NationStates Jolt Archive

ANN – Today, at 6:00 AM, George Marshall, an Allanean expatriate citizen, announced the opening of the Alexander Kazansky institute in KaMaRi kali, Rejistania.

The institute, expected to house about 200 professional philologists, historians, and economists, is aimed at operating as a policy think tank.

(From the Desnike City News)

Desnike kalesa. In the former majuvedian kalesa Desnike, the so caled Hilkir-building finally found a new owner (the name Hilkir-building is no official name, but when that house was standing empty, one or several fans (maybe even the owner) decorated every window with Hades flags and the text "Han'il, Hilkir!" on the day, when Hanin was playing against them.) Not much was known about the new purpose of the building until now. The owner, a quiet, foreign man, knew no majuvedian or minokaje. And the workers, who renovated it, did what they are told. Today, the purpose for this house was found out: It will be a research centre for philology and economic analysis. The name "Alexander Kazansky institute" was revealed today in a remarkably plain ceremony.

ratansa KaMaRi (Airport)
KaMaRi kali
Rejistania

The roar of a 757 Airliner touching down was loud even inside the gate. The travelers massed in the waiting area watched as the passengers disembarked from the parked aircraft outside. Some waited for loved ones, others waited for their turn to board the flying beast of burden. And for some passengers, no one waited.

To eleven of the passengers of Inept Air Flight 101, that no one waited was not of any consequence; to them, the entire nation of Rejistania was waiting. They exited the gangway in a slow, loud, bright colored knot, much to the annoyance of the passengers around them.

”Oh, I can’t believe we’re actually here!” Sandra Reynolds exclaimed, hanging off the arm of her husband, Jerry. She giggled as she continued speaking, her eyes darting around the airport to take in all the colors. “I can’t wait to see a game! To think…we’ll see the Hades play live!” Her words dissolved into giggles again as Jerry nervously patted her on the head. “Dear, I do believe on the return trip, you won’t be hitting the flight-bar too much.”

“Awww…” She looked up at him with wide eyes and thrust out her lip, pouting. From there, the scene devolved into a mess of drunk and half-drunken kissing.

“Bloody hell, Rachel,” Eric Daughton muttered to his own wife, who had remained quite sober through the flight. They walked just a few steps behind their fellows, who had stopped paying much attention to anything outside their little world. “Look at them! And they used Club Funds, too!”

Rachel raised an eyebrow as she looked over at Eric. “If I recall, we’re all using the Club Fund for this. Not anything unusual, far as I can see.”

“But look at them! They’re drunk, drunk with OUR money, all of our money! If word got back to the rest of the Club, back home….They’d string us all up alive! All eleven of us!”

“Eric. We are the club. All eleven of us.”

“Twelve!”

Rachel turned her head and saw Zoey Alexander following close behind them, the permanent smile plastered across her face. “Zoey,” she said, “Pete doesn’t count.”

“Pete is a member just like the rest of us, Rachel!” Eric said, before Zoey could rise to the defense of Pete.

“Eric….Pete doesn’t pay club dues. Pete doesn’t attend the games. Pete doesn’t have opposable thumbs. Pete is an umbrella cockatoo!”

“He comes to the meetings, and he’s always been a valuable member of the club!” Zoey again, and although Eric didn’t chime in he did nod his head vigorously in agreement.

Rachel rubbed her face with a hand and let out a sigh. “Why the hell did I marry this fool…” she muttered under her breath.

Behind them followed the youngest members of the group, Greg Fallanino, Benjamin Noin, Carl Givens and Adam Martin. The hairless state of their heads pointed them out as obvious military, but the green, white and blue clothes they wore, emblazoned with the Hades Lavamje logo, set them off as almost obvious tourists. Between the four of them, they had been the most excited to go; the stories went that when the trip was announced, the four of them each simultaneously produced a leave form, already almost entirely filled out, from their wallets and penciled in the dates.

Their conversation flowed like the machine guns they were normally tasked with tending, except it was entirely about soccer; speculations, hopes, wishes, and most importantly, the Hades. Behind them, Samantha and Arnold Benning had already given up their attempts to follow the conversation, having pronounced it as unintelligible and total gibberish. Instead, they merely felt pity for the unsuspecting populous of Rejistania and the horrors that were to be unleashed:

The Order’s Hades Lavamje Soccer Fan Club had arrived, and would stay for the next two weeks.

Oh, the humanity!

Kestrel Command Offices
Strana Mechty Military Base
The BlackWolf Order

“So, Colonel, what is the current status on the Kazansky Contract?”

General Vance R. Kaerion, Commander of Kaerion’s Kestrels Mercenary Regiment, leaned back in his chair, eying his guest from across his desk. The “Kazansky Contract” had arrived in the Order’s Contract Offices only a day before, a High Priority tag sending it to the top of the queue. Within six hours of receipt of the offer, an acceptance message had been sent back and the first Black Suits teams were hot on its heels.

Colonel Rudy Ymirson, head of the Black Suits Covert Operations, stared back across the desk at the General. “Sir, the SeARMOR Carrier Sub Prometheus will be arriving off the Rejistani Coast within the next eighteen hours, and Bravo Team will be ashore six hours after that. They’ll be bringing the mission-critical gear for Alpha team, as well as provide a secondary escape route for Alpha should the mission become a bust.”

”And about Alpha Team? Where are they?”

Colonel Ymirson glanced down at his watch. “They should be arriving at their hotel right now, sir.”


The Reji-Hilton
KaMaRi kali
Rejistania


”I’m so glad Arnold remembered his international license! I’d have hated to walk all the way here, with all these bags!” Sandra set her laptop-case and handbag onto her hotel room bed and followed up shortly by sprawling across it herself. Behind her, Jerry struggled to get two enormous suitcases and a third, smaller suitcase as well as his own suit-bag and suitcase into the room.

”…Yeah. Hate…for you…to…strain yourself….” He said, depositing the bags just inside the door. He closed it behind himself and began walking around the room, getting a feel for its furnishings. Sandra, meanwhile, had a makeup compact out and was busy looking at herself in it. After a moment of eying it, she let out a sigh of satisfaction and snapped it closed.

”Room’s clean,” she said, sitting up. “Y’know, I’d swear you ate something disgusting on the plane. And I’ve had socks that make better kissers.”

“Pfft. I’m sure you have, considering socks are about all you can get near that mouth of yours.” Jerry flopped back into a chair in the corner, sinking into its plush cushions.

“Don’t make me come over there and kick your ass, Carson. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.”

“You shouldn’t use real names, Sandra. We’ve gotta stay in character.”

“Fine,” Sandra said, laying back on the bed. “But there’s only so much ‘in-character’ we’re gonna get. And that means you’re sleeping in the tub.”

“Hrmph. And to think you were actually warming to me in the Airport,” Jerry growled, glaring at her from the chair.

Sandra merely grinned back at him. “What? That? Like you said, we’ve gotta do a lot of acting.”

“I’m really starting to hate this mission.”

Rejistani Coast
Rejistania

They swam near the sea bottom, out of sight of patrolling ships. If anyone did notice the six shapes darting beneath them, they would see nothing more than a large school of fish, something not uncommon in these waters and hardly worthy of note. They were not fish, however; the sleek forms gliding through the water were Salamander-Type Amphibious Assault SeARMOR.

The SeARMOR Carrier Sub Prometheus had reached the deployment zone almost ten hours ahead of schedule, its arrival facilitated by an unexpected current and the target being much closer than Command had expected. Rather than waiting an extra day and because at the time of their arrival they still had the cover of darkness and would for some time, it was decided to release the six suits and their payload of demolitions charges. For two hours since, the six SeARMOR pilots made their way towards the shores, their first objective.

Upon reaching the shallows, the streamlined objects underwent a total change. The tail fin split into a pair of legs and the bumps on either side of it separated into arms. Part of the nose peeled away, revealing a viewplate for the pilot of the powered armor and the silent engines on its back shut down. The transformation complete, the six powered suits waited in the beach shallows, allowing the shore patrol to pass.

When the patrol had disappeared from view, they crept ashore and into the foliage. Finally concealed by the flora of Rejistania, the six climbed out of their suits. They broke the seals on the cargo canisters strapped alongside the engines and each removed a backpack with spare civilian clothes, camping gear and generic field rations, purchasable in a supermarket anywhere. Nestled beneath these items in each backpack was a single six-pack of soda and a coil of rope, as well.

These seemingly innocuous items, however, were far from such. While each can of the six-pack contained soda, two cans in each had a false bottom. Contained within were the detonators, each made to match the coils of demo-cord disguised as rope. A single coil of the demo-cord would be more than enough to take out the target, but the Kestrels were being paid to eliminate a target, not take chances of failure; redundancy was key in this operation.

The six soldiers, having changed and donned their packs, then engaged the active-camouflage in the SeARMOR skin and then laid down natural camouflage for effect. And then there was no trace of them ever having come ashore some moments later.

Half an hour later, six weary hikers entered the city and checked into a friendly, local hotel-a Hilton of some sort. They had hiked their way around the island, they had told the gentleman at the front desk, and were quite beat after spending several days out in the wilderness. The clerk, of course, nodded and smiled, sending them off to their rooms.

Where these intruders not noticed by anyone? Well, they thought so, but on a tree in some distance was a young Hasedia. A member of the tribal population of Rejistania. His name was Hse-koni-wa-ensisi from Hakemike. When he saw the object land at the shore, he ran to his village and to the local shaman. "Tejadikansa!" he could only say, he was out of breath due to the fact that he ran as fast as he could. The shaman looked down at the 12 year old, pondering: "Tell me what you saw!" Hse-koni-wa-ensisi still was not capable to utter a complete sentence and the long words of their language did not simplify his attempts. "They... they came... from the sea... b..b..bay of... shells!" quickly the shaman and the young boy went to the bay. The SeARMOR was hidden well, they just saw these, well, to translate their word 'new hills' and footprints leading away from them. According to the two these footprints were not human, mainly because they did not see footprints of someone wearing shoes before. "We have to watch this place!" decided the shaman, "if the gods decided to land here, we must not miss them!"

The group draws for the Xamjona'het vinali sekhika rejistaniha are unspectacular but despite that announced as if it was the new truth. Grey-Blue and green-yellow are used for the fixtures: meaning: the winner of the divisasi kamex (grey division) plays the runner-up of the divisasi omeh (blue division). The winner of the divisasi omeh plays the runner-up of the divisasi kamex. in the south, it is similar with the divisasi veran and the divisasi lines. So it was not too intersting who plays against who, but the question who plays where arouse. Every match of the XVSR is on neutral territory, the exact stadia is determined by chance. The first (and since the XVSR is eliminational, maybe last) match of Hades Lavamje will be against Hetlasane Hetkali, winner of the divisasi omeh, one of the best teams of the last season, in the Sen-La-Sa~o Relekhati Staadium in KaMaRi kali. (ooc: assume 'in a few days from now')

KaMaRi kali
Rejistania


“Out!”

The volleyball rolled across the grass, away from the sandpit and the pursuing Carl Givens. It came to a sudden stop, trapped by the foot of a man who reached down and picked it up. He held it in one hand and smiled at the younger Carl. “Good day, Carl,” the man said, holding the ball out.”

“Sergeant Markos? What’re you doing here?”

“We’re all on leave and not under the same direct chain of command, so its Nate here, stop looking like the kid caught diggin’ in the cookie jar.” The older man chuckled and motioned to the other five people behind him. “We’re here on a four-week hiking tour, this is just our second stop. You’re here with the Hades-whatever-whatever Soccer group, I assume?”

“Uhh…Yeah, I mean, yes, Sergeant..Er…Nate.”

Nathan Markos chuckled again and then shook his head. “You’re a Corporal and still haven’t gotten used to it. If you think you wont pass out from the lack of formality, Carl, would you mind if we joined your volleyball game?”

Carl blinked for a moment before his mind caught up with the request. “Oh, of course, sure, no prob! Come on over, we could use the change in competition!” He waved the six hikers over to the sand pit, half shaded by a tree, to the left side of which sat a blue and white cooler. “You can put your cooler right over there on the opposite side of ours. Bought the one on sale too, eh?”

“Of course! We’re not gonna be able to get it on the plane, now are we?”

Carl shook his head. “’Spose not, same reason why we bought it too.” He waved over to the group in the sand, who were growing more impatient by the lack of the ball to continue the game with. “Look what I found,” he shouted to them. The two other soldiers of the group that were present waved, while the rest of the club members stared in dumb non-comprehension.

“May I be proud to present Sergeants Nathan Markos, Adelle Hanson, Frank Edwards and Privates Claudia Denver, Vincent Jorgenson and Michael Phlepps.” Greg said, waving towards each person as he said their name. The introductions continued from the other direction, the Soccer Club introducing its members in return, and then both groups broke off into their respective teams.

The game had lasted for almost an hour and was very well tied up when Zoey and Ben sprinted up to the pit, breathless. “They’re playing here!” They yelled, throwing off a serve from Samantha and sending it directly into the back of her husband’s head. The military hikers looked on in puzzlement as the entire Club folded in on the two latecomers. When the huddle broke, Carl came running up to Markos. “Sergeant, we’ve gotta run. The Hades are playin’ in a couple of days, and the ladies wanna get ready. Say they gotta do all their shopping the next couple of days, before the tournament moves on to another city. They don’t wanna miss a chance to get all the sights in, I guess.”

“What about our game?” The Sergeant asked.

“Well, I guess you won, Sarge.” Carl ran over to the right side of the tree and grabbed the cooler there, and then waved, towing the cooler behind as he ran to catch up with the hastily receding group.

“…I suppose theres always the beach we can enjoy while we’re here, right?” The group shrugged and made their way to the shore and some relaxation.

KaMaRi kali
Rejistania
96 Hours to Kickoff


“So, this is the Hilkir building? Doesn’t look like much anymore,” Zoey said, looking around the entry foyer at the drab décor.”

“That is because it is now the Alexander Kazansky Institute” the man who met the group on their way in replied. “Is there something you wish?”

Arnold Benning stepped in front of Zoey and nodded “Indeed, sir.” He motioned towards his fellows. “Several of my companions had expressed an interest of seeing the building if there is anything relating to the Hades Lavamje remaining.”

“If its no trouble that is, sir!” Zoey said, leaning over Arnold’s shoulder.


*********

“So, how’d you get us down here?”

Carl turned his flashlight to light up Greg’s face. “No real security on these things, beyond a couple grates….nothing a good lock pick couldn’t defeat.”

“Ow, ow!” Greg held his hands up to shield his face. “Keep that thing outta my eyes, its too damn bright!”

“You wanna tone it down, you two?” Adam growled as he pushed past them, shining his flashlight ahead. “We’re just about there.” The other two fell in behind him, their voices dying to a whisper.

“Good thing Sarge showed up when he did….if the supply drop had come any later, we’d not have gotten it in time.” Greg ducked low, keeping his head from contacting the low overhang of the ceiling. “Too much stuff we couldn’t bring in.”

Carl nodded and ducked as well. “No kiddin. We’d have never gotten the Det-Cord through security in their airport, nor the detonators, or even the Switches or any of our other fun little toys.”

“Y’know, I’ve been wondering…Why don’t we just use these utility accesses to infiltrate the target? It’d make things a lot easier.”

“No can do,” Adam said, turning his head to glance at the two followers. “When we blow the Det-Cord, it’d just take out the road and leave far too many civilian casualties. We blow the target, not the area. Do you have an issue with that?”

Greg held his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, no need to get snippy, boss. Just wonderin.’ Can’t a private do that these days?”

“No. We’re here. Get the Switch.”

Carl reached into his backpack and pulled out a small, black box which he passed to Greg, who in turn stepped up to the switchbox that routed the area calls. Adam removed the access panel and then selected a wire. He inserted a slender needle into the wire and then tapped the earphone he was wearing. After waiting a moment, he withdrew the needle and nodded to Greg. “Its clear, go now.”

Without hesitating, Greg sliced the phone cable in half and jammed the ends into the box. A moment of wait, and then a green lamp blinked several times and then shut back off. “Its in the system. Parameters are set, when they go to make the call, it’ll route to us.”

“Good job. Lets get back outta here.”

Adam closed the box’s door, resetting the latch, and the trio left the KaMaRi kali Police Department Phone Switchbox behind them.


(Gonna need a reply from one of you guys about the first bit..)

OOC: I hate RL!

IC:
The receptionist grimaced. "Allaneans ravaged! Nothing reminds of Hades Lavamje anymore... or of Hilkir'he. Gojin, the Allaneans even prohibit leaving work to go to the stadium, can you imagine that? They had to allow radios for match reports, but like it - they don't!" He mutters something in majuvedian, which is apparently not ment to be understood.

The BlackWolf order fan club of course does no nothing like the right to leave work for important matches, but they know rejistani culture well enough to understand the importance of soccer in rejistani life and so they muttered against the Allaneans.

"Wait! I forgot that Mjekir saved one Hades flag from destruction by the Allaneans, an original flag from the Hanin match!"

Zoey asked in an excited tone: "From THAT match?"

"Ve, from the 1-0 match! She hangs it in the window here at every match. If you do nothing which is going to make me lose my job, you can go to her." he gives quick directions to the place where Mjekir Lytija is working in the mail room.