a foam cannon, perfect for capturing…

Ahmad tried again not to think about things to come. He went over the IFV again, checking systems in their dormant state. He pushed down thoughts of SAMs blasting through the side of the transport. He didn’t think about the large titanium cages in the back, he didn’t think about….

He didn't think about falling.


In the forward cabin, Ismael poured himself a tumbler full of good Jamaican rum and downed it quickly, followed by another. The book had been forgotten as soon as the door had closed. The reports his… host from Dyelli Beybi had forwarded were nothing if not soothing, but soothing in that manner that belied something not being said. And it was the long experience of Dr Ismael Shaharazhad that it was the things which were not said which quickly got one dead. Idly, his foot touched his own footlocker of CAVEX body armor and a few more surprises.

He then poured another drink. And another. Before a third, he remembered calling to have Commisaar Reilly informed of their impending arrival.

With that thought, he picked up the book, and began to read again.


The C-71A Globemaster edged into Dyelli Beybi airspace. “This is Vastivan Air Corps One-One-Three-Eight calling for guidance. We are here at your invitation. Repeat, this is Vastivan Air Corps One-One-Three-Eight calling for guidance…”

It took a moment for the Dyelli Beybians to respond, then there was the usual mixup,

"This is Saint Guineford's Ground Control, Vastivan Air Corps One-One-Three-Eight we have no record of your..."
The voice trailed off although some muttering could be picked up in the background"I thought it was Wednesday..."
Then it returned, "My apologies Vastivan Air Corps One-One-Three-Eight, please proceed to Theta Base, the airstrip is ready for you to land."

As it would turn out Theta base was located in the blasted wasteland on the border with the Gonad, although here they had allowed the grass to grow. This far East in the country it still rained and the grass was green and healthy looking, although nothing grew more than about 200 metres from the barbed wire fences that surrounded the base.

Theta base had a sizeable runway, although the only planes in sight were a squadron of some form of VTOL fighter-bomber that were undergoing maintainance. Several odd looking tanks were also parked in a corner, while a glimpse into a nearby bunker would see floor to ceiling and wall to wall barrels of petrol.

It was not a small base, although it was low to the ground, the highest buildings with the exception of the control tower, were the aircraft hangers, while the troops seemed to dwell in a series of concrete bunkers which extended an indeterminable distance below ground, while at the same time effectively ringing the base within the fence.

A small jeep like vehicle was parked near the runway and a Senior officer in a charcoal grey uniform was seated in the back next to one of the omnipresent Cheka agents, blue piping on his uniform picking him out from the rest of the troops.

The C-71 came in as quickly as possible following Ismael’s growl of “We are not here to sightsee”. Once down, the plane turned to prepare itself for a quick departure if needed.

Ahmed extended the boarding ramp, and went first, to get a sense of the area. Hot. Again. Though not as hot as their colonial installations, his first impression of Dyelli Beybi would remain “too blasted hot”.

Ismael’s opinion was completely guarded. His eyes looked around for someone in charge, and, seeing none, he yelped up the ramp in short orders. Within moments, the cargo ramp was being lowered, and the C-71s cargo being unloaded and prepared for usage.

“Did you see all those ships we passed?”

“No, and neither did you. When that tracker arrives, I want to move, and quickly. We have three cages to fill. And Ahmed, do remember to bargain for those castoffs of theirs they have already experimented upon. Berhe wants, Berhe gets.” He peered around for someone local.

Colchester considered for a moment just repeating his name rank and serial number again, but then thought about Benjia house, the Cheka Headquarters. He'd been there quite a bit, it had several long coridoors down which Tzarist sympathisers tended to go down and never come back.
Calling him a "Socialist flunky" was quite accurate, if the JDF had checked his record, which he was sure they would have, they'd have realised he was quite openly earmarked as 'suitable for politically sensitive missions' while his record was basically a glowing account of daring missions during the civil war that had seen him rise from the ranks. The only reason he wasn't in the SS was the fact that he had opted to stay in the Airborne, in the 8th Airborne Infantry Battalion or 'Black Dragoons'.

He also considered mentioning the Geneva Convention, although he figured he'd save that until later, "I was not the commanding officer." he answered truthfully,

"I do not know the true purpose of the mission." a lie.

"We were there to take prisoners, again I don't know the exact reasons." half the truth.

"We did leave a small detachment to attempt to retrieve a stolen artefact of some value to the Dyellian Government." half the truth again.

"As for what the artefact is...well I have no idea." that was all true.

He considered leaving it at that, then decided he'd rather drop the line Dyellian Officers had invariably dropped when facing interogation since the 1700s, "I'm an Officer in the service of Dyelli Beybi and expect to be treated accordingly."

The General looked at him and then said. "I know the routine Lieutenant, you can drop it."

She looked at the others for a moment. "Now we have a group of your fellow officers running about on this side of the border, and you taking prisoners who might or might not be considered Klatchian Citizens...."
Her eyes seemed to dance while she considered what to do. "Now Lieutenant, are you going to correct any of your statments. Or perhaps you'd like to meet the Assistant Marshall Kra'Na? he is from LOW."

Her grin was a bit like a wolf. And her eyes seemed to sparkle at the very idea of handing them over to the Marshall's office.

"We are not taking Klatchian citizens prisoner. We are carrying out botanical research. There is no recognised Government in the Gonad, there is nothing in the Constitution disallowing us from venturing into the area due to again, the lack of Government, in fact..." Colchester continued, "this detention is of dubious legality."

He seemed to be growing in confidence, "I demand to speak to a representative of the Dyellian Provincial Army."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Theta Base

The Dyellian troops seemed completely disinterested in the arrival, a small band were sitting around smoking and playing cards. Just when it seemed the Vastivans were going to be ignored completely, the topless vehicle pulled up next to the plane and an officer in a charcoal grey uniform with the letters SS on his collar got out.

At a glance he seemed to be some Nazi straight out of World War II, but on closer inspection it would become aparent that the officer himself was fairly dark skinned and looked vaguely Korean. The uniform was also subtely different, with there being no sign of a swaztika on it, but more thn a few chi-rhos. Whatever reason the Dyellian Government had for picking the uniform and name of the unit, it had nothing to do with any proximity to the Nazi regimes existant across the world.

"Sturmbannführer Lin" he introduced himself, "Greetings and welcome to Theta base and Dyelli Beybi."

He paused, aparently realising that the initial vision of Dyelli Beybi that his visitors would have had was probably not an entirely positive one, "I understand you're planning to go into the Gonad. It's hell in there."

He turned around and bellowed at the men in the corner, "Get your lazy arses over her and help unload this plane!"

The men obeyed grumbling a little as they did.

Ismael bowed then genuflected to the Sturmbannführer. “Dr Ismael Shaharazhad, Vastivan Scientific Services. And my aide, Dr. Ahmed Von Ross. The rest are not important. I am told we are to have a guide. And yes, yes, I have heard things are rather bad up there, but as yet, I have not heard a report of the elves being able to put an arrow through armor plate? And will there be any difficulty in putting up a base camp up there, by helicopter, perhaps somewhere defended? Somewhere safe enough to keep the cages?”

A good look says the worry is not about them being broken into or out of – the cages are titanium, with a titanium mesh weave sandwiched between two layers of bars, making it impossible to dig out. The door is made like an airlock, and its construction is much like a lobster trap – one can enter, but not leave by that portal.

“If we are lucky, it may only be a few days. If we are not, perhaps a touch longer. Will this be a problem, Herr Sturmbannführer?”

Office of Elvish concerns, Kyzyl-Orda, Earth sector.

Orophin Lúinwë looked at the reports and sighed.
"Botanical reasearch my foot..."
"Meh, they're ignorant to the fact that Elves ARE sentient" Raymond Hochstetler was staring at the computer screen, they were the only two in the office today, and it was prooving as slow and quiet as it normally was, the highlight of the day so far were the reports of FKC members pratting around in helicopters and generally getting themselves killed.
"May Lady Sirithil have mercy on their souls." Orophin sighed and got back to some paperwork, Raymond just made a slight "heh" sound and resumed tapping away on his keyboard.

Ismael bowed then genuflected to the Sturmbannführer. “Dr Ismael Shaharazhad, Vastivan Scientific Services. And my aide, Dr. Ahmed Von Ross. The rest are not important. I am told we are to have a guide. And yes, yes, I have heard things are rather bad up there, but as yet, I have not heard a report of the elves being able to put an arrow through armor plate? And will there be any difficulty in putting up a base camp up there, by helicopter, perhaps somewhere defended? Somewhere safe enough to keep the cages?”

A good look says the worry is not about them being broken into or out of – the cages are titanium, with a titanium mesh weave sandwiched between two layers of bars, making it impossible to dig out. The door is made like an airlock, and its construction is much like a lobster trap – one can enter, but not leave by that portal.

“If we are lucky, it may only be a few days. If we are not, perhaps a touch longer. Will this be a problem, Herr Sturmbannführer?”

The Sturmbannführer shook his head, he seemd a little bit embarressed by the genuflection, but bowed just to make sure he wasn't offending his guests "No, it should be no problem at all, just try to stay out of the way of any JDF in the area, they can behave strangely around foreigners."

As for the rest, I will leave you in the capable hands of your guide, he pointed to his driver, a rough bearded caucasian man in a paler coloured uniform, closer inspection would reveal no SS on the colar either, "Fähnrich Fraser Morris."

At the mention of his name the man got up out of the car and wandered over. He gave a brief salute, "Sirs." he said adressing the whole congregation.

"I'll leave you to it shall I?" the Sturmbannführer said with a brief smile, "I have paperwork to catch up on." he shook his head, still smiling in a vague sort of way as he departed with the Cheka officer.

The new man, Morris scratched his head, "Don't quite know why people keep wanting the bastards alive." he spat at the thought of elves.

"I overheard you mention a safer and closer place...anywhere within the trees is bloody dangerous, but we can probably move a bit closer to the forest, up to a border sheriff outpost. We can set up camp there and forray inside."

He yawned, breaking himself off midway, "...anyway, where was I...yes, armour plate. It's good, but there are always gaps, and the elves tend to be very good at spotting them, and putting an arrow through them. Also if they get too close some of them have some weird swords that seem to rip through armour as if it wasn't there.

"As for actually catching them, it'll be difficult...they tend to avoid armoured vehicles. I reckon a good way would be to set a trap for them. We need to offer them say...a broken down vehicle on the mail road, they won't be able to resist it. We also want to make sure they don't kill the bait, we want it to be something they'd normally drag back to their temples which is why I won't volunteer."

Morris grimaced, "The elves rape, torture, kill and eat most humans, but Djellians...they just kill us as soon as they set eyes on us and leave us for the scavengers."

He gave a sudden grin that showed a couple of missing teeth, "That's why all the scouts you'll find are born and bred Djel Valley folk. You'll never get a D'Reg or Benjian or New Dyellian into the place, they're too frightened of being roasted alive and served as a main course."

(OOC) In that last sentence Morris has listed the four main cultural and ethnic groups in Dyelli Beybi.
JDF = Joint Defence Force. It's the Klatchian National Army.
Sturmbannführer = Major
Fähnrich = Officer Candidate

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slaughter had had more than enough of the Commisaar and tracker. They never seemd to agree on anything, except perhaps their names. They were advancing to the North of the mail road now, following it's path as the only navigational aid in the jungle.

"Are you sure we're not meant to have turned off the path right now?" it was the Commisaar.

"Absolutely." Kay replied, not even bothering to turn around, "Anyway I'm only going off directions you gave me from that elf."

She snorted in response. Slaughter sighed inwardly, this was going to be a long journey.

"We are not taking Klatchian citizens prisoner. We are carrying out botanical research. There is no recognised Government in the Gonad, there is nothing in the Constitution disallowing us from venturing into the area due to again, the lack of Government, in fact..." Colchester continued, "this detention is of dubious legality."

He seemed to be growing in confidence, "I demand to speak to a representative of the Dyellian Provincial Army."

The General began to make a protest but the deep voice behind Colchester cut her off. "You will listen to me Terran pup. By the consitution of the Klatch, any land that hath no provintial government, is ruled by the Privy Council. As such the land and the flora and fauna upon it are under their stewardship. They have granted no research licences to your kind, no hunting permits. For to do this, they would forward all requests to my superior, and to me.
You have admitted your guilt of poaching fauna and tresspass. Shall I send word of your detention to your masters? What will they say? Will they admit they sent you to tresspass and poach? Or will they call you a criminal, let you take their blame? So be it Terran, I shall contact your masters and demand an explination. But perhaps we shall just apply the same punishment for those who cross your borders illegally, hmm? I have always wondered what Terran cooked to a crispy crust tastes like..."
The scaly, three fingered claw set down on Colchesters arm as it said this.

"Food," Nami grumbled from atop a random piece of furniture that stood in the villa's guest room. "You think this place has a kitchen?"

"Do you really need me for that?" Alex inquired through closed eyes. Something sharp tried to stab him through his black T-shirt -- the navy military jacket was hanging on the doorknob.

"Great, nano-weave," Nami muttered, sheathing her knife. "You don't trust them, do you?" She landed onto the bed.

"Nope," the alchemist replied.

"Fine, be that way," the sprite replied testily. A moment later the door opened and shut with a bang, as the fifteen-centimeter-tall sprite went off in search of the kitchens. Alex chuckled from the bed.

Colchester raised an eyebrow, "I believe there are certain protections warranted to citizens of Klatch under the Constitution." he answered, crossing his arms, "I have an ID card in my pack. I am yet to see an elf that carries one of those around, and do you know why Mr High and Mighty Var? It's because no Government in the Gonad, from Diocletion to Jiggardy has ever granted them citizenship. Go ahead, contact the Government."

Colchester was pleased by this turn in events and no threats from a blood crazed Var would worry him, the Dyellian Government had a policy of never hanging a soldier out to dry. They'd hang out a Cheka agent, that was a risk of the profession, but the military were always protected, when caught doing the Government's dirty work. It was part of what kept men like Colchester so fiercely loyal, "If you want to charge me with poaching why don't you just fine me and send me on my way?"

Ismael shrugged. “Carbon-weave chainmail should be able to handle anything they shoot, and if not, eh, they are savages. And we are not above teaching them what modern weaponry can do.” He barks orders at the soldiers, who proceed to remove the grenade launcher and foam cannon off the IFV and place them in the Mi-26D.

“Modular design, is good, no? Now,” he grins, “perhaps, Fähnrich Fraser Morris, you could inform us who to speak to about how to take those already in your keeping off your hands? As to why those above want them, I do not know. They are not always the most expressive when speaking with subordinates…” he shrugs “we are, I suppose, to take orders and look cheery while doing the work of others”.

He watches the progress for a few moments. “If we can find them in the open, we can catch them. A few losses is perfectly acceptable, we do not have to bring back all specimens. You say they eat humans. Is this regular, or occasional? What is their language like? Do you speak it? Have you observed these temple rites?”

Ahmad nudges Ismael. “Pardon, but if they have religion, does that not mean they are sentient beings?”

Ismael’s visage turns cold as the glares Ahmad into the dirt. “No, it does not, brother of worms. Is not Allah’s hand in all things? Does not the very dust you and yours come from praise him? Is not the song of the sparrow and the cry of the wolf all in Allah’s name? Cur, dog, son of a motherless goat, is it my destiny to carry your ignorance until the sun is extinguished, until the last song is sung?”

Ahmad’s head sinks into his shoulders. “Yes, Pasha, many apologies from this most unworthy one…”

Ismael ignores the rest of the speech. “Fähnrich Fraser Morris, in your hands I put this, where would you suggest getting a suitable… bait for our trap?”

Morris was looking a little put upon by the volume of questions, "I don't know how regular." he replied to the first question, "People don't go in there that regularly...apart from us... No sorry, don't speak a word of it... no, I havn't seen any rites, but we did dump some sarin on a temple one time and went down to take a look later, which is where I'm getting my ideas from. No doubt you'll get a slightly different story from each tracker you speak to."

Morris scratched his head at the last question, "Hrrm....well we can't use a Dyellian. They always know it's one of us... which of your crew looks least like they'd be able to defend themselves?"

The claw seemed to tap on his shoulder for a moment. "Fine, you will be held until the acting magistrate comes into town Terran. Then you will be allowed to plead guilty to poaching and sent on your way. General please see that these men are housed in the old city jail until the circut judge comes into town."

"Yes sir..."

Cholchester and his men are led out, down the street and into a set of dank jail cells. Where they will enjoy pork and beans for the next month, waiting for a circuit judge to be appointed.

****
Three gunships left the base again. Heading out over the jungle and back towards the village. They had in their wake a Heuy again, this time with six men in JDF uniforms, one human in the black uniform of a Marshall, and a very unhappy Var.

The Villa
The kitchen was located in the basement. It was late and Marshall McGerhy was now occuping the room and swearing. He sat in a robe over a pint of ice cream...when the sprite flew in he was startled for a second then remembered the odd team member and smiled. "Well, good evening...or almost morning I should say...."

The Doctor sighed, sitting at the end of the bed in his room, examining an antique lapel pin he had, a simple object, apparently made of silver, depicting the symbol of the C’tan, in origin a necrontyr symbol meaning something akin to manifest destiny, or maybe ambition. On the base was a long chain, and a number of other things. It had been a gift from the Emperor… last time. Technically he’d been made a member of the Office of the Emperor, a fairly obscure branch of the government with far reaching powers, for that.

Standing calmly he walked over to the window, leaning idly on his cane, “Elves as plants indeed,” he murmured, thinking back to that farcical Dyellian science book {he’d be amazed if it didn’t take more than one of them to even spell science correctly} Suddenly he sniggered at some private joke, reached into his pocket and took out a sweet from an abused brown bag. “Jelly Babies indeed,” he laughed, “I wonder if they’re aware of that?”

Leaning on the stick again for a moment, he set off at a brisk pace, up and down the room, restless to be off, far too restless to engage in sleep, he continued to grieve the appalling state of affairs, to his mind at least, and occasionally laugh at some of the more insane locals.

Alex slept like a log, if logs did indeed sleep; he was sprawled on his bed, still fully clothed, albeing without the jacket or the boots.

****

"...yes...mornings are good..." Nami nodded, pasing over to the refrigerator and opened it after a few seconds of effort, which involved a lot of cursing in Weyrik and Sindarin, among other languages. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whether or not one wanted a dead sprite in a refrigerator, the refrigerator's door closed shut while Nami was inside it.

Ismael turned on Ahmad. “You, swine, go and find Sturmbannführer Lin or someone else, and purchase those they are done with at their Botanical Research Centre. Condition is of minimal importance, though breathing is a given”. He glowers. “You are waiting perhaps for a good slopping before you go?”

Ahmad’s head bobs up and down as he finds his feet and moves at an appreciable pace towards where the Sturmbannführer vanished.

Ismael’s cold eyes watch Ahmad’s retreating back for a moment before he gives a warm smile to Morris. “We are carrying four pilots, certainly one looks a bit sickly. So, if you are ready, we can be off – will air do, or is there another route of preference? We shall carry one cage up, load it, return for another, and so forth. There will be trucks, one hopes, though the IFV can be used as such if needs be".

Morris seemed a little uncertain about the prospect of a truck, but went off to ask anyway. When he returned it was not with a truck but with an armoured half-track with a pair of machine guns mounted on the roof, "Will this do?" he asked, hoping out of the passenger seat and leaving the driver smoking at the wheel, "hold up to 10 men and a fair bit more cargo than the average IFV...does quite a bit less hitting and is a lot more visible...but I digress, the trucks aren't actually under our Command."

He gave an apologetic shrug, "It would take nearly a week to get one."

-------------------------------------------------

The guard to the Sturmbannführer's office, a bored looking man with a glass of iced tea and an assault rifle, gave Ahmad a cheery nod as he passed.

The officer was just begining to sit down behind a computer when Ahmad caught up with him. About the only other object in the office was a fan, which had a fairly negligeable effect on cooling the place, at least the blinds were drawn which helped to keep some of the heat out.

Lin gave a slight start, "Is there anything wrong?" he asked, blinking at Ahmad vaguely.

The Marshall looked up at the cealing and then strode over to the refrigerator. He opened it and looked at the creature inside. "Not to disturb your investigations madam, but perhaps it would be better if you got breakfast at the Cantena down the road. Less likely to have problems with...overscaled equipment?

At that time a young JDF officer appeared in the doorway. He stood at attention and saluted. "Sir, we have begun packing the flyboats for our trip south..."

The Marshall smiled, and said..."Yes...yes...would you inform the steward on duty that he needs to rouse the guests? We will be departing at six this morning.

(Er, I've got to orginize things with a major development...so be patient please.)

B is for BUMP

(OOC) I'm waiting for the researchers to get deeper into the Gonad before making another IC post with slaughter and his lot.

Ahmad genuflected apologetically. “A thousand pardons, but there was a question as to a purchase of those elves already in custody. My country would be most interested in taking them off your hands, provided they are in some semblance of life at the time of delivery”.

It really didn’t surprise him to hear the growl of the Mi-26D taking to the air.

***

Ismael was rather disappointed – Ahmad did not come running for the departing helicopter. Ah well, there were better entertainments available.

Beneath the HALO swung the half-track, secured by several lines. There was simply no faster way then flying…

“how far to the border outpost?”
“eh?”
“how far to the outpost?”
“oh that… not far… but we can’t land this there…”
“no worries for that, my friend tracker…”

Ismael changed channels and instructed the pilot to land within a mile of the border outpost, drop the half-track and this squad off, then return to base to await further instructions. He would have to see if a sheriff minded a cage in an outpost – though more convenient, it would also potentially draw attack.

In his thoughts, he did not notice the two squad members looking around nervously as the *pingk*pingk*pingk* of arrows bouncing off the bottom armor of the HALO reached their ears.

Lin frowned for a moment, aparently completely confused as to what was being said. It seemed to dawn on him in a flood, "Oh, the other ones?"

"Last thing I heard they're in top condition just minus a few blood...." he sniggered as if inducting Ahmad into some strange club, "Or should I say sap? samples."

He leaned down over his desk, seemingly pulling a sheet of paper out of the pile at random, "Ahh....no....one moment." He pulled out another, "No...sorry, just give me a second."

On the fifth attempt Lin found the piece of paper he'd been looking for, "Here we go. They're wanting to charge 10,000 Kronors a piece, that's 15,400 Dollars US at the current exchange rate. Aparently they lost a helicopter and about 15 or so men when they pulled the last lot out."

He read on, "Aparently they didn't think you'd actually be buying if you could catch your own." he gave a shrug, "Not that it matters, it'll just take them a while to ship them down here."

------------------------------------------

"I'd move her up a little." Morris advised, "They have some RPGs and siege machines down there as well as the arrows."

Meanwhile, the border Sheriffs, a hard and scarred band in an odd assortment of uniforms, were waiting for the arrival of the helicopter. This was the most far-flung Dyellian outpost, held by some 100 or so men and women. The forrest was cleaned out for 200 metres or so on all sides of the small hill the outpost was on, the lower slopes were dominated by concrete bunkers, while the upper hill held the main barracks, several outbuildings, a helipad and four watch towers, each of which had a pair of IR searchlights on a rotating mount.

The pilot took Morris’ advice to heart and immediately climbed, much to the consternation of Ismael, who had completely missed the sound of arrows on armor.
He muttered quietly to himself about the drain on fuel to make the locals happy before ordering the landing site to be in the border outpost.

Of course, he was in no position to see the large rock which tore through the air where the HALO would have been a few seconds later without the sudden climb.

The HALO set down its cargo, then settled long enough for the two squads to remove their gear and supplies.

Ismael, of course, lost no time looking for someone in charge to ask about the cage and setting out ambushes from which to gather samples. He had no compunctions about the use of the gold coins – one troy ounce each – he had had set aside for… certain concessions. These people had what he wanted. Money was not an objective reality anymore, only a tool to reach a goal. Of what difficulty could be gathering savages?

***

Ahmad nodded. “How many do you have available to ship? We are rather interested in gathering sap and bark samples. Purely for research purposes, of course. I do take it these trees are not possessed of a certain immunity to cold?”

The sheriffs apeared decidedly uninterested in what was going on, until the money appeared, Dyelli Beybi some of the most notoriously bribeable police officers around.

One hard looking woman with dark beady eyes and a tight grey bun eyed the cage, "It's interesting...we usually stick them in a pit, she pointed with the barrel of her rifle at a dark grubby hole to one side of the base. It was next to a small windowless concrete building, that on further investigation would look like something straight out of the Spanish Inquisition.

"Best way to ambush them in feign some of you guys have had a breakdown on the mail road, and lay in wait for the sods to try to trap your men. She pointed at an old decrepid truck which looked like it had more rust on it that metal or paint, "That should be fairly convincing....it runs on cooking oil."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Lin looked confused for a moment, "What?" he asked, "Oh yes...numbers...err I'm sure I read it here before...oh yes, they have four they don't want."

He gave Ahmad a vague, apologetic smile.

Ahmad returned the smile, just as blandly. “Four? Ah well, would that there were more to transport. Our Sultan has a desire, it is our job to see it fulfilled.”
He makes a slight show of calculating.
“That would be 61,600 USD. Perhaps you could arrange for them to appear here for transport? We would be most willing to pay the 63,000 USD per should they arrive soon… and in quantity. Four is such a… small number.”

***

Ismael nodded to the woman. “Of course, of course. We have one of our spare pilots to play the pigeon in this. If you would be so good to place any more… acquisitions you happen across into that cage, I am sure the captor can be suitably rewarded for their efforts”.

He eyed the truck questioningly. “It does run, does it not?”

Ismael was still unsure of the validity of the answer he received an hour later; the truck had been set on the road, one tire jacked up, with a replacement on the ground. All the pilot had to do was to put tire on, take tire off, switch tires, repeat endlessly.

Around him, Ismael had arrayed ten of his men – and the one tracker. The man obviously worried too much. Once again, Ismael checked the foam cannon’s load, checked the safety… it was fine, the fields of fire were fine, everything was fine…

He heard some birds fly overhead. These things took too long. Savages such as these should cooperate, fall to the march of progress...

"See the thing is." Lin replied, "We have less that 40 ourselves...I'll see if I can get some more out of the guys at the BRC, we should be able to, I don't know exactly what they're doing with them up there, but I'm sure they don't need 40."

----------------

Meanwhile deep in the jungle, Slaughter and his crew were backtracking along the path of the mail road,

"I'm telling you, it was up there somewhere." Kay grumbled.

"Can't trust an elf." Slaughter replied matter of factly, "...I'd never seen crocs grow that big."

Chlarissa shook her head, "We might need to study some satelite maps, at least we have some idea of what it should look like now. There's a deep ravine with a bridge and presumably some ruined buildings....not that there aren't plenty of those in the Gonad, but the ravine should be a give away."

tagged

The forest had been quiet for a long time, it had been over two months since the last communication from the outside world; so long that the survivors didnt even know if the old communication lines were still up or eaten away by the local wildlife. It had been even longer since the last mail carriers came through, once a major passway through the Gonad Peninsula, the road looked like a jungle of high grass crawling with a myriad of predators.

Sixteen...ahhhh what fucking fate this has been. Sixteen men left...out of a company of over two hundred. What the fuck... Commander Jeb Christopher sat in a dark corner of the lobby in the main complex, he shifted in his indian style pose and redressed the bandage covering the top half of his head. The result of a near scalping by the 'locals'. He winced in pain as his fingers ran across his forehead and blew out a long stream of smoke from the now spent cigarette. Christopher shook the pack in his left breast pocket and considered lighting another. Only two left, shit better save them who knows what the devil will have us face out there.

Christopher had never been a god fearing man, always considered the belief in afterlife havens a foolish waste of time for the weak. However, in the months inside Outpost number 5 he had thought this over and reconsidered; and had been reduced to feeble prayers each night, that he and his remaining men would at least live through another night.

The first two weeks had been quiet, with the revolution in the government many of the military outposts in the Gonad Peninsula, that the Jiggady government had littered throughout the land mass, had been in a state of limbo supporting either side of the power struggle. However, the overwhelming number of outposts supported the regime of Rouge Jiggady, including outpost number 5, and they had waged hit and run strikes against one another until the loyalists (true Jiggady) were whiped out. Christopher had lost twenty men in those engagements and had immediatly put in for reserve troops yet his call seemingly fell upon deaf ears and outpost number five never recieved so much as a morse code transmition again.

And then the 'locals' came, descending upon them from the treetops in the dead of night and moving swiftly throughout the camp in a raid meant to spread terror. Twenty had died that night, twenty six the next night, until no one at the base dared sleep at night. Roumers spread wild throughout the base of what was slaughtering them in the night, dozens of men spoke of the Anchient Anchrid, a mythical being in Jiggady history; a perfect killer that none ever saw. Christopher had tried to quell this talk yet he could not undo what had already set in, paranoia. Ninteen more had left the base that day, nothing more was heard of them save for their screams ten minutes later.

Cawwaww cawwaww The high droning of a parot filtered through the night sky and Christopher jerked up and griped his rifle. His eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room as he looked out the nearly completly boarded up window. Several minutes later his heartbeat returned to normal and he sat back down on the floor and returned to his thoughts.

The fighting had been hell, nothing like any of them had experienced before. Everyday the death toll rose while it seemed that they only killed a handfull of elves for the dozens they lost. And then, as soon as it started, there was suddenly silence, no more fighting and screaming, no more killings in the night. Their numbers dwindled from 220 to a mere 67; Christopher had counted the number of days that had passed from their last transmition to the apparent stop of the slaughter, three weeks.

It hadnt seemed possible but the next three weeks were almost worst than the first three. There was no more major open conflict, no more killings in the night, their only contact with the elves had been the occasional isolated firefight (ooc: not exactly sure what tech you have been rping the elves) resulting in only six more fatalities. Starvation had settled in and done for the rest.

With all lines to the outside world cut off and too fearfull of setting foot outside their walls they had run short of food and their numbers quickly fell. Delirium had set in upon the survivors and canibalism began to run through the base like an olympic torch bearer. Man set upon man, commrade upon commrade, and countryman upon countryman. In a bloodbath of sin the survivors ravished themselves upon one another until their appaties for food and blood had been satisfied. Christopher and a loyal ten others had locked themselves in the main baraks, surviving off of rainwater and herbs until the screams had stopped. When they emerged only five of the cannibals were left aliave, men in listless states apparently sobered by the horrors they witnessed and commited.

That left Christopher with sixteen men including himself and he finally decided that if they were to live, and avoid another such betrayal amongst friends, they would have to set foot into the outside world and brave whatever horrors the elves had for them in search of food.

-----------------

Dawn came early after yet another restless night, Christopher knew the nights on the outside would be even worse but he had no other choice. With only eleven other men that he fully trusted the remaining soldiers of outpost number 5, soldiers of the army of Rouge Jiggady, set foot outside their protective walls. Without much thought they looted the bodies of the dead for anything they could need and precariously moved about in a small heavily armed unit...........

................

Lady Luck can have a really sick sense of humor sometimes.

It is to be debated who was more surprised – the uninformed pilot changing the tire for the forty-ninth time or the elfish woman who nearly ran into him in her blind panicked run out of the tree line and across the mail road.

What happened next was textbook : ten armed men, firing tazer darts from concealed positions, performed an ambush on the small group of unarmed civilians who emerged from the treeline – no, that would not be right, for two of the three men were armed with slung bows which might as just as well have been left at whatever they called home. One of the few live rounds blew the top off the first’s head; the second was hit by several darts from the first volley and still lay on the ground, twitching. So quick had gone the ambush, Ismael’s firing of his prized foam cannon had gone off late – the burst had caught his lure full on the back and covered the face of one of their already stunned prey. The squad’s medic had used a good portion of a can of solvent to allow their pilot to walk again; the struck elf was breathing through a length of plastic tube, her face still completely covered, and it was debated if the remainder of the hardened foam could be removed without severe injury to her features.

Six of the seven had their hands and feet zipcuffed with five of the others having mouth-filling bulb gags added and fastened before they regained their sense enough to speak.

The seventh needed no such restraint – a body bag was more then enough.

Ismael could not conceal his glee – or his ego – from Fraser. “Six, six! Wonderful! And the day is still… well, not young, but most certainly not middle-aged. If it were not for the necessity of taking this one to cool storage, perhaps we would stay out here all day, and in that time, rid your woods of this botanous scourge?”

It was very hard to miss the looks of disgust and shock on several of the veteran’s faces. It was equally difficult to miss the pilot’s look of sheer astonishment at the thought of repeating this.

What was most certain was Ismael had forgotten two other sayings:

1. Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.

2. Payback is a bitch.

Fraser nodded enthusiastically, "So how many exactly are you looking to get?" he asked, peering about the trees, looking a tiny bit nervous,

"I'm wondering what they were running from." he seemed about to explain more, but there was suddenly a sharp whistle from the trees.

"Hold your fire!" Fraser cupped his hands as he called out to the assembled Vastivans.

"Dyellians." he explained to Ismael, before returning the whistle.

From the trees emerged four Dyellians in camouflaged suits of powered armour, carrying a variety of assualt rifles and an odd looking sniper rifle... four Dyellians was possibly a slightly misleading way to describe them, one was after all a seven foot tall orc, but that wasn't what alarmed Fraser, he was eyeing the slim, pretty young girl with the blue rank insignia, and who was flat out refusing to remove her helmet, "Shit." he muttered, "It's a Commisaar, what the hell is one of them doing out here?"

One man had walked over to the group, "Oberst James Slaughter" he introduced himself, turning to Ismael, "Are you the one in charge around here? We heard the comotion and decided to investigate...you don't have any sattelite photos of the area do you?" he looked at the IFV hopefully.

Meanwhile on the other side of the clearing a one eyed soldier with long black hair, who hadn't bothered to introduce himself was giving advice to the Vastivans on the elves, "Cut them up a bit." he twirled a long bladed hunting knife, "That always makes them talk...doesn't mean they'll tell you the truth, they might send you wandering into a swamp full of crocs..."

Ismael looked completely nonplussed. “Yes, I am. Satellite photos? Of Dyelli Beybi?”

He was not entirely comfortable with the seven-foot tall orc, though the closest thing he knew to a Commisaar was the one who invited his team here. That didn’t disturb him nearly as much as it should have. Instead, he gathered his resources.

“No, no satellite photos of the area. If you are need, our helo could be summoned for aerial reconnaissance, though I am not aware of it holding any photography equipment.”
He paused. “Our plan was to take this catch back to the outpost, you are welcome to ride with us…”

He looked nervously over to the man with the long knife speaking of cutting up his catch… his orders had been somewhat specific about “in as good condition as possible…” and he was reasonably sure that didn’t include knife wounds.

“We do not speak elvish, or whatever they call their tongue. Our purpose is to gather for study those we can.”

Oddly, the soldiers had gotten far more relaxed the more agitated Ismael got… perhaps they knew something he didn’t? Or maybe it was the proximity to power armor and large weaponry held by those who knew how to use it.

Slaughter gave a slight smile, "Thought it was being a little optimistic, we're trying to find a specific landmark to navigate towards, looks like we might need to head back to base and look for where we're meant to be going...Kay, put that bloody knife away!"

The long haired man gave an exagerated salute, "Yes Sir!" the sheathed the knife back at his waist.

"Ahh Oberst?" it was Fraser this time, still looking slightly nervous.

"Yes..." Slaughter studied Fraser's uniform for a moment "Fähnrich."

"Any idea what those elves were running from?"

"They were running?" Slaughter aparently hadn't realised that, he frowned then turned to the woman in the group, beckoning her over, which just seemed to make Fraser even more nervous.

She didn't salute as she approached, Cheka were not strictly part of the military even while wearing it's uniform, "Commisaar Dashwood." she introduced herself, "Political Officer 3rd Class."

"Now, Commisaar Dashwood can speak elvish, which could be of some use Sir, alternatively you may wish to just head back to base?" Slaughter seemd aware that he was making Ismael uneasy, and had adopted a somewhat more deferential tone, he had no idea who he was or what exactly he was doing out here, but the fact that Fraser Morris, a man he did know, was with him implied the Dyellian Government was trying to be helpful, and as such it was probably best he did likewise.

"I'd bet my bottom dollar there's a war party out there." Kay muttered to one of the Vastivans, pointing into the jungle, "They fight amongst themselves a fair bit."

As swift as thought, two men fell with arrows sticking out of their chest plates, one with an “oomph” the other with a “dammitall!” They - alive through the magic of their CAVEX body armor - and the rest of the squad scrambled for cover.

Ismael barked orders, discreetly keeping Slaughter’s bulky armored form between him and the arrows from the forest. “Get the IFV up here! Load the prisoners! Arm main gun! Fire at will!” An arrow creasing his temple informed him that Slaughter had – wisely – moved.

Ismael’s luck was holding, mostly. This squad and the others with him were colonial, not home guard, troops. As such, they had had years to adapt to jungle and forest, and had become adept in such combat conditions in the few skirmishes with the spear and arrow armed natives of Manium.

The IFV powered up quickly and leapt onto the mail road, sprawling out it’s side “wings” to afford the infantry additional hard cover. It’s 14.7 mm machine gun pounded out a near-constant barrage of fire directed by the IFV’s IR sensor. The FN-AS assault rifles held by the grunts did that much more to add to the wave of jacketed lead replying to swarms of arrows.

Ismael yanked Frasier into the IFV after him, bellowing into the turret “Slaughter and his men clear? Good! Savages, we’ll see who has the last laugh! URCHIN rounds, mark and fire!”

The 60mm field gun was just large enough for normal field operations; as an antipersonnel weapon it was sheer evil. The electrothermal gun fired with a WHUMPF –the cellulose sabot tore apart on clearing the barrel and three globes sped into the trees, detonating into clouds of lethal spines. Screams from the forest echoed into the open rear hatch even as Ismael ordered another round loaded and fired, an evil cackle escaping his lips.

“HA! THAT will show them whose…”

The elves counterfired RPG made a direct hit on the IFV’s nose – a perfect shot into what was probably the thickest part of its armored front. The hit was still enough to crumple the machine guns barrel, severely burning the hands and face of the gunner; inside, Ismael was toppled, landing hard on a pile of tied elves as the explosion reverberated inside the vehicle. He kidney punched the nearest captive and pushed himself back to his place.

Behind the half-track, three members of the squad were hunkered down. None of them even considered going anywhere near the half-tracks’ twin gun above them – the elves had already shown uncanny accuracy to the unwary. At least one was swearing about the change on their FN-AS rifles from their usual grenade launchers to the tazer darts while the medic was still working on removing arrows from the pilot’s neck and chest. They all ignored the fourth grunt. The arrows projecting from his throat and left eye gave good reason.

The IFV roared off another AP round into the trees just as a tall elf in bluish mail came around the side of the half-track, a long sword in hand. The nearest trooper raised his rifle to ward off the blow on the downswing; instead, the blade cleft rifle, helmet, and head all in two before transfixing in the troopers chest.

His fireteam partner unloaded the rest of his clip into the elf’s face before yet another arrow flew under the half-track and skittered off his back.

“We are LEAVING!” The medic grabbed the pilot in a fireman’s carry and hustled towards the IFV, the trooper slammed in another clip and fired wildly into the trees as they both dashed for better cover.

Miraculously, neither was fired upon.

The attack had broken as swiftly as it had come. Ismael raised the gun to it’s full rise and lobbed off another trio of barbed death into the trees. He then turned and looked at Frasier and the few troops inside the IFV. “Savages. See? We shall always overcome the savage. Go assess the damage.

He took a long swallow of water and stared out the back until a trooper arrived. “Corporal? Report.”

The dirty survivor of the half-track saluted. “Two dead. The gunner is burned and the driver is half-deafened, though the medic believes this is only temporary. Another man has taken an arrow through the left hand and our… lure is seriously wounded and will need medical attention before long.
“Our vehicles are all operational, though the lights and IR on the IFV have been shot out. The machine gun is inoperative. We still have five HEI shells, ten TOKA ground bursts and forty URCHIN rounds left.”
“What of the grenade launcher?” Ismael interjected.
“You left it on the HALO, sir.”
“Bah!”
The corporal continued. “Each man still has three clips, plus additional from the deceased, and the two cases in the IFV are intact. No grenades were used.”
“And the prisoners?”
“Five still remain. Strangely, the elves loaded the corpse and the newly deceased – both male – full of arrows, far more then would be needed for a single kill.”
Ismael grinned toothily. “Not bad, not bad at all!”
The corporal gave a world-weary sigh, patience being tested severely. “Sir, they were not firing on us primarily. They were concentrating on the Dyellians, and that is what gave us the time to regroup and respond. Even then, of eleven we have lost two men and have four wounded, one severely” – it was noticeable he had excluded Frasier and Ismael from the calculations – “It is my opinion that we get the … that we return to base as quickly as possible, sir. Before they have time to bring something heavier down on us.”

Ismael glowered at the implied insult. “Take three men and scout the far woods, look for wounded or booty. And find Slaughter, see if they can take that half-track and oil burning cow back”.

Find Slaughter? thought the corporal I think slaughter has already found us . Grimly, he chose three men to follow him into the bloody woods beyond and looked around for any sign of the Dyellians.

The gas powered rifles the Dyellians had been carrying meant that wherever they had got to, they weren't making a heck of a lot of noise...if they were still fighting...

The only one of the team who could be found was the Commisaar. She was struggling into a sitting position a dead elf lying over her lap, a pistol still in her right hand. She blinked uncertainly, "What just happened?" she asked, her voice a little slurred.

She clasped her hands to the side of her helmet, aparently unaware of the pistol still in her hands, falling backwards again, "Dont touch the helmet" she mumbled.

She screwed up her eyes in pain, "I've got ID papers, I was born in Quisa."

(OOC: She's concussed btw)

JDF Airbase
The engines of the three flying boats roared to life at 7:50 as the final preperations were made for the flight south. The Marshall looked down at his watch and then said to the visiting personel. "Ladies and Gentlemen please find a seat, we will be leaving shortly."

The Woods
The eight man JDF team led by a Var were now somewhere in the jungles of the Gonnad. The men wore normal camo and packs, most carried G3 rifles and several carried 20 mm mortars on their back.

The Var carried a large-tri barrel weapon. It connected to a large, hard sided pack on the creatures back, slung over the green plate armor that it wore. No this Var was not wearing traditional robes, but the ceramic armor. The black, dragon like head was covered by a helmet.

The creatures wings had taken several arrow hits as they hunted. Unfortunatly the elves had struck too far for the arrows to go deep into the scaly skin of the creature, the poison on the end had proven not to work well either.

The sudden explosions to the southwest stopped the group. They had been on the trail of the Orc. After all, a Var smelled an Orc quite well, sort of like a chicken uncooked smelled to a human.

"We shall investigate this immediatly..." the Var growled as the group turned towards the sounds

Vastiva's Stand
One should always ask the question who is the enemy? In Ismael's case the answer was elves. He had captured some running from a nasty raiding party. The question was, where were they running to?

As the Vastiva group split, well the who decided to show themselves. Three spinning blobs, that looked like black waterballons on fire streaked out of the woods from the opposite direction of the last attack.

They were filled with an elven form of 'greek fire' or rustic napalm. What they hit would be covered in a sticky, long, hot burning material that couldn't be extinquished using water (foam and carbon dioxide would work, but water spreads the mixture...)

Following the blobs appeared eight calvery elves. Three carried long pole arms. They looked something like semitars on the ends of short lances, and the elves proved they could either slash or charge wth the blasted things.

Another three mounted elves carried long bows. Firing off a few arrows towards the armed men as the group sped past in a lighting fast raid.

The seventh elf carried an RPG, he pointed it at the IFV and fired. The eighth had a laso made of vine rope. The loop of the laso went out towards Ismael. The elves had decided to find out who these annoying flat ears were.

OOC: Damn, I -knew- I forgot an RP somewhere
--------------------

"You look happy," Nami commented as Alex settled into a seat towards the rear, by the window. The alchemist was looking with interest at the interior of the 'flying boat'.

"Yep. You?" Alex inquired amiably.

"Bleh. You snored like a behemoth," the sprite replied. She fished out what was possibly some cheese from the refrigerator, thanked the wierd person who was eating ice cream, and then spend the rest of the night listening to Alex's snores and mumblings.

The alchemist simply shrugged.

Ismael wondered for a brief second why there was a lasso over the rear door of the IFV.

Then the RPG round hit. It wasn’t bad enough the side panels were opened still – the round completely removed the left side panel, turned the center wheel on that side in long shreds and pieces of solid rubber, and “killed” the two corpses there yet again. Adding insult to injury, the third firebomb struck the now-blown-off side panel and proceeded to roast the corpsebits.

The gunner looked up from his cigarette in time to watch one firebomb land on the cooking oil truck – no great loss – and the second impact the bed of the half-track, making a wonderful hot pot. That was bad enough. The seven charging elves on horseback running down a wounded Vastivan was a bit much for the poor man - which is rather immaterial as the RPG burst blew him straight off the front of the IFV and into the road, stunned. Apparently some luck was with him – the greek fire landed nowhere near him – but not for long.

The IFV spun in place as the driver hard turned and floored it – in reverse. He now had an unenviable view of seven elves with pole arms on horseback bearing down on him while he was going 45mph backwards and accelerating down the mail road. The rear camera still worked, which was probably his only saving grace. As one cut down the only able-bodied soldier left as a sentry, his thumb triggered the 60mm gun, which blasted another URCHIN round into the midst of the cavalrymen via impact with the front of the half-track – and transformed the gunner into a pincushion.

Another round clicked into place from the autoloader; the driver thumbed the select switch all the way over.

The remaining sidepanel folded back into place in a strange sort of mechanical salute.

Inside the IFV was chaos; people not bounced around by the RPG impact were now airborne ping-pong balls as the IFV accelerated rearwards over the rough road. No one thought to comment on the hatch safety which had swung it shut upon the IFV becoming mobile – then again, they were probably too busy banging against it to notice. Bruises were the least possible injury, but the flying bulk of Ismael made some broken bones a probability. That the bound elves could not dodge or protect themselves with hands or feet only made things worse on them.


Corporal Vessik looked up from the Commissar as soon as the first explosion of RPG on IFV happened, in time to see an elvish arrow bisect the tree he had been leaning against. It was a rather close view, as the arrow had missed his head by less then a centimeter.

“Back to the IFV! Quick!”

His medic wasn’t slow on the uptake, but instead disarmed the Commissar before picking her up in a fireman’s carry. This made him fourth in line to leave the tree line and probably saved both their lives for the time being.

As the first scout emerged from the trees he got a wonderful view of the backside of the elves horses. He raised his FN-AS to fire – and was just as quickly mowed down by friendly fire. The second had the luck of being behind a tree as the shower of steel death struck, giving him an unenviable view of what happens to a human being when hit with thousands of steel pins moving hypersonically. His response was instinctive – level gun and pull trigger. This sent a stream of 5.56mm rounds towards what was left of the backs of the elves, and meant he vomited all over his own weapon as well as the body.

By the time Corporal Vessik thought to stick his head out of the trees, the IFV had fired it’s second URCHIN blast set to point blank fire, which changed his thinking in record time though it cost him his other man. He dropped and fired at whatever could survive a directed shotgun of steel – and probably dead and dying things whose brains had not yet gotten the idea they were dead and could stop moving now, thank you very much.

If there was going to be a survivor – of sorts – it would most likely be the pilot, who looked absolutely pitiful. On one side of him, the truck blazed. On the other, the half-track made popping sounds as machine gun ammunition cooked off and fired skyward or rattled around inside its armored rear. His neck, chest, and left arm were swathed in bandages, his back was still painfully red from the solvent, and his uniform had been reduced to a pair of pants and good hiking boots. The facial burns from boiling cooking oil were just icing on his proverbial cake.

He stared for a long moment at the eighth mounted elf and the lasso it held, recoiled for another throw.

He looked up at him with that look puppies usually reserve for potential owners.

At this point, things couldn’t get any worse, could they?

Fortunately for him, that question did not have to be answered – the elf, regardless of what action it might have thought about taking – was dropped from it’s saddle by a short burst from the medic’s FN-AS across it’s neck and shoulders. Which is, after all, rather amazing, even given the assault rifle’s braced position against a tree limb the weight of the Commissar still made it a rather nice shot, overall.

Vessik keyed his comm. Mint to Gryphon, have taken severe losses, immediate pick up, drop zone is hot, repeat, drop zone is hot, lock on signal, will not flare. He looked at the medic and the Dyellian he was treating for concussive shock, rifle close at hand. Almost as an afterthought, he clicked down the IR visor and looked to the far woods, wondering if he had time to recover the RPG and maybe some rounds from what was left of the shooter before the next calamity struck.


Several football fields away, the IFV scuttled backwards, skidded through a bootlegger turn, and ran as best it could back down the road towards the outpost.

The internal light was off, which did not improve Ismael’s temper any. “What is the meaning of this!?!”
“The meaning is we just got our heads handed to us and I’m getting what’s left of us home you pompous arrogant fool!”
“You can’t possibly…”
“Watch me.”
The driver of the IFV made no further attempt to talk, stop, or even slow down until it was within sight of the outpost.

The old mail road looked strange to them all, it had been well over two months since any of them had wandered outside their protective walls.

"East, lets keep a steady pace men." Christopher hastily decided that it would take them longer to head west towards the Dyellian boarder than if they went further east towards the more populated area of Rouge Jiggady. He sat atop their only conveyance, an old diesel halftrak that announced their presence well before they were seen. All of the heavy artillery and tanks had been lost in action during the revolution or canabalized for parts to keep other, more vital, things operating; and they didnt have enough petrol to be able to take out multiple vehicles and have enough to get clear of the elven lands.

Several voices rose up in approval, the rest of the men sat quietly. Christopher anticipated some sort of argument from one of those that he already deemed rouges with the most likely dejector among them, Pvt. Powers. However, Powers sat quietly surrounded by the four other men that had taken part in the viciousness back at the outpost; Christopher wanted to seperate them but he figured the next best thing was to subjugate them into their own little group, that had little influence outside their own ranks.

The noisy halftrak bored through the dense folliage, while Five men walked ahead in a rotation of scouts that Christopher had set up so that they could push on as long as possible rotating men and allowing others to get rest.

A half hour into their venture a racket of gunfire carried over the horizon and the troop came to a hault and immediatly had their weapons at the ready. The booming noise of an RPG echoed into the air, and was followed by rattling gunfire.

"Hold! Secure the truck!" Christopher shouted out as the vehicle came to a hault, each man kneeled down taking as much cover as possible from the high sides of the old military truck. An array of automatic rifles peered out over the sides as the distant noise carried on. It quickly became clear that the threat was not near them at the moment and the men relaxed slightly.

Christopher stood up in the passenger seat of the halftrak and held his a.r. up at his chest. Where the hell is that comming from...think...think.. His eyes ran wildly around 360 degrees as he tried to focus his thoughts and figure out if they were heading towards or away from trouble. "Any signs ahead?" He whispered. The bushes to his right rustled a bit and the green clad figure of Pvt. Jarred Binns came forward. The young man slung his sniper rifle back upon his shoulder and shook his head no and with his hands indicated that the path ahead was clear for at least the next mile or so. Binns was a mute, but when it came to traking Christopher had never seen anyone else like him move.

Two more minutes of silence passed and Christopher eventually lowered his a.r. and pulled his sidearm. "Binns back on point, Richards, O'shea, Dack, and Shaffer back in the truck, Heff, Weimer, Peters, and 'Slinger' on scout.

The men took up their new positions and the old engine on the halftrak roared back to life, alerting everything in their vicinity of their presence. Christopher steadied himself as the truck rocked back and forth, but maintained his standing position of leadership, making it clear to any doubters that he was in control of the situation. He looked into the bed of the vehicle as if daring Powers into action however, the other man just leaned back and smoked another cigarette keeping the distant look on his face.

------------

High in the trees a pair of eyes watched the small troop of men, studying their actions. In one fluid motion he was off to report in. They will be widows before nightfall it thought.

The Vastivan Mi-26D HALO Transport copter roared over the Rouge Jiggady position; both side doors had been slid back to expose hard weapons pods, armored half-globes with two unequal barrels extending from each side. Soft armor curtains covered the entrance to inside, preventing RPG - or arrow - fire into the helicopters inside.

The pilot rose to an altitude above that of throwing rocks or what equipment the elves had shown; grade-III IR equipment searched the forest for some sign of life.

Gryphon to Mint, inbound and flying hot. ETA two minutes.

(OOC) I wasn't quite certain if your medic was onboard, I'm assuming he was.

The medic was to have quite a surprise when he prised the helmet off the Commisaar, most humans were definantely flat eared, she however was nothing of the sort, in fact she looked decidedly elven without the helmet on, although she kept on muttering about identity papers in her back pocket, which was of course completely impossible to get to without stripping off all of her armour first, under which she seemed to be wearing the usual Dyellian field grey uniform.

There was a crash as the orc hurled an elf he had taken a rather large bite out of onto the mail road, the creatures sword was burried in the huge brute's shoulder. He was trailed by the one eyed tracker who was completely unharmed, although scratches on his armour indicated where missiles had bouced off, they both dropped down in the ditch to the side of the road, which now acted as a makeshift trench, the orc proceeded to tear the weapon out of his shoulder, "Nice little trophy Agrag." the tracker noted.

He was rummaging through his pack, finally he pulled out what seemed to be some kind of flare, "We're bloody close to the border." he noted, tossing it into the middle of the road where it began to give off large amounts of purple smoke, "Got a GPS beacon going too, we'll have the Calvalry down here in minutes."

He raised his voice, "Yeah, you know what that means don't you you bastards?"

The elves tened to shy away from open conflict with their Western neighbours, prefering hit and run raids on small groups, the purple flare this close to the border would usually mean the place would be swamped with 'Djels' within the hour. The signal had been the same for over 100 years (basically as long as Dyelli Beybi had been making purple flares), in a time when Dyelli Beybi still regarded itself as 'at war' with the Gonad.

There was an explosion in the trees to the other side of the road, followed by a scream and another explsion which cut the scream off rather rapidly, "We should move from here now." Agrag noted with his usual grasp of the obvious.

The tracker nodded, and the pair slunk back into the trees, this mission seemed to have been something of a botch up, at least from Kay's point of view. One injured, two missing, presumed dead at this stage, although he was pretty certain that last pair of explosions had been Slaughter's case gun, hopefully that damned Commisaar is still with him.

Gryphon to Mint, mud or strings?

One look around and two not-distant-enough explosions decided that one.

Mud and Dust, Gryphon, we have one wounded lots dead.

Confirm, Mint. Hot Rocks?

Negative, I repeat, negative, Gryphon. Friendlies in the area, loc not known.

Confirm. Coming down.

An Mi-26D HALO is not a small helicopter; it set down in the middle of the mail road, little clearance on either side. One side opened it’s curtain, disgorging a second squad who set up a perimeter even as the corporal, medic, pilot, and “luggage” ran for the helicopter.

The small force swept backwards, grabbing Vastivan bodies – two badly charred - and elvish artifacts, passing these into the helicopter’s body as swiftly as possible.
One of the cavalrymen’s bodies was still reasonably intact – they took that, pole arms, RPG, bows, and quivers.

Then the helicopter was airborne. Total time – less then three minutes.

No one saw the purple smoke behind them as they raced towards the outpost. Just as no one noticed the medic had put the Commissar’s helmet back on and was being his normal fussy self towards a patient.

“How was it down there?” one trooper asked the corporal. His only reply was to shake his head and lean back, adrenaline run out. In a few moments, he was asleep.

By this stage the Commisaar seemed to have regained some composure, after the initial confusion resulting from a rather bad knock on the head. Although she was undoubtedly suffering from the world's worst headache at this time, she seemed determined to try to make conversation with the medic,

"Chlarissa Dashwood." she introduced herself, "Political Officer 3rd Class."

She screwed her eyes up as she pushed herself into a sitting position, "I owe you one...well two."

She leaned forward to whisper very close to his ear, "Now before you think anything silly, I was born in Dyelli Beybi, if need be I can get you a birth certificate, born of a very respectable family I might add, no peculiar interbreding with unmenschliche Geschöpfe weniger gültig als Menschen."

The last was a derogatory term for elves that the Dyellians were rather fond of, her eyes glanced about making sure nobody was eavesdropping, "This is difficult for me to give you a satisfactory explanation without breaking the State Secrets Act, which would land us both in hot water" she whispered.

She paused, aparently trying to think of a way to explain herself, she sighed, and leaned back against the helicopter wall, "Just believe me I'm not one of them." the last word was steeped with hatred, that peculiar and almost irrational hatred the Dyellians felt for the elves.

She gave a short laugh as she pulled an arrowhead out from between the interlapping plates of armour where it had lodged in the fighting, "This was my first time in the Gonad. They weren't lying when they said it was hell on earth."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile Theta base had recieved the distress signal from the Gonad, as the nearest military installation it was their duty to respond, and respond they did, some 12 helicopters were being loaded with Airborne troops, while the SS watched the show idly. Five minutes from recieving the signal saw them take to the skies, every second counted in this game. They would fly up to a good altitude then drop down on top of the position indicated by the GPS beacon. Luckily for whoever had set off the beacon they were close to the border.
11 minutes and closing

Inhuman creatures less valid then humans? the medic thought to himself. and they can be interbred with? Very curious indeed. His face showed none of his thoughts, a skill learned in medical school. Instead, he smiled at her.

“Doctor Kurt Lange. Most pleased to meet you, Chlarissa Dashwood. And my interest is seeing you back in one piece. Vastiva has no interest in your politics or State Secrets. Nor to make judgements. We’re just here to gather samples and leave. Preferably quietly, with as many subjects as possible.”

He sat back and considered her eyes, looking for signs of more problematical damage. “My only curiosity is their language. Are there any books on the subject available? Any way to learn it?”

He shakes his head at the phrase ‘hell on earth’. “We lost nearly a whole team, and were there one day. That place is sheer bad news. Which means our fearless leader will be thinking of going back.”

Fortunately for him, his voice is low enough to lack projection; Ismael is already making arrangements to have the other two squads moved up. He was going back for more test subjects. The gleam of promotion was in his eyes…

The commisaar had closed her eyes, she rubbed them slowly, at mention of the elven language however her hand stopped, she took it away and opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times, "No, there are no books, but a few do speak it this side of the border, it is quite different from what they speak in other parts of the world I've heard."

"That's the reason I was on that damned mission, they thought it would be useful if someone could speak with the natives, not that they're actually that useful, they tend to tell us lies. They don't like 'Djels'."

"We can probably get you some individuals without having to go back in...just remember the ones that speak English aren't elves." she flashed him a dimpled smile, which faded almost as soon as it came, "Any sign of the rest of my team?"

Ironically for a research institute that was supposedly working on plants, the Botanical Research Institute was heavily guarded by soldiers in sand coloured uniforms. They didn't wear armour in these parts of the country, you tended to boil in it. Those who wore helmets wore a germanic style helmet, but most had opted for a floppy cap instead. The other unusual point about the uniform was it featured shorts, long socks and short sleeved shirts, although troops carried a trenchcoat in their packs, the nights could become very cold.

Inside the institute things were different, as was usual with most desert constructs, most of the facility was underground. It was well air conditioned as well, keeping it at a pleasant 20 degrees (except in areas where they actually were growing plants, where the temperature varied considerably).

Deep, deep, behind several sets of guarded doors was where the elves that had been caught in the raids had found themselves, however they had not found themselves in bad conditions, rather they had been housed in pleanant, (if guarded) apartments, with 3 square meals a day and English lessons. Unknown to them they were taking part in "Project Raza", a project put together by several high ranking Cheka officers and the Ministry for the Occult. It was Dyelli Beybi's most secret project, and one that would have large sections of the population up in arms were they to find out about it.

In one small room, three men were meeting. One was a Senior looking D.B.P.A. Officer in the desert variation of the standard uniform, the second was an enthusiastic young scientist with ink stains on his lab coat, while the third was a Catholic Priest.

"Now." the officer began, "We've had a request to give the non-responsive subjects over to the Vastivans, this isn't from the Vastivans either, this is from Benjia House, so we've got to comply."

The other pair seemed somewhat unhappy with this, although neither voiced an opinion, "How many have we fully turned?" the officer asked.

"Two." the Priest replied quickly.

"Although." the Scientist put in, "There are some 9 or 10 others who could be considered turned if we removed the religious barriers."

"No deal." the officer had aparently dealt with this question before, "If they still worship 'the great Satan'..." he crossed himself, Dyelli Beybians were a religious sort, "We cannot trust them, next thing we know they'll be back to murdering people and child sacrifice and all those other fun things."

The scientist looked a little crestfallen, and seemed about to protest but was cut off again by the officer, "What are the links between all of our responsive and almost responsive subjects?"

The scientist cleared his throat, "They're all aged... we think, between around 14 and 24 and none have a sibling or parent in the experiment of an age that is beyond that range."

"Right." the Oficer concluded, "Well hand over all subjects that don't fit the bill."

"But that would mean losing..." he consulted his notes, "24 of our 37."

His protests fell on deaf ears.

The medic shook his head. "We were sent to do a sweep to look for them, when those horsemen showed up." He chuckled. "It takes some kind of mind to charge an IFV with polearms and bows, particularly when the main gun is aimed right at you. They're either brave or stupid. I'd go with the latter, given what I've seen here." He thought a moment. "Good bowmen though."

"What is the reason for all that hatred, if I can ask? Personal interest."

The Commisaar was looking a little distressed at the loss of the rest of her team, but consoled herself with the thought that if anyone could survive that place, it would be them.

He gave a slight smile for Kurt, "If I were to tell you all the reasons we'd be treading into state secrets again."

There was a brief pause, but this time she did find an answer which didn't contravene the State Secrets Act, "You could say it's a war that's been going on for well...thousands of years, we think. There is a little more to it, but I think the main reason is that well, when you've been at each others throats for that long you tend to not like each other."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meawhile out by the Dyellian flare, there were easily a dozen helicopters spraying the area with gunfire, any sign of movement, except from the two desperately waving soldiers, was immediately greeted with a burst of gunfire and the occasional rocket, although to all intents and purposes they were wasting ammunition on an enemy that was no longer there.
One touched down, an armoured officer leaped down, hanging onto the rail by the door as the two somewhat dishevelled troopers clambered onboard, "Anyone else out there?" he asked.

Kay nodded, "One. No sign though, presumed dead."

"OK." the officer took a brief look around, "let's get the hell out of here!"

And with that they lifted off, heading back towards base...

"Run away run away" A single voice rose above the commotion of gunfire that had started twenty minutes ago. They had risked stopping for the evening in an open clearing, keeping around the halftrak and setting up a defensable perimiter. That hadnt stopped the elves from showing themselves.

"GPS is down, where the hell is the right way?"

"Just move!!" Christophers voice took charge as the halftrak roar to life and limped away in reverse. Men followed slowly, keeping their automatic rifles trained on the area all around them.

The elves had attacked from all sides once their cover had been blown by a young soldier taking a piss. He had unknowingly tripped over a body of one of his other comrades and when he had turned back to appologize his face twisted in horror as he saw the other man with his throat cut.

The alarm had immediatly been raised and the bullets started flying before Christopher could get the men together in an organized deffense. Arrows rained down upon them and they took cover around the halftrak afraid only after they realized the tips were poisoned and three more had fallen.

Christopher had tried to shout orders but they fell upon deaf ears as the men forgot their training and fired wildly into the night. The only order they had acknowledged was the one to retreat, and retreat they did inadvertantly heading back the way they came. Christopher looked back at their campsite that was now being overrun with elves who were dancing upon the bodies of the fallen; he said a silent prayer for his friends and then cursed that three of the four were men that he trusted. Christopher only wondered how many of them would make it out of here, and which ones of them they would be.

It was three days repairing the damage to the IFV; the HALO ferried spare parts and a repair gantry up to the outpost, along with whatever supplies the Dyellians wanted moved – spare room being spare room, and it was the Dyellian’s fuel being used by day three.

These three days had also introduced the Dyellian’s to the most polite political infighting known. Ismael had his simple plan – “get more elves” – and the rank to push this plan through, to a point. The point was Corporal Vessik, who was now senior military officer and who had been there and, to be sure, didn’t want to go back.

More then enough “your pardon”s and “if you will”s and “many apologies, but”s now littered the air of the compound to build several dozen ambassadors with enough pity wit left over to kludge together a good used-car salesman and maybe a teenager on his first date. Maybe.

This came down nearly to blows on the third day – or as close as you can from a most humble position. Ismael decided that RHIP and Corporals should have no place standing in front of Pashas. He therefore placed the Corporal in charge of the unit protecting the plane and it’s cargo of 29 elves, twenty-four having been delivered by the Dyellians – much to Ismael’s annoyance - in one now cramped cage and four of the five living captives in a rather roomy one. Dr Lange, pfc, had managed to remove the foam from the female elf Ismael had covered, though her eyes were still bandaged and she was rather well confined to a seat while occasionally ministered to with eyedrops and the medic’s bedside manner.

With a full three squads, an experienced tracker, and an IFV now repaired and dressed in reactive armor, Ismael plotted to leave to trap more elves, the better to make his reputation solid. It did not enter his mind in the least that he had set his current enemy to bed, as it were, with Ahmed, his next in succession – nor that he had left behind all of importance in their care. What occupied his thoughts were images of trussed elves and perhaps the Emirate…

Fraser was not entirely happy with the idea of going back in, but had been assured by his superiors it was his 'duty to be motherland' to go back, and when people mentioned that phrase anyone in their right mind stood to attention and did what was asked of them. So he readied himself for a return, spending the days cleaning his armour, then repainting the chipped bits, then cleaning his gas powered rifle, then repeating the whole process.

Dashwood had been reunited with the other two members of her team and while they didn't expalin exactly what they were doing at the base to the Vastivans, they seemed to be readying themselves for another forray into the wilderness. On the third day an attack helicopter arrived and the pilot entered into a brief conversation with the Commisaar, before lifting off towards the jungle. Little did they know what was going on was much bigger than 1 helicopter...

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Encryption: Usual Dyellian Military Standard (OOC: none)
To: Government of Rogue Jiggady
From: Dyelli Beybian Provincial Government
Subject: Military Opperations in the Eastern Gonad
Dyelli Beybi wishes to request permission to carry out a series of medium sized military opperations against elven terrorist targets in the Western reaches of the Gonad peninsula. We are sure that should such permission be granted, that we will be able to directly support the state of Rogue Jiggady against any attempt to overun it by hostile Klatchian States. These opperations are regarded as politically sensitive and essential for the survival of the State of Dyelli Beybi.

It crossed lake Olympus in the night, staying below the radars of the hovering gravships. It continued south, over Monte-Ozka...it was picked up against the Bay of Lunacy.

Three fighters were scrambled after it. These were not the ordinary fighters of Terrans but LOW plantary attack fighters. They speed off at almost Mach 5 to catch the ship.

The ship continued to move south...crossing over the Gonnad. The craft turned as the fighters approached weapons range. For a breif moment the sky over the jungle was filled with with rockets and blasts of energy. The ship took a series of hits from the fighters but returned just as much fire back at them.

The fighters turned to blazing balls of flame. The escaping craft lost anti-grav and crashed into the jungle. The crew survived...as did the one creature aboard who would cause problems if it were not killed immediatly...

****
The Overlord looked out across the high mountains of the Northern Klatch and waited. The Karlord who had attempted to usurp him was out there, someplace. The bastard would know pain for the last pathetic moments of his life.

"Ah, Overlord...there is word..."

"Well, all ships destroyed...apparently..."

"Apparently? I want a confirmation...send some gravships to investigate immediatly..."

"Ah sir it was over the Gonnad"

"Fine inform Rouge Jiggady that an escaped villian is in their territory and we plan on capturing him before he attempts to overthrow their government."

"Ah, yes sir..."

***

The attack Helicopters being fielded looked very much like a Russian Mi-28, and in fact was very closely modelled on the Russian vehicle. The electronics had been vastly improved, as had the engines, weapons and armour, but the distinctive shape of the hull and twin rotor design meant that the Kr-37 was indistinguishable except to an expert.

Now one was travelling along the line of the ravine it had been sent to investigate, crusing at 200 km/hr at a good enough height to mean the crew would have time to respond in the event that the elves fired a particularly well aimed shot.

"I still don't see anything." it was the Weapons Officer, his voice harshly metalic over the intercom.

"Hey, does the jungle down there look a little... warped to you?" the pilot was pointing straight ahead, the W.O. was seated in front of the pilot and had to twist round to see where he was indicating.

He studied the area for a moment, the pilot pulled the craft up further, slowing it as he did, "Yeah, a little, do you reckon it'd be safe to take us down a little?"

"No." the pilot flatly refused, "that looks like something fishy and elvish and the last thing we want to do is go down into weapons range, where theres something elvish there's bound to be elves."

The W.O. had to agree, "I guess you're right, not that it matters too much, whatever's wrong with the air, it looks sort of... bubbly, I reckon we can go through the top without putting us in too much risk."

The pilot had slowed the helicopter to just over 100 km/hr as he brought it down slightly towards the disturbance in the air, "Incoming, to the left!" the W.O. noticed the rock tearing out of the trees a split second before the pilot.

"It's wide." the pilot replied, as the turreted chaingun under the helicopters nose roared into life, "You're wasting ammo, it's not like you can see anything down there."

The W.O. stopped firing as another two rocks hurtled upwards. The pilot was forced to swerve this time, "Looks like there's a few of theem down there." he remarked, "And it's not like those cats are easy to move in the jungle...I'm going to bring us lower and faster, this looks like something we should investigate."

The helicopter sped up as another rock hurtled upwards, this one didn't quite have the height. A few moments later they hit the disturbance, and it was very much like a giant bubble had popped, revealing it's contents to the world "Jesus have mercy, it's a bloody castle."

"Incoming!" it was the W.O. again, this time the pilot wasn't quite fast enough in pulling up, and the rock tore the landing gear from the helicopter.

"What's the cieling on this thing?"

"3,470 metres." the pilot replied.

"Then get us the hell up there!"

As the helicopter rocketed skywards, putting nearly 12 metres between it and the ground per second, leaving the rocks and other elven weapons far behind, the W.O. radioed back to base. The Dyellians had found what they were looking for.

Xander sat in his highrise office looking out over the cityscape of Xandtopia, capital of Rouge Jiggady; lights glistened over the horizon and he smiled, enjoying looking down over the lands like a God.

"Sir you may want to come down to the briefing room, we have reports comming in of activity deep in the jungles of the Gonad." A cold, metalic voice said over the intercom system.

"Very well..." Xander replied with a long sigh. He rubbed a hand across his face in annoyance. This damned western jungle is going to be the end of me, there are nothing but problems out there. They had long since lost contact with the military outposts on that half of the peninsula and the two teams they sent in to investigate had never been heard of again. Xander was quite happy with keeping Rouge Jiggadyn civilization on this side of the peninsula however, the population size said otherwise. They needed to expand westward into the wild, but their military presence there had disapeared since the revolution.

-----------

Encryption: Usual Dyellian Military Standard (OOC: none)
To: Government of Rogue Jiggady
From: Dyelli Beybian Provincial Government
Subject: Military Opperations in the Eastern Gonad
Dyelli Beybi wishes to request permission to carry out a series of medium sized military opperations against elven terrorist targets in the Western reaches of the Gonad peninsula. We are sure that should such permission be granted, that we will be able to directly support the state of Rogue Jiggady against any attempt to overun it by hostile Klatchian States. These opperations are regarded as politically sensitive and essential for the survival of the State of Dyelli Beybi.

"Very well, if they want in there than let them go. Let them sort out the elven problem for us, and when we find out that its safe to go in there we reoccupy the old military outposts and start clearing out jungle for development."

A chorus of aye's filled the room to Xanders proposition and a reply was drafted to the Dyellian Government.

To: Dyelli Beybian Provincial Government
From: Rouge Jiggady National Government
Subject: Military opperations in Gonad

We have approved your proposed military actions in the western reaches of the Gonad peninsula. Since we have long lost contact with our own military forces there we have little to aid you in this until we can activate our armed forces in our eastern bases and transport them to the jungles. May you finally triumph over the elven menace, and may they be erradicated from the Klatch forever. We would like to note that military activity that stretches into the eastern Gonad will not be looked favourably upon, our own forces are activating there and we do not want any accidents that would cause an unfortunate raise in tensions. Happy hunting.

-------

"What the hell are they talking about? Escaped villians? Can any of this be confirmed?"

"Well we can confirm the crash of a ship via our satalites however we have not been able to verify their message of these apparent survivors."

Xander rubbed his head in annoyance again, his first few months of rule had not gone exactly how he anticipated and the problems were only pilling up on each other. He had little contact previously with anyone from the state of LOW, his only knowlege of the area was that it existed.

"This sounds like some kind of ploy, how many militaries are we going to let into our borders? The government will destabilize if we do not exercise more control over our borders." General Tang's voice rose up above the rest.

"Are we really going to let our first contacts with LOW be negative? Say that we will help them in any way we can."

"Quiet everyone! Last I checked I was the leader here. Mobilize the military, I want nothing to get out of that jungle that we dont know about. I want airborn units constantly flying over that region, I will allow our regional friends access to the jungles but we will be constantly aware of their actions." Xander said firmly

To: Leader of LOW
From: Xander, Chief of State of Rouge Jiggady

We have confirmed that there was a crash somewhere in the jungles of the Gonad however, we are unsure of your reports of any survivors, especially those that would overthrow our government. Perhapes if you could give us more information on this matter we would be better suited to aid you. In the mean time your ships may enter our airspace and will not be fired upon, let it be noted however that we will have considerable air presence over the jungles now and we will not take kindly to any interferance from your ships.

The reply was the normal stiff tones of the Lords.

"We will warn you that if the ship's system were not completely destroyed air cover above the site may be difficult for non-armored craft 4300 meters above the crash site and armored aircraft 2100 meters above the crash site. The craft was equiped with two plasma gun turrets. It was also possibly armed with interceptor missle pods.

We note that the JDF appears to be currently sending personel into the area. We will inform them of our problems.

We should warn you that the said individual and his associates are wanted by the Interplantary State of The Lords of War for high Treason. They will have no qualms of trying to overthrow the present government of Rouge Jiggady.

***
Four LOW gravships, maintaining themselves at sea level moved out of the AWM canal and turned south towards the crash site.

***
Karlord Be'kena looked at the ruined long range gunship. It lay like a beached whale in the dark jungle.

The Karlord looked at his retainers he now had. Twelve terrans and fifteen minor Var and his mate Nekta Zeld-kema. The group was well armed having rescued a ground rover from the wreckage. The terrans carried simple energy rifles but the Var each had either heavy duty vas guns or plasma rifles. The Rover had a hellfire 30 mm chain gun system. The group had also rescued a few personel interceptor missle systems.

The elves had attacked them right after the crash, which was unfortunate. Eight dead terrans now lay around the ship. Most had wandered out after the bone jarring smash to be picked off by the natives. However the appearence of a Var apparently had made them pause in their attack.

"I do not wish to remain here any longer. We must find more comfortable shelter and possible allies..."

"My Lord, there is a large group of elves moving this way. Some of them are armed with what appear to be terran RPG's and they have several calvery units also."

One of the Var underlings sent out as a scout had noticed the large group moving their way.

"We are not in a postion to hold them off here. We shall travel in the opposite direction and let the ships weapons systems and A.I. deal with these pointy eared terrans."

The group began moving southwest quickly...what hadn't been realized is that the elves were massing at the castle. Word had gone out that the forginers appeared intrested in the place. The problem was that one tribe had just pushed the small group towards the same place...

Suffice to say, any movement of the LOW was noted by the Vrakians. When four gravships began heading towards Rouge Jiggady, the military brass was certainly curious.

-Well, we think the Dyellians are in there. Satcom reported earlier helicopter movements. And we know the JDF is currently active. But, why would LOW go there?
-Let them deal with the problem but continue to monitor the situation. As well, send a message to Xander. Perhaps he needs assistance.
-As you command.

====

To: Xander, Chief of State of Rouge Jiggady
From: Vrak Military High Command

We can’t help but notice the increased activity within your western regions. If you require assistance, please inform us.

The reports hit the Landgravine's desk with a thud. Or perhaps it was the fact that said reports were thrown at her desk from ten feet away.

"Alright now I've got Dyelbians crawling all over the place...the LOW seem to be sending four grav ships south to intervene..."

She looked down at the satilite photo

"...and somehow, someone has raised a bleeding castle in the middle of that jungle. And there appears to be a crashed LOW gunship less than two klicks from the damn thing..."

Get all personel in the area to investigate that...insta castle...do not send any aircraft within six kicks of that gunship if her plasma turrets are still active it would be like walking into a rapid fire hell on earth. And keep low outside of that area...she might have those nasty muti-purpose interceptor missle systems...."

Research Group

After two days of travel the research group had reached base camp. It was an 'inn' on the mail road. Or something like an inn in the middle of enemy territory. The building was two stories tall with the rooms opening onto an Arcade surounding a courtyard with an overgrown garden. The fountain still worked although leaves and twigs filled the pool.

The main dining room stood over over the front gate with the kitchens on the lower level and to the right. Most of the rooms had long been looted but the JDF provided somewhat comfortable cots.

At 2:00 am that morning a distant roar had been heard.

At 6:00 am that morning a group of sixteen JDF personel stood next to horses with McGerhy loudly giving orders.

"Alright people, we have been informed that there appears to be some...building not detected before 36 klicks to our north west. Now after looking at the map I have decided that we will follow a small creek towards the area and then cross between two large hills. I should note that a satilite survey revealed that this area, across the river from the castle was a grove of Klatchian Oaks. I should also note that the entire valley surrounding this structure appears to have several large stands of Klatchian Oaks. We will be going in fast...swift...this is a probe in strength."

A few more horses with packs have been saddled, however the number of riders seems to be a bit low...

It had sounded like something crashed; or to be more specific, it sounded like something really freaking huge, colossal, and massive had crashed in the jungle some miles behind them where they had only just come.

The halftrack came to an immediate hault and the eleven (11 not elven) men all turned their heads back towards the direction they had come. They had been traveling non stop for two days since the attack and the thundering noise behind them was the first 'contact' they had with any other apparent sentient form. A porterhouse snake (national animal of RJ) had taken a fifth man of their company, lashing down from the trees in a blinding whip fashion and jumping back up with the flailing arms and legs of Pvt. Hicks.

The sky to their backs was nothing but black smoke billowing upwards like a mushroom cloud, and each of the men held a lump in their throat.

"Do you think we should go back and check it out?" Asked Cooper, Christophers second highest officer that he had left.

"No." Jeb Christopher said quickly. "Its most likely something to do with the elves, we must keep pushing forward." Wherever the hell forward is taking us.He said in his mind.

Xander had left his highrise office in favour of one of his more secluded residences. The pressure was begining to build on top of him, pushing him down as if he were at the bottom of the Southern Klatchian Sea.

His hands shook as he poured a tall glass of rum from a crystal vase nearly spilling its entire contents all over the fine mahogany desk. He took a long pull from the glass and absently set it down on top of a stack of documents and bills that he was supposed to endorse. Everything was going to hell in a handbasket, he wasnt able to control Dr. Maximillian and now had no idea where the 'mad scientist' was. His bid to take over Jiggady had failed and he had to be satisfied with this province. The lenient attitude towards elves by the former chief of state of Jiggady was now resulting in a storm of trouble for him and the rest of the Klatch. And he now had several military groups wandering about in his nation, with even more questioning his ability to maintain power.

"NO!" Xander yelled aloud, "I will maintain my authority no matter what happens, I will not loose my power after only a few months."

To: Vrakian military command
From: Xander, Chief of State. Rouge Jiggady

Thankyou for taking notice in the increased activity in our region, each force has had my approval for their actions here; and I have taken the appropriate measures to make sure the State of Rouge Jiggady remains secure. I will urge you to continue taking note of what transpires here; if things get out of control, more military forces may be needed.

ooc:short and not contributing much to advance the storyline....my kind of post

Painfully ignorant of the chaos that had come to the Gonad, Ismael had his small army of thirty - thirty-four if you included Ismael, his unhappy tracker, and the two HALO pilots - flown into the middle of the mail road, scant miles from where they had had their last great encounter with the elvish forces.

The IFV had been outfitted with her reactive armor; gunports had been reinforced to full combat protection and two additional 14.7mm MGs were stored internally, just in case. Antipersonnel charges were stored in safe boxes inside, both stun and lethal. And she now boasted both a grenade launcher and six mortar tubes; motion and IR sensors had been added to the exterior, protected by slight sleeves of CAVEX.

To make things really uncomfortable, Ismael had insisted they bring Dragonsfire rounds for the 60mm cannon in addition to the previous load.

As a result, the bulk of his force rode in a boxy half-track Ismael had managed to finagle (ie - bribe) out of the Dyellians; hard top cover had been added and gunports added to the sides, making a Greek Fire attack less likely to succeed. The single swivel-mounted 50 caliber MG had it's own hastilly put together cupola; inside, two CAWS and a flurry of LAWs were placed for quick usage.

Ismael was going to war. His greatest failing was not knowing who he was going to war with; a close second was in leaving the three survivors of the first encounter behind with the plane and the captive elves.

Vastiva, At Bridge 47
About twenty miles along the Vastiva party likely had not seen anything or anyone crossing the mail road. Or any other traffic. The empty concrete road just climed up and down hills. The dark jungle standing back from the ribbon of concrete, held back by low stone walls. The space between the road and the walls was filled with tall unmowed rye grass. No signs of elves or humans could be made out here. (Really the elves didn't openly cross the mail road that much....Ismael had been very, very lucky last time)

At the top of a small hill they could make out a small bridge crossing the narrow creek at the bottom of the valley. What's more, the grass along the road was pushed down as though something or someone had come down from the opposite hill. At the bridge the trail through the grass stopped, and a few horse apples appeared to litter the concrete roadway.

Inspection of the dirt around the bridge abutments showed that several horses had crossed the road at this point and followed the creek into the jungle.

The creek wasn't large this time of year, the trickle of water spilling out amoung large flat boulders. None of the boulders were especially large, most easily defeated by tracked vehicles, although it would be rough going for the occupants.

The jungle parted here by a wide margin...the whole thing looked nice and inviting.

JDF beyond Bridge 47
The JDF calvery troop, mostly horse guards from Morphous who had been left without anyplace else to go after the collapse of their home state, kept in close formation. They had decended into the jungle here and were now carefully winding their way along the creek towards the castle that had been spotted by JDF satalites.

JDF North of the Inn
Four Challenger III tanks trudged up the mail road. Each had been equiped with a flange at the front to push down trees and clear a path. They also had a goal of drawing all elven attention towards themselves rather than the sixteen calvery riders. The tanks turned into the jungle, each firing a burst of 18 mm machine gun fire. The column pushed forward up the long slope and began to smash into the jungle....

OOC: edit is a typo but as I look at this whole buisness...I think of that corney movie Hallaluha Trail...

In reality it wasn't the castle that had excited the Dyellians, it was what was on the other side of the ravine from it. To most it would seem like a tumbled down pile of rubble, an old ruined city to be more precise, but it was exactly what the Dyellians were looking for.

At Theta Base, in a briefing room deep in the interior, 738 Dyellian Soldiers were gathering to hear a briefing. It was going to be the culmination of Slaughter's ill-fated mission, but rather than doing it covertly, this time the Dyellians were going to try brute force.

"Right men." a Major with rolled up sleeves was briefing the men, "As you all know, this is a joint opperation between the 8th Baggage, 17th Dragoon and 12th Hussar Battalions, backed up by Infantry from the 1st Infantry Division, four companies in total and 20 armoured cars.

"The mission objectives are simple. Number one, destruction of the enemy fortifications. Number two, recconaisance of the ruined structures to the North.

"Approach of the target will be done at high speed, low altitude. There are other Klatchians in the area, and we want to minimise potential politically sensitive incidents. Now we recconoitred the route yesterday and it was clear up until the attack point, elven artillery isn't too mobile, but we will still need you all traveling at top speed, no nice targets for anything they might have put in there."

"The plan will occur in several stages. First the 12th Hussars will take their thirty gunships and attempt to cause as much damage to the fortifications as possible, particularly targeting the towers where the catapults are housed and the gate houses for the first wall. At the same time, they will provide cover for the Dragoons who will drop Hauptmann Baker, and Hauptmann Yakovlekev's companies near the fortification, then move to reinforce the gunships.

"Baker company and Yakovlekev Company, your duty is not, I repeat, not to assault the fortification, it is to clear any resistance from the ground so that the baggage can land.

"The Baggage will transport in the last troops from Yakovlekev Company, as well as land Richards and Dietz Companies as well as the armoured cars, these will be under the command of Oberleutnant Scott. Now for those of you who don't know we're dropping in 222s. They are not tanks, they are REECE vehicles, but we think you will find the guns very useful for covering fire.

"Richards Company will escort Commisaar Dashwood and her tracker Feldwebel Davis to the ruins. This is a recconaisance and demolition mission. The remainder will commence an assault on the enemy fortifications.

"The fortifications are constructed in the following manner. A dry moat surrounds a ring wall. There are two gates through the outer wall. One to the East and one to the west. The first layer of defences also houses a small village. The second wall has only one gate through which to pass, while the Keep is built flush against the Eastern wall. The first wall will be breached by gunship fire. Baker complany will then clear the outer wall, while Yakovlekev focuses on clearing out the houses and supressing enemy fire from the interior. Dietz will attempt to blow the Eastern wall and gain entry into the keep that way. We expect 500 or so enemy in total.

"One last point... We are taking prisoners on this mission.... oh yes, and if any of you havn't signed the State Secrets Act, I suggest you do now, we don't want the Cheka arresting you when you come back. Any questions?"

Silence filled the room, "Good. The time is now 1115 hours, you are expected to be airborne in 15 minutes. Expect the assault to commence at 1200 hours."

In the Jungle, the Mighty Jungle the A.I. plays tonight…(midday actually)

Bye, Bye Terran scum and your quadruped too…

The horse and rider were trying to throw a spear into the plasma turret. The elf and horse, and a kilometer long stretch of jungle turned into a fireball.

Pointy Ear go bye, bye…kill…kill….kill…locate target to kill….kill….kill…

The Jungle by now was more burned trees and smoke rising from an arc around the crash site. In places the actual rocks had exploded into shrapnel, although the remains of the elves and their mounts were now mixed with the black ash of the surrounding jungle.

target on radar….Terran atmospheric craft…not in engagement range…leaving area…more targets on radar….entering engagement range…..wait…wait….wait…

Somewhere in the afternoon light the upper plasma cannon turrets of the downed craft turned and pointed towards the large number of incoming helicopters. Deep inside the hull 36 multi-target missiles went on standby…

*****
Karlord Be'kena's roar filled the surrounding countryside. "Damn these pointy eared Terrans…that…that archaic building and weapons covers all route of escape." He pointed at the concentric walls of the eleven castle on the south side of the ravine.

As his claw pointed outwards an arrow slammed into it. The Var looked at the arrow stuck into his scales and bellowed again, not from pain but frustration. "I do not have the manpower to force a crossing, I do not have the manpower to storm that….that terran stupidity…His eyes narrowed, but I do have the ability to take a position of strength and demonstrate modern weaponry to these Terrans" the last word rolled out with so much scorn the lords underlings winced.

"We will take position in those piles of rubble and use the plasma rifles to persuade these primitives that they should treat with us and allow us passage. "

Twenty minutes later a 12 cm ball of plasma arched up and hit the outer wall of the castle towards the north. The stones of the wall actually fractured and split from the sudden change in temperature. The small flying fragments of wall and hot gas flew outwards, some into the outer ward of the castle.

*****
The four Gavships rose out of the water and cross the shore into Rouge Jiggady. They formed a diamond formation and headed strait towards the downed craft.

Large amounts of fire in what was supposed to be pristine jungle had caused some considerable alarm among the Dyelli Beybians,

"That's not elves."

"Concurred. It doesn't look entirely pleasant down there. I'll radio back to base and request sattelite uplink."

"Roger, might I suggest giving the target area a wide berth for now?"

There was a pause for about a moment, then the second voice returned over the radio waves, "Unidentified forces , orders remain, keep to treetop skimming...wait, unidentified forces attacking elven stronghold...I'm getting a message from the Major..."

"He says we're to avoid confrontation with other Klatchian forces, break North and land 10 km north of the target area, we're to set up a temporary field base there and advance on the ruined structure from the North, other parts of the mission no longer apply...oh yes...and any non-Dyellian forces that enter the ruins must be eliminated."

The helicopter formations abruptly changed course from heaving due East to North nor-East, it was sudden and a few came very close to colliding, but thankfully for the rather alarmed passengers none did.

“Sergeant, deploy ten men on either side, recon that bridge and upstream. Gunner, load a series of URCHIN shells, but keep an armor piercing round handy. This is just too well put as an ambush site.” Ismael looked at his hapless guide. “Horses. Why would they be moving south? Feh. I want to capture them, not fight them. Where are their villages?”

The JDF calvery team was now making it's way towads the point they would need to cross up the ridge and over into the next valley.

"I haven't seen any pointy ears...and they don't seem to be bothering us at the moment." One man said outloud.

The Marshall turned and said "Quiet back there..."

He looked at his GPS unit and the rough topographic map. "Alright, we understand the plan, Kain get those two ED rods ready..."

*****
OOC: Vastiva, no elf villiages near the road...Up about ten more miles is the Inn serving as a JDF base camp...they are not going to react kindly to a foreign IFV moving near them and they do have tanks. And can call in air-support.

****
The four tanks were driving forward into the jungle. From somewhere in the jungle an RPG round smacked against the side of the led tank and exploded.

Inside the crew winced. The gunner turned the turret and used the machinge gun to try and flush out the elves. A boulder smacked down onto the turret. It dented the armor. The second tank attempted to return fire into the jungle...

Twenty men were sent for recon sweeps - twenty returned uneventfully.

"Feh! And I thought something would be there. Frasier! Upstream or downstream, or further on? Which way are the elves? Are these elvish horses or someone else?"

Fraser had been sleeping in the corner, "Mmph? Horses? I don't know. I don't even know why you'd bring a horse in here, although the evles seem to, they could be elves....finding more elves? Usually the easiest way is to wait for them to come to us."

(OOC) Sorry I didn't reply I've been occupied with my job and other things recently

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile in the North, the Dyellian helicopters had touched down in a small clearing, and the troops were fanning out, they were makingone hell of a lot of noise as usual, but thankfully no elves had shown up as of yet, aparently, they were occupied elsewhere.

Commisaar Dashwood seemed to be in command on the ground, the Major was still back at HQ. "Baker Company, secure the perimeter." she was seated in the open doorway of one of the transports, giving out orders via the transport's radio, "Armoured cars, support Baker. Remaining three companies form up line abrest to advance on the target zone... Yakovlekev take the Left flank, Richards hold the centre, and Dietz the right."

It took around 5 minutes for the companies to organise themselves, as they did the Commisaar joined Richards company, attaching herself to Hauptmann Richards personal enterage of four bodyguards, one of which was carrying one of the powerful radios the Dyellians used for Communicating between sections (each individual soldier carried a walkie-talkie but this would only hear section commands), she unlatched the mouth/earpiece "Ok, all platoons move out. Over."

As one the columns of Dyellian troops moved forward in a crouch, each section of ten men keeping within visible range of the other sections, they were trying to move quietly, but when moving this many troops through a jungle that was next to imposible. They had not encountered any elves yet, but undoubtedly they would. The elves would know they were in the woods and would also know exactly where the 'Djels' were headed...and Chlarissa Dashwood had a very strong hunch they wouldn't like them getting there.

The Karlord was now assesing the situation. They had used some 112 plama rounds on the elven castle and had done a good deal of damage to outer northern wall. The problem was that although the wall had been breached the slope below the wall was fairly steep.

The closest tower had lost its defensive weapon, some archaic stone throwing device. The problem was that in the ruins of the wall several heavy spear or large arrow throwing devices were now against him.

A horse and ridder had appeared with a white flag. It had taken a moment for the Var to remember that Terrans ment that as a parly or truce.

****
The Gravships were slowly approaching their target. The gauss cannons armed for a long range assult on the postion of the downed gunship. Obviously they had decided to shoot first and then enjoy eating the remains afterwords.

The Castle of The Great Cave

The elven warlord surveyed the damage of the outer ward from behind an arrow loop. His eyes wandered across the bodies of the keza that now lay shattered in the ruins of what had once been the blacksmith workshops.

His eyes raised in anger, whoever these...black dragons were and their flat ear slaves he wanted to...to what...the weapons they possessed were quite nice actually. They had great destructive ability in a compact form. And he had other enemies. Sentries to the north reported from their tree top posts that Djels were approaching from the north. Not a mere raiding party, but 10's upon 10's of them, and they had war wagons.

He turned to one of his vassals. "Now what is this that happened on the trail from Zucta and the Grey River?"

The elf in some sort of breastplate kneeled before the great warlord and began. "My party came at your request, for the Djel had pierced the bubble. We came along the trail and found a great object laying not far from it. Some of my scouts reported seeing, black dragons running about in green armor. I sent my scouts to investigate this object and it released great fireballs from a turret in its belly. The balls of flame ate the Dark Lords trees like a wolf would eat a chipmunk. I turned my party away but the object still attacked my flank. I sent some of my best warriors to stop it, but it is too powerful, my bombs of elf fire did nothing, my catapults did little, and I lost many warriors to it."

"Yes, now I am faced with what?" The warlord turned and walked along the inside of the wall looking downwards into the inner ward of his castle. "The Djel did not land in the valley beyond, even though with those black dragons in the place of the Ancients, we could not place any warriors along the north ridge."

He stopped. "The Djel approach the Place of the Ancients, they shall not desecrate it by their filth. No, we shall first treat with these...dragons...and find out why they come to the Dark Lord's Forest and desecrate the Place of the Ancients."

He turned and walked back towards the Keep.

"Call Mathias the Bold and saddle an apostate to a horse, most of those slaves know the words of the lands held by the Holy One's minions."

He stopped and looked at the figure approaching him. The female elf wore nothing but an almost transparent red silk robe over her blood stained body. The symbol of the Blessed Evil One shone brightly on her chest, between her two pert breasts that were barley covered by the robe.

He stopped and bowed, "High Priestess Nem, what brings you strait from the sacrifice and anointment?"

"Java, did you know that fool Eza now claims that the creatures in the City of the Ancients are...are His warriors? Sent to demand your repentance and return to the Path of the Dark Lord." she asked in a harsh voice.

"What!??? Have I not given of my warriors to capture and kill the Holy One's minions, have I not participated in the sacrifices to the Dark Lord, have I not prayed in the Halls of Darkness for a return of the Dark Lord and the freeing of the World from the Holy One's minions. To return the People to their rightful place over the cosmos and the flat-ears?"

"Yes, you have...but she ruts with the Knight Santos in the moonlight. She wishes to pull you from your place as Grand Leader and place Santos and herself in the Dark Lord's bed."

"Yes, and those southern tribes shall fall for this. Too long have we been smashed by Djel and the other pesky flat-ears. The return of the Diaspora and their great weapons have done us nothing but corrode the code of the Dark Lord. No, I can see where this is leading. A Diaspora to be the new Grand Leader, an Apostate Diaspora more likely."

The priestess starts to say something and then is cut off. "I have heard the tails. The tails of the Diaspora from Meneclamar, who speaks of this Sithirl. Sithirl the savior of elves. The protector of our people from the flat-ears and the orcs. Hah! I need to be protected from Orcs like I need to be protected from a Djel Hamster. I have long wanted to burn him and this Sithirl"

"Fine, let me parley with these supposed Demons of the Dark Lord. If they stand with the Djel they stand as our enemy, the enemy of the People, and of the Dark Lord."

"If not, then perhaps our days of losing to the Djel are over..." she adds in a reflective tone.

(An NC-17 Passage giving insight into the Anointment)
http://s2.invisionfree.com/The_FKC/index.php?showtopic=251
***

Mathias walked out of the Temple and into the inner ward. He nodded to his page who had saddled his war-horse. Next to a page a slave master held another horse with an elf chained across its back. He laughed at the scene. "Remember Interpreter, that if you live and all goes well, we may let you walk the road of the flat ears out of the Dark Forest."

A few moments later, Mathias carrying a staff with a white flag rode out to parley with these Dark Dragons. Behind him, he led the interpreter and his horse.

Ismael did something very unlike himself - he got out of the IFV and considered the tracks. Closely. Standing there in CAVEX body armor with the heavy cloak besides, he looked much the viking warlord - or a bear without his morning coffee.

"Waiting here will do very little good." He considered the terrain, ignoring the sharp report of RPG hits and the slight tang of torched ground in the air. "Frasier! Do we follow the tracks, or backtrack where they were? Which will lead me to my quarry?"

The increased activity on the Gonnad began to worry Vrakian High Command. While they had confidence in Rouge Jiggady to contain the situation, the international flap that was perhaps slowly building caused concern. Therefore, while the increased airscreen in the Vrakian corridor was decreased to normal levels, the bombers and fighters in the souther HORDE group were at readiness levels. Anti-ship and now anti-air missiles were now ready to be loaded, depending on the threat. Preparations were being made also to load armour and infantry onto railcars to move into Monte Ozarka to reinforce those positions – if needed.

Elsewhere, some of the forces that were in southern Dyelli Beybi were pulled back to their respective southern bases in Vrak. But others remained, included the Titan guns.

Of course, it goes without saying that every nation that issued their condemnation plus the ones that were participating in the elf study were now the target of Vrakian intelligence to determine their military capabilities…

"Ab-shalom, pilot."
"Ab-shalom, corporal. What brings you here?"
It was a rather empty question as there wasn't a whole lot of "here" to be at where Theta Base was concerned.
"There have been some words in the wind, of trouble and long firings in the bush."
The pilot nodded.
"It may be wise to keep the engines warmed."
"Rest assured, they are already kept that way. Our cargo is loaded. If we must leave behind a helicopter, it is not a great loss."
"Ah. I see." A pause happened. "Then we are in agreement."
"Most assuredly. And we do have support from above."
"That is comforting."
"I thought it might be. Namaste."
"Namaste."

"Feh! The tracks go northwest. So we go northwest." He whistled. "Mount up! Weapons ready! We head northwest up the creek!"

Fraser was not entirely happy with the idea of tracking elves, his title was tracker, but in reality that wasn't exactly what was involved in his job description. Mainly he tried to avoid elves...

"I don't like this." he grumbled to himself, as he bent to examine the tracks, "I think we should have tried another ambush, much easier, and anyway, how do we know we're not walking into a trap?"

He seemed to have lost some of his nerve since the last encounter, or possibly he was just unhappy about the idea of standing in front of the IFV, he kept darting furtive glances at it's cannon.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, the Dyellians were rapidly aproaching their target in the North, suddenly near the centre, Richards company, there was a flurry of activity, and a scream, "Man down! Man down!"

Almost immediately any furhter words were drowned out by the roar of the Dyellian plasma fired assault rifles. A moment later there was a brief silence, punctuated by an NCO yelling at his section, "Advance, advance!"

"First platoon veer left!" this had to be one of the junior officers.

The roar of automatic weapon fire echoed out again, followed by the explosion of a grenade, then everything fell silent again, "Casualties?" this came through each Section's radio.

Most responded 'none' although one had one dead and another wounded, there was aparently one dead enemy as well, and a few others who had scattered.

Daashwood and Richards himself, had taken up a position some thirty metres behind the main advance, she nodded, then turned to the Communications Officer with the command radio, "Signal the advance to resume, we must be nearly there now....I want Richards Company in the ruins and the others to take up perimeter."

The automatic fire drew the attention of the Karlord and his underlings. "It is a trap...they have flanked us!"

The group of humans and Var took up new positions to try and protect the north and south sides of their postions.

The Var turned on their I.R. units and made out distant shapes. "Damn, alright to not fire until they are within 100 meters of our postion then open fire."

"Narmar, lower the hellfire on the rover and straf those enemy lines. I want them dead. Dead I tell you..."

When the Dyelbians neared the 100 meter mark, the hellfire opened up swinging a large arc. Four hundread rounds per minute of 30 mm fire lit into the Jungle and everything in the jungle. The hellfire was built as an anti-air weapon. The gun crew stopped after 45 seconds of walking the hellfire across the approaching ranks of red human (and elf) signitures.

The smaller humans began to fire either their energy bolt rifles, at targets apparently missed by the hellfire. The weapon was designed to punch through light armor plate at these ranges.

(The 'bolt' conatained a glowing material inside that exploded when a small, ceramic vile inside broke open from impact with a target. The explosion propelled the hard tip even deeper into the target. The energy bolt was well known for slicing through soft tissure. If it hit bone while passing through a subject, results tended to be messy.)

Four of the humans were now using two of the Vas guns as impromtu machinge guns. They threw out a few bursts of fire at any pockets moving towards their positions.

(The Vas gun fired small ceramic darts at about three times of the speed of sound. They had been designed for shipboard use and the darts would fragment on any hard material, like bulkheads. However, firing amost 1,200 darts per minute at that speed they tended to have a nasty punch through trees, wildlife, and anything not bolted down. *Getting hit by a ten second burst would be equivilant of being hit by a large truck moving at 100km/hr.*)

The Var with the plasma rifles took up more mobile postions. Attempting to break appart any groups moving forward by firing one of the large plasma rounds at the group.

****
The Var in the ravine heard the gunfire also, he looked at the elf and then swore something in his native tounge, turned and feld back up the trail to the ruins.

****
The gravships opened fire on the remains of the gunship. The guass cannons sent round after round into the ship to destroy it.

The gunship responded by sending a wave of interceptor missles out towards the nearest gravship.

Two gravships turned and passed through the low overhead clouds. They were investigating the sudden plasma fire that had registered on their long range detectors. They looked like some freekish form of pre-dreadnaughts decending from the sky.

Aboard, Narlord Pezu'kea'ne ordered his marines into battle dress. "If I was that traitor I would be running as far away from that wreck as possible."

"But why are they using weapons that we can detect..."

"The locals might not like them..."


The gravships were moving at 35 knots and were quickly eating up the twenty klicks to the target. On the bottom of the gravships doors popped open with helmeted heads poking out.

The Doctor, during the initial, seemed practically lost in a world of his own, as was often his way. From time to time he would mumble something about the general and escalating chaos of the situation, and for no apparent reason, duck out of the way. One would probably assess him to be insane, but the general status of the man seemed to prevent anyone thinking that.

From time to time, to anyone who would listen, he would bemoan the military presence on this expedition. Of course, the Doctor could ride a horse, he’d been quite familiar with them in his youth – there wasn’t much else to use back then. The man had taken over a room in the inn, and seemed intent on staying there. He’d even taken it upon himself to scavenge around the inn for anything even superficially resembling sophisticated electronics. There’d been some talk of an insta-castle and his long experience of such things, as well as more smoke in the air than normal, told him that this entire situation was going to be getting out of hand…

If he could get himself a radio assembled or even better with any significant transmitter power, he might be able to gain resources that were officially at his disposal. A pure morse code would do, just send “OOE 1935 REQCODE 1,” on the right frequency, and it’d be picked up…

After he either succeeded there, or failed, he resolved to leave anyway, pocketing something from his baggage, and leaving a matching device – a fairly effective, if short-range radio, outside the Marshal’s room. The man had a disarming aura about him, and he had the feeling that he would have more success in making something like peaceful contact with the locals than the Klatchians. But first, he had to pay a visit to the… Giltherani. He had the feeling that one of their number could prove to be quite useful to him on this little quest, were she possibly amenable.

But even then, an odd feeling permeated his mind, that these elves were not all that could be hoped for… Almost as if they could prove more hostile and offensive than he knew.

The Inn
Of course the JDF had 'recovered' the building almost completely bare. Various maurauding groups had striped and restriped the building. Even the wood burning stoves that had been in each of the rooms had wandered off. Either into the Jungle or down the road.
In reality, Law and Order, in the Gonnad had been a bit weak. It was from these jungles that two revolts had fermented in. Now various groups of awol personel of both sides of the Jiggdian revolution wandered about, or at least had.

Which is what the doctor was constantly told, "well...if someone kills you we will be blamed" seemed like a JDF mantra. As though the situation were such that they were hoping the elves would show up and try to kill the researchers or something.

The doctor was caught one early morning investigating what appeared to be a smashed T.V. set in an unused store room. The Junior Marshall, named Clifton had laughed at seeing the doctor rooting around with the cabinet. "I am afraid the actual T.V. parts vanished long ago doctor. And it was a Dyellbian made set, so it likely still uses tubes rather than solid state electronics anyway? If I might ask what are you looking for?"

After the doctor gave some odd ball reply the man shook his head. "Well, I don't know if we have one of those, but you could call into Port Olympus or your own home nation out of the radio room. We have a second set up in case any of you need it. It is a bit old, but powerful and doesn't have any automatic scrambling on it."

As the young man turned to step back out of the musty space he turned and added. "You realize that with the present situation, we are not likely going to send an escorted group out right away as planned. I've heard your complaints about having the military along. Well the senior Marshal left orders that anyone who was competant enough to use a side arm of their choosing could go out on an independent investigation. If your intrested, I have the required equipment, passes, and paper work in my office..."

The paperwork was nothing much, just a waiver of liability, that you were taking risks that might get yourself injured or killed. That and
All information gathered on my mission will be shared with the Federated Klatchian Coast. Such information shall not be restricted. I will restrict all information on the location and force levels of any Military Base or Outpost that I may encounter in my travels unless permission is granted by the Federated Klatchian Privy Council

Besides demonstrating competance with a side arm, the young man seemed to want the Doctor to carry a GPS unit, a radio, and a small black box. (assuming the doctor could open the unit) the black box was nothing more than some batteries, a omni-directional mike, a small GPS unit and a small transmitter all built around a large harddrive. It seems the JDF was more worried about someone killing the investigators and making things worse.

****
The group of JDF calvary in the jungle finally decided to press forward. They threaded their horses to the edge of the stand of Klatchian Oaks. The deadly trees seemed to stand and wait for something, or someone to get close enough to become a meal.

The forward trooper pulled up the large bore air gun and fired out the spear into the middle of the stand of trees. The stake hit the ground. At the high end was a small black ball with a red light. The red LED blinked and then wham...18000 amps of electricity shot out as small fingers of lightining into the ground and surounding trees. The red LED turned green, and the whole troop pushed their horses to a gallop through the stand.

The green light blinked, then turned amber. As the last horseman passed through the grove, the light turned red again. One of the Oaks threw out a hanging branch. It almost caught the trooper, but the tree was somewhat still in shock from the large electrical burst and missed its prey.

The Marshal and his troop found themselves looking at the ravine, and just west of castle. And on top of a startled group of elves. The elves looked at the flat-ears, the flat ears looked at the elves. The calvery kept on moving forward, hoping to get past. As they came into the ravine they found arrows and large bolts from elven crossbows falling all around them.

"Damn it, I wasn't expecting those elves hiding there..."

"Sh** Makes just took an arrow...Bithra is down too..."

Keep firing on those near elven postions. They are the ones doing the most damage...

"Shit...is that a fricken wall of arrows..."

"Sir, there is a cave..."

"Everyone into the cave...now, go go go...."

The group found shelter in a narrow cave in a steep side of the valley. Men and horses quickly found themselves trapped as waves of arrows filled the area outside the cave and the river with a forest of quills.

****
The elven Warlord was not much happier with the situation. "I have flat-ears comming out of the woodwork. However, it would appear that the Black Dragons are not allies of the Djel. We shall see how well their weapons fair against the Djel."

Eza looked out at the same scene. "If they fail?"

"They are not the Dark Lords demons, just interlopers who have helped us weaken the Djel attackers before we strike..."

"If they win..."

"We shall come to their aide at the last moment and help them rout the weapons of the Djel. Then I will have these new Djel weapons...

"But they are...stained..."

"Weapons delivered by the hands of the Dark Lord's own demon troops have been washed of any such stain by dear Eza..." His smile was quite wicked.

Too long have the southern tribes used arms from the Apostate to force me and the northern tribes to follow their path. Now we will see who is the most powerful of the tribes once again.

The sight of the approaching gravship gave everyone fright. The firing of the catapults at it was un-ordered. The resulting consequences were not...

The Dyellians hadn't expected anything heavier than catapult and arrow fire, but now this...

"It's bloody Var!" someone yelled, "I told you, you can't trust fremde Teufel Klatchian or not."

"Keep your fucking heads down!"

Commisaar Dashwood was not enjoying the whole situation, there were already heavy casualties in Richard's company which had now completely stopped moving, taken cover and was returning fire, several Sections were effectively pinned. Dyellian technology was considerably simpler. Their guns fired simple kinetic rounds, but at a considerably higher speed than a traditional assault rifles, due to the plasma propulsion, at close ranges they could punch holes in light armoured vehicles.

"Give me that radio." she grabbed the reciever off the radioman's back, "We need gunship support now. Dietz Company, we want an outflanking manouevre on whatever that big gun is."

"Feldwebel Davis!" the tracker raised his head from where he'd been lighting a cigarette, "Follow me, we're heading over there...Richards you're in charge."

Davis nodded, she had pointed at the ruins, they were basically on top of them now, and it was offering a great deal of cover to the central Platoon of Richards Company, but there was no telling what was in there, it probably wouldn't be elves, it was a 'Djel' building after all "Yes Ma'am."

"If we give you the signal I want you to bring a Platoon into the ruins, it should give us a good vantage over the enemy positions." she ordered Richards. He nodded, and turned to the radioman.

"Shall we go?" it was Davis, who had stubbed his cigarette out in the soil, and was standing in a crouch fiddling with the dials on the case gun he now carried, a case gun was basically an overpowered shotgun, but the amunition had an electronically altered fuse meaning that it was timed to explode into buckshot at exactly the right point ahead of the target to cause maximum damage. If this function was switched off it acted as a simple solid shot gun. In excess to this, it was double barreled, however the bottom barrel usually housed HESH rounds, giving the gun some potential against light-medium armoured targets.

"Yes... yes." the pair moved at a crouched sprint into the structure...

Ismael had decided elves were suicidal and stupid by this point.

It wasn't that another cavalry group had appeared out of the trees and charged. It wasn't that arrows peppered the "immune to arrow fire" IFV from hidden positions in the forest.

It wasn't even that they had completely missed Fraser in their efforts to fire on the IFV.

It was when their bowmen came out of the woods to get better shots at the IFV that Ismael decided they were all pointy-eared stupid non-sentients who deserved elimination and dissection, in any order.

At ten yards, the URCHIN round was a shotgun of hypervelocity pins, capable of penetrating most modern APCs. At forty yards, it was a cloud of missiles more destructive then 5.56mm rounds.

In either case, the burst was more then enough to bring down both the charging idiots and the standing idiots and their mounts - and a tree fell into what was loosely to be called a path, groaning.

Ismael got out and just stared at the pile of deceased idiots and began to wonder seriously about the effect of healthy living on the elven mind. He gave until the tree became quiescent, then ordered his men to strip the bodies of artifacts, toss them in the woods, and move onward.

"Fraser? You stay in the cupola. Apparently these deformatives have not figured out that armor beats pointy sticks." He took a flask from his boot top and drank.

OOC Notes first. Okay I kinda forgot about this thread letting it slide at first while dealing with other things, and then it slipped my mind. I return here as dear old Ctan wants a female to run around behind his Doctor screaming every five minutes... ;)

Alcona I would like a TG explaining what you think is too much magic, you see thats all Giltheran does, I don't have High Tech, I don't even have Tech, everything in Giltheran is magical based, so what is too much magic when dealing with a Magical race, IE Elves? However as a brief guide although the Mages title is High Magi, a lot (Read All) the high Magic that truely sets him apart from other Mages is only possible within the influance of Giltheran's Tree of Souls, and let me assure you your a long way from that influance. (Well he could in theory use it here, but it would kill him)

IC

The Spelljammer was a graceful shape, looking somewhat like a Beutafly in shape, simple but effective wings from the side which while in appearance might have been mistaken as having a function in keeping it aloft, did in fact do nothing. Coming into dock slowly at the Port, the Longboat led the way, acting clearly as a guide in for the last part, although why they had chosen to land out a little at sea might not have been apparent.

Still an hour after landing the two Elves stepped onto the shore, at the side of the male a small bird seemed to hover and float about his head, squarking every now and again, until with a look of, impatience from the High Magi, it flew off ahead, looking around the Human city with obviously fascinated eyes. Relaying back to the man a basic impression of all that it saw. There where times when he wondered what he had done to deserve so mischeivious a Familar then he would chuckle to himself, as he knew, it was like him in many ways, or at least how he wanted to be, but with his duties he no longer had the time.

Beside him the woman looked uncomfortable in all honesty she hated cities, they where so closed, so ordered, no sense of freedom. So many people closed around her, and nobody even stopped to look at the person next to them, so caught up in their own worries, it was... an odd way to live in her eyes. It was obvious to them both that they missed the first expeditions, still both where confident they could catch up, in the mean time as they looked around for some official.(1)

Eventually they found at least someone and wondered over, assuming that they had missed the first to leave, and not believing in going off unprepared he wanted to discover what was already known about these Elves. 'Excuse me sir, I was wondering if you could help, we are here to help in the investigation of the Elvish population here abouts and where wondering if you could direct us to someone?'

((1. I'm assuming they spot someone, or Someone comes over to see them.))

Amazingly for all his grumbling about the military, the doctor proved to be a stunningly good shot. This however, was not the strangest bit, after demonstrating such proficiency, the man mumbled something including the phrase, “well, didn’t think I could still do that, lost it two mes ago. One Ring incident if memory serves,” he said.

The man pocketed the gun, shoving it inside the inner pocket of his long coat, and promptly mumbled his annoyance, taking out a coffee stained notebook and shuffling the papers back into it, closing it with an elastic band. “Now…” he said, “to be seeing about rounding someone else up…”

OOC: I'll T.G. you about magic levels in the Klatch...



The longboat and its crew got almost all the way to a passenger warf before a river monitor showed itself and hailed...

"Ahoy, who goes there? Identify yourself, you have landed a Grav-Ship in a shipping channel."


Port Olympus was an odd city. The south appeared to be built on a man made delta around the Benj river. The northern part of the city was built in a bowl formed by five hills. The hills were surprisingly green and healthy looking compared with the smog covered central city. Great towers of glass and steel poked out of the city center, but most of the city was only three to five stories. The skyscrapers were actually still dominated by the structures on the hills.

One hill in particular looked facinating. Massive stone and brick buildings seemed to cover the space with small gardens and squares. At the same time, it was also covered in AA postions and several odd weapons systems.

The dock worker looked at the two and then grumbled about "lousy foreign tourists" He then proceeded to ignore them as he continued on his way. Port Olympus, especially the Eastern Docks of Port Olympus, were not very freindly locations.

The Monitor docked behind them. A Lieutanant Peters and a few sailors jumped off and padded after the two. After finding out who, and what they wanted the Lieutant finally mumbled something about the "Bloody Gonad" and then made a call using a hand held radio.

After twenty minutes of bickering with various officals. (and telling two chaps in green dress who asked for your "Cards..." to bugger off or he would do something involving genitalia and Parliment Tower) the Lieutenant finally returned his attention to the two.
"I am afraid you have missed the JDF expidition to the Gonad. They left this morning (I am going to back data this a bit...) and we can not find your paperwork. However, the President of the Federation has asked us to facilitate your joining the expidition forthwith. Luckly we are sending a group of air-calv to replace some lost in a recent...ah...unpleasentness. If you'll follow me?"

The elves were escorted back to the monitor, named the Christof, and informed that the monitor would take them to an air-base just as soon as they got their nice little grav-ship the hell out of the shipping channel.

After that task had been completed the monitor turned north and was at the very docks the flying boats had launched from that morning.

(OOC: To 'speed things up' I'll include the itinerary you would have had to get to the Inn if you went along with things.)
****

Of course, what would have likely gotten Ismael's approval would have been the fact that they were 'slaves' Apostate elves who had idioticly come to the Gonad for shelter and then turned into creatures to serve. They had been ordered to 'frontally' attack the IFV and gain their release or be placed into working a nearby mine.

The sudden blast from the IFV gun made the young war leader up on a nearby hill wince. I will have to send for Ne'Pra to deal with this thing...yes, it will take the Apostate weapons to deal with these flat-ears and their Djel counterpart

The events going on in the Gonad have been closely monitored, as well as the most recent arrivals in Port Olympus. The latest stunt pulled by some nation called "Giltheran" was the last straw.

====

To: All nations
From: Vrak Diplomatic Corps - FKC President's Office
Subject: Investigations

We feel that there are more than enough outside influences tramping around our beloved Klatch. Further intrusions by anyone are not allowed and violation of this decree shall be met with extreme measures.

The Karlord and his party were trying to deal with the various groups of 'enemy' troops about the place. The vas guns were apparently set up at the corners of the 'temple' to try and cover the entire area.

The lower levels of the temple survived even now, and the deep breathing could be heard down the musty, empty chambers inside.

The gravship came across a distant ridge. On board a computer caught a glimpse of the rover and registered it. It quied the IFF code.

Rover ZZ987-09

The response of the gravship was a sudden burst of 30 mm, armor peircing shells that turned the rover into burning scrap.

The fire on the Dyelbians lessened as some of it went up. In reality, the humans were panicking with the sight of a Ur class grav-heavy cruiser decending on them at a fast pace.

A minute later, the humans and Var were pulling back to the central structure of the ruins. The 'temple' which apparently had a few shooters in the remains of the upper structure.

The structure was cleared by a missle firing from a side port of the grav-ship and going through an opening. There was a loud woosh and flame and hot gas escaped from the cracks and openings of the upper structure.

Of course by then, eight small craft were flying downwards towards the center of the site. Each carried some type of weapon on the front and apparently 16 personel, each in green armor with semi-tranclucent face sheilds. It appeared each group was led by a Var in red armor carrying plasma rifles.

*On board the Ur class grav ship*
"Alright, team Uza one through sixteen...check feeds..."
"check..."

"Alright, team Kappa one through sixteen...check feeds..."
"check..."

"All audio-visual feeds check. Remember people we want facial I.D.'s of these people and what they are up to here. Intel is a top priority so keep your heads moving..."

***
Heads nodded on the assult craft as they started dropping LOW Marines in ceramic battle armor into the middle of the fight. The troopers didn't seem to care much what the Dyellbians were up to, they were focused on the Karlord and his rabble. It seems that the

Unfortunatly, the elves decided to interfere. As the well aimed rock from a catapult smashed into the second upper turret opening for one of the 10 inch gauss guns. The smaller, underbelly gauss gun turret turned its attention to the castle. At the same time, the lower forward, heavy energy bolt weapons rotated in their casements to point at the offending structure.

There was no decleration of intent, or demand for surrender. The response was three, four inch gauss guns of the forward, lower turret opening up with seige shells. The energy bolt guns added to the response by sending round after round into the stone structure.

The Var commander even through in a few missles into the interior village. The resuting blooms of plamsa and flame started horrific fires.

The sound of the "light" bombardment could be heard for miles. As well as the smoke, and the flying debries that were falling about the place.

What Ismael had forgotten was to set out scouts, sentries, guards – anything that might have spotted the ambush waiting for him.

High Tech meets Low Tech, sometimes low tech wins.

The elves had set what looked to the driver like no more then a few rocks in the way on one side of the IFV. Confident, the driver ignored the obstacle and drove over it, tilting the IFV slightly as it dealt with the imbalanced change in grade.

Which was what they wanted. Two huge rocks arced from the woods, slamming into the raised side of the IFV, followed by the hissss-boom of an RPG round against an unprotected tire.

The IFV tumbled like a child’s toy, flipped off the road and into the woods, turreted gun now a mangled piece of metal.

Troops poured from the half-track; 50 cal rounds tore up trees, grass, elves, horses as more cavalry poured from both sides on the offensive, this time backed by whooping elves carrying everything from blue-steel swords to weighted clubs.

“Utter chaos” was a polite description; at close range, the LAW rockets made hamburger out of ballistae and scorpion positions, CAWS ripped into elvish infantry; showers of shells hit the ground and the Vastivan troopers willingly accepted the challenge of carbon-whisker scimitar on elvish steel.

The twenty-seven who died sold their lives dearly. The half-track was a mass of flames, engine pierced by dozens of arrows, driver cooking nicely in the cab on sheaves of skewers. Copses of trees still smouldered and burned; the wreckage of humanoids had been spewed all around the battleground; blood soaked the ground and colored the creek a miserable pinkish-red.

Ismael – his head a mass of torn bits and congealing blood – chose that moment to crawl from the crumpled IFV. He looked around at his host, FN-MP in one hand, grenade in the other.

“Fraser! Damn fool, where are you? Not in the damn… ”

He looked at the assembled elves, some mounted, some not. Rage gathered in his heart, sense having long since left.

“Unmenschliche Geschöpfe weniger gültig als Menschen!" He howled. Perhaps a moment of sense emerged – the grenade hissed as it spun into the IFV’s interior.

Ismael drew his saber and charged.

The IFV exploded, everything inside going off at once. Fortunately – perhaps – no one inside had been alive for some minutes. The reactive armor went next, creating a crater which the mangled frame tumbled into, now well afire.

The blast wave hit Ismael and he fell, senseless. This was perhaps his last bit of luck – the schrapnel from the exploding IFV mowed down a dozen mounted elves, and set fire to a good bit of the forest in addition. It also gave the three survivors – and Fraser – plenty of leeway to add distance between them and the elves.

Ismael’s last conscious thought was to curse Frasier.

It was at about this time that the Dyellian helicopters arrived on the scene, doing, as usual playing annoying loud music, this time the commanding officer had selected the old favourite 'Carmina Burana'. One was hit by a flung rock, and came plunging out of the sky, but the remainder opened up with everything at their disposal on the castle and every living thing within it.

Dashwood and the tracker had been pinned behind a rock at the foot of the temple steps, with Davis acting as a sniper, returning fire at the upper structure. The troops in the woods, unable to properly distinguish friend from foe, and in the confusion, 'friendly' LOW troops were getting shot at, "Richards." Dashwood hissed into the transmitter on her shoulder, "Fall back and regroup, I don't know what's going on, but the LOW seem to be fighting among themselves."

Suddenly there was a high pitched whistle from the forrest to the West of the position. It was joined by a series of others, rising in a crescendo, "Shit." the tracker muttered to himself, "This wasn't your order was it?"

The Commisaar shook her head. To the West, Dietz Company was charging led by Dietz in person who was waving a sabre and brandishing a revolver while someone else at the front was bearing forward a rather tattered NSWP banner, Dietz's snipers had remained amongst the trees and were now providing cover, firing at anyone who had their head up.

On the far flank Yakovlekev was also advancing on what the Hauptmann had decided was a 'manageable breach' in the outer wall. Section snipers dropped to their knees, scanning the smouldering wall for anyone who might have escaped the notice of the helicopters buzzing overhead, meanwhile the rest of the troops had slung their rifles over their shoulders and were scrambling on all fours up the steep incline.

Fraser was a fairly experienced tracker, despite, his lack of nerve. When the IFV had been knocked off the road he'd been thrown out, he had dislocated his arm, but had managed to pop it back into place. It had been excedingly painful and he had nearly cried out aloud, which wouldn't have been a good thing to do considering the current mess they were in. He felt his gun reassuringly, glad to be carrying the silent gas powered rifle, rather than the deafening plasma fired version. If it came to a fight he'd want to be as quiet as possible.

He slithered on his belly towards where the elves were assembled, watching from a safe distance. Ismael was down, but he couldn't tell if he was dead or not, idly he thought back on the last encounter. They had lost Slaughter, a veteran of innumerable missions in these parts, and the big orc was probably still in hospital...

Every instinct in Fraser's yellow Dyellian belly was to leg it out of there, but something kept his resolve this time. Ismael might still be alive, and if he was, it was his duty as a tracker to pull him out. That fact that the chances of him succeeding were about 1 million to 1 didn't worry Fraser overly, after all, million to one chances happen 9 times out of ten...

The whole thing was a bloody mess actually. The 'freindly' LOW troopers, mostly human were taking more casualties from the snipers. The sudden charge of Deitz brigade caused a response from the grav-cruiser above. A ten gun salute from the lower port energy battery that turned the ground infront of Deitz into a huge wave of flame and flying ruins.

The LOW marines apparently were pushing into the structure. Explosions could be heard, screams. The body of a Var flew out of the huge third story doorway once reserved for Gods. It was apparent that the creature had taken a full frontal blast from a plasma rifle. Even at that range LOW ceramic armor would do you little good.

The burning remains hit the lower stairs and floped downwards.

Suddenly, someone decided to change tactics slightly. The grav-ship announced. "Upper level cleared of all enemy combatants..."

In the main level, it was a nasty fire fight. The lower santuary, a huge dome with an eire light comming from an oclus at the top, was a charnal house. The ancient highroglyps of elves killing elves under some unknown God (to those doing the fighting) Several humans with energy bolt guns were hunkered down behind the massive altar on a raised platform. Several LOW Marines lay dead in the benches, hit in crucial places by the Karlord's armsmen.

A Var leader pushed through one of the preist entryways and then fired a full round of hot plasma energy at the two hiding snipers. The round smacked into the stone and exploded...throwing dust up into the massive statue of the winged God.

The two humans ran almost level with the floor through a doorway at the back of the sanctuary.

The Var stopped for a second and turned. He saw a head poke up through a whole in the wall across from him. The creature looked at the human...and then raised its hand to indicate the men to stop. The creature raised two fingers? and then pointed down the hallway into darkness beyond him. This was reinforced by a sudden burst of vas fire from somewhere down the dark hall. Of course one couldn't see a vas gun fire...making the finding of those two snipers all that much more fun.

The human LOW marines were now inspecting the doorway the other two armsmen had vanished into. Apparently it led to a wide staircase that double backed and down underneith the structure. "Ah My Lord, it appears that the enemy has gone underground. Deeply...underground...does anyone know anything about this place?"

Yes, but using proper math (or 'new math' as some had declared it) the odds of rescuing Ismael from the fight was actually only 100,000 to 41. Which ment that when a second group of elves appeared out of the brush, things got messy. These elves were carrying AK-47's and looking more like bandits than elven warriors. In reality they were something far worse in the Gonnad ecconomy, sacrifice brokers.

The surviving humans were rounded up, and chained together.

Ismael was found to be breathing still so the group hog tied him and tossed him on to a horse. Most of the heavily armed group started moving south again, into the forest. The elves who had attacked the column were buisily dealing with their dead.

One of the so armed elves looked down at where Fraiser was hiding and asked..."was there any Djel?"

"If they were they ran..."

"So we paid you five hundread talons for the flat-ears and to strip these buggers after they have stopped burning..."

"yes..."


****
The castle looked like a picture post card of something from England or Wales. It seemed that between the two assulting forces that they had done the work of Cromwell in England in less than twenty minutes.

A quick OOC update. As well, just speaking from my experience, the more nations involved tends to bog things down.

Damn Elves

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=344224

Nations in the study

The Ctan - most active
Brydog - ??
Weyr - most active
Giltheran - soon to be more active? :)
Aelosia - ??
Vastiva - most active

Hints of Genocide occuring in Dyelli Beybi

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=353918

Nations sending investigators

Iuthia - invited by Dyelli Beybi
All others - denied

When it came down to it, what saved Pfc Alima Saidah from the elves net was more dumb luck then anything else.

She did not see Pfc Su’ad bin Saleh captured by an elvish lasso. She did not see Pfc Herman von Truntau knocked down by an elvish steed, or his being dragged back to the battlefield.

All she saw was trees before her, and she sought to put as many of them as possible between her and the elves.

She had not thrown away her FN-MP, which did allow her to put a spray of 9mm rounds into the face of one of her pursuers. She had not thrown out her field pack, which had soaked five arrows meant for her limbs or neck. She had not thrown out her M-TCOD; this instead, she switched over to ‘vibrate’.

But perhaps most importantly, she had not thrown away her grenades, including those she had scooped from the half-track as she deployed.

Unsure how far she had come, she stopped for breath – and heard rather then saw the elves following her. Gasping, her ammunition near depleted, she pulled her last grenade and threw it into the woods.

It turned out to be a smoke grenade.

A purple smoke grenade.

It was quite a few minutes before she emerged from the bern she had leapt into for cover; quite a few more before she was satisfied with a lack of activity enough to return to a full scale run from her pursuers.

What she did not know – and had no way of knowing – was the meaning that color of smoke had for the elves, or the Dyellians, or anyone else in the area. All she did know was the speed she could keep running at, and that the clip in her FN-MP was the last she had, and that she was out of grenades.

And that the hum of the M-TCOD against her chest meant there was help airborne and coming her way, homing in on the GPS unit in the M-TCOD.

Pfc Alima Saidah did not stop running until she all but fell at the gates of the Dyellian outpost, and even then her adrenaline scrambled her inside when the doors opened just a smidge – to collapse within the structure, utterly spent.

She did not even hear the rotors of the HALO as it closed for landing.

Dietz Company had been badly mauled by the cruiser which had killed or wounded most of the front rank, the remained scurried back into the woods, including the miraculously unharmed Dietz, who had to be physically dragged back by two of his men, all the while kicking and screaming and yelling about 'killing the foreign devils'. The bannerman lay dead, although someone else had picked the banner up, during the retreat. The snipers kept up an intermitent fire at everyone, including one unfortunate from Richards Compnay which was begining to emerge from the treeline.

Richards seemed to be about the only officer showing any common sense, dropping down with his radioman and trying out all manner of Klatchian radio frequency, always with the same message, "Dyelli Beybian Provincial Army Units reporting. Please identify selves, unknown forces."

Further on Yakovlekev had made the breach without casualties, although the first man over was immediately sent back with a well aimed arrow in his throat. The next man took down the shooter, dropping to a crouch on a section of miraculously undamaged wall, and then the wall was crawling with Dyellian soldiers who swarmed down into the village, unusually they were under orders not to slaughter all the inhabitants, but to take as many prisoners as possible. Unlike the fighters in the jungle Yakovlekev was well in control of what was going on on this side of the field. He knew how he planned to take this place, and all units were in communication and listening to orders.

Meanwhile Davis and the Commisaar had managed to make their way into one of the coridoors of the Temple. He rounded one corned, followed closely by the Commisaar to come face to face with a band of LOW marines. Realising he was quite outnumbered, the tracker did the traditional Dyellian thing and dropped his gun flinging his hands up in the air, "I surrender, don't shoot!"

Commisaar Dashwood hadn't rounded the corner, yet, quickly calculated her odds of escape, realised they were dismal, and followed suit, kicking her weapon out from behind the corner, before stepping out into the open.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fraser stayed very very still, while he couldn't understand what the elves were saying he figured it wasn't good for the humans. So he waited, waited for the elves to move off, he had no idea what he was going to do, but he figured there would have to be some kind of storage facility they would hold them in. So he waited for the elves to move off with their cargo.

The snipers started to have to deal with return fire from the upper level of the temple. Of course the energy bolt guns were easily detected for sniping work, leaving a nice trail of gas even human eyes could follow.

No, but apparently the LOW marines were using the vas gun in obviously a low round manner. It appeared they were trying to cause blunt force trauma to force the snipers out of their hiding postions and then knock them off with a well placed energy bolt round.

***
The gav-cruiser finally responded.
This is atmospheric craft Ur-22, Narlord Pezu'kea'ne in command. This is an internal matter, Terran. Do not interfere in this operation any futher or we will be forced to treat you as alighned with our enemies. Hold your postions and stop firing at our personel before we become hostile.

***
Meanwhile Davis and the Commisaar had managed to make their way into one of the coridoors of the Temple. He rounded one corned, followed closely by the Commisaar to come face to face with a band of LOW marines. Realising he was quite outnumbered, the tracker did the traditional Dyellian thing and dropped his gun flinging his hands up in the air, "I surrender, don't shoot!"

Commisaar Dashwood hadn't rounded the corner, yet, quickly calculated her odds of escape, realised they were dismal, and followed suit, kicking her weapon out from behind the corner, before stepping out into the open.

The appearence of two humans not identified with green on the Marines head up displays almost got the two shot. Rifles and apparently a flame thrower were lowered to point at them.

One of the marines stepped forward, picked up the weapons and waved the two forwards into the lower sanctuary.

There a Var was sitting on the altar. One claw holding up his plasma rifle while groups of marines staggared in with wounded and others.

The dark red eyes of the Var seemed to glow brighter with the approach of the prisioners. "Ah, so we have some of...no...these are not Armsmen of any Karlord, they are southerners...Who are you?" It asked in a low rumble. The tail of the creature was now waging back and fourth.

A marine passed forward the captured weapons. The Var nodded and let them be set on the dusty, blood stained stone behind him.

The Vastiva Ambush
The two groups of elves separated at the sign of purple smoke from a nearby ridge. Apparently there were Djel in the area.

The group with prisoners and modern weapons gathered in a group. RPG's and an old water cooled machine gun were replaced onto pack horses. There appeared to be about fifteen of them, most armed with either a rifle or an assault rifle. The elves had six pack horses with one now carrying the unconscious Ismael . The other two prisoners were almost dragged by a heavy iron chain attached to another horse.

The group turned southwest and moved through the jungle. The group didn't stop, even during nightfall. The moon was out and the group seemed to be trying to get somewhere fast. By midnight the group was trudging up through a narrow valley with a thin creek. The humans were stubbing in and out of the cold water as the moon light poorly illuminated the bottom of the creek.
One side of the valley was dominated by almost a shear rock wall. At some point, the creek turned away from the rock wall.

The creek seemed to form a bend around a stand of old Klatchian Oaks. The leader of the eleven sacrifice brokers pulled out a horn and blew on it. The dull sound echoed around the valley. A moment later, another horn sounded.

At the same time, sparks could be heard from the grove. As though heavy electrical equipment was in use inside.

The party of sacrifice brokers entered the stand of trees and vanished from nearby view.

****
The Lost Ones
The party and its prisoners found themselves getting nasty electrical shocks from the wires wrapped around the bottoms of the oaks that lined the path. It twisted and turned through the dense grove of trees and then came to a small gap in the rock wall. The narrow ravine had a steep slope, apparently the creek that had formed this cut was either dry or somewhere else.

Here the leader paused and waited for the last man to get up the slope. He blew the horn again, and the hum ended suddenly.

The group continued on up to a small area where the stone bottom of the creek rose about six feet in a few short steps. Here, one could see what happened to the creek. A culvert of some kind, about two feet in diameter, poked out from the wall and fell into a small pool at the bottom of the ledge. The water smelled foul like an open sewer.

Here were also the first signs of civilization. An arch stood what appeared to be an enclosed two-story bridge. The bridge arch spanned the distance between the narrow stone walls. The lower floor of the bridge had small holes that looked like key holes, round openings at the bottom and narrow slits rising from them by about three or four feet. The upper level of the bridge was a colonnade. Now between the columns was rough stone work.

Hanging from the bridge was a wooden platform. When the party arrived at the place, the platform lowered over the pool and the ledge forming a wooden ramp.

The party continued on up the ravine until is suddenly spread out. The shear stone walls started to spread back leaving only relatively low, (about eight feet) high walls on both sides. The ravine ended in with some sort of construct at the end. A small pool with a large door behind the pool.

Here, the group turned and went up a ramp cut into the stone and into the great space. It was filled with trees, bushes, small huts and armed elves. The space was dominated by a huge temple cut into the side wall of the space.

The prisoners were thrown into a suspended cage before the front steps of the temple. The party seemed to break up. The cage already contained two, blood stained men in fatigues and a third man. The third man had a somewhat blank look on his face. His eyes looked at the night sky above as his body shivered in the warm night.
The old prisoners didn't even care about the new arrivals. They just kept on staring at the lower doorway of the temple built into the stone.

Nearby two guards watched the cage with some indifference. The odd thing was the lock was a heavy new padlock from somewhere.

Actually, that was the tip of the iceburg in really disturbing things. Near the temple was a paddock of some kind. An eight foot, rough stone wall pushed out from the side of the cliff face. Within the last five minutes of their arrival several items were taken into the enclosure, RPGs, a recoilless 155mm cannon, AK-47s, and some version of a machine gun.

Somehow these elves were very well armed...and getting supplies from the outside world.

****
Earlier at the Elven Village of the Castle

The elves were running into the jungle to the south. It seems that there was a sally port in that direction, and those elves not too wounded to run, or too stupid to, were busily running off into the Jungle. Somehow the elves had built a narrow path through the stands of Klatchian Oak, which protected the flanks of the sally port.

A few brave elves were trying to slow down the enemy that was now climbing through the wall. They were using the small, handheld slings with 'elf fire to try and clear off the wall. Within minutes several lit balls of the stuff had hit the wall and turned the walkways into mini-infernos.

***
The Cave of the Calvery*
(*as later historians would call it, since the JDF after this episode decided that horse mounted calvery had only two uses, and issued a new heavy assult rifle for mounted patrols. The debacle led to Order 128-75A that full companies of mounted calvery would be the smallest size of any expidition into the Gonnad. The cowardace and intelligence of the infamous JDF patrol was generally ignored since poltical reasoning has created the inglorious mess in the first place....and later fall out from the post-action action of the patrol had massive effects in Klatchian history)

The JDF troop poked out of their shelter to see the heavy black smoke rising from the castle and the gravship hanging over the nearby ruins.

"Alright, will someone tell me what the f*** the Var are up to?" Marshal McGerhy asked in an icy tone.

"Saving our asses…sir…" someone answered.

"Alright troopers, mount up I want to investigate that castle or what is left of it…"

"Yes sir!"

The JDF calvery, now only twelve strong, emerged from the cave and moved up out of the ravine towards the western gate. They moved at a trot, most with their carbines un-slung waiting for a renewed assault by the elves. The man at the head of the column carried a staff flying the Klatchian Battle Flag.

A quick OOC update. As well, just speaking from my experience, the more nations involved tends to bog things down.
http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=353918

Nations sending investigators

Iuthia - invited by Dyelli Beybi
All others - denied

OOC: Oh, the Empire's sending investigators. Basically, a few reconsats. For now.

OOC: Oh, the Empire's sending investigators. Basically, a few reconsats. For now.

OOC: Then, unless the doctor somehow communicated that to a Klatchian official and received subsequent approval, then they are not official and will be treated as violating FKC sovereignty. Are your "reconsats" satellites or are they the probes that were hinted at earlier?

OOC2: In other words, I don't have too much of a problem with your probes being able to perhaps evade normal radar (or at least leave a very small signature) but since LOW has gravships in the area, he might be able to pick them up easier than me.

OOC: I'll T.G. you about magic levels in the Klatch...

[Quote]
The longboat and its crew got almost all the way to a passenger warf before a river monitor showed itself and hailed...

"Ahoy, who goes there? Identify yourself, you have landed a Grav-Ship in a shipping channel."


The only response that was given to this challange was a look of some confusion before realisation crossed their faces 'Ah you speak of the Spelljammer? Our mistake, but you see it is not a 'Grav Ship' and the sea is the only place it can land, we apologise for any inconveience that may cause. It is simply a flying Ship.'



Port Olympus was an odd city. The south appeared to be built on a man made delta around the Benj river. The northern part of the city was built in a bowl formed by five hills. The hills were surprisingly green and healthy looking compared with the smog covered central city. Great towers of glass and steel poked out of the city center, but most of the city was only three to five stories. The skyscrapers were actually still dominated by the structures on the hills.

One hill in particular looked facinating. Massive stone and brick buildings seemed to cover the space with small gardens and squares. At the same time, it was also covered in AA postions and several odd weapons systems.

After twenty minutes of bickering with various officals. the Lieutenant finally returned his attention to the two.
"I am afraid you have missed the JDF expidition to the Gonad. They left this morning (I am going to back data this a bit...) and we can not find your paperwork. However, the President of the Federation has asked us to facilitate your joining the expidition forthwith. Luckly we are sending a group of air-calv to replace some lost in a recent...ah...unpleasentness. If you'll follow me?"

The elves were escorted back to the monitor, named the Christof, and informed that the monitor would take them to an air-base just as soon as they got their nice little grav-ship the hell out of the shipping channel.

After that task had been completed the monitor turned north and was at the very docks the flying boats had launched from that morning.

(OOC: To 'speed things up' I'll include the itinerary you would have had to get to the Inn if you went along with things.)
****



'Ahh yes I rather feared we might be late, my thanks for your help good sir. Never fear the trip in one of your flying machines of Metal would be fascinating.' He truely looked excited at the prospect of a simple helicopter ride 'I've always felt the fly spell while adequete was missing, flawed, if I could take home first hand experiance of the Metal that Fly's I know I could devise a more efficent spell...'

His companion simply looked, bored, with a slight touch of being used to this sought of behaviour from Mages, especially Mages from the tower. Her own plans for the trip where simpler, which is why when the Helicopter took off she could be seen wedged in eyes closed deep in mediatation, when the journey ended she had already recieved her rest for the day.

They arrived to the sound of combat off in the distance, her first instinct had been to race towards it, but in the end she did not. Instead she would follow the tracks she decided try and see what trouble had befallen the intial expedition. Her companion meanwhile headed into the Inn, something felt strange about these woods, something about the weave was twisted, altered. He would go no further without first examining what this could be.

((OOC And gah I know thats not a great post, I am really tired, but wanted to get myself to the Inn tonight so I can pick it up tommorow.))

This is atmospheric craft Ur-22, Narlord Pezu'kea'ne in command. This is an internal matter, Terran. Do not interfere in this operation any futher or we will be forced to treat you as alighned with our enemies. Hold your postions and stop firing at our personel before we become hostile.


Richards was not entirely pleased with this, but gave the orders to cease fire to the two companies around the temple before responding to the cruiser, he did not like the term terran, being sure it was meant to be insulting...

Hauptmann Richards of the D.B.P.A. Acting Commander for the forces in the area. This is a politically sensitive Dyelli Beybian state mission, given permission by the local Rogue Jiggadian authorities. We suggest you communicate primary mission objectives, as well as some manner to differentiate LOW combatants... as a measure of good faith, our primary objective is to level the structure we are currently assaulting. Secondary objective is to destroy the elven fortification.



The dark red eyes of the Var seemed to glow brighter with the approach of the prisioners. "Ah, so we have some of...no...these are not Armsmen of any Karlord, they are southerners...Who are you?" It asked in a low rumble. The tail of the creature was now waging back and fourth.

A marine passed forward the captured weapons. The Var nodded and let them be set on the dusty, blood stained stone behind him.

Dashwood, being the Senior of the two was the one who spoke, "Commisaar Chlarissa Dashwood, Political Officer 3rd Class." she introduced herself, to those with some knowledge of the Cheka, the rank was a fairly high one.

"This is Feldwebel Davis of the D.B.P.A." The one eyed tracker was identified as Dyelli Beybian Provincial Army, his rank translating as Sergeant, although it was a higher rank than a traditional Sergeant, closer to a Second Lieutenant.

"We're Dyelli Beybians." she continued, as if the accent and the mention of their services hadn't already given them away. In some parts of the world the accent could have them mistaken as Irish, but probably not in Klatch.

"Ahhh....what are you doing in here? We're supposed to be blowing this place up."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside, Yakovlekev Company was having some dificulty, the armour the Dyellians wore was somewhat heat resistance, but it had kinks, and several troopers had been burned. Meanwhile the helicopters kept up their attacks on any elves that showed themselves. Three had been about the attack the LOW cruiser, but had veered away when the orders to cease fire had come in from Richards.

Leading Sections had found their way into the outer courtyard and one section, armed with C4 explosives had raced off towards the point where the keep met the inner wall. Yakovlekev himself was in the process of establishing a temporary ommand post in one of the huts. He was a wiry man with a thick black beard behind the visor of his helmet, "You." he bellowed at an NCO and his section who were taking a break from the fighting, "Get into these buildings and see if you can find any survivors, we need prisoners."

ONe of the helicopters had spotted the sally port and aimed a pair of rockets at the point, blowing several fleeing elves into pieces and also hopefully collapsing the escape route.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pfc Alima Saidah ran headfirst into an alarmed looking Border Sheriff who had been opening the door, bowling him over bockwards. A senior looking officer rushed over to her, hauling her up to her feet, "What happened? Quickly now!"

In the corner a few other Sheriffs were monitoring what looked like a radar screen and map of the Gonad. "He's on the move again...where the hell is he going?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fraser halted outside the grove of Klatchian oaks, his legs were sore, and so was his shoulder. Tracking was hard work he mused, he figured it would be next to impossible to get through the grove of oaks without being horribly slaughtered by the homocidal trees. Instead he veered left, moving to circle the party and fall back on them after they'd passed the grove. He was also aware they were probably approaching some form of encampment, so slowed his pace, watching for guards. He paused for a moment, picking up a few leaves and threading them through the mesh over his helmet.

It gave him the opportunity to wish he had backup. He'd played computer games as a child, and while he'd always enjoyed the ones where the hero blatantly strolled into the enemy camp and gunned down everyone he had had enough experience at life to realise this was one of the computer and movie industries greatest lies. Still he reminded himself, he was the best tracker in Dyelli Beybi, with the possible exception of Kay Davis, who unknown to him was now a prisoner.

He checked the magazine of his rifle, it was still loaded, if he was going to die he'd make sure he went down in a blaze of glory, and hopefully he would do his duty for these people, for Fähnrich Fraser Morris carried in his pack a GPS beacon, even if his radio was well out of range. Hethought again on the pruple fare that had gone off, hopefull it would have been noted, but he suspected not, it was far too far from the border.

Fraser moved out, heading slowly along the edge of the ridge...

Leading Sections had found their way into the outer courtyard and one section, armed with C4 explosives had raced off towards the point where the keep met the inner wall. Yakovlekev himself was in the process of establishing a temporary ommand post in one of the huts. He was a wiry man with a thick black beard behind the visor of his helmet, "You." he bellowed at an NCO and his section who were taking a break from the fighting, "Get into these buildings and see if you can find any survivors, we need prisoners."

Of course the fact that both the inner and outer western gatehouses were now nothing more than smoking rubble made things more difficult. Apparently the JDF calvery unit had spotted the opening into the castle created by the LOW gun and found themselves in the middle of the inner Ward.

"Dismount..." yelled the sargent major and the men started to get off their horses and look around. The outer wall of the keep still stood, but the thinner inner wall had collapsed along with the floors. The temple structure appeared to have completely collapsed with only the portion built against the curtain wall standing still. The building had a stone roof.

Everywhere lay dead and burning elf bodies. The place smelled like a cross between a charnal house and a crematorium. The Hall and warlords personal chambers were nothing much more than a pile of rubble. The undercroft of the hall survived but the contents were on fire, a plume of black smoke rising up from the small arrow loops facing the Ward.

The quarters of the Preistesses were completely leveled. It appeared that a shell had taken out the barrel vault in the store room below and the whole structure collapsed. The only building even remotely still standing was the kitchens. The roof had some serious holes in it from flying stone. What had happened to the cooks and staff was unknown, they had abandoned their posts when large fragments of wall came falling through the roof.

There was a roasting...well something, in the fire place, and fresh bread covered in a thick layer of dust on a table. Some vegitable dish lay being put into pots on another part of the same table.

McGerhy looked at the table and said, if we have a chance...let's pack that out of here...

When a Dyelbian discovered the same gap between the kitchen and the burning hall the JDF soildgers looked at him. The sudden explosion drew everyone's attention back to the keep where daylight was now streaming through a former fireplace.

McGerhy walked forward, brushing dust off of his Silver Hydra and Star. "Men go take up postions in the wreckage...someone take the lad there and let him take a seat over by the well in the center of the ward..."

****
The river swung out and then back to the shear rock cliff. It was weird, the grove of trees seemed to form a point that forced the river to bend here. Futher along, a east west ridge intercented whatever gelogical form had created the rock cliff.

In truth, a geologist would have been startled. Denuded of jungle the whole place would have looked like the remains of some ancient volcano. However, the last erruption must have been of lighter stone than the orginal, because errosion had formed a mesa with a large depression in the center. The elongated circle of shear rock walls varying from thirty to one hundread ten feet in height defined the mesa from the surrounding jungle. However, the center depression also had rock walls where the rain had erroded the pumace of the last erruption from the surrounding basalt.

Of course all of this vanished in terms of the jungle. The trees on the mesa and the surrounding countryside obscured it's presence. Either the encampment was at the bottom of the cliff face in the grove of trees, or the group of elves had found a way to the top of the mesa.

(Weee...I just created elven Petra...with a bit of the southwest mixed in. I was actually on a mesa something like that (well not a huge hole in the middle but only one way up...a nasty long, narrow path up an almost shear cliff face and then up the side of a narrow ravine formed by a waterfall from a spring.) At the top of the mesa was quite nice...a medow and lake with the ruins of burned out log cabins from the land wars in the 1880's. There might have been other ways up but it would involve climbing. Actually, I think they starved the settlers off that mesa...

Pfc Alima Saidah ran headfirst into an alarmed looking Border Sheriff who had been opening the door, bowling him over bockwards. A senior looking officer rushed over to her, hauling her up to her feet, "What happened? Quickly now!"

In the corner a few other Sheriffs were monitoring what looked like a radar screen and map of the Gonad. "He's on the move again...where the hell is he going?"


Alima - borderline coma, definite shock, completely unconcious - had nothing to say, even about the HALO landing which scattered debris everywhere.

Two Vastivan troopers ran towards the private, hastilly putting her on the ground.

"Shock. Exhaustion. Nothing terrible, but D5W would be a good start."
"Get to it. Where's her M-TCOD?"
"Got it." The medic hands it over.
Corporal Vessek looks at the Dyellian officer. "Care to have a look?"

Fifteen minutes later, Alima was on her way back to Theta base, a line of dextrose in water in her arm and warm covers around her. Vessek had also finished setting up a field laptop, Pvt Saidah's M-TCOD plugged into it.

"This will be unedited, so we can't be sure how much it can tell us."

He enters command codes and the screen fades to black, reappearing with a movie-like view of everything Alima saw in those horrific few minutes - LAW rockets turning elves into bits of putty, assault rifles cutting down herds of obviously conscript infantry, explosions, arrows, rocks... she had had a short look at the flipped IFV before the cavalry charge which broke Vastivan lines and her corporal ordered her to "get back to base!"

From there, it's her run - an explosion behind, another much louder explosion... all the actions of her long run to the outpost.

The screen goes dark. A counter on the top estimates one hundred and six elvish casualties to twenty nine Vastivan.

"As I said, unedited. And there's no correlations, so it's very rough. Nor can we fix on our people - no Vastivan GPS satellites above".

Hauptmann Richards of the D.B.P.A. Acting Commander for the forces in the area. This is a politically sensitive Dyelli Beybian state mission, given permission by the local Rogue Jiggadian authorities. We suggest you communicate primary mission objectives, as well as some manner to differentiate LOW combatants... as a measure of good faith, our primary objective is to level the structure we are currently assaulting. Secondary objective is to destroy the elven fortification.

The response:
Hauptmann Richards, we are currently apprehending criminals of the state of LOW, and have been authorized to do so by the Government of Rouge Jiggady. We would suggest you hold your personnel until we have dealt with these criminals in an effective manner. As for those pointy-eared terrans you labeled elves, we should note that a JDF calvary troop seems to be inside their military base. We will complete our mission quickly and then let you get on with yours Hauptmann.

****
The Sanctuary

"This is Feldwebel Davis of the D.B.P.A....We're Dyelli Beybians." she continued,

"Ahhh....what are you doing in here? We're supposed to be blowing this place up."

The Var tail stopped moving for a moment. "Ah, how quaint, my name is Kutha of House Nemac, I doubt if you would understand by title, sufficient to say I am the senior officer on the ground. It is nice to know fellow Klatchian States spend their time blowing up ruins. Tell me terran do you think that assaulting places of the dead will enable you to deal with the living? It would seem not, since a good number of your fellows fell to the weapons of the reason we are here."

The Var stood and motioned the two to follow him. "You see terran, I have a mission also…to either capture or kill a traitor who was hiding in this ancient structure. Now, because of the massive attack on this site, the traitor and his minions have gone into a tunnel system underneath this structure. I will be forced to send my Terrans after them, unless one of you can certify that there is no escape out of those tunnels but by this doorway?" Seeing the blank looks he assumed No was the answer. "I am afraid you will have to hold off blowing this structure up until we can dispose of these traitors."

The Var had led them to the small rear chamber at the back of the lower sanctuary which had stairs leading down to the mouth of a tunnel. "Since I see no reason for us to confuse you with the enemy, I strongly urge you to remain my guests and have tea with me here. A service will be brought down along with some more flame throwers to flush the…ah….what is that colorful phrase?…bastards…out."

The way Kutha had said that last part it appeared that the two had no other choice that might not involve pain.

Richards couldn't fault the logic of the reply, he did remember the orders to eliminate anyone who entered the structure, but that did seem a bit churlish...not to mention the fact that he was sure he'd loose, so instead he took solace in the fact that the battle seemed to be effectively over,

"Message understood. Our forces will refrain from any further advances on the structure unless requested."

Now would come the more grim task of counting casualties...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dashwood was beginig to look a litle bit alarmed, mostly at the prospect of having LOW troops pouring over a 'politically sensitive' site, she had a feeling that arguing would achieve nothing though.

Kay had taken off his helmet and seemed to have, like Richard's outside, come to the pleasant conclusion that there would be no more fighting for him, "I think." he said, speaking for the first time, "That it might be an idea to contact our unit, just to let them know we're alright."

Something about his voice suggested he was 'testing the water' but the Commisaar seemed oblivious to that, "It would be an honour your lordship." she replied to the Var's 'request' that they remain, her voice exuding the almost servile attitude that had been common among Dyellians during Tzarist days.

She probably would have remained anyway, just to make sure the LOW didn't find out what was this site was. As long as nobody had painted any chi rhos anywhere any link the Var drew should remain only theoretical...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Whoa! What do we have here?" it was a rather cheerful looking Dyellian NCO who first encountered the JDF in the elven fortification, "I was thinking we'd be finding elves."

He was followed by nine others, through the hole in the wall, other humans in the room seemed to have lifted any tension that might have existed among the Dyellians, "Hey, it looks like lunch." one Grenadier had spotted the food on the table.

"Unterfeldwebel Fitzgerald." he introduced himself, then waved his hand at the rest of the men, "And this is my Section."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile back at base, the Sheriff and SS Officer who had followed the Vastivans were looking very impressed at what they were doing "That machine is fantastic, where do we get one?" the Sheriff asked hopefully, but was brought back to reality by a stern cough from his SS counterpart.

"Oh righ...." he began, but was immediately cut off by the military man.

"We do have a GPS sattelite, we've been tracking Fähnrich Morris's signal for some time now." the officer stated, "We weren't certain exactly what was going on. Suffice to say he was entering an area of jungle that is largely uncharted and regarded as excedingly dangerous.

"In light of this, I'd tend to suspect Morris is dead, but some elf has made off with his looted pack, including the beacon, which, let's face it, they wouldn't understand.

"What we can do is mount a rescue mission for any Vastivans who may have been taken prisoner. This will be difficult. Most helicopters in the area are out on an existing mission. What I would recommend is we attempt a paradrop in the area."

There was a pause, then he swore, "Forgive me...our paratroopers are on the same mission. It is alright. We can still drop in the SS, most of them do have experience jumping out of planes. We will then, at the same time, move in some heavy tanks and half-tracks to collect the men on the ground."

He paused again, looking at the Vastivan, "Are you in charge now? I was about to suggest we use your plane, but if you feel that idea is a bad one we can always get a Luftwaffe plane in. They are a little unreliable as a service though."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fraser had walked quite some distance around the base of the mesa, before deciding finding a path up was hopeless. Instead he studied the ascent. He wasn't overly worried about the climb, the powered armour gave him better grip, and so long as no rocks gave way on him he should be alright. He was worried about being spotted while making the climb...that could get messy.

So he continued to walk around the base for another ten minutes, before finally stopping to study the climb. It would be difficult and would take quite a while, but there seemed to be several ridges where he could stop for a breather and enough hand and foot holds to make the ascent possible.

With a quick look around to make sure there were no elves lurking in the viscinity he moved to te edge of the rock face, and taking hold of nicely jutting piece of rock, began to slowly work his way up...

"Message understood. Our forces will refrain from any further advances on the structure unless requested."

The response was
Confirmed, we have two of your personnel inside. We have asked that they remain in our temporary feild post until all enemy combatants have been accounted for.

****
The Sanctuary

Kutha nodded and pointed back into the sanctuary. Marines in visors were buisily poking about the place. Some pointed to the images on the walls but really didn't seem to take much notice of them. The Var sat down and looked at the room about him. "It is a well built structure, I suppose your religion demands its destruction for the idolatry of this vulture statue?" It was obvious he was fishing a bit. It was also obvious that the elves did not use or garrison this structure, so the designs on destroying the building seemed to be far fetched to the Var.

****
One of the small assult ships rose again to the Gravship and dropped down to the "God Door" on the front of of the temple. A small green creature in a black suit and bow tie stepped off carrying a large metal tray. The tray contained a semovar, three large white cups and a serverving dish. The creature looked around the space. Walls once covered in multi-colored hieroglyphs were now stained with lime from the stone roof, and a nasty crust of char from the plasma round.

Behind him were two marines pushing hover carts.

As he walked through the doorway that led to the lower sanctuary, the small creature stopped and looked at a junior Var admiring a stone table in a mezzanine space. The table appeared to be a visual topographic map of the Southern Klatch out of some dark reddish stone.

The creature reached the lower sanctuary and placed the tray on the altar. He pulled back the top of the sever to reveal a crock of some warm, wonderful smelling spread and peices of lovely toast.
"Kru'za'ork as you requested sir." The creature stepped back and the Var poured tea, first for his guests and then for himself.

The liquid seemed to be a tea like substance, except it was dark green. It smelled something like tea, but with aromas that most humans wouldn't be able to place. (The fact that the tea was a bit of a narcotic for humans was not mentioned at all.)

The Var raised the cup, which was large in human terms but about right for a Var sized claw, and said. "To the Klatch, may we roast and dine upon our enemies." He took a sip of the liquid, and then began spreading Kru'za'ork onto some toast.

The carts had contained four more flame throwers. It seems that a party was finally orginizing to go down into the catacombs.

Upstairs the young Var was considering war trophies.

Sending the radio message had put the tracker entirely at his ease, "The Vulture?" he asked, "Nah that's Hat. There's still some weirdos who worship him back home."

Dashwood gave him a look which seemed to be telling him to shut up or face the rather unpleasant consequences, "Let's not bore his Lordship with talk of Dyelli Beybi's religions." she said sweetly, but with the hint of a threat behind her voice.

The tracker took the hint immediately, "Nice flamethrower." he commented, changing the subject.

"To the Klatch." she echoed, raising the cup in both gloved hands and taking a sip, "If you want backup we do have quite a sizeable force outside."

Kuthra nodded at the satement about Hat and noted the man quieted by his superior officer.

"Please try some of the Kru'za'ork, it is impolite of me to nibble on it without you both trying it. As for the offer of your large force, is that not the place of your superior outside, who is in contact with my superiors?"

three, eight man squads of marines had been orginized. Each squad had two men with flame throwers. One in the first rank and another in the thrid rank. The remaining troops appeared to be carrying the standard energy bolt guns. Two Var appeared each carrying a plasma rifle. The whole group formed up and then marched forward through the doorway and down into the catacombs. A group of three marines appeared to be carrying a large caliber rifle on a tri-pod. A few more stragglers followed along, most with odd bits of equipment, including a few captured interceptor missles.

"Ah, time to work...parnar set up that projector on that bit of dark colored wall."

One of the remaining marines put a large box on the floor and turned it on. A projection of what at first looked like chaos opened up on the screen. Actually it was some 128 little scenes making up the image. "Ah just those I assigned to the forward squads"

***
A second load of marines and a few workmen were brought down on an another small craft. Of course the workmen were crewmen from the ship.

**
Kuthra flipped a small object before his mouth and began to speak, but no apparent sound could be heard. He nodded, then frowned at the two humans. The long, sharp teeth were not a comforting sight. "Ah, yes...now I must pay attention to my squads. Turn on the audio if you would..."

Now only 32 small screens made up the larger one. Each had a label of text which was decidely alien. On the right side of each screen was a series of green lights.

The screens became darker. Half changed to any erry red glow while the other half apparently were using flashlights. A burst of white hot flame exploded on the upper right two screens as someone shot flames down the tunnel. The walls looked like an Ostary, formed with the white skulls of some humanoid. The group reached a doorway off the main tunnel. The first four marines turned and fired their flame thrower through the doorway. The second four pushed forward and then seemed to kneel as the front group pushed through the doorway.

The room was quite odd, circular with small alcoves off of it. The spaces between the alcoves were framed with statues of nude elven women screaming. The room was empty apparently except for a few piles of bones laying on the floor.

The squad called 'clear' and pulled back into formation. The whole group contineud to move down the tunnel.

***
Upstairs a laser torch was being used to cut away the frame of the five panels that made up the map. The young Var looked down at the inlaid writting in gold. "Hmm, I wonder why is marks these points along the Djel river with this writting, and symbols? Ah no matter, it will be a fine gift for the overlord to remember this victory."

"Hrrmmm?" the Commisaar seemed vaguely suprised when 'her superior' was mentioned, "Hauptmann Richards? I technically outrank him, although as a Commisaar my duties are somewhat different..."

She left it unsaid that she was somewhat more disposable to the Government as well, "And besides, he has experience in military matters, as far as battlefield command goes, my experience is confined to paper."

This was only partly due to the fact that that wasn't the role of Cheka operatives, it was also due to the fact that she was excedingly young, in her early 20s at latest.

They arrived to the sound of combat off in the distance, her first instinct had been to race towards it, but in the end she did not. Instead she would follow the tracks she decided try and see what trouble had befallen the intial expedition. Her companion meanwhile headed into the Inn, something felt strange about these woods, something about the weave was twisted, altered. He would go no further without first examining what this could be.

OOC: Initial expedition? Most of the international investigators are at the Inn as far as I'm concerned. The JDF probe went out as is currently in the middle of that ruined castle.

IC:
The Inn
The Inn was fairly dark at present. Men were moving supplies and gear from the trucks to store rooms at the back of the building. The whole structure was formed abound a central courtyard with a two story arcade around all four sides. A fairly helpful JDF officer noted that the mess was open and up on the second floor, along with the rooms for both of them. The rooms had doors, walls and a narrow window in the outside wall. They were equipped with a cot, an electric lantern, and a chamber pot. Apparently most of the furniture of the Inn had long been stripped from the room. The wall lamps were gone, not even wiring poked out of the junction box for the light or the light switch.

The "mess" was a large room with an ornate ceiling and floor that formed the second floor front. Pairs of sliding doors, hidden in short walls, could divide it into three rooms. For some odd reason, the looters had not removed the doors. The room was filled with camp chairs, a ratty sofa from who knows where, and several folding tables and chairs. At one end was a long folding table with modern samovars containing coffee, hot tea, and cold tea. Ice was provided in a cooler along with a selection of Fago sodas. A plate of wrapped sandwiches lay next to that. Also paper cups sat next to a large pot on a warmer. Inside was jambalaya.

*****
The Castle
"Whoa! What do we have here?" it was a rather cheerful looking Dyellian NCO who first encountered the JDF in the elven fortification, "I was thinking we'd be finding elves."

He was followed by nine others, through the hole in the wall, other humans in the room seemed to have lifted any tension that might have existed among the Dyellians, "Hey, it looks like lunch." one Grenadier had spotted the food on the table.

"Unterfeldwebel Fitzgerald." he introduced himself, then waved his hand at the rest of the men, "And this is my Section."

"Sargent Plank, Company B Third Morphus Calvary Division. Ah, my boss is out in the courtyard." He led the group out into the inner ward and waved at the man without a uniform on, just the hydra and star. "Sir, this is Unterfeldwebel Fitzgerald and his section."

McGerhy turned and looked at Fitzgerald. "Ah, yes…yes…I am Senior Klatchian Marshal McGerhy, Jiggady sector. What brings you into this area of devastation?"

The Sargent pipes up, "Ah they are looking for elves…"

"Well we appear to have many dead ones, but any living are a bit scarce at the moment. It would seem that the LOW have rendered this fortification unusable and indefensible. Those elves not killed by shrapnel or collapsing buildings appear to have taken refuge in the jungle. Perchance you would like to inform me why you are looking for elves?"

The calvery troopers were busily poking about the ruins. A few were examining the three standing walls of the keep, two were taking photos of the surviving temple wall built into the curtain wall. A few more were examining the ruins of some other large stone building. Several others, obviously with wounds, were either sitting on the edge of a fountain that was still working, or keeping the horses ready for a quick exit.

Amongst the group the radio crackled…Jackrabbit this is Hammer…do you copy?

A sergeant responded. This is Jackrabbit Hammer, we are at the coordinates. Area is clear of enemy fire…repeat area clear. Please send in Thumper…over.

Jackrabbit, we will contact Thumper…our ETA at your location is another forty-five minutes. Thumper ETA is thirty minutes…over

Can't wait Hammer…Jackrabbit out

*****
The Village It seemed that only a few old elves and wounded were left in the village. Sixty five souls and almost 2/3 of them were poorly off. The fires started by the LOW attack were getting worse and expanding, the flames leaping the distances between the wooden buildings.

*****
The Outer Ward (outer courtyard)
Various wooden buildings stood against the outer curtain wall but it was almost completely leveled on the north side. A few more badly wounded elves were found, most crushed by falling derbies. They found one young female elf hiding in a storage building. She was naked except for a piece of silk wrapped around her waist forming a skirt and manacles on her wrists. She had an A and a few odd symbols branded into her left breast.

"Hrrmmm?" the Commisaar seemed vaguely suprised when 'her superior' was mentioned, "Hauptmann Richards? I technically outrank him, although as a Commisaar my duties are somewhat diffrent. And besides, he has experience in military matters, as far as battlefield command goes, my experience is confined to paper."

The Var shook his head at this. Which was actually the equivilant of a nod. "I understand to a point..." In reality the Var was wondering It seems my suspicions were correct, these Provintials and their ilk were going to help support that traitor...Ah, I can see now that intervening in this matter was decidely important before these Terrans and the Karlord linked. Yes, but the question becoemes is this a faction within Dyelli Beybi or the entire government of Dyelli Beybi?

As the Var studied the screens for a moment, he asked. "So tell me Commisaar what devotes your attention to this place so much that you must send troops to destroy it. Could you not as easily bombed this temple into non-existance?"

Two men in kaki uniforms and green coveralls appeared in the sactuary and secured the two hover carts and vanished back up the stairs they had appeared at.

***
Upstairs the uniforms of the dead armsmen were being used to wrap the first panel of the map.

***
In the Catacombs the group came to the end of the tunnel. A statue of Het stood in an alcove as two tunnels ran off in other directions. The group of Marines split into halves and kept moving.

The Unterfeldwebel, gave the JDF officer the most innocent look possible, "We're doing scientific research on them, our side of the border, we needed live specimens."

"Besides." he added, "This structure was far too big to leave standing. We need to clean their centres of operation out in order to keep them disorganised enough that they can't mount anything major against us...anyway, if you want more detailed information you'll need to speak to the Hauptmann, he's out the front somewhere?"

Behind him, some soldiers from another section had arrived and were milling about smoking and searching for alcohol in the kitchens.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Out front Yakovlekev ad had to move his Command due to the spreading fire. His troops had done a fairly decent job of rounding up the aged and injured, who were now being herded towards the keep, which the Hauptmann had decided would make a good holding pen. One of the officers had decided a half naked elf was quite innapropriate, so she'd been decked in an army great coat, which now said she was a Leutnant is the 1st Infantry Division.

One man, his visor up was reading from a somewhat tattered language book a few phrases of halting and rather badly pronouced elvish, "We ..... is are not enemy be. Do as wey say and you will be happy. Oriental disembowling cutlass."

The Leutnant reading the passage was of course certain he'd just said, We are not the enemy. Do as we say and you'll be kindly, treated. Thank you. A few soldiers nearby were amazed at his linguistic performance and cheered heartily.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inside Dashwood was begining to come to the realisation that the Dyelli Beybian prescence was a bit suspicious. Although it would never dawn on her that the Var might assume they were linked with the rebel Karlord. The question was a difficult one to answer, there seemed no logical explanation other than the truth, but that could get her into a lot of trouble.

"We're looking for historical artefacts. This area used to be under Dyellian control many centuries ago, and we have reason to believe the elves may have some in this temple." this was sort-of the truth. The Ministry of the Occult really wanted anything magical they might be able to recover.

Corporal Vessek thought that one over carefully. He was, technically, in charge – Ahmed having decided looking over elves was more worth his time then running things had turned day-to-day operations over to his “more deserving companion”. Not that this was much of a command anymore: one C-71 transport, one HALO helicopter, four pilots – one very wounded – and a whopping ten troopers of which two wanted nothing more to do with the Gonad and one was in care for deep shock.

Still…

“If I can hook this unit into your GPS, I can find the bulk of where things are. We’d like to pick up any equipment the elves didn’t get. And we can fly your troops wherever you like. The HALO wasn’t intended for durable combat, but we’ve outfitted this one with armor and the two gun pods for some heavy firepower. The best we can field right now will be five troopers, but we’re going armed for bear.”

He considered. “We’ll need an hour at base to upgrade the weapons pods and ready the team. Add fifteen minutes flight each way – about two hours be enough for you to get your people together?”

(er, how are they using the keep as an elf marshalling area when there are two JDF troopers standing in the rubble that was the keep?)

The Marshal leaned forward a bit. "Ah, well then you see I have no clue where your front lines are...However, I would be appreciative if you went to go get your commanding officer for the deployment you are attached with. You see, My mission is to secure all available data on these elves in-situ. Which means that any futher distruction of this elven construct before the Privy Council research team fully documents it will be considered an act of difiance against the Federation."

****
The female elf looked at the man attempting to speak elvish to her. It was the stare of a woman who didn't know who these people were, but thought them idiots anyway. A bunch of Irish louts was her decision on nationality. "Alright, but all the expensive swords were kept in the temple in the inner part of the castle..." she said in english that had a light russian accent. "I hope the Irish still teach english, because I don't know any Eire."

OOC: Vastiva are you going to Rp Ismael or any of his group in the hanging cell? Or should both me and D.B. continue on that sub-thread?"

Ismael woke uncertain of his surroundings. The ground was moving... no, it was a cage of some sort...

He got up quickly and looked at his cellmates. Two he recognized, though they were certainly glum. The other three... well, two and one permanently checked out.

"Where is this? Speak up!" Zero to blaggart in nothing flat. He turned on the other two Vastivans. "Do you men still have your... units?"

It was unlikely the elves knew the normal name for the M-TCODs.

Demoralized, they both nodded. "Excellent. We shall have rescue here in no time."

They didn't look convinced.

Ismael looked around, well aware there could be eyes on him. He put in his spare wireless headset - who knew where the other one was - and clicked it over to SEND. "Very well gentlemen. Where are we and what is going on?"

***

Miles away, the command laptop bleeped and began recording the high speed send from Ismael's command M-TCOD and the real-time message he was relaying while beginning to correlate the information he sent with what was known.

OOC: I had a long and good reply to all parts of the thread that the Dyellians are involved in, but my unreliable ISP ate them all. So instead I'm going to write out the first again and the second in condensed form. The other bits will have to wait for tomorrow I'm tired.
And as for the DBans herding the elves around, they're completely disorganised and are generally just pushing them towards the nearest wall. It's the Dyellian way.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Leutnant with the phrase book looked completely confused by what was going on, "Am I are an umbrella?" he tried in falting Elvish.

This could have carried on for quite some time, if it were not for the appearance of another officer. This one was a woman in her mid thirties, short, slender, dark eyes, basically the stereotypical Dyellian, "Can't you see she speaks English you fool?" she demanded angrily, then spun around without waiting for a reply.

"Isidro!" she called angrily.

A large hulk (for a Dyellian) of a man appeared from amongst the milling soldiers, "Yes Ma'am?"

"Follow me." without the slightest hint of what her intentions were she roughly shoved the elf into one of the outbuildings, followed by the figure of Isidro.

"Hands against the wall!" she ordered, the tone of her voice suggested she was used to people obeying her every whim. When the elf didn't move fast enough, Isidrop helped the process along.

In the space of a heartbeat the woman had drawn her Tokarev, pointed it at the chain link in the manacles and fired. The bullet ricoched around dangerously, but the manacles were split, "Now put that coat on properly." she ordered, it had been draped around the elf's shoulder's previously, "Isidro, turn around!"

"Yes Ma'am." he replied in his slow long-suffering voice.

While the elf was doing that, the woman unbuckled her helmet, underneath her black hair was tied back in a pony tail. When the elf had the coat on properly, the helmet was unceremoniously dumped on her head, "Wear that, and don't take it off. I want you to look like one of us, like you don't have point ears that is. Do not take it off, that would arouse suspicion. I don't know what the Var and JDF are doing here, but the last thing either of us want at this point is for you to end up some kind of research subject. Understood? Good."

The woman continued in her drill Sergeant type diatribe, "I am Oberleutnant Tania Greaves. That is Grenadier Isidro Stuart. The man who will walk through the door in a few minutes time and ask me why I am shooting prisoners is Hauptmann Yakovlekev. He is my superior. I wouls strongly advise if anyone other than the three of us and Commisaar Dashwood tries to speak to you, that you pretend you don't understand and say 'no puedo hablar ingles?' All clear? Good."

Suddenly she grinned, her voice softening considerably "Anyway, now we've got all the difficult business sorted, I'm interested to know where you're from and how you ended up here. I'm assuming from the fact that you speak English and aren't trying to cut my head off while ranting and raving about 'Djels' that you aren't one of them." the word them was steeped in hatred.

"Isidro. Keep an eye out for the Hauptmann will you."

"Yes Ma'am." he replied dryly.

The woman had now unbucked a flask of water, she offered it to the elf, who she was now studying with unconcealed curiosity.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile the SS officer with the Vastivans nodded, "We'll be ready when you are, and I'll see to it that all electronic matters are seen to... now if you'll excuse me?"

He turned on his heels and departed. Almost as soon as the door closed he could be heard yelling orders, seemingly at random.

"The Gonad isn't that safe is it?" the Sheriff remarked, "So where did you get these nifty machines from?"

"We're looking for historical artifacts. This area used to be under Dyellian control many centuries ago, and we have reason to believe the elves may have some in this temple." this was sort-of the truth. The Ministry of the Occult really wanted anything magical they might be able to recover.

Kuthra seemed to be engrossed in the pictures on the screen.
My god how foolish these terrans are. Artifacts of magic? They must think we can be easily fooled by old tales and children's dreams. But wait, why did they suddenly start firing on each other? Perhaps there is something more here Kuthra switched back on the electronics that turned his mike into a whisper mike.

"I want all Personnel to make a careful search of this building. It may be that the traitors found something of great value." The orders would be likely just grunts and low whispers to everyone else in the sanctuary.

****
Karlord Be'kena stood in the central room of the catacombs. One of his human armsmen appeared at a high balcony looking into the room. "My Lord, the Marines of the Overlord are approaching, they are using flame throwers to probe the labyrinth. The Karlord nodded and said in a quite voice that still filled the room, "Do your best…the marines found us…" The Karlord looked down at his mate. She was actually young, a bit too young by Var standards for a proper mate, and not even fully-grown. But she could, and did, carry a spawn in her belly.

"That tunnel is too small for me…and I and the others shall cover your escape…"

"My lord I can not leave…"

"I am the Karlord here, you shall follow that water filled cavern out of this place. The Overlord shall be denied true victory by giving him a bitter false one."

The Var were actually a water borne creature, although several centuries on dry land and in space had changed them. The smallish female Var nodded and grabbed a pack of tools to place on her back.

At the back of the chamber was a small alcove with a garderobe. The garderobe sat over an underground stream. The young Var used her leg to smash the thin stone top portion and pulled it out of the way. She turned and looked at her mate one last time, then plunged into the cold, fast moving water below.

The Karlord watched her go, then turned to two Var standing near the center of the chamber. The echoes of weapons fire and men screaming came out of several of the passage ways. "Set it, I want those bastards to know what happened, so we shall wait for their arrival.

****
The two crewman lifted the last panel of the map out of place. They put it into the hovercart and then pushed the cart out to the waiting small craft.

Outer Ward of Elf Castle

It was the last phrase, "You are not calling us Djel" that made her eyes narrow. She was a bit confused, suddenly going from Why do the Irish want cerimonial swords? to fuck, the damn elf haters... the fact that she was supposed to be hiding from the Var whoever in hell that was or this JDF.

Fuck woman I want nothing more to do with this f***d up continent of yours. I decide to go off and play pirate, but I doubt if you'll like that story, and trust me I've been probed by more elf c*** over the past three years then I care to remember.

She continued to look about the place trying to think. Alright, options...well I can tell them the truth, but I doubt that would get me much of anyplace. Yeah, I got captured trying to sell these fuc* ups some heavy assult weapons. They got the eighty-eights and I got to be an elven f*** toy...and looking at this bunch they would likely want to use me in the same way.

"Water...please" she said it in her nice semi-pathetic, sexy voice. Her eyes some what sad puppy dog look. The one that had gotten her out of being passed around at debauches repeatedly raped and reserved for the elven priestesses. Well that look and her ability to take orders and muff dive.

As she stood there waiting for water, her mind continued to race...Damn I should have taken that job with the Kristallian Navy...wait...Eris Kristalli's nephew...he is a big wig in the Klatch...Oh what is his name...yes!"

After sipping the water she started to speak. "I am Mar Kelra, of the Empire of Kristalli and a servent of Empress Eris Kistalli. I demand to be taken to the Lords of War to seek sanctuary with her God-Son, the Overlord." She tried her best noble act, looking the officer strait in the face.

***
((Hmm, I think we have time sequences mixed up here on the Vastiva sub-tread I have it all the way to dawn the next day...however the remainder of the thread is still one day behind.))

"Okey Dokey, no more blowing up the castle." the NCO gave the Marshall an overly elaborate salute, "I'll go and fetch him."

Fitzgerald hurried off, laving his men to poke around in the keep, the first elves were being herded in, much to the consternation of the troops in there, who roughly shoved them back out, then added to the commotion by yelling at the herders who yelled back. There didn't seem to be any officers around to tell them what to do, so they opposing groups continued to argue.

Fitzgerald bumped into the Hauptmann and his enterage as he was crossing towards one of the outbuildings, looking more than a little annoyed about something, "Fitzgerald. What is it?"

He was fairly familiar with the Unterfeldwebel who was something of a character in the Company, "They want us to stop damaging stuff Sir...I think that might apply to Richards on the other side as well."

Yakovlekev considered this for a moment, then turned to the radioman, "Take that off."

The radioman dumped the radio on the ground. It was big in comparison to what most troops carried and could be keyed in to Communicate with Home Base, the other Companies, and any given Platoon, Section or Soldier in the Company. Yakovlekev unholstered his Tokarev, flicked off the safety, and without a word emptied a clip into the radio, "Whoops, looks like we have some battle damage here."

Now if they were to communicate with Richards they'd need to use one of the Platoon or Section radios, and they'd need to be tuned in, which could be a long and arduous process if the radioman was a novice, incompetent or unwilling...

"They want to talk to you Sir." Fitzgerald added helpfully.

"Tell them I'll be a minute. I've got to investigate something else first."

"Right ho Sir." Fitzgerald saluted and trotted back towards the JDF...

Corporal Vessek considered the Sheriff for a few moments. "We build them. We also, I believe, sell them. Something like this one, which is a few years behind cutting edge. I am sure if Vastiva and Dyelli Beybi enter diplomatic ties, trade will be part of the discussion, and likely laptops like this might be part of the trade".

He stood. "But for right now, I have to assemble my team and get organized for... well, whatever is out there. Namaste."

He gave the man a polite bow and spun on his heel, headed for the HALO. Much to do, little time to do it in.

***

Elsewhere - and hoping his conversation was being received - Ismael asked the men with him:
"Where are we, and what is going on? Where are you men from? And who is the zombie?"

He spat. "Do they feed us? Water?"

Mentioning the Camelback he and his two fellows carried would probably not be the best of diplomacy for the moment - and what the elves did not know, he was not going to tell them.

The Elf Castle

The hearding was not going well, first the JDF troopers trying to take photos were buisilly not trying to be overwhelmed. At the same time the elves seemed to be 'vanishing'. (actually they were going down a ladder cut into the wall of the well in the keep wall down to a tunnel (It doesn't led outside but the common elves don't know that...)

The Lost Ones
The rest of the people in the cage, excluding the Zombie said nothing. Their eyes were focused on the glimmer of light hitting the western wall of the crater.

As the tops of the jungle on the Mesa turned from dark green to bright green. The crater filled with the sound of a single wooden drum being pounded eight times.

A few elves seemed to come out of small buildings carved out of the basalt rock, while others came out of wooden huts.

A couple of phrases in elvish of some kind could be heard nearby. A moment later eight elves appeared. Three carried AK-47's, one carried a stern gun that looked like is was WWII surplus, and the other three carried long staffs endinging in curved blades. All of them wore nothing more than plantoons and a sash around the waist. In the waist sash each carried a sword. Elf seven and eight appeared from the opposite direction. The first elf also carried a submachine gun, a cheap UZI knock off. The last elf of the group was in chains. He wore nothing but a loin cloth and had a large A branded into his chest.

The cage was dropped to the ground. The elf in chains was handed something and cuffed by the elf with an UZI. The elf raised one arm to prevent another slap to the face, and then moved to take the padlock off the cage.

After unlocking the cage, the elf rose. The elf with the stern gun said something more in elvish. And the elf with an A in his chest turned to the group and said.

"Strip...get naked...they want to inspect you...they will shoot you if you do not...do as they say..." it was quite obvious that english was not the elf's first, second or third tounge.

The two men in fatiques looked at each other and shrugged. They started to pull off their garments.

The elf in chains indicated they should throw them out of the bars to the side. The zombie pulled off what little he had on and threw it at the group of elves. A second later he was flat down in the cage as the blunt end of a staff came in between the bars and slammed him in the face.

The Cliff Face

As Fraiser crawled up the side of the Mesa that morning he was softly hailed by a voice. "Hey stop making so much racket...they might actually hear you..."

The voice was an alto and comming from a small crack in the cliff face of the mesa where it formed a sudden 80 degree angle.

Fraser was not entirely happy at being spoke to by what seemed to be a crack in the rocks, could be a trap, but it seemd unlikely...if it was an enemy there would be no reason they wouldn't have just shot him. So instead he climbed towards the crack, "Mind if I join you?" he whispered.

-------------------------------------------------------

Things were getting even more chaotic in the castle, "Where the hell are they going?"

"I don't bloody know, do I!"

"Alright." the NCO who seemed to be in charge of the 'herders' bellowed, "Everybody out!"

Some herders hadn't heard him over the commotion and elves were being roughly shoved in every which direction.

Ismael grinned wolfishly at the centermost elf. "Do you know what a bomb is?"
He held up his M-TCOD above his head, thumbing the switch to FUSE.

"Then you'll know this isn't one."

He threw that to the ground near the elves feet, listening as it crackled and smoked for a moment, the internals becoming instant garbage. Two popping crackles behind him reassured the other two M-TCODs had been disposed of in that most permanent manner.

Arrogant bear that he was, Ismael folded his arms and took up most of the doorway. "Take me to someone with actual brain cells, worm."

Behind him - and unbeknownst to him - both troopers had already stripped.

***

Far away, Corporal Vessek's laptop squeeked, noting the destruction of the M-TCODs. Hooked into the Dyellian's GPS network - such as it was - it marked the location and began working out terrain.

The Lost Ones
The elves did not really have a clue what Ismael was saying. They looked at the interperter who had barely caught half of it. The chained elf shrugged. The body lanquage said it all, a flat ear who didn't know his place.
The elves with the long pole arms stepped forward and started beating Ismael around the head, legs and stomache (I am assuming Ismael has body armor but not a helmet of any type anymore.)

If he tried to grab a pole, another went down on the offending wrist. If he tried to move back into the cage he was pushed back by one of the elves stepping over to the side and driving him back. They just kept wacking at him until he finnally fell to his knees.

Finally after Ismael had fallen to the ground, the elves began giving orders again. "Step forward and form a line..." The chained elf knelt down and pulled Ismael forward a bit and flipped him on his back.

The lead elf made a jesture of some sort and the slave elf began to take off Ismaels clothing.

(I wasn't sure, but is one of the captives female?)

The Cliff
"Fine, just don't make a whole bunch of racket doing so...."

The crack opened up inside into a space about eight by ten feet. Several logs had been placed across the crack to form the base of a platform of rough half logs. The smell of hot soup could be made out comming from a small kettle over some sort of iron pot with holes in the side. On the otherside of the kettle sat a very odd creature.

It looked like a four foot tall fox. The red fur was somewhat matted in places and it wore pants and some type of dirty green shirt. In the corner was a bedroll and a dark green tarp.*

(*Note the only fox creature known in the Klatch is the Speaker of Parliment)

The Keep

An elf made a run for the well and then vanished into the alcove. A JDF trooper noticed it and looked down. "Hey, there is some sort of tunnel down there...off the well..."

Actually, the well was artesian. And to keep it from flooding the keep in a wet spring, a tunnel had been cut to the outside. Of course the elves had designed the tunnel to serve as an emergency escape route. The problem is they never finished it. The elves who had escaped down the tunnel were now finding out that the water escaped to the outside through a narrow, natural crack in the stone. While the tunnel endend intersecting the former rock cut tomb of a later age than the temple across the valley.

Fraser would usually have been surprised to encounter a fox thing. If he was in Dyelli beybi he'd probably have shot it on the grounds that it looked like it was up to something suspicious. But this was an entirely different situation. "Ahhh hello." he began in a low voice, trying not to be overheard by anything on the cliff top, "Might you mind me inquiring what you're doing here?"

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Back at the castle

Greaves on the other hand was now feeling very pleased with herself, this might mean a promotion so long as she kept the other officers away from this individual, "Why yes of course." she saluted the elf crisply, "You'll pardon my promptness but we don't want any misunderstandings...there is a Lords of War ship in the vicinity, I'm sure they'll be more than happy to take you onboard."

"The Hauptmann is coming." it was her thick looking batman by the door, "He doesn't look pleased."

I know Elves are a pain! I have to make peace with one(because I'm weaker then him) other then that I would declare war on him!

OOC: Takes Gray Army out behind the Artic Sea...*If you hear whimpering get me a towel I'll need to wipe the blood off my hands*

IC: The fox creature looked back at Fraiser, "One could as the same of you sir..."

The Castle
The female elf didn't relax and news of the LOW ship in the vicinity. Oh, fu** well I just really screwed myself..... was her only thought. The years of being used as a sex toy had trained her not to show any ungarded emotions.

Ismael was the best example of someone who does not know when to stay down to be found anywhere.

They beat him down.
He got up and growled more.
They beat him down.
He got up and growled more.
They beat him down.
He got up slowly and growled more...

This continued for a good long time. The two troopers watched detachedly - mutual belief that the longer they beat him, the less they were beating them.
And there was a moment of amusement when Ismael grabbed, pulled, and sat on a pole, the result being predictably a see-saw of the pole into the elf's chin.

This didn't amuse the elves much, and they added more blows.

It took long minutes - as in "nearly a half hour" - to beat some semblance of sense into Ismael. By the time he was down enough to be stripped, bruises covered most of his body, and the distinct scent of blood was in the air.

He even kept growling as his CAVEX body armor was removed. Probably couldn't move much - though it didn't seem that anything was broken.

The other two troopers lined up with the Dyellians. Nude males all in a row.

Ismael muttered something about elves being intimidated by fine specimins in front of them... and then made a suggestion about bending over to be tried out as the a***oles they were...

In the later history of the Gonnadian elves there came to be the era of the Dark Queen. The Dark Queen it was said was born of the dark waters of the bottomless pool. And that when she arose from the water, the pool suddenly became dry before expelling water in a huge plume. This was believed by many to be the sign of God trying to stop the Dark Queen's birth, and Satan rebelling against the Creator. Strange was it not that the Dark Queen would be born from the suicide/mass murder performed by her traitor husband.

The Temple Catacombs...
The group of four marines moved down the rock cut passage towards the end. They found themselves looking down into a huge cavern like space, only illuminated by a few lanterns and filled with an electronic hum.

Their eyes grew wide as they saw two Var standing next to a device.

Karlord Be'kena looked up at the balcony and the two Marines standing in the doorway. "Ah welcome, you see I shall die this day and so shall you. Into the mists of Chaos shall we all fly today..."

The electronic hum grew lounder and louder. The marines started to fire at the device, energy bolts slammed into the Karlord and threw him into the stone wall behind the device. It went off...

****
Kuthra was studing the wall of screens and then shouted something in his native tounge. The red eyes seemed to grow brighter and he yelled something more in his native tounge over the mikes. Marines stopped what they were doing and looked confused for a moment.

Kuthra reshouted the order and looked at his 'guests'
"Run damn it Run!!!" was all he could think to say. The Var rose and ran for the small side door into the sanctuary that he had entered from.

****
Anyone familiar with the concept of Varian FTL space travel would have recognized the central part of the object in the catacombs. It was a dimensional rift generator. The one from the gunship. In most situations the rift generator formed a small hole between real and side-reel space to allow the ship going into FTL to cross.

What the Karlord had done was build a gravity bomb out of the device. Due to the relationship between side-reel space and real space, the opening between the two tended to act as a short lived black hole. This usually didn't cause too much trouble in space. Buried under an ancient temple, things were decidedly bad.

As the rift opened, it began to pull at the rock walls and pull the air out of the tunnels. The humans and Var underneath the temple were pulled down toward the gapping opening. At the same time the water from the underground stream began to rise and flood the room. Actually forming a ball of supercritical water around the rift. As the device lost power, the rift closed. The hollow sphere of supercritical gases exploded outwards. The sock wave hit the walls with a massive force. It was the roof of the chamber that gave way first.

The gas and steam exploded upwards, tearing out both the lower and upper sanctuaries of the temple. The blast even sent the broken remains of Hat out of the the, now open, top of the temple to rain down on the nearby countryside. Along with Hat went the remains of the cealing of the lower sanctuary, 16 fifty foot granite pillars, a roof made of limestone tiles, the body parts of LOW Marines, and thousands of elven bones.

The stone underneath the temple was now just weak rock and gravel from the opposing pressure waves. The outer parts of the building began to subside into the hole created by the explosion. At the same time, the ground that the temple had stood on began to crash into the valley below. The air began to fill with a fine dust.

(OOC) Prisoners shouldn't be Dyellians, Dyellians carry infectious 'Dyelliness'.

Ye Olde Temple
For those who had fought alongside them, Dyellians had a strong reputation for cowardice which wasn't entirely fair. They had a healthy sense of self preservation, in general, and when an alarmed looking Var tells you to run you don't think twice. Even so the pair didn't make it far enough and were flung outwards through the main door as the place detonated. If either of them survived the blast they'd be nursing some very major injuries...

Richards watched the explosion with a growing sense of alarm... he'd seen this sort of thing in the Tzarist days, it looked like someone had set a very large bomb off somewhere inside, but more importantly, Dashwood was in there and she could bring this whole stack of cards tumbling down if someone recovered her, dead or alive, before the Dyellians did. Unknown to him, she would be nursing nothing more than a broken arm, a cracked rib and another concussion. Davis was not so lucky, a large lump of sandstone had landed on top of him, and without the protection of his helmet he'd recieved a rather terminal blow to the head. And so passed the 'best soldier in Dyelli Beybi'.

Hastily Richards grabbed the telephone like extension for the radio.

All Sections. Richards Company and Dietz Company advance on the ruins. Search for survivors. Yarkovlekev, send any men you can.

He paused, then fiddled with the dial to transmit only to the LOW Cruiser,

LOW Craft. We are advancing into the rubble to search for survivors. Please lend assistance. We have over 200 men in a position to lend aid, including trained field medics.

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The Castle
The explosion had set nerves on edge at the Castle as well. Yakovlekev burst in on Greaves and the elf, roughly shoving Isidro out of the way, "What the blazes are you do.... oh right."

With no evidence of prisoners being shot, the man's words died in his throat. Greaves saluted, "Interviewing a ahhh, someone important." she'd never actually heard of Kristalli and had completely forgotten what the elf had said.

"Right. Well just stay here!" the Hauptmann vanished as quickly as he had come.

Greaves herself was looking alarmed, "Isidro." she was sounding a lot more polite towards the man this time, "Go and find out what's just happened."

She began to pace the room, fingering her pistol idly, She chewed at her knuckles then suddenly stopped, turning to the elf, "Begging your pardon Ma'am." the crisp tone was still there, but it had been softened a little to make it seem more respectful, "But you wouldn't have any idea what just happened?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside, the Dyellians had finally, mostly through the more observant JDF trooper, discovered the netrance to the well, and while most of the place still seemed to be in chaos, the elves were being moved away from it, while one section - 10 men, were kitting themselves out with gas masks, aparently planning to go down the tunnel, although why they were wearing gas masks was open to speculation.

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The Cliff
Fraser figured he wouldn't get anything from the Fox thing without volunteering anything first, "Hey, you're not the speaker for the Parliament are you?"

He wasn't expecting a yes, but he figured that a few stupid comments might break the ice, "Fraser Morris" he introduced himself, "I was planning to head up there and try to break some people out. Probably wouldn't have worked." he shrugged, "Anyway I still intend to do it...that is unless you have some amazing plan of your own which can be used for me to achieve my goals without getting killed."

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Theta Base
The place was crowded with SS troopers now, all carrying bulky parachutes and wearing armour in a variety of khaki shades. The Dyellians had decided to send out 102 men as that's what their books had told them a C-17 should carry. It was just less than a full company. And so they waited for the Vastivans to be ready.

The Castle
Mar, the elf now in D.B. uniform, (and causing laughter over here) watched as the officer appeared and disappeared. "I would assume you have radios. At the moment I have only the fragments of my dignity and my wits," was her reply. Nice phrasing there girl...we might just pull this off...

***
The explosion across the valley was followed by small bits of debries falling on the now destroyed north curtain wall and hall. The head of Hat had a greater impact, specifically in the center of the elven temple. The sudden impact of the object caused the ground to give way and produce an opening into a chamber below ground. A JDF trooper crawled carefully towards the openning and leaned over to look inside with a flash light.

"Oh my god..." He said and then picked his head up. "Marshall McGerhy, I think we found something....."

The Marshal and a few JDF troopers nearby rushed over to the hole. They looked inside using flash lights.

"Yes, damn that is good. Are they alive?"

"The woman appears to be...no human could survive that..."

They had found the cave that the temple had been built on. The holy site which had been accessable by a staircase now covered with about twenty tons of rock. The cealing of the ancient cave had been shored up with stone columns about 36 feet from each other. The floor of the space was a long ways down from the hole. Inside, at one end of the space stood the altar with the Annointment sacfifice still in place. Laying on in the dust, in a corner was a female elf. A female elf preistess, know as Eza.

***
The JDF trooper, and two of his companions, had not stopped to think about putting on gear for enclosed space work. They had climbed down and slowly followed the tunnel, tramping through the ankle high water. One had a camera out, the other two had carbines at the ready.

The Cliff
"He's grey and doesn't have breasts. And what would he be doing here?" When she heard the phrase "Break out" she scoffed.

"So your going to climb up the side of this mesa and walk right into a mine feild? Oh you boys are good." She shook her head. "So are you Checka or just an idioticly brave Provintial? Personally, I don't care..." She took the soup off the stove and pulled out a cup. She poured some of the soup into it and began to drink it.

"The name is Millie Denack, who I work for is a bit complicated. And you might not want to pass around you met me. I think you would find the experience of having the Ocultists trying to figure out if your insane or a liar a bit problematic." She gave a wintery smile. "Now, I might be able to help you, if you can tell me who you are trying to rescue. Rather than continue climbing up into a mine feild. I think you would find the bouncing betty's at least annoying. Until an elf with an anti-material rifle plugged you." Her hand motions indicated that the mesa above them was not safe to walk across.

***
The Lost Ones
The elf who's pole Ismael sat on almost lost his head. He had just barled realized what the human was doing before the razor sharp blade bucked upwards. He had gotten a nasty cut across his cheek.

The elf now decided to return the favor, and kicked Ismael a few times in the ribs.

As the elves finally got the humans to line up in a line, well except for Ismael and the zombie, one of the elves waved.

A few moments later, an elf in a decorated breast plate of armor and a kilt with a sword attached parted the group. On his arm was a female elf wearing little more than a robe and sandals.

One of the elves began to explain what had happened in the native tounge.
-The one on the ground, well he refused to strip. We had to beat him enough to have the slave undress him.

-And the one who has lost all fear?

-Has said nothing still, he just stares at the world through blank eyes.

The female interjected in her native tounge...
-A strong sacrifice to the Dark Lord shall please him even more than a weak sacfice. I know you are looking to add to the slaves in the mines, but this one will not do...

-Yes, you are quite right...fine let his blood bring the Annointment. Even I, lover of the flat-ear weapons needs his permission.

The female elf nuzzled the elf in the breast plate and then turned to one of the armed elves. -chain him, drag him to the Temple and throw him in the cell, take the one with no fear also.

The elf nodded and disappeared amougst the huts and trees for a moment.

The elf in the breast plate looked at the four naked men. "You fortunate to day, sons of Death. Many sons of Death the people hold for our prayers. You not have that fate. You be miners."

The elf slave said in a meek voice. "You get to enjoy the rest of your existance in the mines."

The armed elf returned with a chain and two pairs of manacles. One elf stepped forward and placed the blade of his pole arm against Ismael's chest as the other slapped on the manacles.

The four humans standing in line were led off towards a corner of the crater. The zombie finnally stood and looked down at Ismael. "Tell me, do you fear death?"

At the Castle

"A radio?" Greaves scratched her haid, "Not on me, no, and I've been ordered to stay here."

It had only taken a couple of minutes but the woman seemed to have regained all her composure, "Anyway, being as you'll be going over to the LOW fellows in a minute, I'm going to have to ask you some questions..."

She undid the straps of her pack, allowing the bulky collection of equipment to fall to the ground with a thump, "Now I'm sure I have some paper in here somewhere..."

Out of the corner of her eye she kept an eye on her companion, there was something about the elf that she didn't quite trust, she was either very arrogent or dodging questions... Also she'd claimed to be some form of nobility, and that was never an endearing trait in the eyes of a rabid Communist like Greaves.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The JDF seemed to be permanently being shadowed by some of the rather large contingent of Dyelli Beybians in the castle. Most of them seemed to have no orders, so were wandering about and generally getting in the way. It was no surrprise then, when three of them found there way to the collapsed cave. The rifles the Dyellians carried had flashlights fitted as standard, they were now sweeping them around the interior, "Sweet Jesus." one muttered, crossing himself.

He seemed to be the one in charge, he turned to his companion on the left, "Go and find an officer, preferably the Hauptmann."

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The Temple Ruins
Dietz and Richards company were now swarming over the rubble, searching for survivors as well as the dead. "One of ours here." someone yelled.

Richards dashed over to the scene, but it wasn't Dashwood, it was the tracker, "Dead as a doornail." the soldier pronounced.

Nonetheless the body was pulled out of the wreckage and covered in a waterproof poncho. The search continued.

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The Cliff
The creatures attitude had not endeared it to Fraser, but he decided being as this creature had been useful so far, storming off probably wasn't the smartest course of action, "I'm not Cheka." he said flatly, "In all my years I've only seen one from their office venture out beyond the bases." This was the Dashwood girl, who he'd come into contact with at Theta base. He'd actually liked her, he usually despised all Commisaars, but she seemed like a genuinely pleasant person, and more importantly didn't seem interested in investigating him for Tzarist sympathies...

"I was in charge of looking after a party of Vastivans. They got ambushed, a few made it out. I was lucky to escape with my head still attached to my shoulders. Anyway, some were carried back here." he shrugged, "Anyway you seem to know more about what's going on than I do, so if you're here on an even vaguely similar mission, I'm willing to put myself at your command."

Corporal Vessek looked at the assembled troops. “That it?”
He met the curious looks with another sentence. “The C-71 is capable of transporting a little over 400 combat-ready soldiers to a destination. The HALO can carry another 40 in its current configuration with the weapons pods. As I see it, the HALO is going to pick up bodies and equipment – the elves left the carnage, and getting back the IFV wreckage would be worth it. The C-71 will fly your men towards elf central. We’ve added armor to the wings, body, and tail so a hit won’t bother the plane. Multiples will. And I do trust you don’t mind our parking our take in that hanger, it was the most open area we could find. We will be leaving five men there to watch them, and those cages will resist even elvish weaponry - we tested them.

“If you find anything, the HALO can run support or carry troops out, but I warn you it’s not a combat chopper even with the plating."

***

Ismael stood slowly and considered the zombie. “No. But assuredly, it is more desirable to go down in combat then in beating these… things. Besides,” he tested the bars, “If we are to die anyway, I might as well have the pleasure of taking a few of them with me. Ignorant pieces of camel flop they are.”

The Hauptsturmführer in charge of the mission shook his head then spoke into a reciever, in German. When he had finished he turned to Vessek, "We can get up to 127, the troops from the Company who we hadn't assumed we could get on are coming over, they should be with us before we're fully loaded.

"Preferably we'll do this from moderately high altitude and open the chutes as low as possible in order to give them the minimum response time. We're planning to hit them with a tank column of model 5s and 6s, naturally it will arrive an hour or so later than the paratroopers." he waved a hand at a collection of oversized tanks, with a few smaller ones dotted between.

The Castle
Mar just looked around to find a place to sit, and decided the edge of a water trough would do for the moment. "I will endevor to be helpful to my rescuers, however some details I may have to...ah...leave blank due to my oaths to her Highness. I am sure you have similar arangements with your government."
She is looking at me....I must not be pulling this off right.

***
The Marshal was also now on the floor of the cavern. "Arlight, I want someone to rig a sling to take this elf to the surface. I want her taken to our nearest feild health facility. When are those choppers due in?"

"About fifteen minutes sir."

"Good, now I want a body bag. Treat this...whatever it is as a crime scene..."

"Ah, none of us know anything..."

"Take lots of photos before you stuff the body into the bag. I want the elf and the bag out of here pronto. Who knows what might happen around here next..."

****
The two JDF in the tunnel find the elves crowded around the small crack. Some appear to be trying to hide, the rest are working on re-opening a bricked in doorway.

"Ah, leave the buggers for the Provintials. I really don't see any need to interview a bunch of old hags and children."

****
OOC: I would continue, but I need to shut down the lab I am working in and go find some food....sorry for the delay.

The Vrak Geological and Seismograph Research Institute, an arm of the Vrak Military Research Division, suddenly had some interesting news to report. For the most part, they concerned themselves with monitoring the Klatch with regards to possible earthquake activity.

Large, unnatural explosions also fell under their purview, and while the one that rocked the temple wasn’t as large as perhaps an underground nuclear test, it was significant. It also added additional evidence to the satellites that managed to snap some photos.

====

The Sub-director was looking forward to a respite from his duties. After the OMP standoff, he thought he earned it. Now, it looks like he would have to request additional help since his particular sphere of interest included monitoring the Southern Klatch. An aide delivered a brief, full of the latest sat photos over Rouge Jiggady along with the seismograph report. A couple of other walruses occupied the meeting table.

-So, it looks like some kind of explosion.
-Yes. But we didn’t see any kind of missile or other delivery system launched from any FKC states.
-What about the LOW gravships?
-The best that we can tell is that two of them were occupied with something else further north. Of that, we still aren’t sure about. We did detect some gravships firing on the structure itself though.
-What does this structure look like? And how come we didn’t see it before?
-Well, er…this is a jungle. Rather hard to find anything under that kind of cover. As far as the structure, it looks like some kind of old fortress. Not similar in design to ours though. I’ll have Archives do a search.
-Hmmm. And the latest traffic in that area?
-As far as we can tell, LOW and Dyelli Beybi are in there, along with JDF troops. Rouge Jiggady, from what we know, have been pulling back. They have been circumspect as to why though. We really don’t know too much in that part of the Klatch.
-Well, someone must know. What about those damn inspectors?
-Iuthia is the only official one allowed in Dyelli Beybi. Also, the Ctan and Vastiva are part of the elf study sponsored by Alcona.
-Great. Are any of them near the explosion?
-We don’t know. We don’t have anyone in the area. We have to rely upon JDF information.
-Hmmmm. I want a rescue patrol to be put on standby. There might be some dead and wounded out there and we may need to perform an evac.
-Wouldn’t it be better to alert Monte Ozarka and Rouge Jiggady themselves? After all, they are closer to the situation.
-Very well. Contact Monte Ozarka while I try to find out more from the JDF end.

The walruses then waddled out.

====

**********
JDF protocols: Alpha Beta 9028
To: Monte Ozark Military Command
From: Vrak Military High Command
**********
We have detected a fairly large, unnatural explosion in Rouge Jiggady, specifically in the westernmost part of the peninsula. We think that they may need medical assistance and suggest that you render aid, if possible. We are a bit too far to help.

We would also ask that you provide us some intel on the situation. We really aren’t sure as to exactly what is going on over there.

====

**********
JDF protocols: Golf Omega 2309
To: Alcona and Huris Military Command
From: Vrak Military High Command
**********

We have We have detected a fairly large, unnatural explosion in Rouge Jiggady, specifically in the westernmost part of the peninsula. We were wondering if you could provide us with some latest intel on the situation. We have informed Monte Ozarka that if they could render medical assistance, it would be helpful since we are too far away.

The Castle
The Dyellians advancing into the tunnel did so nervously, as if expecting an ambush. One of them rolled a tear-gas grenade down the passage, bouncing it along, aparently completely oblivious of any JDF at the other end. Seconds later it was followed by two more, then by a gas-mask clad Dyellian. It was uncertain whether it was deliberate or a sign of the obvious nervousness the troops were feeling in an elven tunnel...as they stepped into the clouds of vapour the shape of an elf loomed towards them, and was immediately riddled with bullets. The gunfire sounding like the roar of a jet engine in the confined space and left ears ringing after it had ceased, but it did not cease immediately, the first shots triggered the remaining troops to open up, only stopping shooting at the huddled elves when they were forced to reload. It had only lasted a few seconds, but now the tunnel was sticky with blood while small chips of bone and dismembered bodies littered the interior, the loudest sound was the wailing of the injured, "Who started it?"

"That one made a lunge at me!"

"No it bloody well didn't it was just sitting there."

"Ok, Ok." the NCO seemed to have been the only one who hadn't taken part in the shooting, "No use crying over spilt milk. If any are still alive drag them up to the surface."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The collapsed cave had drawn the Hauptmann and a small enterage, "Hey!" he yelled at the JDF troopers, from the top of the hole, "Whats going on down there?"

Then he saw, and seemed ready to vommit down the hole. He turned away, taking a few deep breaths, when he turned back he seemed to have formed some kind of resolve, "Who's in charge down there? And is that elf still alive?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greaves on the other side of the courtyard had heard more gunfire, and had, correctly attributed it to nervous Dyellian troops, she seemd completely unconcerned as she straightened up, holding a notepad and a pencil,

"Mmmm'kay." she jotted something down, "I hope this oath won't disallow you from telling us how you ended up here...that is basically all I need to know. The Cheka would be most displeased though if I can't provide them with some form of answer to that question."

Greaves was a relatively sharp woman, but she had come to the wrong conclusion over Mara. She'd decided whichever strange Nation she claimed to belong to was probably planning to support the Gonad Elves, against Dyelli Beybi and that this individual was probably their ambassador, who had ended up biting off more than they could chew. She just wished there was a Cheka agent nearby...

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The Ruins

Richards was confiring with Dietz, who it turned out was an explosives expert. Richards had always thought the other Hautmann was just an imbecile, but now he seemed to be talking some sense now.

"The explosion was big." Dietz explained, "Like a MOAB or something, however if you look at the spread of the debris, it was detonated quite low down, and most of the explosive force travelled straight upwards, meaning that objects inside the temple were catapulted into the air, while objects outside were forced outwards, but not with anywhere near the same force, especially those lower to ground level when it went off.

"Of course we all felt it in the ground, and here in the centre it probably would have been strong enough to knock over pillars and wall...that's not just ones torn apart by all that explosive force travelling upwards, this is ground tremor damage.

"I'm hopeful we might be able to find a few survivors if we keep on looking, anyone who was outside when it went off would have stood a chance of sorts."

Richards nodded, he hadn't understood anything except the last sentence, "You hear that men?" he yelled, "Keep on digging!"

The loaded C-71 took off ahead of the HALO, but then their destinations and missions were somewhat different.

***

Corporal Vessek was somewhat amazed that the battlefield was still littered with corpses. The HALO landed without challenge - for that matter,thought Vessek, we weren't shot at during that whole flight. I wonder what is occupying our pointy-eared friends?

Not truly expecting an answer, he fanned his team out and gathered up the Vastivan dead, all the equipment that lay about from both sides, and laid a towline to the smouldering frame of the IFV.

This is truly an amazing sight. Surely the elves should have cleaned up a bit more then this. I wonder what caused their sudden withdrawl...

Astoundingly, the medic reported two of the elves still alive - albeit barely. Both suffered critical wounds from schrapnel and traumatic blood loss. Gott in Himmel, what has kept these two alive? Why weren't they removed? He shook off the immediate reaction to shoot both, and instead had them carried aboard.

Back to base. We need to unload all this before going into that place.

What of Ismael?

Vessek shook his head. The Dyellians can handle it better then we can to start. We need to get this equipment back. There will be plenty of time to aid and assist.

The huge transport helicopter took off, jerking once as the towline lifted the remains of the IFV; still, there was not the slightest hint of resistance or attack.

Curious. Very curious.

***

Elsewhere, the C-71 ran its approach, the huge Mitrene engines growling against the night sky.

Prepare your men, we'll be over the target in one minute! The loadmaster pulled a single lever; the rear cargo hatch began to slowly descend to an open position.

The SS troops busied thelselves, checking their weapons were safely stowed before making the jump, they were carrying nothing except their weapons and medical supplies. There was no food and no change of clothes...they were expecting to be pulled out within 12 hours or all die in the process.

They formed a rough line towards the rear, then as the signal came on, one by one quickly leapt out the back of the aircraft, one by one in rapid succession, tumbling towards an uncertain fate...

"As soon as the transport gets back, load everything but the HALO and prepare to lift off. The troops will stay put for the time being, possibly as light support, but it is imperative these research subjects be sent to Sisu Arshu as soon as possible. Have another transport sent to pick us up, shouldn't take more then a day or so."

"Aye, sir! What of the Dyellians?"

"What of them? Our interest is in collection, and possible recovery. We have no treaty to reinforce here, nothing but our interest in these research subjects. If the Dyellians want our help, they haven't indicated it yet. And my bet would be that these people do not need our aid in these internal politics. Now get to preparing to bug out."

"Sir!" Richards turned from where he had been overseeing a landing transport helicopter "We got the Commisaar here!"

Richards raced over to the place where a couple of troops had uncovered the Commisaar. She looked in one piece, although a lot of rubble had landed on her. A medic arrived a second or so after Richards, he busied himself, searching for signs of life, "She's still breathing."

"Fantastic." Richards gave a light smile, in all hoestly he couldn't care less, the Commisaar was important solely so that no LOW troops foun her, her being alive was a bonus he supposed.

"Help me get her out of here!" A pair of soldiers bent to assist the medic. They bore her from the scene, hurrying off towards the waiting helicopter where wounded from the previous engagements were also being loaded for evacuation.

There were quite a few and the helicopter was quickly filled, taking off and bearing the wounded away from the scene of destruction, and out of the Gonad. On the ground the search for survivors continued...

(OOC: Pardon me for keeping the Commisaar alive, even though she probably ought to have died. I guess I was reluctant to get such a unique character killed off so early ;)

The reason that the LOW were not attempting to rescue anyone suddenly became evident as the ruins of the temple suddenly began to shift again, rolling further down into the valley. The explosion had closed off the underground stream and it was now fluidizing the remains of at the base of the hill.

The Castle

The elves were all dead, well one old female elf lived. And three JDF troopers also lay dead in the tunnel. One had a radio that was calling out..."Jim...Jim...what the fu** is going on...Jim can you read me..."

*****
The Marshal looked up at the Hauptmann and said. "I'm in charge here, Senior Marshal McGehry. The human on the slab is dead, this elf is being returned to our nearest medical station. And who the hell are you?"

A JDF Sargent was panicking now that he couldn't raise Corporal Jim Bilk.

****
By now they were on the radar, twelve helios comming in from the north east. The group consited of six gunships and six heuy's carrying only half teams each. They were now only a few minutes out from comming into the valley and dropping JDF reinforements.

The Clef in the Cliff
The fox creature shook her head. "Great, now I've got a group of foriegners stuck in this mess. I'm here to investigate these various major elf groups to see if we can make some sort of peace with them....what the hell is that noise?"

OOC: I have no idea where your SS boys are trying to jump into...I would assume on Frasier's GPS point or at least some distance from it so your not in the middle of the enemy trying to gather together as you get slaughtered.

IC: The elves here were D.B.'s worst nightmare. Elves who had decided to catch-up with the rest of the outside world in terms of technology. They had traded for year to get weapons of various kinds into this part of the Gonad. And now, they were going to get to test it.

As the figures of the S.S. appeared in the sky on the north side of the Mesa, 88's covered in a turret of brush followed them. However, the local Warlord seemed to have eyes full of blood lust and a smile that made him look like an elven version of Jack Nicklson.

He turned from the veiw on the black and white T.V. connected to an eight-bit monocrome camera that some pirate had traded for more useful cocaine base.

"Alright so the Djel have come for us. Take all of the new prisoner's gear and destroy it. Get the gun archers to take out a few of those Djel when their shoots open....."

As it happened, the S.S. were decending in a line towards the Mesa, giving the elven version of sharpshooters with stolen anti-material rifles (and anti-armor explosive rounds) to start trying to pick off the SS as their parachuttes opened.

The jungle itself was waiting for the incomming food packages.

C-71

"Chutes Away!" came the call over the intercom to the cockpit from the loadmaster."Door closed, bay is clear."
The pilot looked at his copilot."Nobody is shooting at us this time?"
"Are you going to argue with fate?"
The pilot shook his head. "Nope. And the sooner we're out of here, the happier I'll be."

The huge cargo plane made a graceful turn, gaining altitude and heading back to base.

The Castle
Down in the tunnel their was chaos, "We've shot bloody JDF, this means trouble."

"Bloody time in the military prison."

The soldiers seemed frozen in horror at what had occured, none seemd entirely certain what they were supposed to do now. All except the NCO, he still felt a glimmer of hope for himself, if not his men, he hadn't actually fired his gun, which would be fairly evident. He spoke into the transmitter on his shoulder, "We're going to need medical aid down here."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hauptmann Yarkovlekev" the Hauptmann called from the top, "I'm in Command of the D.B.P.A. Company in this castle... I can see the human's dead."

He muttered something to one of the soldiers who he had been standing with. They saluted and hurried off, the Hauptmann's face was begining to take on a grave look, "That elf is still alive? I think you should hand her over to us."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greaves had noticed the growing comotion outside, she hadn't had her questions answered, but it scarecely mattered now, "Shit."

The mood in the castle had changed. It had not taken long for word of what had happened in the cavern to spread, and the whole mood had changed. There was going to be revenge killing. Outside some of the prisoners were being lined against the wall of the castle, despite her misgivings about the elf under her care, the last thing she wanted was for her to get shot, it didn't really seem fair for a start. Those in no fit state to stand were seated against it. Greaves had no idea what it was all about, but she knew that whatever the cause, these actions would get the Company into hot water, and there was still no sign of Isidro, "I'm going to ask you now to trust me, and do exactly as I say." she said in a calm measured voice, "When the shots are fired, follow me, hopefully in one of our uniforms you won't be singled out."

Outside, Fitzgerald was kicking up a fuss, his voice drifted inside, "You can't just shoot them, that's murder that is. It makes us as bad as them."

"Hold your tongue soldier."

There was sounds of running feet and then a gunshot, then the angry voice of the officer rose again, "You lot. Find that deserter."

Military order was breaking down.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

(OOC) The rest will come later.

The Jungle South of the Mesa
A fair number of the SS had been hit on the descent. The survivors now lay scattered about the jungle South of the Mesa. Officers blew shrill whistles which echoed above the occasional gunshot, drawing the troops to them. Organisational structure was more or less lost already, and the troops were opperating in adhoc units of between 3 and 15 soldiers, depending upon who they'd landed closest to. The first troops had found their way to the jungle near the foot of the mesa, "Shit." one commented, "looks like the only way up is through those oaks."

"I'll tell the Commander." it was a man carrying a big sectional radio, although in anticipation of the chaos of a paradrop, all the small radios had been tuned to communicate to the individual's entire platoon.

Some movement at the edge of the Mesa earned a burst of gunfire from one of the troopers.

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The Cliff
Fraser could now hear the very distinct noise of Dyellian assault rifles, "Ahh, it seems we're attacking." he informed the fox-thing, "I might point out I don't think you'll have much luck reasoning with them. Might I add it is sort of important that we recover the Vastivans, foreign affairs and all that, wouldn't look good if we let some unwashed heathens eat Senior Vastivan officials, not good at all."

Fraser had a feeling this... thing, probably had a good idea as to what was on top of the mesa, which would help him quite a bit.

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The Ruins
Most of the troops scrambling around it the ruins managed to dash to safety before the collapse, however half a dozen did not.

The rock slide continued for a full ten minutes. Dust filled the air as the fluizided rubble filled the valley. Of course this was going to start the valley up-river to start to flood along with the elven village.

The Castle
The Marshal stopped at the phrase, "you should turn her over to us...". He seemed to be trying to judge things.

"I really do not feel like getting into a confrontation with you Hauptmann Yarkovlekev, so I am going to remind you that a Klatchian Marshal is the represenative of the Privy Council and ask you if you wish to rephrase that statement."

******
Mar could tell things had gone bad quickly. She just nodded and made sure that the helment was on tightly. What the hell has happened? Some elf cross them?

******
The remaining JDF company was also getting skiddish. First three of them had vanished and now the Provintials were looking like they were getting rid of witnesses. A sargent whispered to a corporal. "Likely we just stumbled on to something, gather the men and equipment up around the hole. We'll try to hold out until either the air-cav or those tanks show up."

The remaining JDF troopers were now moving into the ruins of the temple inside of the innerward. The fallen rubble made several nice places for men to form a U with the high wall of inner curtain to make a defensive stance. The fact that they were also surrounding the Hauptmann and the hole into the cave was also a factor in their placement.

One JDF trooper began to corral the horses into the kitchen. It seems the calvery was hunkering down to wait for reinforcements.

A JDF trooper pushed passed the Hauptmann and dropped to the cavern floor whispering into the Marshal's ear.

****
The noise of rotors could start to be made out as a distant sound as the JDF copters continued their approach.

The Mesa
Ismael and the zombie had been dragged into the dark temple and tossed into small cubby's at the back cut out of the living rock. The openings were closed off with iron bars sliding down through the rock.

However a few moments later four nude, female elves entered the temple with torches. They started lighting lamps around the vast chamber. The walls were covered with what looked like paintings of flowers, birds, the paintings surounded pannels of carved rock. Some of the pannels had script of some sort, others showed elves in stylistic poeses doing unspeakable things to other elves.

Ismael was taken from his cubicle by four elves and dragged onto the altar. His arms and legs were bound with ropes spreading him across his back. The altar allowed his head to lay in a manner exposing his neck, while his rear lay off the other side of the altar.

*****
Elsewhere, elves were taking up postions on the Mesa top. One got too close and vanished off the side as enemy rifle fire picked him off.

The Cliff

"Fine, fine...I'll see if I can get the Vastivians out. But it is going to be damn expensive. And yes I mean expensive. You see the elves dislike humans and don't really care for other, non-satan worshiping elves. However, I don't fall into either catagory. Which means I can buy them out rather than have them sacrificed as part of the preperations for battle. Now, let's get down from here and stop that attack before the elves turn your Vastivans into sacrifices of the Annointment." The fox rose and stepped forward, dropping a rope ladder out of the cleft and down into the Jungle below.

The Castle
The Hauptmann did not seem impressed by the Martial, but then again the Dyellians had very mixed views on central Government. It was alright so long as it did what they wanted it to, "The elf should be shot and hung from the walls of the castle. I have ordered the execution of 20 prisoners as an example of what we will do when we encounter this sort of behaviour."

This was exactly the kind of attitude that had kept this stretch of land a perpetual warzone.

The Dyellians seemed like they were shooting more than half of their prisoners. As the first gunshots rang out, Greaves set off purposefully towards the gap in the wall, behind her, soldiers were dragging forward more struggling elves, "I hope you're following me." she hissed to Mara, "We'll get you to that LOW ship in no time, for now we're making a break for Richards Company, Richards is a little less rash."

Aparently out of nowhere Isidro showed up, following the officer wordlessly.

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The Ruins
The two companies involved in the combat had taken heavy casualties, and it was not improved when another 6 men were swept to their deaths. Richards, shook his head, "This isn't good." Dietz and most of his company was separated from his own now, "Call in the helicopters. We're getting out of here...any word from Yarkovlekev?"

Richard's radioman shook his head, "None Sir, although the helicopters say his company is all down there still."

Richards frowned, "Ok, well we'll send some to pick his lot up anyway."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Cliff
Fraser didn't look convinced by the story, "Ok....but remember it's your funeral, may I suggest you tell them and I go and tell the Dyellians to cut it out?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
South of the Mesa
The troops had moved to take up positions a safe distance from the Klatchian Oaks. A few patrols had set off to search for any other possible routes down from the hill. Somewhere in the formation a radio was crackling

We'll need an airstrike on these co-ordinates. Over....10 minutes? Over.... Message understood. Over and out

The Castle

The elf should be shot and hung from the walls of the castle. I have ordered the execution of 20 prisoners as an example of what we will do when we encounter this sort of behavior."


Well of course, McGerhy was a native of Port Olympus that viewed Dyellians and their armed forces as something of a running joke. Something on the lines of the Swiss Navy, or the Congo Arctic Corps. The very fact that the Hauptmann would first order him to hand over a potential Intel resource and then tell him he should shoot her didn't help matters.

"Well, I am sure they would get the meaning of that statement. Unfortunately, considering how long you have been fighting this war with them, I think they already know your opinion of their practices and don't give a flying hoot. I shall carry out my orders as I see fit. Good day sir…"

By now the female elf was being laid on a board to carry her out of the cave, while the body of the sacrifice was being stuffed by two troopers into a black plastic body bag. A few other items were being photographed, labeled and placed into bags.

****
The sound of the JDF air-cav grew louder in the valley.

****
Mar nodded and followed Greaves like a bad cold. However she stopped at the hole and said…"Ah is there not a group of those nasty killer trees out here?"

****
The Cliff
"Well I need to go back to the entrance of this mesa. And it sounds like your trooper are out that way also."

She climbed down the rope ladder to a high rock. Stopped to look up to make sure Fraiser was coming. And then took off along the base of the cliffs back towards the streams.

She seemed to move quickly and quietly through the Jungle and appeared to be able to sense a route out back to the river.

There she waited for Fraiser to catch up with her. Since it appeared that the S.S. were on the other side. She waited behind a rock, in case someone thought she might make a nice coat.

OOC: pardon the bad writting...

The Castle
The Hauptmann seemed infuriated by this blatant disregard for his rank, "And what are you going to do with that creature? Offer it tea and biscuits? You wouldn't have the first idea how to handle these creatures."

The views hel of the Dyellian military were probably a little unfair. They generally aquitted themselves, especially when firmly dug in, they were though, undoubtedly the most disorganised military on the coast, and no matter how hard the Cheka and High Command tried to keep them in line, they always seemed on the verge of going totally out of control, as they had on several occasions in the past, plunging the country into civil war.

He sniffed disdainfully and sauntered off, throwing a comment back over his shoulder, "There's been a friendly fire incident by the way, you can rest assured we'll look into it."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Greaves didn't actually know what a Klatchian Oak looked like, "Probably not." she said, not at all reassuringly, setting off straight towards Richards Company's last position.

She was in fact just about to walk into a strangler teak, when Isidro caught her shoulder, "Best not to go that way Ma'am." he suggested, turning her the right way.

"Ahh yes, probably not."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Ruins
Richards and Dietz were mostly loaded onboard helicopters when Fitzgerald appeared, running towards Richards' chopper, the Hautmann leaned out, "What's the problem?" he called to the trooper.

"It's Yarkovlekev....he's shooting prisoners."

"Shit." Richards swore, "Where's his bloody radio?"

"He shot it." Fitzgerald replied.

"What?" Richards demanded angrily, "Oh, never mind...hop in, we're going to take a flight over in that direction."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
By the Mesa
"Oi you lot!" Fraser bellowed, "Hey don't point that thing at me, how many elves do you know who speak English."

He was bloody obvious, striding towards the Dyellian line, "We've got a way to get everyone out and there doesn't need to be any more slaughtering...now if you lot can just hold your fire for a bit....thanks."

The SS troops seemed completely taken aback by Fraser ordering them about. He vanished into the woods where the SS were located, and some muffled conversation could be heard for a couple of minutes, then his voice rang out again, "Ahhhh, foxy thing, it might be an idea if you came over here...apparently they're going to be dropping a bomb on that cluster of oaks in about six or seven minutes, and you can't be too careful."

The Castle
The Hauptmann seemed infuriated by this blatant disregard for his rank, "And what are you going to do with that creature? Offer it tea and biscuits? You wouldn't have the first idea how to handle these creatures."

He sniffed disdainfully and sauntered off, throwing a comment back over his shoulder, "There's been a friendly fire incident by the way, you can rest assured we'll look into it."


McGerhy did not give a flying whoop for the Hauptmann or his suggestions. He stood there looking over his men as they brought the elf towards the whole along with the body bag. One trooper brought forth a large, ornate silver vessel.

"Sir, this thing has wine in it but…ah…it tastes a bit funny…"
"You tasted it?"

"Ah, well I was a bit parched sir…"

"Get a sample of the wine, put the container in an evidence bag and return to base with the elf. I don't need any more dead on my hands because of your foolishness…"

"Yes…sir…"

The fact that the Marshal was down a very deep hole from the surface cut off the Hauptmann's last comment. However, the JDF troopers now crouched in the rubble of the elven temple did here him.

"yeah, right…you f*** bastards always shoot first and cover you’re a**" was said a bit outloud. The eyes of several armed men seemed to look at the Hauptmann with murder in their eyes.

One trooper, a wiry man with a very large rifle, was sitting on a stone next to the path back down into the inner ward. The markings of a corporal sat on his sleeve stained with blood which he was cleaning off the gun. He looked up at the Hauptmann with eyes filled with the cold deadly fires of anger and revenge.

****
Mar noted that the man seemed to have a better idea about the local fauna then Greaves.

Oh, god this b*** doesn't know the first thing about being out in the jungle. I am in serious f***ing trouble now.

Mar kept up with the two, even though her feet were bare.

Of course the small river, which ran between the village/castle compound and the ancient temple compound was now flooding, quickly. The water was turning the small gardens and fields at the bottom of the valley near the river fords into large field of mud. It wouldn't be long before the water started to lap at the lowest wall of the village.

****
The sound of JDF choppers continued to increase, of course they were still drowned out by the helio's of the Provincial forces in the area.

****
The Mesa
Millie poked her head up above the rock and exclaimed…"Damn it!" She crossed the river and strode back up to Fraser using the sound of his voice to locate him.

"Damn it man, if you bomb their outer defenses they are going to prepare for battle. Which means an Anointment which means some bloody human is going to get raped, tortured and scragged. Now, they have a hell of a lot of humans in there, but I can't guarantee that they won't scrag one of your bloody Vesti..Vastivans…and I won't be able to deal with them to buy them back." She looked at the S.S. about.

"And even if you do, wipe out that stand of Oaks, what is on the other side. It could be nothing, it could be a bleeding bunker compound smack at the end of that cleft in the cliff. What I do know is you don't have enough men here to do much more than get slaughtered if you attack…"
She crossed her arms and stared back at them all. It was obvious to her that a frontal attack on an enemy position through such a narrow cleft was likely a piss poor idea.

*****
Elves began to congregate in the temple. They looked at Ismael, spread eagle on the altar, with anticipation.

The Vastivans, on the other hand, were rather unperturbed by the whole turn of events. Blissfully unaware of the hell on earth the combatants were creating, they sat quietly in the reinforced hanger at Theta Base - and played MahJongg and Monopoly while waiting for some word of Ismael. There had been a pool on whether Ismael would be back, and in what condition, but no one had wanted to cover any "living" bets, so that idea had gone by the wayside.

Near the Mesa
Fraser shrugged apologetically, "It has a bit of a temper... This is Hauptsturmführer Bashir by the way."

He was standing next to a fairly short D'Reg (OOC: Nomadic Arabic Tribesman) in an SS uniform, "Well if you think you can handle it, we can call the planeback, but might I add you might have trouble getting in there with those trees in the way."

In the background the radioman was already hailing the Luftwaffe...

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At the Castle
Yarkovlekev eyed the Corporal up and down, "Accidents happens in war."

He did not sound particularly apologetic. If the Corporal had been planning to say anything his voice was cut out by the sound of Richards' helicopter arriving overhead playing 'The Darkness' at full volume for no apparent reason...

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Nearing the Ruins
"Right." Greaves was staring across the expanse of mud and water, "looks like we should cross this..."

Any need to actually cross the swamp was cut off, as one of the circling helicopters spotted the trio and descended towards them, An officer was crouched in the open door next to a machine gunner, "Need a lift?" he yelled through the speaker system, which seemed to be a compulsory part of any Dyellian helicopter.

Greaves nodded thankfully, giving the man a thumbs up, "Right." she said matter of factly, "We'll use the radio onboard to get in contact with the LOW ship up there....we'll have you out of this shit hole in no time."

The Castle
The Corporal hadn't attempted to say anything. The very fact that the Hauptmann had stopped to say "Accidents Happen…" had demonstrated his weakness in the situation. The JDF troopers were not surprised by the appearance of the helicopter, of course the copter was going to have to go to the east side of the castle to actually land…too much debris littered the remains of the castle.
****

Mar just nodded, she was quite thankful not to have to try and cross the rapidly rising water.

****
The JDF choppers came into sight now, they didn't seem alarmed at the Provincial aircraft in the area.

Deyllian aircraft, this is JDF Air-Calvery Company B, Third Battalion, Red Division. Be advised we will be operating in this area.

Near the Mesa
Millie gave a short bow to Hauptsturmführer Bashir, "The name is Millie…and there is more than one way to skin a cat. Or get into a fortress…tell me when you've called off your bombing run…."

She pulled out of her pack a few items. One was a long, bronze tube with slots cut a verying lengths down the length. Another was a long stick with one end wound in some material forming a large ball. The third item was a red bag about 24 by 14 inches and six inches thick, with a white cross on it. She then pulled out a brown, sack cloth shirt with hood, a pair of uncomfortable looking sandals, and a pair of prothstetic elf ears.

She handed the clothing and fake ears to Faser, "Well get changed…I can't go in there without a guide can I?"

****
Three, nude female elves came striding up the aisle of the temple. Each wore a gold pendent that looked like a pentagram with an overlying, upside down cross in silver. The lead priestess, the one who had wanted Ismael for the anointment carried a tray. The tray appeared to have two large jugs made of silverish material and a large bowl, made of some dark wood.

The two priestesses following her carried other implements. The first carried what sailors would have called a very large cat-o-nine tails. Rather than knots in the string, it had apparently diamonds mounted at the tip of each string. The second elf carried a poker, which was red hot and smoking.

Following them was a male elf, also nude, who was decidedly well hung and at attention. When the group reached the area before the altar, the lead elf turned and began to speak in elvish.

-As our enemies gather let us ask the Dark Lord, our Father, to bring us victory. Let us anoint ourselves with the blood of our enemies…

OOC: I really don't want to go through the anointment ceremony again…but there will likely be a new ceremony…I'm not sure if it will be better or worse…

The Castle
'I believe in a thing called love' cut off about half way, to be replaced by the somewhat annoyed voice of Richards, "Hauptmann Yarkovlekev. You'rewaisting valuable time here. As Senior Hauptmann on this mission it is my duty to inform you there will be an investigation into the shooting of prisoners, and willful destruction of state property...As for now though it is considered adviseable that you remove your Company from this position. The order to evacuate has already been recieved by all other Companies."

Yarkovlekev seemed unable to cope with the idea of being given orders by a hovering helicopet, but evidently decided it was best to do as he was told in this instance, and stormed off towards the East side of the castle, where a few other transport helicopters were now begining to arrive.

Richards' anger was also fairly obvious to any observers. That kind of stunt would only be pulled if the Senior Hauptmann really wanted to humiliate the other officer.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, one of the attack helicopters had responded to the hail,

Message recieved and understood, we're just getting out of here anyway

...which was true, already about half the helicopters were leaving. They had tried to be secretive in coming, but sinceabout half the FKC seemed to be here now, secrecy had taken a back seat, and the helicopters were rapidly ascending into the sky. They would cruise back to base, well out of catapult range.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Mesa

"Already done" Bashir replied.

"Are you off your nut?" Fraser replied half a second later, his voice filled with alarm, "I don't speak a word of elvish, I'll stick out like a sore thumb."

"Shut up and do as you're told." Bashir interjected before Millie could say anything, "You can always pretend you're a mute. If anyone says anything to you just go nghh nghhh nghh."

He paused to make sure Fraser had got the message, "Now go and get changed behind that bush over there, nobody here particularly wants to see your naked Dyellian arse."

Fraser obeyed, grumbling to himself, as he made his way behind the bushes, "Now I take it." Bashir said, when Fraser was gone, "That these elves aren't going to just hand over the prisoners for a big pile of cash. They'll probably want passage out of here as well... and there is one small flaw in your plan, how do you expect them to believe that thingee behind the Bush over there managed to get through our force at the base of this Mesa?"

Ismael watched in horrified fascination, wondering if he could manage to bite off his own tongue and drown.

The Mesa
"Monks of the Dark Lord do not, can not speak to anyone but their...mates."
Millie added after Fraser's protest.

She shook her head as she replaced the red bag into her pack. "Your trying to form a perimeter line over six miles in circumfrence with...what...a hundread men, in this jungle?"

She shook her head, "really we are sitting in front of the elven equivilant of Petra and Cuba at once." She leaned down and started drawing on the ground with her stick.

She drew a large rough circle in the ground. "Like a good number of mesas, what we have before us is a classic remains of a volcano core. In this case we have a core of basalt. Nasty, hard...."

She draws a smaller circle inside of the large one, "However, before the volcano stopped erupting, she had a smaller release of pumice. This of course wore away at a faster rate than the surrounding basalt, forming this doughnut shape...."

Millie then drew a rough line across the circles. "We happen to be sitting before this cleft which goes from the interior to the exterior. At the same time, the elves had either found, or made thousands of tunnels and buildings out of the living rock. It will take either nukes or thousands of sorties with heavy bunker busters to force that place to surrender."

She stood up, "And at the moment, we don't want to. It is time we ended this little ethnic civil war. I didn't even like it when your nation was little more than the Djel river valley...but here is the tactical reason."

She pointed out into the jungle. "This is one of five major elven power centers. Some will be more likely to deal with us than others. What we can not do is allow anyone of the western centers to suddenly grow in power and become the center of all elven activity. If it does, things for you might get nasty on your eastern frontier. No more dealing with penny packet raids using bows and ballistas but full wave attacks with anti-material rifles, RPGs, and anti-tank missles. Removing this group of elves is actually more dangerous for you in the long run."

She looks to see if Fraser is done yet. "The fact is, if they know your here...they likely can flank you, or just pick you off if your too spread out.
If you've attempted to set up a full perimeter then it will have more holes than swiss cheese. That, and I can always say your a bunch of Vastiv...whatevers who want to rescue their leader."

"Really, you've got scanty intel obviously or you would have never dropped in so close. I don't want to rain on your parade...but you sitting like a group of nomads before the fortress at...Bath wasn't it...where your army laughed itself silly just waiting for reinforcements. Its been so long ago I can't recall the names properly. My reccomendation would be to pull out once we get the Vastivans...there is a reason the Privy Council sent me in here two years ago to do intelligence gathering..."

Which of course made perfect sense. The Privy Council likely started to investigate things durring Nekoa Bay. And what better idea then to send in a non human sentient to deal with the elves. Of course, that ment that if the fox thing got killed in this adventure, the Landgravine of Hubris would be pissed. This had her finger prints all over it.

"Yeah." Bashir replied, "You're probably right on that one, although I don't really see how leaving this place alone is going to help us. These guys seem to have anti-material rifles and so on and so forth."

Bashir wasn't really certain what the funny thing meant by ethnic war, but it had the ring of something he shouldn't look into. Bashir was a D'Reg, a people who had only stopped rebelling against rule from Cyro in the 1920s. At the time of the Djel River valley Kingdom they had had their own Kingdom in the North East centred around the city of Quisa.

"I'll take your word on this one for now though....you look stunning soldier, if it wasn't for the pointy ears I'd ask you to marry me."

Fraser had emerged from behind the bushes fully kitted out as directed and trying his utmost to exude an aura of quiet authority.

Millie nodded, "true they are better armed than most elves, but they are also far more...greedy. To get ammo for those guns they have had to bury their instinct to just slaughter humans on sight, and they have developed a taste for some imported goods. And they have spent more time raiding other elven groups rather than across the border."

Millie looked at Fraser, "Keep your eyes towards the ground. Your supposed to be humble since your not fathering little future preistesses but doing errands...."

She nodded to Bashir, "Well let's hope this warlord is a greedy as I think he is."

She stepped out onto a large, flat rock in the side of the river. She started to hit the bronze tube with the mallet. Each hit made a dull, loud tone. She changed the tone between each succesive hit by turning the tube and exposing a diffrent plate to her mallet.

After about twelve notes making a very poor tune, a horn sounded through the area. Millie hunched up her pack on her back, turned to Fraser and said, "Follow the yellow dots, not the blue or red..."

She pushed him forward, across several stones sitting in the small river and into the Klatchian Oaks. The sound of live wiring could be heard as they stepped into the dark shade of the deadly trees. "Keep moving, they might turn the power off at any moment.

The path of yellow dots painted on the trees twisted and appeared to cross the path of red and blue several times. They reached the shear stone wall of the mesa, and the thin cleft worn away by thousands of years of errosion.

As they stepped of a small ramp of dirt and into the cleft, Millie pulled out the bronze tube again and hit it two times. A second later one could hear the trees moving, not in the breeze but in the desire to kill.

The cleft was narrow, six feet at the bottom at it's widest. It curved back and fourth through the basalt. A observent individual would have noticed several gun emplacements along the top, covering the narrow walk-way below.

Finnally, they reached the 'gatehouse'. The ramp was now fully susspended from the elf-built arch. Anyone who wanted to get into what was beyound needed to cross a cesspool full of dark grey water and then up the six foot natural wall on the other side. While dealing with the what was coming down on you from three sides.

Somewhere an elf shouted,
-Who comes, in this grave time, to see the Master of Katha.

-I am Millie, servant of Athena, long known to the People of the Dark Lord's Place. I have been asked to come before you and trade a hostage for peace.

-What hostage do you seek here Katha, and who stands before our gates like waiting vipers.

-One and the same, foreigners to this land. Ones you have not like you have seen before in your lands...their leader has sent his men to recover those he has lost...

-Wait here Millie of Athena, wait for the decision of our master.

Millie nodded and turned to look back down the cleft. She wispered, "Now we get to see how good my lying get's us Fraser, I hope you can swim..."

"My Corporal?"
Vessek looked up from a losing game of chess. "Yes?"
"A word?"
Vessek nodded, tipped his king - it was four moves until the inevitable anyway - and rose, letting the medic lead him into the cavernous C-71.

"Ok, they're elves. What of it?"
"Well sir," Vessek swore the man would be crushing his helmet if CAVEX was crushable. "I don't think we've got one group. I mean, I don't think there's just one kind. Of elf. Sir."
"Mind saying that in Vastivan?"
"Yes, sir." The dialect changed to something incomprehensible to outsiders."It was my most certain pleasure to render aid to the two outsiders your group most serendipitously laid hold of at the site where our fearless leader was presumed to be missing. The two are, most apologetically, not of the same classification in the opinion of this most unworthy one."

"If you have the time, and are of the state of mind to acquiese to a small request, perhaps you would expand on that point?"

The medic cleared his throat nervously. "It is the opinion of this most unworthy one that those who have been forced into our hospitality come from distinct groups, perhaps not the most well appreciated between and betwixt each other. It might produce results to learn the languages of our guests, so as to make them feel more well tended to, and perhaps more open to discussing events within this most fine land, or at least between and betwixt their distinct clans or tribes?"

Vessek nodded. "Good idea. I'll take it under consideration. For now, do as you were instructed."

The medic bowed. "Yes, sir. Namaste."

Great, thought Vessek, Now I have a medic with delusions on my hands.

Fraser nodded, but didn't say anything. He was fairly convinced right now he was going to die, and he didn't even have any weapons. He had some martial arts training, but with guns around that was completely pointless. It was more or less pointless when the opposition had a sword... or a bow... or just about any weapon for that matter,

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, he screamed inside his head, I'm going to die.

OOC: I'm just wondering, would anyone mind if I made an effort to catch up on this thread and make some kind of contact with the elves? It may be useful. As I left it, I believe Dr. Provost was headed off into the forest/jungle alone to do some investigation. Well, I've had an OOC request to actually do something with that, so can I assume he's taken his sweet time getting to any areas actually elf-inhabited? Or alternately, and perhaps even better that he's back at the Base Camp once more/Somewhere else convinient, and in a position to examine some reports or some such?

OOC: Well Glithren showed up then vanished again...basicly we haven't advanced that far in terms of time...If the doctor is still at the Inn/base he'll likely get asked to help do triage (if he is an M.D.)

Or he could have left into the jungle by himself. The problem is with the recent fighting the nearby elves are going to be shoot first, don't ask questions. Well maybe not all of them.

Your choice...

IC:Millie and Fraser cooled their heels for a few minutes. A new voice called out from above.

-Millie of Athena, enter the Master of Kathra shall see you.

The ramp came down, crossing the cesspool and allowing them to get beyond the rock wall.

The cleft continued for a hundread more yards. At intervals there were small flanking walls built out of the sides of the cleft, forcing Millie and Fraser to weave back and forth.

The cleft opened up into a vast space, the walls of stone pulling away as huge trees seemed to fill the space above them. However, they appeared to be now stuck at the end of a channel. Before them was a large door about four feet off the ground. To the right was a large opening, now clossed with criss-crossing iron bars.

On the wall before them several elves appeard, at the center was one in heavily decorated plate armor.

-Who seeks me, in this hour of danger

-I Millie of Athena, come to see the Master of Kathra. To advise that the warriors outside only seek their fellow strangers from the land of Vastina.

-Why should I surrender these flat-ears? They have come into the Dark Lord's Place and desecrated it. For this they shall be my slaves and His servants.

-They are willing to pay randsom for them, to pay for their tresspass.

-So be it, as I have bought them, now I shall sell them. The price is twelve hundread silver tals for both of them.

-I have come for three...

-I shall hand him over, as a warning to these Vastina, never to enter the Dark Lord's Places again.

Oh shit...they sacraficed him

-I would prefer them all living.

-Ah, but that is the glory of the New Anointment. It denies them the embrace of their God in the end....

Shit, new anointment? What could they have...

....yes I will also sell you a nag for twelve hundread tal, you will need it.

****
Ismael was likely not even contious anymore. His arms and legs had been pulled out of his sockets. His flesh had been flayed from his chest by the nine tailed whip and serious burns into his flesh made by the coiled end of a heated poker. He no longer had any eye lids, having to watch the excitment build in the elves before him as he was torchered. The lead preistess making grand annoucements as new punishments were inflicted. He had been sodimized by an overly eager male elf, and he no longer had any genitalia. It had been cut off, ground into a paste before his eyes, and then force fed to him.

But he had not been released into death. No, they had drained the blood from the main artery in his neck using a needle, enough for the anointment, but not enough to kill him, well not outright anyway.

As the elves came forward to drink the blessed wine and be annointed with Ismael's blood. Two elves appeared by a side door and cut him loose. The fact that they picked him up by the arms and shoulders, doing even more damage and even more pain, was likely lost on Ismael as they took him out of the temple.

*****
Ismael's broken, but living, body was thrown down into the entry channel like a rag doll. Millie stepped forward and turned the body onto his back.

"Fuck..." she whispered as she pulled out the red bag and opened it. It was a feild triage kit and she was doing her best to try and stabalize Ismael before the loss of blood, and his current bleeding, cost him his life.

She waved at Fraser to get down on his knees. "There are several bags of white powder in the bottom part of my pack. Pull out eight would you please?" She whispered it as she focused on putting a bandage over the poorly cauterized wound where Ismael's loins had once been.

Fraser wasn't really certain what was going on. He was sure of one thing though, he didn't want Ismael waking up and recognising him. That could be bad.

He silently did as he was told. The bags reminded him of cocaine. He wondered if snorting them would be a good idea, then decided against it. It was just as likely to be arsenic.

He was finding Ismael's injuries very hard to stomach, but was, luckily for him, able to control his stomach. He'd be better off dead.... the bastards, they'll pay for this...

Outside though he was calm and downcast, not giving any hints to the raging hatred sweeping through him. In the past the Dyellians had raided across the border, raping, pillaging and slaughtering more or less for fun. The attitude that had led to that kind of behaviour was alive and well in Dyelli Beybi, but there were limits to how far a Dyellian would take 'bad behaviour'. The peculiar Dyellian code of honour. Assassination was unimaginably cowardly, your opponent should always have the opportunity to fight back. In the same way, prisoners should always be well treated, and if the eventuality occured that they needed to have some information extracted from them, they should not have any permanent damage done to them, and if they needed to be killed, it would at least be done cleanly.

These weren't 'rules' as such, but most Dyellians like to think of themselves as 'good people' underneath it all, even if most other people did tend to regard them as a Nation of rogues, this kind of behaviour would affect Dyellian soldiers more than it would affect other veteran troops, and the stories coming back from this mission to the Gonad would inflame even greater hatred in the population. Hatred that could easily be turned into a genocidal crusade.

Ismael's Mind

.... the itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout... to get her poor dog a bone... connected to the shin bone the knee... peas porridge hot peas porridge cold peas porridge in the pot... and the dish ran away with the spoon... blind mice three blind mice see how they run... run away little girl fly away fly away home... home on the range where the deer... ly beloved we are gathered here today... while the parsley still clings to the vine...

Pain was completely beyond him, all possible sanity flushed to regions far beyond it's reach. He was more likely to retain his sight then most - a long adaptation of race to the high winds and frigid temperature gave a thin membrane most others did not have, save Eskimos and Sani. Fortunately for Ismael (unfortunately?), both lineages were in his past.

Most strangely to his "saviours", he made no sound whatsoever as ministered to, regardless of what they did, only silently continued his strange, silent litany...

...from the mountains to the prairie to the oceans white with foam... beer beer beer beer... way down south in Dixie... clemintine you were lost and gone forever... silver and gold how do you measure it's worth...

The Mesa

A few moments later the iron bars started to move into the wall with a clanking sound as the two other Vastivans, nude as the day they were born, were pushed out by some armed elves. Behind them was a nag that looked like even a glue factory would have rejected it.

Millie had used up most of her bandages covering Ismael's torso. A white gauze bandage lay taped to his loin, red slowly seeping through, She placed two more gauze bandages over his eyes and taped them into place. Finally, she pulled out a few morphine one shots and gave them to him. She checked his pulse and shook her head. "Not good, not good at all…his pulse is weak. He's lost a lot of blood. And god knows what kinds of infections he has now. We need to get him out of here."

One of the elves approached the bags of white powder and opened one. He pushed a small stick into the material, pulled it out and then lit it on fire. It glowed red as it burned. The nameless elf looked up an nodded to the Master.

-We will take your base for these trespassers. Let their Lord know that if they fall again into my hands, I shall not be so merciful.

Millie looked up and nodded. "Help me get him on the horse. And help keep him on it as we leave", she said to the two Vastivans..

About ten minutes later, the group emerged from the grove of Klatchian Oaks and crossed the river.

The Castle

JDF troopers dropped from the Heuy's down into the inner ward of the castle. One, having unloaded its eight man team, flew over to the open space west of the castle.

Four JDF troopers ran out of a breach in the wall. Between them they carried the elven priestess strapped to a stretcher and a black body bag. Both went onto the hovering aircraft and another two black body bags and their bearers emerged from the breach. After those were loaded, the Heuy raced back up into the sky and headed east.

****
In the dark tunnel, Marshal Mcgerhy stood looking at the dead bodies. "This is what they call an investigation. Just leave the remains lying here? Remind me to support the next Tzarist insurrection…and find out what is behind that sealed off door."

The Inn
From a megaphone, a voice called out…
Will all medical personnel please report to the kitchens. We have incoming wounded, will all the medical personnel please report to the kitchens.

The two troopers found the sun a bit hard to deal with at first, but not for long. An almost giddyness overtook both of them, a shivering mirth not unlike someone who has run the Boston Marathon, looks back and exclaims "I'm alive! I'm covered in my own sh*t, but I'm alive!"

Ismael continued to say nothing, perceive nothing, do nothing. In his mind continued the endless litany of meaninglessness, the last refuge of the truly mad.

The SS had formed a defensive perimeter, falling back from the cliff to some denser patches of jungle, Bashir was jubilant when the others returned, he slapped Fraser on the back, "Not so bad aye?"

Fraser seemed to have completely lost his tongue, and pointed at Ismael, "Allah be merciful." Bashir muttered, "I don't know if there's any hospital in Klatch that can fix that..."

Abruptly he snapped his eyes away, "Men, keep your eyes peeled. Armour is still 3 hours out. We need to make sure we don't get overrun in that time or it's all over red rover."

He turned next to the Vastivans who were standing, "Can you two still fight? We've taken casualties in the landing, do we've got a few guns with nobody to fire them."

He didn't even wait for a reply, the Stabsscharführer (OOC: Chief Sergeant) was already offering them rifles and slightly damaged armour. Now he turned to Millie, "I'm guessing we owe you money. Unfortunately we're slightly lacking on the coinage front at the moment, but we can get some when we're back at base if you so desire?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, back at the Castle the last Dyellians were leaving for home. In the Chaos Richards still hadn't heard about the friendly fire incident, but when he did he would fly into a towering rage and vow personal vengeance against the whole of Yarkovlekev Company. He had something of a short temper.

Both troopers looked at the guns like they were live snakes.

"Uhm, I really think we should be reporting back to base camp...."
"I'm sure there's some sort of reward..."
"... LARGE reward..."
"Uh, yeah, LARGE reward for our safe return." ~elbow~ "Oh, and his return too."

The Stabsscharführer gave a very slight smile, "Good idea. Would you like to lead the way." he pointed into the jungle, "Base is over there...somewhere."

When neither seemed particularly happy about walking off on their own he explained the situation, "We paradropped in here. The safest way out is if we sit here and wait for the tanks and half-tracks to arrive and pick us up. If we try to walk out of here we'll lose the advantage of a relatively defensible position."

Millie listened to the S.S. comments and coughed a little. "If I don't get this fella..." She pointed to Ismael. "...to some form of real medical attention he's going to be dead in about two hours."

She looked up the hill behind the group and then commented, "And we've got fourty or so minutes before some elves completely flank us." Looking at the weird looks she got, she said.

"Patrol group...I can smell them...I'm not staying here personally, they think your some distant prince...they see Djel tanks they are going to be hitting this spot with heavy fire..."

She shrugged and and started to lead the horse and Ismael upriver, towards the Inn and the nearest medical attention.

"Oh for the love of Allah!" Bashir yelled in frustration, "Where are you going?"

"You don't think I havn't anticipated being surrounded? We can hold them for a few hours, but we can't afford to go wandering off into the jungle. There aren't enough of us, we'll be ambushed for sure... anyway unless they have something considerably more powerful than the RPGs they usually fire at us they'll have a lot of trouble breaking open a Model 6."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile Greaves was speaking to the co-pilot of the assault transport that had picked her and the other two with her up, "Can you radio that LOW ship and tell them we've got a high ranking relative of whoever's in charge of that State? We picked her up from the Castle."

Millie, without stopping, turned and looked back at Basheir.

"Well, when your great-grandfather was still mucking about in the desert sands, I was hunting down the Black Duke in this Jungle. I can tell you one damn thing, I do not want to be pinned waiting for a Dyellian tank column to pull my fur out of the fire."

She pointed north, "Now, there is something big happened that way...I can smell the smoke...and a lot of unhappy elves moving this way. If I follow this river upstream till it comes to the old rock trail I should be able to get to The Cave of the Sybils before either group cuts me off. And I have the only weapon against elf ambuses in the known world, a very good nose."

Millie was now somewhat shouting as she continued to take Ismael upstream.

Both troopers follow Mille, though they both shrug into the armor offered.

And boots. Definitely boots.

One stops a moment and looks at the Stabsscharführer. "Don't you have helicopters? Or is ours around?"
"Damn thing is a flying tank all by itself..."

The Dyellian shook his head, "All our helicopters are on a different mission."

Bashir on the other hand was weighing up his chances, and instead decided it was best to follow Millie, he sprinted after her a few steps, "I'll trust you, you've been right so far, we'll follow, but we'll need two minutes..."

"Alright!" he bellowed, "Company, carry the dead, help the wounded, we're not leaving anyone behind... You've got 60 seconds, then I'm following the fox."

"You." he pointed at the radioman, "Make sure everyone knows, then tell the tanks we're moving, and give them a direction."

Millie stopped, looked at the caravan that was going to follow her and shook her head. I wonder what everyone will think when I lead these boys and girls right into a JDF base?

OOC: Well, mild political incident, but as long as Vastiva gets her people back, what problem?

The Dyellians followed Millie more or less wordlessly, all except Bashir, who had fallen in beside her, "So where are we going exactly?" he asked, "I need to give some directions to the tanks."

Meanwhile further back the Stabsscharführer was quizzing the Vastivans, "How many people can your helicopter hold? We could probably do with lifting that one out." he nodded towards Ismael.

Mille looked at Bashir with her eyes wide. "Really, you and your tanks...send them home for crying out loud. I am sure we can get you airlifted back to your desert from the base."

"What base?" Bashir asked, "We aren't going to some JDF place are we?"

The two troopers looked at each other.
"Lots." said one.
The other nodded.

Neither being a pilot, they didn't know exactly how many, but they knew it was an elephant.

The Stabsscharführer nodded, it didn't seem like a bad idea. He quickened his step to catch up with Millie and Bashir, "Ahhhh, we may be able to get an airlift in tp pull out some of the more seriously wounded. The Vastivan helicopter, as I recall it was put at our disposal at the start of the mission, but rejected as being unsurvivable. I feel it may be useful at this point."

"Sounds like a good idea to me." Bashir nodded, but turned to Millie for final confirmation, "Unless of course you know something that would seriously endanger the helicopter and it's crew?"

"Of course we are going to a JDF base...the elves have cut off and elliminated all of the Rouge Jiggidian bases out here. And there really isn't any area to land a helio until we get to the Post Road."

She stopped at the edge of a deep pool. On one side of the creek was a path around the edge taken by the Vastivans when they were first dragged to the Mesa, on the other side was a stand of strangler teak.

"Alright, stay on the rocks, if you fall off...well let's just say your going to be tree food."

She led the horse along a series of submerged stones towards the stand of strangler teak. The stones appeared to reach the shore where there was an opening in the thick trees and a few stone steps led out of the water and into the dark stand of deadly trees.
Millie didn't even pause as she led the horse out of the water and into the tree line, vanishing from veiw.

The Vastivans looked at each other then at the retreating back of Mille then at the Stabsscharführer.

"What's a JDF base and why does it bother you?"

"Joint Defence Force." the Stabsscharführer explained, dropping back to the talk to the Vastivans, "You'd call them the National Army. They tend to regard themselves as better than us 'provincial troops', completely untrustworthy if you ask me."

Nobody seemed particularly concerned by the Strangler Teaks. These men and women were the elites of the Dyelli Beybian military, and they weren't going to be intimidated by a bunch of trees, even if they were rather dangerous trees.

The troopers followed, keeping well aware of any guidance given. There had been quite enough weirdness, and neither wanted to be lunch for a laurel or munched by a maple.

The trail consisted of large stone slabs under the tall arches of the bordering trees. The slabs varied in size but were almost all approximatly 2 meters. Their edges appeared to have once interlocked, but time and the local fauna now made it a roller coaster of a walk. Some slabs were now at a thirty degree angle to the ground. However, it was hard to make out, the trees and nearby jungle seemed to push at the very sides of this path, as though held in check by some unseen force.

The elven mount appeared to be quite unhappy along this path, but Millie appeared to be keeping the animal tightly reigned in.

"Don't fall of the stones or the local fauna will likely try to eat you..." she said in a low whisper. The gloom of the place seemed to demand that no loud noises be made, lest the spell that stopped the Teaks from striking would be broken.

"Elvish trail?"

*bump*

The C-71s engines growled through takeoff, the plane itself most happy to make its way out of Dyellian territory.

Inside, the few living remnants mostly slept in their seats. A few drank coffee. Dr Lange had attended to the horrific wounds Ismael had incurred as best as he could, but he was not a psychiatrist by any stretch of the imagination. As such, prayer was the best he could offer.

Behind the HALO, behind the wreckage of the IFV, the three cages were secured in place, their cargo not given much to protect them from the bouncing of turbulence and takeoff. Then again, few members of the Vastivan party would care about elvish comfort for some time to come.

Before departing, the Vastivans would have been given a catalogue of "Booze-o-corp Plastic Body Part Replacements - They look just like the real thing!" by a sleazy looking man in a suit who really shouldn't have known they were in the country in the first place... however as it so happened the head of the Armed Forces owned 95% of the company.

While the Doctor wasn’t exactly what one would call a practicing medical doctor, he was qualified. Of course, back when he’d qualified, technology had been a good deal less sophisticated. That was an understatement, it had been downright primitive compared to what was around today. Nevertheless, an unfortunate tendency to get himself into what had variously been described as ‘scrapes’ ‘idiotic and dangerous schemes’ and ‘things that bastard shouldn’t be involved in’ had blighted him over the years enough for him to keep some fairly extensive first aid skills up to date with regular classes.

All in all, what he’d seen so far had not been encouraging, not at all. The injuries he’d seen had largely been caused by crude weapons. The soft thrumming of his elaborate golden lapel pin, however, one of the few cliché technical toys he actually had from his questionably legitimate position in the Office of the Emperor, thrummed and vibrated for an instant. Taking off a latex surgical glove slick with scarlet blood, he, much to the annoyance and confusion of his current patient, just said, “Keep applying pressure to the wound until I return! Good man!” and disappeared off in a flurry of bloodstained cotton shirt and long cashmere coat. Unpinning it, her eventually managed to get himself out of the way, and pressed it to the ear, doing his very best to pretend it was a conventional cell phone.

“Yes?”

“Sir. This is Lieutenant Kowalski of the SentTwo ISA division, with a five man extraction support team. We’re able to land in twenty minutes sir. What are your orders?”

He glanced at his free hand, still covered in a somewhat cleaner surgical glove, “Well, I don’t need extraction…” he paused, his thought lost for a moment. There was something skewed about this entire situation, “what I want you to do is get me an elf…”

There was a pause from the other end, “Sir?”

“Abduct a local elf.”

“Come again?”

“Get your body armour on, some nice suppression weapons, and use it to get an elf for questioning.” He wasn’t used to being this ruthless, certainly not to those of the pointy eared persuasion, but this once, it felt right somehow.

“Yes sir,” the lieutenant said, “We’ll be putting down in the forest if possible. So far I don’t think we’ve been noticed by the local defence systems yet. The way they’ve got this thing rigged for stealth, it should seem like we’re nothing more than a leaf on the wind Sir.”

“Right. Update me when you’ve captured one, Provost out.”

----

OOC: Behold, thread necromancy!

OOC: Er...well hmm...RL got a bit hetic and both I and D.B. had made some of the major points (and character introductions) of our next threads. I appologize for dropping this...

I'm not sure what you want to do with said captured elf...two major points: One there is elven female at present in the Inn/Base, but she is being guarded by two men with submachine guns. They likely wouldn't restrict access to her but an interview would likely be noticed.

There is a good deal of talk about a "secured elven fortress" and that they have teams investigating it.

T.G. me about where you want to take this, I am game, my mind is just not running at 100 percent A+H right at the moment...