NationStates Jolt Archive

"U...d...a...f...g..." William sat at his desk, listening to the taps coming from the transceiver at his desk and writing down the letters as they came in. When the message ended, he picked up the paper and dropped it into a slot in his desk, which would take it to someone more educated than he was, who could decode the message.
It read: "UDAFG AAAAX ADRDD XDDDX FDXAG XDFAX XAFKD EGDGX GFGGG FNAXD DDDXX FFTFG DAXAF GGX"
William knew nothing of the information it contained, only where it came from and that it must be important to come at this time of day. His job was to act as a radio messenger between the King and a particular forward post on an island some distance off the coast, and he knew how to do little else. The job was rather boring, with only a few messages sent per day, but it was an easy and admirable job. Now, he would have to wait to be given a reply to tap back out...

-----

King Henry paced around his large room, considering the message from some small outpost. Foreign ships had not entered the nation's waters in years...Not since before he had been crowned. He knew what had to be done (he had issued his lengthy orders as soon as the news reached him), but could not understand what the ship was doing here. One of his first actions as king was outlawing contact of any form with the heathens overseas, and none of his father's recorded contacts would require follow-ups this late. No, it had to have come on its own initiative...Unless it had been blown off course by a storm...Do the heathen iron ships do that? Henry was coming to no conclusions, accomplishing nothing.
“Ready my car and find a combat photographer to come to the docks with me! Have a lunch wrapped in plastic, too.” he yelled into a voicepipe. The loud drone of a passing scout aircraft hurried him off down the long staircase.

-----

The king observed the activity in the oceanside district from the roof of an old warehouse. Artillery was being set up, infantry finding the best spots to fight from in the event of a heathen landing, and crews of warships hurrying to get moving so they could intercept the ship. What was that in the water...The conning tower of one of the new submarines? Aah, how his nation was progressing without heathen influences!

-----

Some time later...A warship of the Progressive Realm shot a cannon in the mysterious ship's path. This would be the most important event in a generation or more...

-----

OOC Notes: The ship's captain and first mate positions are locked, and the ship's name, origin, and mission are up to Iansisle. If you want to find my nation on your own, please have an IC reason to do so.
I think, because of my nation's odd culture, I should be all of the native people, but anyone may be a foreigner (even the captain of the ship).
I'm rather new to RPing, so please be patient. :o
My nation's population is lower than what NS says it is, but I haven't decided what it is.
I think the ship should be civilian, because my nation probably wouldn't survive a military encounter.

If you are going to vote this thread down, please send me a telegram with your reasons so that it can be improved.

The king scolded his cat for playing with a loose thread hanging from someone's clothing and picked it up.
OOC: Actually, it'd be good if someone was the captain, because I'd rather just be the natives and thus couldn't decide how the ship responds to the cannon shot.

((ooc: I’m very interested in this, but I would like to ask some quick questions before I try and jump in as the ship’s captain. If you don’t want this ooc rambling on your thread, just let me know and I’ll delete it.

1) Is there anything of particular interest to a westernized power in your country? One idea I had was these are emissaries of my government attempting to get your government (they probably have little idea about works) to sign treaties opening up your ports to Iansislean commerce and maybe letting us set up a coaling station or something. Oh, yes, and Iansisle’s a distinctly old-style imperialist power, so we might then try and lever those concessions - if we can get them - into a protectorate or maybe even a full-fledged colony. If we can’t get the concessions, we might try a full scale military takeover, but I’m not so sure about that. We can work it out OOCly; my government could really go either way. If that idea wouldn’t work, or it’s not what you had in mind, there’s all sorts of navigational errors I can come up with instead and we could play it by ear.

2) I’m assuming from your post that you’re somewhere around the Napoleonic wars in technology level? Iansisle’s not fully modern, but we are about early Cold War in most aspects of technology (call it 1952 or so). Is this all right with you?

Erm, I guess by “a few” questions, I meant two. Let me know what you think; if we can’t work this out, then I understand.))

OOC:If you don’t want this ooc rambling on your thread, just let me know and I’ll delete it.It's okay.
1) Is there anything of particular interest to a westernized power in your country?Hmmm...Nothing amazing, but if there's any oil, uranium, platinum, or anything else people with lower technology might not be able to get to or have a use for, it'd be there relatively ignored.
One idea I had was these are emissaries of my government attempting to get your government (they probably have little idea about works) to sign treaties opening up your ports to Iansislean commerce and maybe letting us set up a coaling station or something.After importing some stuff we needed from overseas (silkworms, cannons, and chocolate...), we shut down the ports, and I guess it's about time someone couldn't stand it any more.
2) I’m assuming from your post that you’re somewhere around the Napoleonic wars in technology level?It's a wild mix...Civilians tend to be stuck in the middle ages, but the regular army is a tie-dye camouflage and steel armor-wearing group with rifled muskets. :D I guess the most advanced technologies are cameras (modernish but crudely made) and primitive aircraft, cars, and subs (pre-1890s for the subs).
Iansisle’s not fully modern, but we are about early Cold War in most aspects of technology (call it 1952 or so). Is this all right with you?Yes, I think although we wouldn't be quite as behind as I was thinking, it'd be enough.

((Ah, submarines. That ought to get an interesting reaction out of us - if there’s one thing that Iansislean sailors hate, it’s submarines! ;)

Anyhow, I was sort of picturing this as a civilian ship working under a government charter to open trade relations. Sorry if it sounds like I’m being bossy; I’d hate to interfere with how you want to run your rp. Anyhow, I’ll throw some IC stuff up, and if it’s no good with what you were imagining, be sure to let me know!))

IC: “Hell! They’ve fired on us!” exclaimed the first mate as a puff of smoke billowed from one of the curiously antique ships.

“Full left rudder! Hard ahead both!” ordered Captain Durton, using the pipe to engineering himself. Before his orders could be carried out, though, the shot plopped down in front of them.

“Just putting one across our bows,” nodded the mate, who seemed to be breathing a sigh of relief. Merry Annabelle was a good ship, but she was completely unarmed and not even a match for these curious neo-barbarians. The only weapon aboard was a single .303” bolt action they kept in the emergency stores.

“Belay those orders!” called the captain into the pipe again. “Put your rudder amidships, all reverse.”

“Rudder amidships, all reverse aye,” was the answer. Annabelle wasn’t a big ship, and her powerful turbines soon ground her to a halt.

“You don’t plan to surrender to them, do you, sir?” asked the mate with a slight chuckle. Even if Annabelle was not part of the King’s service, the idea of Shieldians* surrendering the ship without a single shot in self-defense was laughable.

“Of course not!” snapped Durton. “They seem keen to talk before we land, and so we’ll talk. Have they made any signals yet, Mr Keegan?”

“Erm,” said the first mate, putting a glass to his eye and directing it at the nearest ship.

((*Shieldian, in most cases, can simply be taken as Iansislean. However, Shieldian is to Iansislean as, for instance, English is to British. All Shieldians are Iansislean, but not all Iansisleans are Shieldians.))

ooc: Can any one else get involved here? I would not mind an Aerion scout plane finding this place.

OOC: I'll forgo marine talk, both because I don't know it and because most people with ships would have probably left for elsewhere when trade was cut off. This ship is that nearest to the Merry Annabelle.
IC:
Captain Anderson stood watching on the forecastle of his ship, his back turned to the possessed hunk of iron by the commotion on the deck. Despite all of their training, one of the gun crew had gotten in the path of the weapon's rearward travel and was pinned down.
"Sir, they're stopping."
Anderson turned toward his aide and the metal ship. "Is the boat prepared?"
"Yes, sir."
"Launch a rocket with a white parachute." The aide nodded and relayed the order. Anderson signalled for a nearby group of marines to follow him and walked down the steps to the ship's deck. As he climbed into the ship's boat, he mumbled, "I hope those mad submariners have enough presence of mind to follow orders..." Once he was safely aboard, the crew began pulling the oars. He hated to go aboard this ship, but to let heathens aboard property of the Progressive Realm was unthinkable.
OOC: It's okay with me Aerion.
That's all I can post until about the same time as I made the original post, but if anyone else wants to join in while I'm gone, that's okay with me.
I hope the time it takes me to write a post goes down as I get experience!

Overhead, a full squadron of unmanned Aerion spy planes were flying over the islands, and one of them moved in for a much closer look at the naval battle below. These are advanced versions of the Global Hawk, with numerous sensors, and mapping capability.

“No signals I recognize, sir,” reported Keegan. “They fired a rocket; does that mean anything to you?”

“Not a bloody thing.”

“And now they’ve put a boat over. Looks as if they intend to board us.”

“Hmm,” said Durton.

“Your orders, sir?”

Still, Durton didn’t say anything. Keegan coughed into his hand.

“We don’t know they have friendly intents, sir. And frankly, the government’s not paying me enough to keep my head on the chopper’s block.” Such an insolent remark would have been grounds for instant discipline in the Navy, but the merchant marine could afford to be more lax. “There’s only eleven of us on board,” continued Keegan, “none trained marines, neither, and with only a single gun among us. I don’t care if they’re more primitive than the Gallers*, they could slaughter us.”

“Belay that jabbering, Keegan!” snapped Durton. “Can’t you see I’m trying to think?”

“Sorry.”

“Now, then: there’s supposed to be a destroyer in the area, right?”

“Navy promised us there would be.”

“Inside of wireless range, you think?”

“Maybe. Wouldn’t do us any good; even the Alpha-class can only steam at thirty-seven knots, and that’s only in a sprint --”

“We’re not calling for help. I just want them to know the situation in case anything ...untoward should happen towards us.”

“You mean you expect...”

“No, I do not. But I want to be prepared for every possibility. Now, then, Mr Keegan, if you’ll be so good as to meet our visitors with me?”

“If you - erm, aye aye, sir,” said Keegan, his protest dying at the sight of Durton’s steely eyes.

((* a derogatory term for people from Gallaga, one of Iansisle’s possessions.

to Knight: no worries, man. I’ll be looking forward to it! Oh, and don’t worry about your posting time. I’d rather see one good post than a slew of mediocre ones! ;)))

Captain Anderson stood staring at the ship as the small boat drew closer. When it came alongside, a marine threw a rope ladder up to the ship's deck and pulled on it to ensure it had caught on something above. The captain nodded and two marines climbed up to the deck, each using one hand to steady themselves and the other a short shotgun. When they met no resistance**, Anderson followed another marine up the ladder, leaving only the men at the oars below.
"What are you doing here?"

-----

As this was happening, a submarine began circling the ship with its periscope just visible above the waterline.

OOC:
*If there's an easier way to get to the deck, they'd use that.
**I assumed that there would be none. Is that correct?
Wow, 60 views.

OOC: Any chance I could get in on this? My nation is very a very sea-based country, and my people are aptly described as... heathens.

OOC: It would be fine with me, but it would be good to see what Iansisle thinks, as the ship is now from Iansisle.

I'd like to point out that the Progressive Realm is not an island chain; the outpost was just an island a fair distance off the coast. The Realm is mostly a generic temperate land on the mainland of whatever continent it's on.

All of the "heathen" remarks are about people from outside the Realm in general...Once the foreigners and natives really start interacting, you'll probably see what they consider to be acceptable.

((ooc: Nope, no resistance, and that ought to be the easiest way.))

Merry Annabelle had only about six feet of freeboard, so the first marines were on deck smartly. Keegan, a lanky man with a bristling mustache that seemed more voluminous than his entire midsection, had reached out to help one on board, but seeing the hand was attached to a competent user and the weapons the other held, he backed off.

If Annabelle had been a military ship, the ‘guests’ would have been accorded a sideparty and greeted with a boatswain’s call. In the civilian service, such formalities were seen as extraneous and detracting from profitability.

Both men were astonished - if relieved! - to hear the strange man, who, they assumed, was the captain, speaking English.

“Er, welcome aboard the Merry Annabelle...” started Durton. Another look in Anderson’s eyes convinced him to cut the niceties short. “We’re here at the request of His Iansislean Majesty’s government to attempt to reestablish trade that has long since lapsed.”

Keegan, meanwhile, was damn sure he saw something circling around them. He’d seen something similar, during the war and before Iansisle’s antisubmarine tactics had crystalized. But what would a periscope be doing way out here? It was suspicious, but hardly the chief threat right now.

------

Aboard His Iansislean Majesty’s Destroyer Favorable

“Begging your pardon, sir, a message from Merry Annabelle,” reported fifteen year old Midshipman Gadden, his arm flopping up and down in a poor imitation of the elaborate and stately Iansislean naval salute.

Lieutenant the Honorable Philip Donner turned and regarded Gadden with the coldest eye that being reared among the rural aristocracy could produce. Gadden almost visibly withered under the weight of the first lieutenant’s gaze.

“Well, Mr Gadden?”

“It’s from her captain, sir. He says they’ve been stopped by the barbarian’s navy an’ they’re about to be boarded, sir.” Gadden’s voice cracked on the word ‘barbarian,’ causing him to blush furiously.

It had been desperate times that forced Iansisle to start sending her midshipmen out to sea again. The Linhower Plan, with its reckless expansion of the Navy, was even more destructive to Iansisle’s officer corps than any action she had ever fought, including the Battle of Salvador.

“Have you informed the captain yet?” asked Donner, who was hardly old enough to properly be called a ‘young man’ himself.

“N-not yet, sir.”

“Don’t you think you’d better do that, then, Mr Gadden?”

“Aye aye, sir.” Gadden turned and fled. After he had gone, Donner ordered the ship about and had the master plot a course for the Merry Annabelle’s last known position.

((it's fine with me, Callisdrun. The more the merrier, I always say. :)))

OOC: I think it'd be good if the destroyer in some way forces them to be a bit nicer. How soon will it arrive? If it'd be a long time, I could have the tide and inexperience as sailors prevent my people from going very far until the next day.
IC: Captain Anderson's eyebrows rose in response to this news. What could they want from the Realm that their heathen ways couldn't provide for themselves? Civilization, sure, but that's not usually something that people go to such great lengths to acquire...“His Majesty the King shut down the ports years ago. We are not interested in your trade and your type is not welcome in the Realm. I think, however, it would be appropriate for you to allow yourselves to be escorted closer to shore—on your own ship! A lengthy interrogation followed by a public confession and execution would be appropriate, I imagine, but that's not for me to decide. Will you cooperate?”

((Heh, oops! Just noticed the typo! That second ‘request’ was supposed to be ‘government.’

As for Favorable, I was thinking that she was at least a day’s travel away. By the way, if you need to kill/wound/maim any of my characters because that’s what your culture would do, feel free! Durton and Keegan are there to be targets, mainly.))

It was now Durton’s chance to blink once or twice. Anderson’s words set his Shieldian pride and his common sense firmly against the new visitor. He had five hundred years of naval tradition to uphold, after all, even if he was just a reserve officer in the King’s Navy!

“Absolutely not,” he said. Durton spoke with a crisp Shadoranite accent, which is best described as the speaker rapidly hurling syllables from his mouth as if they had a bad taste. “I will not be intimidated by threats, and I will certainly not endanger my ship or my crew. If you wish, I will go to shore with you, but my men and the Merry Annabelle stay right here.”

the CLF Istengrad, a Drun class heavy cruiser, had been at sea for almost two years. However, it had been hit by several storms recently and so was in need of slight repair. The cruiser was making a leisurely 15 knots when it neared the strange land. No contact had been made with this country for quite some time, but Captain Tor Kvebek assumed that they must have some sort of harbor. He ordered his second in command, Lena Kereshtur, to change course and make for the land on the horizon.

Several hours later, the cruiser's dark grey, almost black hull could be seen slowly entering the harbor. Commander Kereshtur's voice came over the PA as she gave the order to go to general quarters. Action was not anticipated, but precautionary measures were always a good idea when making contact with a foreign nation.

"Absolutely not! The property of the Realm must remain pure. It is bad enough that you are here, but to touch our belongings is unthinkable! You will cooperate now..." The Captain paused to give the two marines at his sides a command with hand signals. "...Or be shot on the spot. The choice is yours." The two marines slightly pulled the triggers of their guns as Anderson took a step back. "What will it be?"

OOC: Callisdrun, is your ship in the same area, and will it enter the harbor the King is at?
As for Favorable, I was thinking that she was at least a day’s travel away. By the way, if you need to kill/wound/maim any of my characters because that’s what your culture would do, feel free! Durton and Keegan are there to be targets, mainly.Okay. It'll still be a while (a few days?) until we get around to killing them, unless they resist. :D

((heh...*resists*. ;) Feel free to blow away Durton, if you like. That’ll make sure that Keegan’ll cooperate!))

“You may kill me,” said Durton, “but you will not have this ship. I will take my gig, if you’d prefer that, and not touch a single of your precious planks.”

Keegan, meanwhile, was thinking about the rifle. He knew just where it was, as did the entire crew. If he could just duck into that hatch! But those marines looked fast, and he had no desire to die today.

"I have no desire to have this ship, and I doubt His Majesty would appreciate it touching his land. Whatever you do, you, your ship, and your crew will be purified. This is your last chance to cooperate. If you refuse," said the Captain, "the marines will shoot you immediately."

Iansisleans, as a people that had nearly always been ruled by the pen, didn’t have much appreciation for the application of force as a persuasion. While this made them unyielding to a gun being pointed at them in bluff, it also meant that they got shot quite often.

Durton was one of those who didn’t understand force. He took a step forward saying “Shoot me, then, and prove your barbarity. I don’t know what you gain by killing my crew besides condemning your soul to burn for all eternity. Take me instead.”

The two shotguns roared in unison. Captain Anderson looked down at Durton's body. "No priest'll be able to purify him...Unless he does the ship at the same time." Anderson looked up at Keegan and asked, "Are you in charge now?"

The twitch of fingers near the trigger made Durton’s eyes widen in sudden amazement, but his epiphany came far too late. The shotguns took a terrible toll of him, and the captain of the Annabelle was dead before he hit the ground. The shots called the attention of every man aboard the ship, excepting the engineer, who came running wide-eyes onto the deck in ones and twos.

Keegan, meanwhile, had lost his stomach at the sight of Durton’s body. As he looked up, his face green, into Anderson’s eyes, the first mate could be seen to shudder. But now was no time to back down from responsibility.

”Y-yes. I suppose I am.”

The marines immediately reloaded their shotguns. "Will you, then, allow this ship to be escorted closer to shore, or do you wish to suffer the same fate?" Anderson felt a twinge of guilt for the killing of the captain of this ship. While he was phobic of heathens, he now realized that this man had died of ignorance, and not will. A soul wasted by ignorance...

The three or four sailors who were by now up on the deck and ignorant of the situation focused their eyes on Keegan in confusion.

"Yes," he said, pulling himself up to his full height and straightening his simple brown shirt. "Yes, I will. Where should you like us to go?”

"The harbor we came from. If at any moment you try to escape, your ship will be holed. Follow the ship that is now ahead of you and wait for further orders." Captain Anderson backed away from Keegan and went back down the ladder. When he reached the bottom, he fell into the boat and threw his shoes into the sea. The marines followed him into the boat, and they rowed to the ship whence they came.

“Mister Keegan?” asked one of the other crewmen after Anderson had left. “Surely you don’t mean to surrender?”

“Do you see an alternative?”

“Well, sir,” said the other man, laughing, “those are - what? - twenty-four pounders, at the best? We’re not a man-of-war, but we should be able to sustain that kind of battery. And the Merry Annabelle can make a good twenty knots; I doubt that sailship could do half that!”

“They have a submarine,” said Keegan, pointing at the circling periscope. “You have a plan, I trust, for avoiding that?”

“Erm,” said the sailor. “No. No, I don’t.”

“Then take us into the harbor. We’ll have to rely on the Favorable: have someone get them back on the wireless and update our situation.”

“And the gun?”

“Pitch it overboard. I’d sooner it not make its way into these people’s hands.”

((that's my last one for a while. Catch you later!))

OOC: Yes, the Istengrad is entering the harbor where all this is taking place. Knights of fallen lands, what tech are you? What's the climate and what time of day is it?

There appeared to be some sort of ruckus going on near a ship that was already moored there. The docking facilities looked... primitive, but they would do. Captain Kvebek sighed as he surveyed the harbor from the port bridge wing. Judging from the gun shots he heard, Kvebek realized that the locals might not be friendly. No matter, the radar fire control was slightly damaged, but Istengrad's 8" guns would easily do the job under local control at this range if it came down to that. He hoped it wouldn't though.

When Captain Anderson had returned to his ship and the boat secured, the fleet prepared to sail home. The submarine that had been circling the Merry Annabelle surfaced and took up a position alongside it. Its surface shone in the sun as the small crew crowded on the deck to raise a sail. Afterward they stretched out on its surface, pondering why they had ever entered the submarine fleet.

-----

The King peered at the ship through a telescope. This ship was certainly ugly...It looked like it had floated right through coal sludge. There were no recognizable guns on it, but its color made it rather menacing. "How did it get here?! The navy was sent to intercept! Send anything that's left to stop it!" One aide ran away toward the docks. To another, the King said, "Ensure the artillerymen are alert. They may have to fire at any moment." King Henry hurriedly walked down the stairs to streetlevel and climbed into his car. "Take me to the palace." Everything is going wrong...
OOC:((that's my last one for a while. Catch you later!))Okay. This is probably my last for a while, too.
Knights of fallen lands, what tech are you?It varies. It could be called homemade tech...One could make one's own musket, radio, simple IC engine, et cetera (which KoFL has), but not a computer (which KoFL doesn't have).
What's the climate and what time of day is it?KoFL is mostly temperate. There have been storms recently, but the weather is currently nice. I guess it's late afternoon or early evening.
The city should look fairly modern, BTW...Except for the horse-drawn carriages...

O_o Unless someone is refreshing a lot, I seem to have chosen an attractive title...

OOC: so you are still using mainly sailing ships and cannons and such?

IC:
Captain Kvebek went inside the bridge and told Commander Kereshtur to have the crew raise signal flags to hail whoever it was who owned the harbor. She responded that she already had. Sure enough, outside pennants of greeting were being raised on what was left of the flag pole and ropes.

"Should I have them fire a salute, as well?" asked Commander Kereshtur

Captain Kvebek thought for a moment. "No, they might think that we're actually firing." Thinking again, he said "Tell the crew not to open their mouths either, if we land, as the inhabitants might be scared." This was a consideration normally taken when dealing with a strange people.

"All right, sir."

Captain Kvebek thought to himself that Lena Kereshtur was probably the best first officer he'd had. It was almost as if the ship was on autopilot. He then noticed that some of the local ships appeared to be approaching a bit aggressively. He was about to make an order, but saw that Lena was already ordering the turrets to get into battle stations and target the potential threats. The range was too short to use the ships missile systems, which were damaged anyway. Tor Kvebek kept his fingers crossed. He just wanted to dock so that he could have the crew repair the damage. He didn't think it was unreasonable, and he knew the navy would pay if he was interfering with trade. 'It sure is hot here' he thought.

The captain of a small ship of the Realm shouted into a megaphone for the approaching menace to halt. Anxious artillerymen on the docks struggled to prevent themselves from firing pre-emptively. Everyone watching shook in terror when they saw the big boxes on the ship move. If the ship continued to move, they would fire a small cannon across its path. If it responded aggressively, they'd learn if their primitive weapons were any good against armor plating. Photographers would be the only ones to come out of the day with a profit.
OOC:OOC: so you are still using mainly sailing ships and cannons and such?All of my ships are sail-powered, a few boats have motors, and subs are sail/man-powered.

Captain Kvebek ordered to decrease speed to 5 knots. He looked out of his binoculars at the crew members of the sailing ships approaching them. Some looked angry, some looked entranced, others looked terrified, but most seemed to look confused. 'Oh dear,' he thought. 'They're in for some real culture shock.'

He thought of something and turned on the PA. Addressing the crew, he said "Men and women of the cruiser Istengrad of the Callisdrunian navy. If you are top side, wave and smile at the foreign ships. If not, make sure you're ready for battle, in case the shit hits the fan." He said all this in Callisdrunian, a language almost incomprehensible to foreign ears.

The turrets continued to rotate. Inside "A" turret, Teresa Sorvik (a cousin of the famous Erzsebet) commanded the gun crews. "If they fire a warning shot, we are to fire one in answer, ahead of their ship. If they fire on us, well, we return the favor in kind."

“Look there, Mr Keegan,” insisted the more belligerent of the crewmen who had decided to help the new captain in the pilothouse. “A man-of-war, and not one of these barbarians’, either! Put the helm hard over and make run like the Devil’s behind you! It’d be the truth!”

Keegan didn’t manage to say anything. His eyes, which were small compared to his face and his great, bristly mustache, darted from one side of the harbor to the other.

“Damn it, sir, there’s nothing stopping us. Didn’t you see those rotten ‘submarines’ of yours? We’d be out of range before they noticed our course changing.”

“It’s too risky,” whispered Keegan, turning away from the other man.

“Too risky? At worst they hole us - and that’s not damn likely! - and we have to work the pumps! If we turn about, we can meet up with Favorable and come back to teach these savages a few lessons in manners!”

“It’s an uncharted harbor,” Keegan pointed out. “We can’t very well stop to make soundings with a horde of natives behind us, now can we? And if we get holed, or run aground?”

“Then those bastards capture us and do whatever they were going to do anyway. But at least we’d have made an effort!”

The new captain didn’t have an answer for that one. With a motion of disgust, the man walked forward and shoved the telegraph to full.

“What are you doing!?” bellowed Keegan, lunging at the sailor. “You’ll put us aground!”

“Then order hard to starboard, sir.” The sailor was a big barrel chested tar tattooed up and down who had just been released from four years pressed into the King’s service. He was not about to be pushed around by the skinny Keegan and drew a dagger on the captain.

“What is this?” asked Keegan, his eyes narrowing as he saw the glint off the blade. “Mutiny?”

“If that’s what it takes. Order hard a starboard, sir.”

“Mutineers hang, Simpson. All of them.”

While Keegan and Simpson were having their delightful conversation, Merry Annabelle was accelerating. She had been making an easy six knots before hand more or less directly towards the docks. By now, she had exceeded ten and was gaining speed every minute. Annabelle was sluggish compared to the destroyers of the Navy, but downright agile compared to the huge ore freighters who plied their trade around the Noropian Horn. She would continue to accelerate to twenty knots unless Keegan and Simpson could work out their differences or a stationary object intervened.

Meanwhile, back on the bridge, Simpson had tried to order starboard rudder himself. Keegan belayed the order and reminded the engineer - who must have been quite confused - who skippered the boat.

“You’ll put us aground in another minute or two,” Simpson warned.

“I will?!” replied Keegan. “You will! - get away from that damned telegraph.”

“This is some time to show your backbone!” replied Simpson in hot anger, swinging his dagger at Keegan, who jumped back. “You’ll stand up to your own crew, but not some barbarians!”

"Favorable'll be here in a day or so! We'd have an easier time surviving until then by cooperating!" shouted Keegan.

((aaand I think that’s about where I’ll leave them for tonight. Be sure to tune in for tomorrow’s adventures! ;)))

OOC: Iansisle, is it okay if the ship runs into one of mine, and if so, how much damage may it take?

((Well, Merry Annabelle is a steel-hull ship of about six hundred tons moving at circa ten knots as of last report. She'd do some substantial damage, I'd imagine, if she rammed a wooden vessel and probably not take much herself. Right now, she more or less running straight at the shore, but if you'd like one of your ships in between, then that's certainly possible! :)))

OOC: Okay. I only wanted to sink one of my own ships anyway. Can the Merry Annabelle withstand cannon fire? I'm writing the post but wanted to make sure before I have anyone fire a cannon.

((She could probably take a pretty good pounding, but she's no warship. I'd wager that the balls could penetrate her hull, but not do any real damage to her systems. My current plan is to have the Annabelle run aground anyway, so if you sink her it's no big deal.))

The situation in the harbor was chaotic. Ships returning from intercepting the Merry Annabelle dodged those intercepting the CLF Istengrad and vice versa, all the while avoiding crashing into the metal ships and the shore and attempting to prevent the heathen ships from reaching the shore. The crew of one ship in particular -- a small one tasked with firing a warning shot in front of the Istengrad -- was more intently focused on its mission than avoiding other ships. It fired its cannon in front of the Istengrad's bow moments before narrowly escaped crashing with another wooden ship.
Elsewhere in the harbor, the captain of the ship that the Merry Annabelle had been following, himself focused on communicating with authorities on shore for docking orders, noticed too late that the following ship was accelerating. He yelled for the ship to be maneuvered out of the way, but the Merry Annabelle plowed right through it with a sickening crack, violently throwing men into the water. Jumpy artellerymen pulled the lanyards in their hands, firing a few fin-stabilized shells toward the Merry Annabelle. Rockets streamed into the harbor to no effect. After the initial volley, the shore once again fell quiet.

Merry Annabelle herself lurched, but didn’t lose much momentum, as she bulldozed over the smaller, wooden ship. Keegan, Simpson, and the other eight men aboard fell in all directions, though the telegraph remained stuck at all ahead. Several shots from the nearby ships told true in her hull; the bigger ones sliced through the thin steel plating, though they did no real damage.

“You fool!” screamed Keegan, picking himself up off the deck. “You’ll put us ashore!” He pulled the telegraph back to ‘all reverse’ and ordered hard about starboard, but it was too late. Merry Annabelle, which had a relatively deep draft for her size, struck the bottom, where sharp rocks drew a deep gash in her underbelly. Water poured in and the Iansislean vessel ground to a rough halt. She sank a couple feet before coming to rest on the bottom.

((sorry this / future responses are so slow in coming. Sunday’s not the best day for me. :())

The spy planes had gathered the required information of the continent, and the waters surrounding it. They returned to their point of origin, the HMS Methara , an Nimtz-class aircraft carrier several hundred miles away which was the basis of such survey operations for the Royal 2nd Expeditionary Fleet. The Central Command for the Royal 2nd Expeditionary Fleet had decided to deploy the 5th Cruiser Destroyer Squadron to the area.

Onboard the HMS Might , flagship of the 3rd Cruiser Destroyer Squadron, Commodore Malthar sat within his Commander Center.

Lieutenant Herith was sitting at one of the terminals in the Command Center when the new mission was sent through, and he cleared his throat. "Sir, Command has sent us a new mission...I am putting the coordinates on the screen. It seems they want a show of force in the area."

Commodore Malthar hmmed deeply, and watched.

The digital tactical display screen flashed as the grid showed the continent, and the harbour as well as the other ships in the area.

Commodore Malthar sighed, "Inform the other ships to change course, and to be on full standby."

Lieutenant Herith nodded, working his fingers over the computer terminal to carry out the commands.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------The 3rd Cruiser Destroyer Squadron of the 2nd Royal Expeditionary Fleet

HMS Might - Ticonderoga-class cruiser
HMS Sky - Arleigh burke-class destroyer
HMS Rao - Arleigh burke-class destroyer
HMS Odale - Spruance-class destroyer
HMS Edolan - Perry-class frigate
HMS Maloy - Los-Angeles class attack sub

Inside turret A, the well trained gun crews went into motion. The turret aimed a bit in front of the ship that had fired the warning shot. They loaded one of the three guns quickly and expertly. When all was ready, one crewman said "All clear!" Teresa Sorvik then yelled "Fire!"

On the bridge, both Captain Kvebek and Commander Kereshtur watched with mild satisfaction as one of the 8" guns spat fire, temporarily obscuring the turret. Less then a second later, the shell struck the water in front of the sailing ship that had fired a warning shot at them. It made a splash large enough to thoroughly soak the sailing ship.

Captain Kvebek tried again with the electronic megaphone. It was very loud. "We harbor no ill will towards you. We simply want to dock our ship so that we can do minor repairs. Really." He wasn't really worried about the physical consequences of his ship being fired upon, as far as he could tell, these people were using cannonballs, but certainly would not make the minor repairs any easier, and might cause a diplomatic dilemma.

Many infantrymen ran toward the dock in front of the Merry Annabelle as the nearby artillermen pulled their guns away. The infantry took up positions behind whatever cover they could find, prepared to shoot anyone who attempted to set foot on shore.

While the King may have changed the standing orders if he had stayed and seen the power of Istengrad's guns, he was well on his way to the royal palace. The men may have even disobeyed His Majesty the King if they knew what Captain Kvebek was saying. Artillery throughout the harbor -- on ship and on land, cannon and rocket -- opened fire on the ship from Callisdrun. The crew of the submarine scrambled to lower the mast and then climb inside. They now had a use for their spar torpedo -- sinking the Istengrad.
OOC: Sorry about my absence today.
The spar tordedo weighs about 61kg/134lb. I haven't decided just how much artillery is in the harbor, but it's probably mostly MLRS.
It looks like the Realm is about to be in a lot of trouble...
Something I found:
To prevent a conflict, leaders should insure that their soldiers:
Respect the natives' privacy and personal property
Observe the local customs and taboos
Do not enter a native house without being invited
Do not pick fruits or cut trees without permission of their owners
Treat the natives as friends

OOC: I'll say the realm is in a lot of trouble... Istengrad will be heavily damaged by a torpedo, but certainly it can take it. Sorry about the auto-hits, but let's be realistic, a sailing ship really wouldn't stand much of a chance against a heavy cruiser at any range, let alone point blank. I really wanted to get the effect just right.

IC: Captain Kvebek abandoned the use of the megaphone when Istengrad was fired upon. Commander Kereshtur looked at him and he nodded, she then ordered the ship's gunners to systematically destroy all vessals firing upon the Istengrad as the ring of cannonballs richocheting off the ship's armored hull filled the air.

Inside "A" turret, Sorvik quickly got the gun crew into action. After giving the ready signal, all turrets were ordered to fire. "Fire" she screamed.

Every gun on the ship roared, and the largest sail ship that they had been able to target was almost vaporized by the impact of nine 8" wide high explosive shells as well as 5" AA rounds. Wood and people were sent flying in all directions and litte remained of the hapless ship save for some burning lumber. It was as if a fly had been swatted with a sledgehammer. Istengrad's turrets quickly shifted to the next largest ship and fired.

On deck, between dodging cannonballs, someone had spotted a periscope. A five inch turret started blasting in its direction (difficult because of having to aim that low) while a smaller AA gun rattled away at the object. Commander Kereshtur relayed Captain Kvebek's order that all watertight doors be checked to make sure they were closed. Speed was increased slightly, and auxiliary power was checked.

((don’t worry about it, dude!))

On the Annabelle, the men picked themselves from the deck one by one, most of them groaning. Simpson, when he fell the second time, had slashed a hole in his side with the dagger, but it wasn’t bleeding too badly.

“Well,” said Keegan, hazarding a peak out of the pilot house, “this is a fine fix.”

“If you had just turned the damn ship,” replied Simpson, though it was said through teeth gritted together in pain.

Down below, the other eight men on Merry Annabelle were appearing one by one on deck. Most were quite confused as to just what had happened and tried to hail the shore for help.

Everyone not busy stood staring in shock at the Istengrad, including the infantrymen on shore. How could it deflect the best armor-penetrating shells in the whole nation when the Merry Annabelle's skin was pierced so easily? Just as frightening was the tremendous amount of damage that its guns could inflict. Most disturbing was the contamination of the Progressive Realm's ships. In a panic-driven attempt to purify the ships, 'liquid fire' was ordered to be pumped into the water. Everything in the harbor that could burn would.
Deeper in the city, several rows of defense armed disproportionately well with incendiary weapons made their final preparations for battle.

OOC: I don't think there's much else my guys can do right now. They'll just keep shooting until something else happens, and the King is somewhere between here and the palace sitting in a slow car. Iansisle, your people will be ignored for a while.
Sorry about the auto-hits, but let's be realistic, a sailing ship really wouldn't stand much of a chance against a heavy cruiser at any range, let alone point blank. I really wanted to get the effect just right.I know, but they sure don't. :D Callisdrun didn't drop armor from its ships?
Commander Kereshtur looked at him and he nodded, she then ordered the ship's gunners to systematically destroy all vessals firing upon the Istengrad as the ring of cannonballs richocheting off the ship's armored hull filled the air.What'll they do about the artillery on land? I guess if they open fire on it, the docks might well get ruined.
A five inch turret started blasting in its direction (difficult because of having to aim that low) while a smaller AA gun rattled away at the object.Can they aim well enough at a submerged (it can go down to 25') target (31' long) to hit it? If so, it'll tear apart, too.

((Oh, would that ‘liquid fire’ stuff be near Merry Annabelle? Because I might just have to spring an oil leak if that’s the case. :D

....I think I kill more of my own people than any enemies ever have.))

Keegan listened to the sounds of the battle raging on. So long as that mysterious ship was distracting the natives, he might have a chance. They could lower the boat...no, that wouldn’t work. A cannonball would smash the gig into smithereens, not to mention the shards those big guns had to be layering thick in the air. But if he just hung around inside the Annabelle’s fragile hull...there was no guarantee that the Favorable would arrive in time.

He decided to content himself with swearing and finding a bandage for Simpson.

OOC: Istengrad is not as heavily armored as a battleship, as she is a heavy cruiser, but she still has a good 6" worth on the belt and 8" on the turrets. This is metal made with modern techniques, too, so of pretty high quality. No, Callisdrun has never dropped armor from its warships. Why? Because Callisdrunian missiles aren't very good, so naval doctrine calls for getting real up close and personal. Also, the nations Callisdrun is nearby still use heavy guns on their warships a lot, and most of the time, Callisdrunian warships are fighting armed Altar Rangian (Altar Rang is a storyline puppet, created as an opposite to Callisdrun for the purposes of allusions to history) merchent ships.

What is this contamination you are referring to? And wouldn't burning everything in the water be kinda bad for the poor submarine crew? How fast is the submarine?

The 5"er will have trouble aiming real low, but the small AA gun won't. The 8" guns will probably not target the land artillery because they don't want to damage the docks. Keep in mind that this is not what the people on the Istengrad wanted to happen at all and that they are very confused and the captain is extremely frustrated.

OOC:((Oh, would that ‘liquid fire’ stuff be near Merry Annabelle? Because I might just have to spring an oil leak if that’s the case. :DProbably, yes, but it's not the target.
What is this contamination you are referring to?Imagine my people have OCD. If yours touch anything, mine will freak out.
And wouldn't burning everything in the water be kinda bad for the poor submarine crew?Yes, and they don't really care. The person in charge of the incendiaries might not even be aware of the submarine.
How fast is the submarine?I'm not sure, but it's slow -- its propeller is cranked by hand.
The 5"er will have trouble aiming real low, but the small AA gun won't.The sub'll sink before the fire reaches it.
The 8" guns will probably not target the land artillery because they don't want to damage the docks.Okay.

((So, there wouldn’t be any objections to Merry Annabelle blowing up? I can have most of the crew jump overboard and what have you.

Callisdrun: sounds like we ought to get along splendidly, then! My ships still use guns because, frankly, we’re happy when we can put a rocket on the back of something and have it fly in a straight line. Our current generation of heavy cruisers are pretty small - 9,800 tons full load with 6x8” (3x2) guns and 4.2” maximum belt armor, but our older ones range up towards 11,000 tons. More information on Iansislean ships can be found here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=6683172&postcount=80) and here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=5985404#post5985404)

Real post coming in a minute.))

OOC:So, there wouldn’t be any objections to Merry Annabelle blowing up?Not from me, but I'm sure my people will go crazy if they swim to shore. :D

OOC:Not from me, but I'm sure my people will go crazy if they swim to shore. :D

Istengrad'll pick'em up. some of my citizens, especially in the military are... odd though

((Sweet...Ian like crazy

C: MA is/was grounded pretty close to shore. They’d probably, out of sheer panic, swim there first. And probably get shot. But thanks for thinkin’ of me! ;)))

Ordinarily, a steel hulled ship like the Merry Annabelle wouldn’t have had too much to worry about fire in the water. It might have gotten a bit toasty, warped the paint, and been a danger if it had leaped on board, but at least they’d have been able to sail away. Now, grounded solidly in the harbor, her crew disoriented and confused, and with oil leaking from her tanks, the Annabelle was a sitting duck.

Keegan didn’t even have time to process what was happening when the first explosion raked the Annabelle. It was followed half a heartbeat later by a second, and suddenly the little ship was a veritable fireball. Some of the crew were tossed into the water, often with pieces of metal planted in their skin where they hadn’t been any before, and others were simply cut down by shrapnel. In the pilot house, Keegan hacked and coughed, cutting his hand on the shattered glass.

Simpson groaned and rolled over. It addition to the dagger wound, he now had a large chunk of steel jammed in his shoulder.

“Come on,” groused Keegan, “we’ve got to get out of here.” He grabbed the larger sailor by the wrist - the one not connected to a wounded shoulder - and dragged him across the glass-covered floor. They slowly made their way to the port side, which wasn’t a liquid fire inferno, hacking on the thick smoke every inch of the way. Keegan grabbed a pair of life preservers and, wrapping one around Simpson, jumped over.

The heavy guns on Istengrad continued to blast away, shifting to new targets as soon as they had fired, for they knew the effects of their ammunition on the hapless sailing ships made multiple salvoes at one target unnecessary. By now several AA guns and a couple 5"ers were firing at the area the periscope had been spotted in.

Inside Turret A, it had gotten incredibly loud and very hot. Most shirts had come off. Teresa Sorvik knew she would be hoarse by the end of the day from screaming "fire" so many times. Everyone was very confused about why they had beenf fired upon and were now obliterating these people's fleet. Oh well.

Now that the problem of the enemy ships had been taken care of, the rest of the AA guns and 5"ers (the ones that weren't trying to shoot at the submarine) were making precise shots at the land based artillery. A few men had gone down from getting hit by cannonballs, which also weren't helping the ship's bedraggled appearence much, despite doing only superficial damage.

Captain Kvebek and Commander Kereshtur both winced when the smaller ship that had also entered the harbor blew up.
Kereshtur broke the silence. "They'll probably be shot if they try to swim to shore, poor guys."

Kvebek replied "Then let us hope they have the sense to swim here instead." Sighing, he said "What a strange calamity."

The CLF Istengrad's guns destroyed ships throughout the harbor -- and the submarine --, and those closer to shore caught fire. Amidst this destruction was a bomb waiting to go off -- the Merry Annabelle. When the fire reached the oil-slicked water around it, it quickly progressed to the ship itself. The resulting explosions gathered the attentions of everyone within hearing range*, but most went back to their work -- they were quickly becoming accustomed to destruction and wished to avoid it themselves. The infantrymen on the shore once again raised their rifles at the Merry Annabelle, prepared to shoot anyone who attempted to come ashore. Artillerymen fell as the Istengrad's attention shifted to them, those who were only wounded jumping into the inferno on the water. Shell fragments** peppered the nearby buildings and tore chunks of concrete from the docks. If the second and beyond lines of defense could see what was happening, they would have probably opened fire, but they couldn't. The artillerymen would just have to continue firing until they ran out of ammunition or were all killed.

OOC: *Unless someone either of you want your people to keep doing whatever it is they're doing
**I assumed your 5" guns are using HE or fragmentation shells.

I wonder what would happen if they dipped their bullets in a flammable liquid before shooting...

EDIT: I just saw Callisdrun's newest post. This one may be edited.
EDIT2: I edited the post and put the first word of the edit in bold text. If any of the people from the ship caught fire (and the fire was perhaps put out by the water), they won't be shot and will receive medical attention.

If the Annabelle survivors had seen the men with rifles, they may have reconsidered their ‘swim to shore’ plan. But, with an exploding ship and fire behind them, they dogpaddled towards shore like crazy. Death one way or death another; maybe the natives would decide to be merciful after all.

It wasn't so much a organized effort as a general free for all as the remaining six men struggled through the water. One of the men had been alight and screamed some nonsense about Greek Fire; the water doused him fine, with only perhaps some first and maybe second degree burns.

EDIT: and this one may be edited depending on Knights' considered edit of the one upon which it was based.

*falls through hole in the space-time continuum*

REEDIT: Added second paragraph.

OOC:EDIT: and this one may be edited depending on Knights' considered edit of the upon which one it was based.

*falls through hole in the space-time continuum*Feel free to edit now. :D

((Edited! I'm assuming that the 'liquid fire' stuff that blew up the Merry Annabelle is still around, which is why they're not anxious to stay in the water.))

"Increase speed to 10 knots." Captain Kvebek, though extremely frustrated and confused by these strange people, was one of Callisdrun's better officers, as he still appeared very calm considering the somewhat ridiculous circumstances.

"Captain?" Commander Kereshtur was unsure what the purpose of increasing speed was.

"You see those guys swimming over there? We're going to try to get in closer to them, cause these people will probably just shoot them."

"Very well sir."

Inside Turret A, it appeared to Sorvik that they'd run out of targets. She scanned the harbor for a bit and then saw a concentration of riflemen on the shore. "Left, up a little, there we go... fire!"

On deck, many were still paranoid about the periscope that had been seen. They couldn't tell if it had gone down or not, as shell splashes obscured the spot. 5" turrets were picking away at the larger artillery positions on the shore, trying to blast away the guns themselves rather than the men or the buildings near the guns. Aside from 8" turret A's recent activities, no one was really concerned about the small arms fire.

The ship slowed as it neared the wreck of the Merry Annabelle.

Infantrymen opened fire on the survivors, but left the one who had been alight untouched. "MEDIC!" From a building behind the dock ran a medical team with a stretcher. Although a heathen, this man had been purified -- partially, at least. Now it was their responsibility to take care of him...and ensure frequent visits from priests and interrogators. Suddenly, a shell ripped open the dock, wiping out the concentration of infantry and the medics. The heathens would be able to reach the shore, but they would receive no medical attention, and the whole city would be in danger of being set on fire if they moved beyond the dock.
OOC:nonsense...Or not. ;)
I'm assuming that the 'liquid fire' stuff that blew up the Merry Annabelle is still aroundYep.

OOC:...Or not. ;)

((I thought so! :D))

One of the uninjured men screamed when a bullet struck him in the neck, but the cry was soon cut off as he slipped down below the water in a red slick. Whether or not the survivors saw Istengrad wasn’t clear; if they recognized that it intended to help certainly wasn’t. Keegan and his remaining four men, two of whom were severely injured, continued to swim like crazy for the shore. They registered the explosion out of the corner of their eyes and the fact that they were no longer being fired upon, but scarcely had energy enough to drag themselves and their wounded compatriots panting onto the shore.

"All stop. Cease fire." Commander Kereshtur relayed Captain Kvebek's order through to the parties concerned. By now almost all the firing from the shore had stopped. The submarine spotted earlier was still unaccounted for, though it wasn't the largest concern. Kvebek sighed and shook his head. Some people...

"Do you want a damage report sir?" asked Kereshtur. It seemed she was always on top of things.

"Sure, let's hear it." Captain Kvebek knew nothing was too seriously damaged. He didn't know what to do about people like this.

"Many small dents in the hull and superstructure, some anti-aircraft guns damaged, missiles still inoperable and even more damaged then before, seven dead, ten wounded. Main fire control director still inoperable, and as you can see, some of the glass on the bridge is shattered." They'd been nearly hit a couple times, but not hurt, as they'd been in the armored but cramped conning tower.

The Royal Aerion Naval Cruiser Destroyer Squadron had moved into the area of the Realm, approximately five miles from the sea battle. The cruiser, the HMS Might slowed to a halt along with the three destroyers, and frigate.

Onboard the HMS Might within the Command Room, Commodore Malthar sat surveying the tactical map. He was stroking his chin, "It looks as if there are rather old ships battling each other near the harbor, and one large cruiser." He cleared his throat, looking over to one of the Liutenants, "Lieutenant, send out the message, we will be proceeding into the battle zone. All ships on full alert." Not that there was truly anything to be on full alert about for such a large group of ships, intimidating enough compared to the present ships.

With that, the full Cruiser Destroyer Squadron proceeded toward the area, with the HMS Maloy , the Los Angeles-class attack sub leading them under the water to engage anything that might block the other ships.

The Aerion ships would be coming into sight............

Those artillerymen remaining continued loading and firing their weapons at the Istengrad, more panicked with each shot it deflected. The infantrymen watching its advance, waiting for its arrival at the dock were oblivious to the actions of the survivors of the Merry Annabelle, and the lives of those survivors depended on this fact.
"Look over there! More metal ships!" The alarm ran along the docks and throughout the city and traveled to the King's car faster than it was traveling.
"Stop the car." His Majesty the King jumped out of the car and ran to the top floor of the closest building with a telescope in hand. At the top, he extended the telescope and scanned the water, moving his gaze farther out with each sweep of the harbor. What he saw shocked him. The ship that had been taken captive was ruined, the ship that had been fired upon was afloat, five more were approaching, and none of his existed simultaneously afloat and not in flames! He knew also from the steadily decreasing booms of cannon that the artillery on land was being destroyed. No matter, if they had destroyed the first ship, surely the others would follow...Although more cannons were needed. The King ran back down to street level, ordered his driver to stay in place, and ran down the street in the direction of the docks. At the first line of defense he reached, he issued the order for each row of artillery to move forward to that of the next (excluding the line at the docks). After resting for a few minutes, he ran back to his car and continued his trip to the palace.

OOC: I lost my writing cap, but I think I found it!

...No two ships are not on fire.

Seeing the new artillery being brought up, Captain Kvebek reconsidered his cease fire order. "Resume firing."

The ever dutiful Commander Kereshtur relayed the order. 5"ers resusumed firing on the artillery positions still left. The 8" guns fired longer range shots on the artillery being brought up that had not yet reached the docks.

Spotting the new ships entering the harbor, the captain said "Get someone to hail those ships as well."

International flag signals were hoisted to hail the new arrivals just entering this scene of pandemonium.

In the Command Center of the HMS Might Commodore Malthar watched the fighting on the tactical screen. He stood from his command chair, crossing his hands behind his back. "Lieutenant, bring the ships closer in."

The Lieutenant nodded, "Aye sir."

Another Lieutenant at the comms station looked up, "Sir, the heavy cruiser is hailing us with flags." The Commodore stepped up to a nearby terminal routed into the comms station, "Reply to the hail. Open a communications channel if possible."

The five ships began moving in closer toward the harbor.

The regular comm was out of service, because of the storms, but they had been able to rig up a primitive wireless telegraph.

A scratchy message in morse code reached the Aerion ships from the dark Callisdrunian cruiser. "This is Callisdrunian heavy cruiser CLF Istengrad. comm knocked out by heavy storms, using telegraph."

A few seconds later, a second one went out. "Natives fairly primitive, were still using wooden warships and iron cannons. Their reason for firing upon us remains unclear. They have a primitive submarine."

The Lieutenant read off the received morse code message to Commodore Malthar, and the response was the following:

"CFS Istengard encouraged to withdraw, and return to Callisdrun. More ships on way."

That was all. A simple, blunt message.

And in the meantime the Aerion ships continued to move closer.

It was lucky that the troops were distracted, for the Merry Annabelle survivors were able to do little other than lay exhausted in the sand.

((in other words, it's been a busy week for me. Sorry my responses have been so long in coming/so terrible when they arrive.))

OOC: I don't think there's much for me to post...The soldiers will continue what they're doing until they've either completed the job or died, and the King can't give orders until he returns to the palace. The scout planes are scouting, but no one can do anything useful with that information right now...I guess someone will find out about the survivors getting on shore soon, though.
Sorry my responses have been so long in coming/so terrible when they arrive.It's okay. :)
-----
More military ships?I think the ship should be civilian, because my nation probably wouldn't survive a military encounter.

ooc: How do you know if this will be a military encounter? I may just want to establish a relationship, but just get past the thing.

OOC:ooc: How do you know if this will be a military encounter? I may just want to establish a relationship, but just get past the thing.I don't know (and didn't say I do), but the people of the Progressive Realm have already made the current situation into a military one, and your ships are entering it in the middle of a battle with no features distinguishing them from those already encountered.

OOC: Where do you guys want to take this?

Commodore Malthus hmmed deeply, as he sat in his Command Center. "We are only authorized for first contact operations at the moment, so therefore let us inform them of our intentions. Send out a call on the loudcom that we do not intend to fight them."

As the Aerion ships moved closer into shore, an intercom came out loud toward the shore that was loud enough to be heard, "We come not to harm you, but to meet with you. To help you. Stand down. We seek to speak to your leader."





((OOC: Had originally intended to do this at some point))

OOC: Aerion, is the speaker using English?
OOC: Where do you guys want to take this?I'd thought culture shock would be an important part of the RP, but other than that and my nation not being destroyed, I think I'm willing to let it go however other people make it.

ooc: What language do they speak? English is being used, yes......

Callisdrunians speak Callisdrunian, but since nobody outside Callisdrun knows this language as it's incomprehensible, almost all speak English, and do so when talking to foreigners.

((Iansisleans speak English, or at least nearly all of them do.

Dunno if there's too much my folks are going to do other than lay around exhausted. Gimme a shout if something's about to happen to them.))

An officer of the Realm raised a megaphone to his mouth and shouted at the Aerion ships, "Stop moving immediately, or you will be fired upon!"
OOC:Callisdrunians speak Callisdrunian, but since nobody outside Callisdrun knows this language as it's incomprehensible, almost all speak English, and do so when talking to foreigners.Oops. The following sentence should be ignored. "The men may have even disobeyed His Majesty the King if they knew what Captain Kvebek was saying." They'd still open fire, because the ship continued moving.
Gimme a shout if something's about to happen to them.Okay.

Onboard the HMS Might

Commodore Malthus sighed as the message was relayed to him, "We have to follow the parameters of the first contact mission, though this is ridiculous. What do they have to fire on us? We have a lot more firepower with us."

The Lieutenant did not respond, just stood there awaiting the next order.

Commodore Malthus cleared his throat, "Tell the ships to halt."

The Lieutenant nodded, and moved over to a terminal to punch in the commands.

The Aerion ships came to a halt, the cruiser, the three destroyers, the frigate, and submarine.

Another scratchy message emanated from Istengrad. "Original purpose in entering harbor minor repairs, will withdraw to entrance of harbor until situation stabilizes."

On the bridge, Captain Kvebek calmly gave his orders. "Reverse course, make for the entrance of the harbor."

Commander Kereshtur, always skilled at the helm, made it happen in short time.

Inside Turret A, the gun crew (who were now all shirtless, without exception) felt the ship start going back to the harbor entrance. Their pace of firing had slowed, because there weren't many targets. They would occasionally hit artillery as it was brought up the road.
"Damn it, are we retreating?" Teresa asked as she felt the ship move. She didn't see any reason to retreat, though her vision was quite limited. Spotting another batch of artillery, she again yelled "Fire!" and the 8"ers sounded again.

"They're running away!" Shouts of joy erupted from throughout the harbor district, but were soon cut off by another shout, one sharing the news that the Istengrad was not ceasing fire. Officers gathered together to discuss what to do next.
"The new ships are supposedly here to help us. They want to speak with His Majesty the King, too," said one who had been able to hear the Aerion message.
"Let's pull back the cannons and sic the heathens on each other," responded another in command of some artillery.
"Do you think they'll do it?"
"If they don't, then we'll know they're not trustworthy."
"Good thinking," interrupted a third, higher-ranking officer. "We'll do that, then." And I'll take all the credit if it works...
The officers dispersed to give orders to their respective commands.

“Kindly open fire on that ship, then!”
OOC: Sorry for disappearing again...
I think my people need to be shown they're not rulers of the world. :D

When Istengrad reached the harbor entrance, she turned parallel to the shore as the rear turrets rotated. "They shall learn not to taunt." Captain Kvebek was very angry at the cockiness of the defenders on shore. However, Istengrad was now out of the range of those on the shore, and she opened up a full broadside on those who had just cheered.

OOC:she opened up a full broadside on those who had just cheered.That'd be most people in the city's harbor district.

Who voted this one star, and why? :(

OOC:That'd be most people in the city's harbor district.


That wouldn't be a very large target for Istengrad's guns.

That wouldn't be a very large target for Istengrad's guns.I imagine this city as being like NYC, but if you want to stick with that post, okay. :)

I imagine this city as being like NYC, but if you want to stick with that post, okay. :)


OOC: I was thinking more the people standing on the shore, but whatever you want. You know, they're going to need to realize that they can't win sometime.

As shells from the Istengrad began ripping through the city beyond the docks, men ran away or stood for moments stunned, depending on how close they were to the explosions. They dared to attack the capital? Within a minute, all turned toward the city's heart and ran as fast as they could, eager to escape the instant death and imprecation. The very best trained and disciplined stayed just long enough to launch their incendiary weapons into the harbor district, but then joined the mad dash for safety. Along a major road separating the harbor district from the rest of the city, the fire department would soon be gathering in an attempt to control the massive fire that was just now beginning. While there was not a flammable path across the road, such a massive fire may not bother to stay on the paths.
OOC:You know, they're going to need to realize that they can't win sometime.Indeed.

"Warm," groaned Keegan, rolling over on his side. He was surprised to see Simpson, despite the bloody, torn shirt tied around his midsection, already sitting.

"There's a big fire going, sir. I figure we ought to move soon," said the burly sailor. He pointed in the general direction of the holocaust.

Keegan was still embarassed that the desperate swim from the smoldering wreck of Merry Annabelle had taken so much out of him while the stabbed Simpson still appeared fine. Still more embarassing, the other four survivors looked as if they had recovered just fine, even if they were wrapped in various bandages.

"Which way?" asked Keegan. He hated showing weakness, but was still too discombobulated to figure anything out.

"Any direction away from the fire should do," grunted Simpson, standing with a wince or two.

After a while, Istengrad slowed her rate of fire, taking shots only every couple of minutes, usually to smash an artillery piece. Eventually the radio was fixed, and a message requesting backup was sent to Callisdrun. They were told that a battle squadron was on its way, along with a supply ship.

“Your Majesty?” asked the prince who joined in step alongside the King as he stepped out of his car.
“Are you ready to update me on the situation?”
“Yes, the city has been set afire. The fire department has been dispatched, but there is still danger of the fire spreading into the main districts.”
“I do not care. I am going to stay here and see what happens. Now--”
“Your Majesty, it--”
“I said I do not care. That's final.” The prince winced. “What are the ships doing?”
“The small ship exploded after we released liquid fire--”
“Why was that done?!”
“Sir, the small ship dashed one of our own to pieces.”
“Amazing...”
“The large ship opened fire on everything in sight...That is why the city is in flames...They have almost ceased fire after retreating toward the harbor's mouth. There are several more large ships, but they stopped offshore. They have not opened fire.”
King Henry slumped down in a luxurious couch in the hallway they had been walking through, and held his head in his hands. “Why have all of these ships suddenly come to my peaceful Realm? We have not done anything to them--” The King looked up. “Unless they communicate with the borderlands. What do we know of them?”
“Nothing so far, Your Majesty...They have also flown small metal aircraft over the harbor. Much smaller than anything we have.”
“Metal, metal, metal...Why do they build everything out of metal?”
“Perhaps they are automatons...”
“Perhaps they are! I have heard tales of conquering automatons...But they were only tales. Automatons are a myth.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
King Henry stood back up. “Tell me if you hear anything new. I am going to the observation deck.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The prince bowed and backed away as King Henry moved toward the stairs.
OOC: It's been two days...But here's a large (for me) post!

OOC: Remember, your guys fired first.

Captain Kvebek didn't know what to do. He already felt like a failure for making a total diplomatic mess. He sat listlessly in his commander's chair, thinking. If only he could have communicated with these crazed people somehow. Why had they fired on Istengrad when they were so obviously outmatched? And why, once their navy had been obliterated, had they continued firing instead of trying call a truce? He got up and strode to the bridge wing, facing the city, whose shore was now quite a wreck. "Commander Kereshtur," he said. "I want a message sent to that city, somehow, telling them of our intentions, that we only fired back after being fired upon. Get it to them by any means possible."

About five minutes later, signal flags were run up, morse code was tapped out, repeatedly, in the hope that someone in the city might know one, and about five minutes after that, the crew foundsome old speakers that had been being stored in the cargo hold, probably from Istengrad's old PA system.
Empty canisters with leaflets were also shot out of the guns. Someone was found who could speak English very well. The same message was given through each means.

"People of this city. The current situation is regrettable. Know that we entered the harbor only with intentions of repairing our ship, and would not have fired a single shot had we not been fired upon. We do not wish to continue demolishing your city, but know also that if fired upon, it is our duty to return fire. Continuing attempts to shoot at our ship will do no good. We are now out of range of your guns, and even if we were not, your ordinance is capable of inflicting only minor damage. Please cease your fire so that we may cease ours and somehow straighten this out."

King Henry peered through his telescope at the metal monstrosity in the mouth of the harbor, waiting for something to happen. Eventually flags came into view. He dashed over to a voicepipe and hollered for his advisors to come up to the observation deck. As he waited for them to arrive, he paced around the deck. After several laps, the advisors arrived.
“They're trying to send a message via flag. Is it to us? What does it mean?”
The naval advisor stepped forth and examined the flags as another handed a leaflet (copied by hand from one of the originals launched by the ship) to the King, which he then read aloud.
"People of this city. The current situation is regrettable. Know that we entered the harbor only with intentions of repairing our ship, and would not have fired a single shot had we not been fired upon. We do not wish to continue demolishing your city, but know also that if fired upon, it is our duty to return fire. Continuing attempts to shoot at our ship will do no good. We are now out of range of your guns, and even if we were not, your ordinance is capable of inflicting only minor damage. Please cease your fire so that we may cease ours and somehow straighten this out. Does this match the flags?"
“Approximately, Your Majesty.”
“I went this reply to be sent, embellished as you see fit.
“Mysterious heathen ship,
“We have no repair facilities of use to you, and would not offer them to a ship that has opened fire upon our own, and our capital. You write that you were fired upon, yet you entered our territory unwelcomed and opened fire upon being told to leave. If you attempt to land on our shores, you will be interrogated and publicly burnt at the stake upon confession. Leave now.
Understood?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Get going.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” The aides bowed and backed into the stairwell.
OOC: Time for my guys to learn they can't do whatever they want?
It's been this long since my last post? O.o :(

Captain Kvebek's eyes bulged in anger as he observed the response from the shore. For a bunch of backwater folks, these guys were sure arrogant. "Ask them how they intend to enforce this. Add anything you deem appropriate," he told Commander Kereshtur.

Kereshtur quickly crafted a response that was then run up on signal flags. "The Callisdrunian heavy cruiser, Istengrad opened fire when fired upon, as is the usual reaction. You tell us to leave, but from what we have observed, you have no power to enforce your will on us. Perhaps people who are at an extreme technological disadvantage, such as yourselves, should be more cautious. If we were less patient, our two countries would be at war, which would inevitably lead to your sadly technologically impaired nation's destruction. We reiterate our original request to use your docks. It is easier to repair a ship when it is tied up to a dock."

King Henry watched as new flags replaced the old on the metal ship. Some were the same, but he did not know what they meant. He grabbed the voicepipe again. "Steven, get back up here! They're sending a new message!" While waiting for his naval advisor to come out the door to the observation deck, the King examined the flags, hoping in vain to make some sense out of them.
"Your Majesty?"
"Here, use the telescope. Tell me what they're saying." His Majesty the King stood impatiently while his advisor 'read' the message.
"They're from some Callousdrum in a heavy cruiser named Istenglad. After we fired on them, they fired upon us, which they think is normal. They think we can not force them to leave because we are at an "extreme technological disadvantage", and still want to use our docks. If their patience is used up they'll declare war on us...They think they can destroy us."
"Are they insane?"
"Of course, Your Majesty."
"Send them this reply:
Ship Istenglad of the Callous Drum,
It is very rude of you to open fire in our territory, regardless of who fired first, and we will not give you access to our docks. Our technology is perfect without the interference of your heathen impurities. Go home now."
OOC: Not that they don't have access to the docks already...:D
The insane comment is purely IC. If anyone is insane, it's my guys. :D

Captain Kvebek and Commander Kereshtur both broke out in hysterical laughter upon seeing the reply from the city. "Their technology is perfect, huh? Tell them that we disagree, and if they want us to leave, they'll have to demonstrate this 'perfect' technology. Oh, and tell them that when their entire fleet has just been wiped out because of their brazen foolishness, that it doesn't matter if us 'heathens' are being rude or not, and that we'll commence another bombardment if they don't change their stance."

"With pleasure, sir," Commander Kereshtur replied as she chuckled.

Flag messages took a long time, but they appeared to be decently understandable and so were the only medium through which the Istengrad could communicate with her odd opponants.

"Please show us this perfect technology, as you will continue to appear technologically inferior until you prove otherwise. We will not leave until you do so. Whether it was more rude for your guns to fire upon our ship or for our ship to return fire is irrelevant now that your entire fleet is in ruins. We will commence another bombardment if you do not change your stance."

As the flag message was run up, a hatch on the stern deck was opened and a small helicopter rose to help target if another bombardment was needed. It flew up and hovered very high above the city.

“What's that?! Some sort of aeroplane that flies vertically?”
“It appears so...They're preparing a new message.”
“Go ahead and read it.” King Henry picked up his voicepipe once more and yelled for the order to be given for all rocketeers and multibarreled flintlocks to open fire on the strange aircraft. He paced anxiously, the order traveling slower than he would have liked. Then, he heard the weapons open fire – slowly at first, but getting louder and louder. The first rockets missed by a significant margin, but aim improved.
“Your Majesty, I have read the message. Do you wish to hear it now?” The King nodded. "Please show us this perfect technology, as you will continue to appear technologically inferior until you prove otherwise. We will not leave until you do so. Whether it was more rude for your guns to fire upon our ship or for our ship to return fire is irrelevant now that your entire fleet is in ruins. We will commence another bombardment if you do not change your stance."
King Henry considered this for a few moments, then yelled another order into the voicepipe. A scout aircraft was to make a low pass over the “Istenglad”.
OOC: It's not a lot better than a Wright flyer.

The helicoptor simply flew higher when the rockets opened fire on it. Any that got even reasonably closs were simply blasted with a high rate of fire rotary machine gun. The pilots, who eventually got bored, proceded to do a number of tricks, flying backwards and such, spinning around, etc., at speeds that mocked the city's pathetic early plane.

After the bridge crew stopped laughing at hilariously primitive aircraft that had flown over their ship, they crafted a message.

"People of this city, this is what our aircraft looked like a century ago. Is this the technology you allege to be perfect?"

Istengrad continued to sit menacingly at the harbor entrance, some of her turrets moved to find targets should they need to commence firing.

King Henry's naval advisor looked up from the telescope again. "Your Majesty, they are now saying, People of this city, this is what our aircraft looked like a century ago. Is this the technology you allege to be perfect?"
It took the King a long while to recover from the shock of the heathen aircraft's actions before responding. "Say, Of course. Without the guidance of Truth, your technology has fallen headfirst into Evil. Remove it from our pure lands at once."
"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Looks like they're ranting and raving about evil. I wish fundamentalists wouldn't be so difficult and arrogant." Captain Kvebek was not amused by their response.

"Would you like me to attempt to reason with them?" Commander Kereshtur said, knowing what the answer would be.

Kvebek sighed. "Sure, we should probably try to avoid slaughtering these people, though right now I almost don't see the point."

In a few minutes, another message was sent via flags. "You speak of purity when corruption and evil permeate your culture. However, that is irrelevant. Technology knows no good, and no evil. Technology consists of inanimate objects, unliving matter crafted to be of use to humans. Technology itself is amoral, though it can be used for good or evil. Firing on a ship of a nation that has no quarral with yours, it seems, was a blatantly evil thing to do. Obviously, there exists in this city a very selfish view of morality. It appears also, that we have been assumed to be evil. This view denies the facts. If we were evil, we would not have even asked to use your docks, or come into the harbor at a reasonable speed. We would not have responded to your warning shot with a warning shot of our own, we simply would have annihilated everything in our sight and not ceased fire until we were out of ammunition. Please, we do not wish to cause any more destruction than we have already, but we are certainly capable of it."

King Henry stood listening to his advisor's interpretation of the message. He shook in rage at the insolence of whoever was forming the messages. "Tell those heathens, Our culture is free from such stains, as we burn all who reject Truth. Yours is heathen; evil permeates everything you touch. Your technology is of the evil world, thus it is evil. You are evil, your technology is evil, and everything you touch is evil. You are not welcome here."
OOC: Sunset is probably either approaching or underway.

OOC: Where do you want to take this? Your guys are going to have to humble down pretty soon.

((I'm still here, just quiet for now. :) Assume my people are running in whatever direction seems to take them away from the fire and that Favorable is stil on its way - it'll arrive sometime 'tomorrow'.))

OOC:OOC: Where do you want to take this? Your guys are going to have to humble down pretty soon.I imagine you or someone else will either force or convince them to be humble, at least for a while. Depending on how that happens, there could be interesting interactions with civilians...or a past-tech spec ops raid. However it's done, it should probably be in a way that won't scare everyone off or be the cause of suicide attacks. Something involving the Progressive religion might work...
My guys have no night vision gear, spotlights, or anything that'd be useful for seeing anyone sneaking around at night until they get very close, so something could happen during the night.
I'm still here, just quiet for now. :) Assume my people are running in whatever direction seems to take them away from the fire and that Favorable is stil on its way - it'll arrive sometime 'tomorrow'.Okay.

OOC: my IM is BassistSartori. I still don't know what to post on this

King Henry stood on the observation deck long after the dark obscured all, straining his eyes, hoping to see a response. Eventually, long after most other people in the palace had gone to bed, he trudged down the stairs to his bedroom. A servant jumped to his feet when he heard the door open, but the King motioned for him to go get his night's rest; he would not be needed until the morning. After the servant left, Henry closed and locked the door behind him.
Why is this happening?
OOC: I got distracted by other things when I didn't get a response. This is an attempt to get something happening again.

A few of Istengrad's lights blazed defiantly in the night. For the most part, though, the ship was dark. Callisdrunians needed little light to see. Some of the fires in the city were still burning, though many had been put out by now. The crew had been instructed to be rather noisy at night, so they partied, and the wind carried the sounds across the harbor to the city. Captain Kvebek was unconcerned by letting the crew amuse themselves. They were well trained, and the ship was outside the range of the city's guns anyway. Tomarrow night, if the city's government had not backed down, he would send the cruiser's squads of Berserkers (OOC: Marines) ashore. He couldn't comprehend why they would be so stubborn.

OOC: What did you mean by "progressive religion?"

As the fires died down, small numbers of Progressive special forces made their way through the town to take up positions in the warehouses along the docks to watch anything that would happen and prevent anyone from landing on the shore. They were the nation's best, armed with repeating air guns, but they were unaccustomed to artificial light stronger than that from a crude light bulb. The lights and sounds from the Istengrad stole and held strongly their attention. A night raid would be disastrous for the Progressive Realm.

Meanwhile, a "heathen hunt", an odd cross between a "witch hunt" and a voyage to capture wild animals was being organized deeper in the city. The crew from the smaller ship would need good cover to be free when morning came.

OOC:OOC: What did you mean by "progressive religion?"Instead of being (The Progressive Realm of) Knightsof Fallen Lands, my nation is The Progressive Realm (of Knightsof Fallen Lands). Progressive is the adjective used to describe things from my nation. So, by "Progressive religion", I meant the religion practiced in the Progressive Realm.

OOC: I'll think of something. Most Callisdrunians are pagans (somewhat similar to Norse pagans, but a bit different), and it seems your guys are pretty strongly not, so we'll see what happens. I guess maybe I'll have them take some hostages or something, though that's really not in their character, but I can't think of anything else to make your guys realize they aren't superior in every way.

bump

King Henry nudged a spool of thread toward his pet cat, who was startled by the sudden movement and jumped to the top of a desk supporting a bulletin board.
OOC: ;)
Iansisle says he'll post as soon as he can.

((Which might not be until Monday, I'm afraid. St Turkey's Day intervened, and I won't have very much computer time until I'm safely back in Tucson. Really sorry! :)))

Fairly early in the morning, launches were sent out into the harbor to recover survivors that had been spotted. They included a high ranking officer, possibly an admiral, who was clinging to some of the driftwood that comprised the remnants of the native fleet. Like the other survivors recovered (unfortunately, there weren't many), he was put in the ship's tiny prison ward. Normally, in the supply line that tagged along behind Callisdrunian warship fleets, there was a POW carrying ship, but since Istengrad had been operating independantly, this was not the case. The prison, though small, was at least dry, and fairly warm.

At lunch, Commander Kereshter posed a question to the Captain. "Do you think we could hold their officers, especially the high ranking one, hostage? Would that make them any more inclined to listen, do you think?"

Captain Kvebek pondered for a moment. "Maybe. It's not like anything we've tried so far has worked, so we might as well."

Soon, a message was sent out to the city.

"We have recovered numerous survivors from the wreckage that due to unfortunate circumstances comprises the remnants of your fleet. Several appear to be officers, one seems to be very high ranking, possibly an admiral. Being decent people, we are inclined to treat them in a dignified manner. However, we are quite confused by the unwillingness we have been shown to negotiate. We are also somewhat confused as to why we are being labelled as 'heathens.' If we may reach a cease fire that grants us our requests, our government will pay for the unfortunate damage to your city, and to your fleet. We do not desire to open a military base here, or for you to pay us tribute or anything of that sort as that would be wholly unreasonable. Please do consider our offer."

The Progressive special forces had reported the capture of survivors some time before the message from the Istengrad was received. The captures infuriated King Henry, but there was nothing he could do – all navy vessels stationed anywhere nearby had been destroyed, and artillery had proved to have no effect on the massive ship. His Majesty the King had trouble forming a reply – it was at least an hour before he was done thinking and talking with advisors, talking with advisors and thinking. Eventually, he called on the naval advisor to send the following message:
“You dare to capture our brave men and thus make them heathens, and then demand compliance with your requests! This is disgusting, but we will not destroy your heathen ship. It is, indeed, heathen, as it is large and metal, as no person of the true religion could construct. Repair your ship and return our people in such a manner as we will prescribe, and then be gone!”
In the surrounding forests, men were hard at work cutting down trees and building boats for a special forces raid. At the same time, observation aircraft flew over and around the Istengrad, observing every detail they could.
OOC: It's okay, Iansisle...As you can see, I don't post a lot, either. :o

Captain Kvebek rolled his eyes. "Always with this superior attitude," he said. He and Commander Kereshtur had lunch, and then sent another message to the city.

"Thank you for your cooperation. We will return the captured men to you after we are done repairing our ship.

However, we do still counter the thought that we are 'heathens.' Metal is just as natural a building material as wood. We are not making your men 'heathens' as it is against policy to forcibly convert others to our religion."

Later in the day, the helicopters were launched to chase off the pesky primitive planes that appeared to be observing Istengrad. They also flew recon missions over land, and noticed some strange happenings in the forests.

Another message was sent to the people in the city.

"We do not know why you are constructing small boats in the forests, but we request that you stop until we leave. It looks suspicious."

Onboard the HMS Might, Commodore Malthus stared onto the digital tactical screen and obtained reports of what might be going on. The large Ticonderoga-class cruiser was one of the larger ships, and the lead ship of the 3rd Cruiser Destroyer Squadron of the 4th Expeditionary Fleet.

The group of ships had drifted away from the action a bit more, though might still be visible from shore on the horizon by the primitive telescopes, and definitely still within range of the Callisdrun fleet. For now, they had remained silent.


The Los-Angeles class attack sub, however lurked under the harbor, as near to land as safely possible. Silently watching like some sentinel.

Commodore Malthus cleared his throat, "Transmit to the Callisdrun fleet, ask what communications they have had with the peoples, and what they are doing."

The ensign nearby nodded, following orders.

"Look, sir," reported Simpson, "A forest."

Keegan lifted his head and gazed at the cluster of trees. He said nothing.

"Might be good shelter," prompted Simpson. "Can't you hear the aircraft, sir?"

"There's nothing wrong with my ears, damn you," snapped Keegan. The words sapped what little strength he had left and he sighed. "Very well. The Favorable ought to be arriving tomorrow; we can rest in the woods until then."

Keegan was starting to loathe Simpson with the sort of hate only born of jealousy. The burly man seemed to always be right; quick of feet and mind and able to bear his wounds with hardly a grimace. Damn it, Keegan was supposed to be a seaman - why was he now tromping around with half a dozen men, a fire at their back, and a hostile country of lunatics at their fore?

The destroyer couldn’t arrive soon enough.

King Henry consulted with his religious advisor before sending a response the the Callisdrunian message. How should he explain Truth to people who knew nothing of it?
“Of course metal is a natural material – we use it in our rifles and cannon. It is, however, impossible to use on a large scale without either divine intervention or the machines and factories of heathens. All our work is done in small workshops.
“When snatching them, your men came in contact with ours, correct? You picked them up out of wreckage or the water? They are heathens now.”

Later in the day:
“What's that?!” The pilot received no response, as he did not speak using a radio and the aircraft was too weak to carry a second man. He broke out of his flight pattern to get within shouting range of the other aircraft currently in the air. “We're going back to base...Now!”
The aircraft turned toward the airstrip for an unexpected landing. “I hope that thing doesn't follow us...”
The ground crew panicked for a moment when they saw the aircraft, as the others were scattered around the landing area. They scrambled around, pushing and pulling planes out of the way just in time to avoid a crash on landing. They could do nothing to the pilots, however, as that would bring a quick death.
The pilots removed the picture boxes from their cameras and walked to the office currently occupied by a special forces team. They saluted the orderly at the door (pilots, while directly in the pay of His Majesty the King, held the special forces in great esteem). When the salutes were returned, they handed over the boxes. The orderly waited for them to leave and then stepped inside the office.
“Here are the latest pictures...”

A short while later:
King Henry's naval advisor 'read' yet another message to the King.
“They were supposed to be careful!”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but heathens have magic observation devices.”
“The mission's security has been compromised...But we must save those men.”
“Of course, Your Majesty...Your response?”
“What? Oh...
“N O”
“They're not going to like that.” The advisor smiled and stood up to send the message.

OOC: Are the men from the Merry Annabelle going to do a good job of hiding? If not, when might they be found?

OOC: Are the men from the Merry Annabelle going to do a good job of hiding? If not, when might they be found?

((oh, sorry. I had the general idea that they were heading towards that forest in which the boats are being built. So, no, they're going to do an extraordinarily crappy job of hiding. ;)))

Both Captain Kvebek and Commander Kereshtur laughed heartily upon reading the message. Before the hour was out, a reply was sent.

"Ah, but our machines are built with natural materials, for it is impossible to build anything without using the materials provided in the Earth. We do not see why your men are now 'heathens,' as they are still the same men they were before. However, we must tell you that they have not been able to speak, and have had rather shocked expressions on their faces since coming aboard. We shall be pulling up to the dock to make repairs shortly."

After relaying this message, Captain Kvebek said to Commander Kereshtur "Let's bring her in. Have the Berserkers (OOC: marines) get ready to disembark."

Commander Kereshter made the orders. "Helmsman, all ahead one quarter, bring the ship to the dock." She then spoke into the intercom. "Berserkers, prepare for duty, and report to the quarterdeck."

In a few minutes, Istengrad was tied up to the dock (part was a bit past the dock, as it was too short for the heavy cruiser) and the Berserkers clambered down to the shore to stand guard. All were armed with AK-103's. The sun was now setting again. The officers were having lunch.

"You know," Commander Kereshtur said as she chewed her bread, "more direct communication is probably now possible."

"Right you are," said one of the other officers.

Captain Kvebek asked "How are the prisoners doing?"

The officer looked up. "Health-wise, they're fine, but I think this culture-shock is a bit traumatic for them."

ooc: Am I still in this?

“Sir. Four men are approaching. Unarmed.” A lieutenant looked up. “They don't appear to be from anywhere around here.”
The lieutenant snatched the telescope from the soldier and examined the approaching men. “Orderly! ORDERLY! Go find the Captain and tell him we have heathens in sight...On land! Now!” The orderly ran off, not even bothering with a “yes, sir”.
“Halt! Hold your hands in the air?”

*****

King Henry paced anxiously. “They don't seem to understand, do they?”
“No, Your Majesty.” The naval advisor moved his head in agreement.
“Do you wish to formulate a reply, Your Holiness?”
“If you wish, Your Majesty.”
“All right. Thank you.”

Some time later, the bishop handed his written response to the naval advisor, who sent the message as the previous ones had been (they were not aware of the Berserkers).
“I am not His Majesty the King, but the head of the Progressive Church. I will instruct you in Truth.
“Factories are evil, as we have relatively recently discovered. They are a tool to raise yourself closer and closer to God, and you become dependent on them, but they eventually fail, crushing your peace and causing to many deaths, as they did to us. They are intrinsicly evil, and this evil is contagious. By touching our men, they have been turned heathen, and must be first purified by the flame and then re-baptised by immersion. Touch nothing on our shore.”
OOC: If you want to, Aerion.
“Kindly open fire on that ship, then!”

What do you guys think of the people of the Progressive Realm? :D

OOC: Wow.... what a bunch of nutcases

They're really cruisn' for a bruisin'

By the way, I'm sure I've asked this before, but what language do your guys speak? I'm going to have a messenger ask for directions to the office of whoever the ship has been talking to.

“Sir. Four men are approaching. Unarmed.” A lieutenant looked up. “They don't appear to be from anywhere around here.”
The lieutenant snatched the telescope from the soldier and examined the approaching men. “Orderly! ORDERLY! Go find the Captain and tell him we have heathens in sight...On land! Now!” The orderly ran off, not even bothering with a “yes, sir”.


"Sir, I've a bad feeling..." started Simpson quietly. "Do you hear that? It sounds as if someone's in that wood working."

Keegan strained his ears. He could hear nothing.

"Halt!" shouted a voice from somewhere, "Hold your hands in the air!"

That tore it. Keegan's will to go on, to fight the Iansislean fight, had been completely and utterly sapped. Hardly bothering to choke back his sob, the first officer held up his hands. One by one the men followed his example; Simpson only when it became clear that no one would stand with him and fight.

What do you guys think of the people of the Progressive Realm?

((I like 'em! :) It's always nice to have a little irrationality around, 'specially with someone as good-natured as you behind it.

Anyhow, I had my last final today, so I should *finally* be able to devote the time to NS that I have been neglecting of late. hooray!))

OOC: A few OOC things before I finish my IC post:

Oops, there are six survivors, right? <---- Not currently important

By the way, I'm sure I've asked this before, but what language do your guys speak? I'm going to have a messenger ask for directions to the office of whoever the ship has been talking to.English

Callisdrun, is it okay if they try to raid the Istengrad?

Part of their history could be used against them in a religious argument, but I'm not yet sure how they'd respond. If you any of you want to know what it is, let me know. Your guys probably won't know about the history, but it's the sort of thing they might think to ask about. <---- Not currently important if a spec ops raid happens soon

Iansisle, will the Favorable will be arriving soon? <---- Not currently important

OOC: A few OOC things before I finish my IC post:

Oops, there are six survivors, right? <---- Not currently important

((oops, did I imply only four last night? If so, that was my poor math skills (y'know, 2+2=6), not a mistake on your part. ;)))

Iansisle, will the Favorable will be arriving soon? <---- Not currently important

((I believe it was sometime "tomorrow morning" when the Merry Annabelle was sunk. I've lost track of RP time, so I'm not sure when that will be.))

OOC:((oops, did I imply only four last night? If so, that was my poor math skills (y'know, 2+2=6), not a mistake on your part. ;)))I think it was me. I was reading older posts and must've seen the "four" in "four other men".
((I believe it was sometime "tomorrow morning" when the Merry Annabelle was sunk. I've lost track of RP time, so I'm not sure when that will be.))Nightfall is currently approaching again. Shall we try to fit in into the morning that just passed, or was it slowed by something?

OOC: A few OOC things before I finish my IC post:

Oops, there are six survivors, right? <---- Not currently important

English

Callisdrun, is it okay if they try to raid the Istengrad?

Part of their history could be used against them in a religious argument, but I'm not yet sure how they'd respond. If you any of you want to know what it is, let me know. Your guys probably won't know about the history, but it's the sort of thing they might think to ask about. <---- Not currently important if a spec ops raid happens soon

Iansisle, will the Favorable will be arriving soon? <---- Not currently important

Sure, that would be pretty amusing. I'd like to know what it is, I might be able to do something with it, don't know though. The men and women of Istengrad will not be pleased by the spec ops raid.

Nightfall is currently approaching again. Shall we try to fit in into the morning that just passed, or was it slowed by something?

((oops, I really did lose track of time! No, let's save ourselves the confusion and have it be delayed until just now (unless you'd prefer tomorrow morning).))

“Sit down and stay still. You'll be there for quite a while. You there - with the burns - come here.” The following dialogue assumes he cooperates. “The captain will be along with a chaplain and a political officer soon...You boys are in a lot of trouble for coming here.”

Elsewhere, the boats constructed in the forest were dragged toward the shore, a fair distance to each side of the Istengrad. The special forces would attack during the night in three seven-man teams. Two teams would attack from small boats (two boats per team). While these boats made their way to the Istengrad, the area would be plastered with an artillery barrage of incendiary and flammable weapons in an attempt to partially purify the area at the expense of the element of surprise. After the fires die down (this should happen fairly quickly), snipers previously positioned around the dock would shoot with quiet air rifles any visible Callisdrunians as the ship is boarded from three directions. The mission? To recover the prisoners with minimal physical contact with anything Callisdrunian. Each soldier, in addition to his normal gear, would be wearing disposable overalls and carrying matches.
OOC: No, let's save ourselves the confusion and have it be delayed until just nowThat's okay with me. Another possible way for the spec ops raid to go wrong...

Relevent “normal gear” includes steel body armor and a Chalcidian-style helmet that'll stop a pistol shot from across a room* (but anything closer or more powerful will penetrate), a double-barrel break-open shotgun for all but one of the members of a team (he will have a breech-loading rifle), a few grenades, a sword bayonet, a belt ax for breaking through barricades, and a combat knife.
*Halfway across an auditorium will be stopped, and from across a non-walk-in closet won't be.

I feel like I forgot something, but I figured I should just post...

OOC: oooh... attacking Callisdrunians at night... bad bad bad idea... ouch

IC: The Berserkers had been informed of what the helicopters had seen and were busily offloading crates and sandbags, just as a precaution. All anti-aircraft gunners were put on alert. The native planes had been behaving quite strangely. Captain Kvebek didn't like the look of the situation, and he said as much.

“Good evening, Mr Donner,” said Lieutenant Commander William Shande to his first lieutenant as he strode onto the quarterdeck. “Any word from the Merry Annabelle?”

“Captain,” replied Donner with a smart salute. “No, sir, but there was a message from fleet. Sir George sends his respects, sir, and -”

“Do you have the hardcopy?” asked Shande in irritation. Donner hardly skipped a beat in summoning a nearby yeoman and having the decoded copy handed to the captain. Shande scanned it quickly; Admiral Sir George Rice was writing to confirm that the entire Gallagan Ocean Fleet was standing by to support Favorable in upholding Iansislean prestige in the area. Shande was somewhat surprise to read, however, that flag had transferred to the battleship Prince of Shadoran - he’d never know how Sir George had managed to pry a ship of the line away from Home Fleet.

Not, of course, that Prince of Shadoran wouldn’t be appreciated. The Gull Flag Revolution and subsequent tension meant that the Admiralty had sucked every available ship to the Shield and left the Gallaga Station almost undefended. Sir George, through a miracle of organization, was managing to keep piracy checked, but an organized attack might stretch the fleet beyond its ability to react to crises such as this one.

Shande drew up a quick map of ship deployments in his mind. Although the arrival of Prince of Shadoran had probably changed everything, the cruisers Gadsan and Jason ought to be, at most, two days’ hard steaming from this bay. Five days would see the battlecruiser King Ian V, with her thundering 14” broadsides. For several moments, Shande seriously toyed with the idea of summoning reinforcements before forcing the bay - these savages would have better respect for the Iansislean flag if it flew from the 36,000 ton KIV than his fifteen hundred ton destroyer. However, those ships would bring with them their post captains, eager to take credit if the operation went well or shuffle blame for the disaster if it went poorly. Waiting for reinforcements could be portrayed as cowardice - especially if the Merry Annabelle’s crew had been killed by the natives - and Shande had no wish to risk a court martial.

He made his decision at last and turned slowly to Donner, who had been waiting for several minutes. “I want this ship cleared for action in three minutes, Mr Donner,” he said, withdrawing a pocket watch. “Afterwards, order the master to plot his best guess for that harbor and put us in. I want a meeting of all officers in the wardroom in fifteen minutes.” He poised a hand over the stopwatch. “You may beat to quarters....now.”

A smile broke over Donner’s face. Being the first officer on a punitive action offered no risks to his career - besides death - and all the chances for glory and recognition for which a young and ambitious man could hope. He would have the ship cleared in less than three minutes even if he had to break out the cat.

Tiny Favorable rolled gently in the swells as marine drums echoed through her steel hull. The discordant sound always made Shande think more of trash collection in a big city than it did of the field of glory. If uppity natives had captured Merry Annabelle and her crew - as Shande was sure they had - then blood would be shed before nightfall, possibly even his own. As his ship slipped from the maps into terrae incognitae, Shande summoned a yeoman.

“Make to flag: ‘Favorable has made landfall and is proceeding forthwith to investigate loss of contact with Merry Annabelle. The need for assistance is not foreseen at this time.’ Send that off at once, won’t you?”

-----

The Iansisleans ashore - even redoubtable Simpson - were simply too exhausted to offer any resistance. They resigned themselves to following orders and awaiting the arrival of this captain.

“Johnson, Harris. Put cuffs on this man and take him to the palace. It's all right; he's been in a fire. The rest of you, build them sedans. They don't have to be comfortable, just build them.” The lieutenant shifted his attention back and forth between the prisoners and the direction he expected the captain to arrive from. “Ah! They are here! Sir, we found six unarmed heathens trying to get into the forest. We have not begun interrogation, but they seem to understand English.”
“Thank you. Chaplain, commissar, these heathens are all yours until we get them to the palace.”
The chaplain stepped forward. “You are heathens! You must accept the Truth! Do you admit this?” A lengthy session of interrogation and indoctrination had just begun...

-----

“Your Majesty, another metallic ship has come into sight. It is too late in the day to attempt to send more messages by flag...What are your orders?”
“As you said, it's too late in the day. I want those hostages rescued as soon as the sky is black!”

OOC: Do you guys want to do anything before I launch the raid?

OOC: Knightsof Fallen Lands may i ask somthing of you....i am EXTREMELY interested in this Form....May i please ask to join in as a Brittish ruled type outpost on the far side of the island around the time 1776. I request that i may use the following:

4 Thousand Recoated Regulars
300 Queens Dragoons light cavelry
22 drummers and flag bearers
11 scouts
1 Lord General (Lord General Wiliam Happs)
8 Leiutennets
1 Major
22 Cannons, 20 pounders
Stone and log fortress in the shape of a star.
2 large war ships and 1 interceptor

I would really like to display an act of Non hostillity and a possible ally that may stand beside you in this expidition.



And Gentleman we can arrange a situation for them to meet

Captain Kvebek and Commander Kereshtur enjoyed their lunch as night began to fall. Callisdrun's was a fairly nocturnal society, so lunch was in early evening. Most of the crew would not sleep until after midnight.

Meanwhile, a couple Berskerkers filed into the brigg where the hostages were being held. One asked them, in English "First question, what are your names? Second question, what are your ranks?" She said it in a cold, business like voice while cradling her AK-103.

OOC: that bit about the nocturnity is so that you know that the majority of the crew will probably still be awakewhen the special forces make their raid. of course, they don't know that.

“Johnson, Harris. Put cuffs on this man and take him to the palace. It's all right; he's been in a fire. The rest of you, build them sedans. They don't have to be comfortable, just build them.” The lieutenant shifted his attention back and forth between the prisoners and the direction he expected the captain to arrive from. “Ah! They are here! Sir, we found six unarmed heathens trying to get into the forest. We have not begun interrogation, but they seem to understand English.”
“Thank you. Chaplain, commissar, these heathens are all yours until we get them to the palace.”
The chaplain stepped forward. “You are heathens! You must accept the Truth! Do you admit this?” A lengthy session of interrogation and indoctrination had just begun...

The brief respite gave the sailors time to recoup some of their strength. Seeing Johnson cuffed and dragged off to places unknown had also kindled a spirit of rebellion in them. However, Keegan was quickly slipping away from contact with his fellow Iansisleans and further into a world of shame, regret and pain.

Simpson, seeing Keegan incapacitated, eagerly seized the mantle of religious and indignant fury. He struggled to his feet, an attempt which may or may not have been allowed by the captors, and fumbled for the small silver cross he kept around his neck.

“You dare to call me a heathen? You, who has probably never accepted Jesus Christ, call me a heathen?” He then swore in a most blasphemous way. “I refute all such claims! It is you who are the heathen and savage!”

------

“What do you make of her, Captain?” asked the Favorable’s master, pointing at Istengrad

“Aren’t you supposed to be with the helmsman?” asked Shande irritably.

“I’ll go soon enough, sir. Do you think that beast may have sunk Merry Annabelle? She looks mighty modern, maybe even a match for the Jason.”

Shande sighed.

((A launch of the raid is with me, Knights))

The captain stuck his hand out to ensure Keegan was not fired upon...unless he got violent. If he remained peaceful, what more harm could he do by standing?

The chaplain's face turned red with fury, and his answer came out as a menacing roar. “Of course I have! Christ is Lord! You are still a heathen, however! You came on a heathen ship! Big and metal! Did you not? Are you not? You must confess if you want to be saved! All of you!” He swept a hand in front of himself, gesturing toward the prisoners, and waited for a response.

-----

“Admiral Lewis,” replied on older man who had managed to retain some of his dignity.
“Anderson...Captain,” replied a man not as old as the first.
“Brown...Midshipman...” was the reply of a young man.
“Heathens!”

OOC: Unknown12, the Progressive Realm is on a continent/huge island in the modern world, but its technology is really behind the times. If you want to have an area on the edge of their land claim (where the people are maybe not quite as weird and the Realm doesn't have much control), that's okay, though.
Callisdrun, how many people did you capture? Also, feel free to kill annoying prisoners.

I'll deal with Johnson after the raid...Which'll be in my next post, I guess.

ooc: So the Aerion fleet is...invisible and nonexistant?

Lord General Wiliam Happs stood on a bastion of Fort George listening to the fire off the coast. Colonal Smith of the Queens 1st dragoons approached and said to Gen.Happs with a confident voice

"General, i will be taking a detachment to the beach in order to find out what the Heathens are up to sir"

General Happs nodded while bracing himself on a cannon listening carefully, hardly noticing Smith.


Col.Smith and about 50 dragoons took off through the gates towards the little strip of trees before the beach was visible.

"gentleman! tight formation..keep it tight!" Bellowed Smith

Smith was used to fighting the heathens,he killed men,woman and children with out a care in the world..to him they were nothing.

The Dragoons charged through the trees swords drawn in case of hostiles in the area, Smith then orderd a full halt. Smith choose his Captian aswell as 2 other Dragoons to come into sight of the water....what they seen shocked them...SHIPS! strange ships!

"DISMOUNT AND BE VISIBLE MEN! TO NOT SHOW HOSTILLITY WAVE AND WAVE THE BRITTISH FLAG!"

there they waited to catach the attention of the new commers.

A dispatch rider was also sent back to the fort with the following message:

"Send assistance immeaditly West"

OOC: Knights, which one said "heathens!"?

The captain stuck his hand out to ensure Keegan was not fired upon...unless he got violent. If he remained peaceful, what more harm could he do by standing?

The chaplain's face turned red with fury, and his answer came out as a menacing roar. “Of course I have! Christ is Lord! You are still a heathen, however! You came on a heathen ship! Big and metal! Did you not? Are you not? You must confess if you want to be saved! All of you!” He swept a hand in front of himself, gesturing toward the prisoners, and waited for a response.

"Oh, sit down, Simpson," muttered Keegan, who was now laying on his side. "You can't do any good by shouting. Hey, you," he added, addressing the chaplain, "I'm a heathen. What of it?"

"With all due respect, sir," retorted Simpson, "I will not. I can't speak for your faith, sir, but I'll not let him call me a heathen again. I'd sooner die, sir - at least then I'd go to meet my Lord Jesus in His kingdom." He spun back on the chaplain. "How dare you invoke the Good Lord to protect your barbarous faith?" he demanded. "There's a special place in Hell for sinners of your type."

"Ah, we have a confesser! You are on the path to salvation! Will you make a public statement and undergo purification? As for the noisy one, we are all sinners. That includes you! The question here is if you will confess to being a heathen! Will all of you confess and undergo purification?"
OOC: OOC: Knights, which one said "heathens!"?Another one who doesn't want to introduce himself.

Aerion, I responded to your posts.

“Admiral Lewis,” replied on older man who had managed to retain some of his dignity.
“Anderson...Captain,” replied a man not as old as the first.
“Brown...Midshipman...” was the reply of a young man.
“Heathens!”

OOC:
Callisdrun, how many people did you capture? Also, feel free to kill annoying prisoners.


OOC: about ten people

IC:
The berserker walked over to the man who had not spoken his name and instead had called them heathens, and kicked him hard in the chest, knocking him over. "I asked you your name, fucker," she said, smacking him for good measure. Turning to those who had given their names, she said, calmly "Thank you for answering my questions, gentlemen," while a private wrote down the names and ranks they had given.

bump

"Ah, we have a confesser! You are on the path to salvation! Will you make a public statement and undergo purification? As for the noisy one, we are all sinners. That includes you! The question here is if you will confess to being a heathen! Will all of you confess and undergo purification?"

All of a sudden, Keegan wasn't quite so sure.

"Erm, purification?" he asked, his ignorance making him fearful. Purification sounded too much like what was done to water, and he didn't feel like being strained or boiled!

Simpson crossed his arms and smiled. "You'll have an easier time trying to move the Earth than forcing a Shieldian to abandon his vows to the Father Church, heretic," he said. "You might as well give up now."

((I'll hold off on Favorable to give Callisdrun and you a chance to do that raid thing.))

The chaplain chose to take Simpson's advice, at least for now. He was not interested in arguing, but saving souls.
"Yes, purification! First we must purify the body, but then we can purify the soul!" The following dialogue is if Keegan looks confused instead of speaking again. "First by the flame, then by the water!"

-----

The sun had finally gone down, and the sky was as black as it would get. The special forces had been getting antsy as the time for the raid approached, but that time had come. The mission had come up too quickly for a chance to earnestly rehearse, but they were motivated. The three teams of seven made their way to the line of soldiers isolating the target; one team went to each end of the line where it wrapped around to the water, and the third to the middle.

The teams on the ends climbed into their boats, of which there were a total of four, and they all waited a short while longer.

When the order was given, the men in boats rowed off toward the Istengrad. A short while later, before the boats were very close to the Istengrad, the artillery opened fire, and the team on land slowly made their way toward the ship.

Before they reached the target, the artillery ceased fire. Snipers nested in nearby buildings searched for Callisdrunian targets, prepared to shoot every one they found.

From here on, the success of the mission depended on how alert the crew of the Istengrad was. Would they spot the small boats before their mud-smeared occupants swarmed over the ship's sides? How would they respond to the frontal assault? The answer would soon come.

OOC: Feel free to kill all the special forces!

While these boats made their way to the Istengrad, the area would be plastered with an artillery barrage of incendiary and flammable weapons in an attempt to partially purify the area at the expense of the element of surprise. After the fires die down (this should happen fairly quickly), snipers previously positioned around the dock would shoot with quiet air rifles any visible Callisdrunians as the ship is boarded from three directions. The mission? To recover the prisoners with minimal physical contact with anything Callisdrunian. Each soldier, in addition to his normal gear, would be wearing disposable overalls and carrying matches.
[...]
Relevent “normal gear” includes steel body armor and a Chalcidian-style helmet that'll stop a pistol shot from across a room* (but anything closer or more powerful will penetrate), a double-barrel break-open shotgun for all but one of the members of a team (he will have a breech-loading rifle), a few grenades, a sword bayonet, a belt ax for breaking through barricades, and a combat knife.
*Halfway across an auditorium will be stopped, and from across a non-walk-in closet won't be.

Captain Kvebek and Commander Kereshtur had been getting rather flirty at the table when the assault started. Kvebek didn't intend to actually do anything with his second in command, though she was very attractive, it just happened to be that Kereshtur had a habit of pulling people into flirtation. "What the fuck are they doing?" Kvebek said to no one in particular as he got up. Before he could think of it, Kereshtur had already sounded general quarters.

The 8" gun turrets swung around and targeted where the artillery seemed to be coming from. It wasn't damaging the ship too much, but it could kill crew members and prevent repairs. The guns roared in anger, as if the ship itself was furious at this treachury. After eliminating artillery pieces, the guns targeted the nearby buildings for extra retribution. Any soldiers hiding out in them would not be having a good day.

Before long, boats were seen approaching in the disturbed water. The heavier anti aircraft guns targeted down and blasted away, ripping the rowboats to shreds as splinters flew through the air and killed those on the boats. Lighter machine guns picked off those swimming in the water after the boats had been destroyed. Not many survived, and a couple were picked up and marched down to cells to await interrogation. They had chosen a very bad time for the attack. At this time of night, almost the whole crew had been awake. Callisdrunian night vision also happened to be incredible.

The chaplain chose to take Simpson's advice, at least for now. He was not interested in arguing, but saving souls.
"Yes, purification! First we must purify the body, but then we can purify the soul!" The following dialogue is if Keegan looks confused instead of speaking again. "First by the flame, then by the water!"

"By... fire," repeated Keegan, nervously picking at his collar. "I don't suppose you might just let us catch the next ship out of the country instead, would you?"

OOC: I realized that I forgot to have the rest of the prisoners give their names and ranks. First I'll finish that, then fast-forward to now.

IC: "Aaaah! Fire! Fire!" The prisoner's voice dropped to a whimper. "I need a fire..."
The remaining prisoners watched with horror, and then blurted out the requested information as quickly as they could.
"Ensign White!"
"Warrant Officer Walker!"
"Petty Officer Lee!"
"Leading Crewman Moore!"
"Crewman Allen!"
"Junior Crewman Young!"

OOC: Back to the present...

IC: The chaplain looked puzzled. "The next ship out of the Progressive Realm? No one leaves the Realm. It is the law. Why would you want to, anyway? It is perfect...Except for when there are heathens in it." The chaplain paused for a moment of thought, but then his expression brightened. "This is why you must all confess and undergo purification! Save your souls and heal our nation!"

OOC Again: Callisdrun, if you give them a chance to do so, the special forces will set themselves on fire.

"Thank you for complying with the request," the berserker said to those who had just given their names. Turning to the one who she had kicked in the chest, and who as of yet had not given his name and rank, she said "No, you don't need a fire. While you may find it chilly on board, I assure you, it is more than warm enough for you to survive. Now give me your name and rank, or having a fire will be the least of your concerns."

The new prisoners were brought to the brigg. Whatever they had been attempting by attacking Istengrad again, it had failed utterly.

IC: The chaplain looked puzzled. "The next ship out of the Progressive Realm? No one leaves the Realm. It is the law. Why would you want to, anyway? It is perfect...Except for when there are heathens in it." The chaplain paused for a moment of thought, but then his expression brightened. "This is why you must all confess and undergo purification! Save your souls and heal our nation!"

"No sir," said Simpson proudly. "We'll not do it, every man jack among us!" None of the Iansisleans disagreed. "We'd rather die than conform to your twisted designs, an' we'll walk back to the Shield if we have to!"

The prisoner looked confused for a moment before whimpering a reply. "Not for warmth...Heathen cooties!"

-----

"I am sorry to hear that, heathen, but we can purify your bodies by the flame without your consent. Only purification of the soul requires your cooperation. You might as well confess and undergo full purification."

OOC: Cooties sounds too silly, but it's the best word I could think of...Anyway, he probably will give a name and rank, but the berserkers might want to say something about "heathen cooties" first. :D

The berserker then did something she doubted the poor prisoner would expect. She quickly bent down and bit him in the shoulder, sinking her fangs in more than deep enough to cause quite a bit of bleeding. Some of her non-vampiric comrades rolled their eyes. "Really, Moon," (for that was her nickname), he said "Was that necessary?"

"I am sorry to hear that, heathen, but we can purify your bodies by the flame without your consent. Only purification of the soul requires your cooperation. You might as well confess and undergo full purification."

"Never," said Simpson, sitting back down with a look of defiance on his face.

((ooc: I think that this story line has gotten a bit ahead of the others. Why don't you two RP out the raid without me, and I'll watch and wait to pick up this line again, once something more exciting has happened.

BTW, sorry this took so long. I was having some major ISP problems. :())