NationStates Jolt Archive

The blood red sky was blotted out by amorphous purple clouds crackling with unnatural lightning. What soil was not built over lay scorched and hard packed, a few sharply thorned shrubs clining to life in the virtually poisinous ground. And before the viewing room of the highest tower of the Iron Citadel, the Black City lay sprawled across miles of the barren landscape, an orderly but menacing and Cyclopean morass of dark steel and granite. Within the narrow streets, enslaved and condemned souls toiled endlessly for their leering, corrupt overlords.

All was the same as it always was in the second layer of the Nine Hells, save for a single spot of great activity on the barren peak of Mount Sikeus.

Here, a collossal stone structure was being erected, three great obsidian slabs bearing a superficial resemblance to the primtive human construction of stonehenge. This monstrosity, however, was not made to serve as mundane a purpose as the observation of the heavens.

No, Overlord Dispator would not have spent a half millenia gathering materials, studing the ancient infernal tomes for the proper runic inscriptions and incantations, and planning its construction unless he had something grand to show for it. If all went as planned, the Planar Gate would be the crowning achievement of his aeon-old reign.

It was as Dispator was surveying his kingdom from the citadel's great viewing window that the enormous double doors leading within slammed open and shut. He knew it to be his high general Yeg-Sul, for no one else was foolish enough to barge into his chambers unannounced. Yeg-Sul had that sort of rapport among Dispator and the other arch-devils, and to the lord of the Black City he was beyond suspicion. And aside from which, he was expected at this hour, and Yeg-Sul always arrived when expected.

Clad in his normal heavily spiked leather battlegarb, the winged and horned devil respectfully removed his helmet and greeted Dispator with the Citadel's traditional salute to a superior, a fall to one's knees and a clenched fist extended at an elevation.

"Overlord Dispator! The way is prepared." The great pit lord rose to his feet and make a point of thrusting his finger in the direction of the Planar Gate.

Dispator moved little in his plushly cushioned ivory chair. "Yes. As I expected it would be. Have I ever told you you're rather overly dramatic at times?"

He must have in a thousand instances, for Yeg-Sul's vigor and enthusiasm stood in stark constrast to Dispator's own careful, brooding patienence. If not for his general's constant urging and prodding, in fact, th arch devil mused that their project may not have finished so far ahead of schedule as it had. Yeg-Sul's prescence was useful that way, serving as a useful foil to his own admittedly sometimes plodding method of going about things, yet with the fanatical unswerving devotion that Dispator expected of all his minions to as to make rivalry a virtual impossibility. No, he would not allow the pit lord's ambition to extend that far.

"Yes, my lord. My apologies, but I don't need to explain to you the significance of this day. We have been waiting for seemingly endless epochs for this moment to come, the day when we have almost unrestricted, unlimited access to the material realm."

Dispator's fingers ran up and down the smooth head of his enormous black iron mace, as they had a tendancy to do when he was thinking. "Free and unrestricted access.. almost. Tell me two last things, Yeg-Sul, and the order shall be given. I do not wish to waste any more time.. it seems your impetuousness is rubbing off on your master. Are we sure the location we have chosen for the destination point is uninhabited, and what reaction can we count on from the other infernal lords?"

"We are sure, your lordship. The island we have selected is rocky and not more than a mile wide in any direction. It is claimed by the human state of Micronesia but our observers seem to believe it is off major shipping routes. And as you know, the other layers are aware of your plans to some extent or another, but with Mephistopheles' approval still holding, none will risk open war or attempt sabotage. The Tanar'ri, as usual, will merely be furious that they couldn't do it first."

"Of course they couldn't, stupid and brutish animals that they are. Have you ever heard of a lightbulb joke?"

Yeg-sul furrowed his hairless brows and shook his broad horned head. "I don't believe so.."

Dispator dismissed his lack of knowledge with a wave of his bony red skinned claw. "It's a common form of mortal humor. I'm sure I could come up with a few good ones about the Tanar'ri, but as almost no one here has seen a lightbulb I'm afraid the only laughs would be the result of fear. And what's the fun in that? But I digress.. send the team through the gate as fast as they can be assembled. Make sure thos greedy yuguloths get their payment before being sent off, or they'll be insufferable and useless as usual. The malebranche will keep them in line, I'm sure. Dismissed! Make sure everything goes smoothly."

It had better. Dispator was not about to squander the opportunity to gain the first permanent outpost of Hell in the mortal realm. Even if it was an uninhabited rock in Micronesia, of all places.

(OOC: Yeah.. devils. W00t. To be continued tomorrow, since it's about 2AM here. Gah.)

OOC: I'll be watching this... Maybe. Nice first post :)

Maybe a fiddle competition?

"Whoever dropped the ball on this is going to recieve the flaying of their lives!"

Izual was often displeased with his minions for a variety of reasons, real and invented. Among the infernal legions, his temper was legendary. But today, in particular, his nostrils were quite literally fuming.

The green-skinned malebranche, or horned devil, was in charge of operations on the tiny island his crew now knew to be named Tulao. The creatures under his command consisted of a handful of spindly, skeletal looking bone devils bearing wickedly sharp claws and scorpion like stingers on their backs and several dozen yugoloth mercenaries. While the bone devils were mind numbingly stupid, Izual despised the yugoloths, this particular breed a mix of crustacean carapace and legs and insectoid mouthparts, for whoever had planned this mission has assigned him the most cowardly and destestable bunch of skuttling filth he had laid eyes upon. For all the excess souls and blackiron Dispator took as tribute and tax, he certainly seemed to be working on a budget.

In fact, the sight of the unexpected human prescence had sent the advance yugoloth scout team scurrying back to the camp's concealed position in the dense island jungle quivering and whimpering, bearing reports of hundreds of human soldiers bristling with weapons on the beach. When Izual went to see what was wrong for himself, he found no more than a platoon of Micronesian soldiers performing training drills in the sand armed with little more than half-rate rifles and bayonets.

But still, their prescence needlessly complicated their task. Izual's team was supposed to set up a two way recieving unit for the portal (a much simpler task than building the portal itself, now that all the proper inscriptions and arcane rites had been performed). It should have taken no more than a few days and gone unnoticed due to the Tulao's lack of population, but there was no way they could complete their task unseen with those mortals milling about.

"Regardless of our faulty intelligence, there is but one thing left to do," snorted the devil as he addressed his motely group of infernals, thrusting the butt of his pitchfork into the dirt for emphasis. "Slaughter them all before they can report our prescence. No one must know we are here. I know how much you worthless insects loathe actually fighting anything you don't outnumber ten to one," he said, spitting into the mud, "but forty men armed with popguns should prove a small task even for your likes. With all the screaming and fleeing in terror that will be going on, I doubt they'll even fire a shot. And in case you'd forgotten.." With a single scaly, clawed hand he lifted a squirming yugoloth well over his head and hurled him against a tree, where he collapsed with a pained hiss. "They should not be your biggest fear."

He gestured over the edge of the ridge with his two-pronged pitchfork. "Now move, scum! Butcher those worms before they foul up things further."

It seemed Izual had done a decent job "motivating" the troops, for the infernals moved up the ridge and across the single mile of jungle with great speed and ease, the wide-eyed boned devils leading the way in their singleminded bloodlust.

The devils fell upon the training group just as they were forming rather conveniant, bunched up marching formations to begin their trek into the tree line. Most of them had fallen before they realized what was going on, the bonies launching themselves at the camo-clad men with teeth and stinger tails and the yugoloths charging in on four crab-like legs and rending flesh from bone with their other two. Those who had not been torn to bloody heaps either unslung their rifles and fled in terror.. only for the latter to be confronted by a grinning Izual, who set their persons aflame in a single breath and impaled their charged bodies on his fork.

A few of his minions cried out in anger as SKS bullets pierced their flesh, but resistance had been put up far too late. Most had been too dumbfounded or terrified to fight back. Ultimately, those who chose to fight back were slain with even greater vigor than their passive comrades, whose blood and insides now dyed the sand a deep shade of red.

Then the troops began their feast, the unscrupulous yugoloths digging into the eviscerated flesh with their insect-like mouthparts. Most seemed satisfied with their meal One bone devil, however, crunched into a Micronesian soldiers skull and spat out the bits of bone and brain matter. "Blehh! Southeast Asian mortal brains taste like cabbage."

Izual struck him sharply on the back of the head with a closed fist. "Then don't eat it, idiot. Since when did you become a corpse conosiuer, eh?" He turned his attention to the rest of the group. "You all have ten minutes. Strip those things clean and then get to work."

The horned commander was surprisingly pleased with the results. Only a single mercenary creature had fallen, and if he could not be raised there was far more where that had come from. And once he raised the skeletal remains into undead servants, perhaps the spare labor would actually let them finish ahead of schedule. His only worry was that someone would come looking for the fallen soldiers eventually, but even Dispator knew that premature contact might very well occur. Izual had ways of dealing with such things.

Nightly BUMP. Maybe I should bump and post at reasonable hours so that people might actually see this.

BUMP for interest

Operations on Tulao were continuing to draw unwanted attention. It seemed as though every few hours Izual was forced to take to the air and use his magical abilities to throw an aircraft's instrumentation off course or terrify a pilot into taking a different route. The disappearance of the Micronesian soldiers must certainly have been noticed by now.

As would the continued construction taking place on this forsaken jungle rock. More devils and undead continued to pour through the reciever portal, as did cartloads upon cartloads of blackiron and equipment. Lemures, the lowest of the lesser devils, and reanimated corpses worked night and day hauling massive slabs of stone and infernal metals into place, while their overseers taunted and tormented them for sport. So far, almost a quarter of the forest had been hacked down or raised to the ground, and the foundation for Fort Emergence, the plannd Infernal outpost that was to be built over the course of several weeks, was beginning to be laid.

This was almost certainly the time of greatest danger for Izual's mission. He was almost sure that once the fortification was built, and a permanent prescence established, the island would be virtually unassailable. While construction was going on and their prescence was becoming more and more noticeable would be the moment when his forces would be most vulnerable.

(OOC Note: Anyone who wants to participate now can. A degree of international media attention is probably focused on the island with 40 people disappearing off the face of the earth there and no one able to even approach it.. especially in south Pacific nations near Australia and Indonesia and all that.)

<-Tiggitytag->

OOC: Sure, I think I might join in, presuming I don't end up having a modern day city run by demons... I already have some in there! They're called corporations. :P

IC: Shacklar was staring out his window into the foggy gray morning. Rain pelted the lower streets of Viewpoint, and the tides out in the icy bay were coasting the shores with more voracity than usual. It didn't seem all that different to him, though. Every morning, something seemed geologically or meteorogically wrong. Ever since numerous lunar eclipses just started appearing for no reason and inexplicable over Red Dawn Island on a near daily basis, things never seemed to perturb him anymore. Strange things were common.

As he slipped back into his chair, a sharp ring over his intercom sounded through his office. He pressed the receiver button and listened. General Whitaker of the ASICS (Archaic Slang Intelligence Committee And Service) had come with news. How customary of him to barge in so early in the morning, at the ungodly hour it was. 5:37 in the morning was no time to hold a meeting.

Whitaker came into the room, in full uniform, neatly pressed, and standing erect, like a toy soldier on display in a store. Imbetween his right arm and flank, he had several manilla envelopes. With a quick salute, he stepped forward and set the envelopes onto the desk.

"Cigar?"

"Thank you, General Shacklar."

"Cut the formalities. It's early, and you know I don't like it when you have to tell me something at this damned hour. What is it?"

"I'm sure you remember the regional research that was conducted by Boom-Ville regarding something entitled The Rainbow Project?"

"It sounds vague, Whitaker. Continue..."

"Well, it was originally a project to transfer large quantities of matter over vast distances to any place in the world, have them temporary remain there, and then transport back after a given time period. It was tested on ships. If you recall, research was rather lengthy.

"Originally, crew members came back insane. Some were missing. Others were unfortunate enough to be embedded in the hull of the ships that were tested. and It took about 20 years to develop before all the bugs were worked out of the system. Whole ships and crews started to come back intact. Only recently was it released to the region.

"Recently, we received a copy of this technology, and were testing it out for ourselves. We sent a ship through the warp to a position in the South Pacific, somewhere around an island known as Tulao.

"Now, everything went fine. The ship Blitzkrieg left, and arrived near the isle at about the right time, but the our little device here broke down on us last minute. The whole crew of men came back, but everyone of them was apparently rended limb from limb. Others were burned alive. There were even a few men who died of hypothermia.

"What's even stranger yet is people have mysteriously disappeared around there before. After I received the port, I decided to take a few over-head shots. What we've recovered is jumbled static. The photographs are entirely blurred. Take a look for yourselves. Not to mention, there's a lot of high-frequency signals flying through the air, and temperatures all over the island are up from their normal highs. With all due respect, sir, something is going on there and we definitely need to take a look."

Shacklar looked hard at Whitaker. As far as he could tell, there was no shitting about the matter. He took out a cigar and his lighter, smoked a bit and then drew up his composure again.

"Whitaker, you have all authorizations to mobilize any of the ASW forces and you may do whatever you require to see to it that this situation is solved. Release a statement to the media regarding the disappearance, and the possible presence of hostile nations on that island. You are dismissed, General."

Whitaker stood up, saluted, and left the room.

The refitting of the Blitzkrieg was coming along very nicely. The conventional cannonry and missiles that none of the devils were particularly smart enough to operate (Izual doubted most of them could wipe their own bony asses properly if handed a role of two-ply and an instruction manual) and that none could produce ammunition for anyway had been torn from the deck and replaced with enormous Hellfire Throwers that most of them were accustomed to operating. Additional blackiron armor plating had been welded to the hull, the human standard at its mast have been torn down and replaced with the black and red banner of Dis. Izual now wore the torn, bloodstained flag as a sash about his waist, the only piece of clothing besides his carapace armor he deemed necessary or useful.

Despite their setbacks, the developement had been going better than expected. Though the souls of the departed sailors and soldiers would likely escape the clutches of the Hells, their bodies were Izual's to command, and their labor had speeded up the process to a great extent. The undead do not tire, do not bicker amongst themselves, and don't take unscheduled breaks to indulge themselves in the euphoric narcotics those damned imps running around liked to dispense.

As it stood, Fort Emergence was almost half completed, a multitiered tower-like structure bristling with towers and defensive emplacements, owing the speed of its creation to the superhuman strength of is constructors and the infernal magics that bound the blasphemous structure together. What was most important about it, however, was what it housed. In the center of the great construction lay the reciever gate, the entire purpose of their foray into the mortal realm.. the gate that would let the devils move their hordes back and forth between the material plane and Dis with even greater ease than the original gateway provided.

Hundreds of imps, devils, and yugoloths were now milling about the island, exterminating native wildlife and leveling the last remains of the forest to the ground. Traps were being laid, earth was being moved, the ground being transformed into a deathtrap for invading forces. Finding a crew for their newly aquired vessel may take some doing, but if the mortals decided to try and take back their island, Izual and his horde were ready.

Whitaker sat alone in his war room, sipping down vodka and smoking a cigar. Up on the viewscreen he had installed into the room, he was using a remote to push around little flags representing various pockets of ASW forces.

He was locating a sizeable attack force to Tulao island. What he couldn't understand was why every few hours, readings from the ship's computers were leaking through the communications systems every few hours to the naval command base. Most of them were jumbled signals, but every now and then, a few made sense. The last discernable transmission was right before all communication with the ship was jumbled, and was from the communications advisor. The recording kept echoing in Whitaker's mind.

The man sounded, calm, cool, casual, as outside hundreds of screams echoed outside, and the sounds of mayhem wreaked out.

"Anyone come in, this is Blitzkrieg. This is probably the last transmission you'll receive from us. The ship has been overrun by these... things. They've worked their way from stern to bow, and they're almost into the communications room. All forces avoid the area of Tulao island. Repeat, all forces avoid the area of Tulao island. There seems to be some kind of construction transpiring and---"

After that, the communication link was filled with the man screaming for a few seconds. Then he was silenced. The rest of the transmissions were messes of signals. As of 1 hour ago, all transmissions ceased. The communications were obviously removed from the Blitzkrieg.

There were strict orders to evade the area of Tulao island, but something in Whitaker's mind clicked. There wasn't something normal transpiring down there. As his job, it was Whitaker's job to assess and neutralize the threat.

Whitaker pressed the transmit button on the callbox, which relayed to his secretary's room.

"Miss Maumsteen, get Robert Peterson on the phone. I need to discuss with him a few things about the Rainbow Project."

A brief yes sir, followed by a quiet line followed. In a few moments, Peterson's voice came out over the line.

"Peterson. I need to know, how much matter can that Rainbow transmitter send to Tulao island?"

"Well, it's a matter of distance compared to mass. If there's a si-"

"I don't want the reasons, I want to know the answer. How much mass could it transport to Tulao island?"

"How far is the island?"

"About 7,000 miles. Round it up to 8,000 to be sure."

After a few minutes, Robert spoke up again: "Well, in two days, we'll have a full charge. That will give us enough power to transport roughly 900 kilotons of matter."

"That is one powerful motherf*cking device, you know that?"

"Yes, it's ingenious. So do you want me to start preparing the generators?"

"Yes... oh, and Robert... if you pulled every single drop of energy from every city, every province, all over the nation... just, how much could this thing transport?"

"Every last bit of energy? Let me see... one second... uhm... it could take over 5,000 kilotons of matter to Tulao."

"Thank you, Robert. Your information is appreciated." Whitaker hung up, and sipped some more of his vodka. Tulao was only a small island, and there was relatively little protecting it, meaning whatever was fortifying that island was strong, and it would take more than a sizeable force to gun it down. Whitaker pressed the transmit button on the intercom again.

"Miss Maumsteen, tell the head of the nuclear department that I want the newly prepped Sternsturm warheads prepped. We might need them. That will be all."

OOC: If you need to know, ask Skullzz what a Sternsturm is. Him and I are having a shady little deal going on between us where I get those pretty things for something of my own. :D

sweet Jesus, you can type

sweet Jesus, you can type

You mean quality or length? Yea, they're long... quality ain't bad over, except for a few typos... should edit em but too lazy.

Men patrolled the docks in the early rising sun, coming up a deep crimson over the little island where the Rainbow Project was housed. The island earned its name from the deep blood red of early morning: Red Dawn Island.

There was much activity on the little island. Tanks were rolling onto position near the docks, and aircraft were being placed onto every available carrier from East to West. Men were gathering around, onto transports, armed with the varrying equipment of a prepared assault force. In a matter of minutes, a complete attack force was settled up on the docks of the island.

There would be no speech for these men as they were sent off to fight. There would be no honor, no memory of everyone who would die. It was just simply to snuff out one little island. Everything else was secondary. No one mattered at that point.

Deep inside a bunker, a technician at a control console received the word to initiate the generators. A hum echoed throughout the entire base, and people started buckling themselves into their chairs. On the desks, they took pairs of earplugs and set them in place.

Outside, two small towers topped with fork-like structures began to rotate, slowly and then faster. Gradually, they appeared almost one cohesive blur. Not too soon after, a flash of light followed, and the scenery changed drastically.

In a matter of seconds, thousands of men were transported all the way from the frozen icelands of ASW to the warm tropical waters of the South Pacific. Tulao wasn't in sight, yet. They were fortunate. Gradually, the attack force started to move towards Tulao which was South of their position.

Deep in the bunker, an order was given: turn off the generators. There wouldn't be a return trip for the soldiers going into the jungle isle. The hum began to die, and then cease completely.

Deployed and headed your way (expect by tomorrow RL, I have to go for today):
50,000 Marines
450 Eurofighter Typhoons
300 TU-180 bombers
600 'Apocolypse' MBTs
750 'Arctic Wolf' Light tanks(Reconfigured for standard warfare)
6 Hazard Perry Frigates
4 Iowa Destroyers
3 Arleigh Burke Cruisers
2 Nimitz Aircraft Carriers

FOOM! FOOM!

The refitted Blitzkrieg was facing its first test as a combat vessel as its Hellfire throwers belched flaming death at the enemy. Izual and the devil-magi under his command had sensed the enormous warping of space and energy that the Archaic transportation device had almost certainly produced as it hurled its massive fleet into the Pacific, an in an impressive example of infernal organization and discipline had managed to scrape together an able crew from the soldiers and servants of the Black City in a matter of hours. As soon as Dispator made the call for personnel, dozens of capable devils launched themselves into the portal for Tulao.

Primarily made of changeling spies in Dispator's service, many of whom had served time in human navies, the Blitzkrieg's crew was at least partly competant. They had just enough devils to man the navigation, propulsion, and weapons equipment for long enough to make the vessel an actual threat to the enemy fleet approaching their shores.

The crew, all of whom had assumed their standard forms of spindly red and black humanoids with gaping rows of razorlike teeth, had activated the ship's distress beacon and brought the ship to within the relativly small Hellfire guns' maximum range of two kilometers; at the same time, dispatching a number of winged imp scouts (far to small to be detected on radar and quite adept at concealing their flight patterns from visual detection) in the direction of the energy disturbance to attach themselves to the sides of the enemy ship's hull, or in any other place of relative concealment.

In this way, the Blitzkrieg's new crew had made use of an improvised homing beacon system. While the small creatures were far too stupid and primitive to use anything so advanced as long-range telepathy, their masters to whom they were blood-bound possessed the supernatural ability to know where their servants, and thus the ASW vessels, were at all times.

It was a prime example of infernal ingenuity, allowing the Hellfire throwers to discharge their contents at the two fleet aircraft carriers. With a tremendous burst of light and heat, the cannons lobbed deadly projectiles of condensed flame and energy which exploded with tremendous force. Their real danger, however, was the flames they spread. The hellfire that burst from the projectiles would burn with incredible speed even over seemingly non-flammable materials like metal, spread at a tremendous pace, and most importantly, burned with heat almost thousands of degrees more intense than a Bessemer steel foundry. Certainly, hot enough to melt and warp even heavy duty industrial metals like titanium.

Specifically targeted were the two aircraft carrier decks, where Izual hoped the explosive force and rapidly spreading flames would damage a number of enemy aircraft and reduce their clear air superiority over the legions of Dispator, and with a little luck severely retard the deck crew's ability to launch, refuel, rearm, land, and otherwise maintain anything not blown to bits.

On the island of Tulao, defenses were being prepared in earnest, and scores of devil soldiers arrived through Fort Emergence by the minute.

OOC: I might not post for awhile, so yea...

IC: A ball of flaming death struck the deck of one of the aircraft carriers, Devastator. Several crew members and a Eurofighter were alight and smoldering on the deck. A burned black crater was left where the 'shell' had hit. Other shots penetrated the hull, and the ship was sunk before it could launch off its fighters.

Out of the generated warp portal shot two squadrons of 14 Eurofighters each, banking in low over the bombarded carriers. Snaking low almost against the hull of the ship, they sped through the fleet and onward. The outline of the Blitzkrieg appeared.

The two teams split into four, and took on a customary attack formation. The lead pairs sent missiles spiraling out at the hull of the lone Blitzkrieg, and the additional fighters followed suit. Gradually, the teams pulled out for another run around at the ship.

---

Out in the middle of the ocean, just north of the ship to ship fighting, docking teams had arrived on the shores of the islands. As they unloaded their supplies and weapons, they stood face to face with the jungle wall. A marine stepped near to it, and what appeared to be an overgrown scorpion jumped out at them, gouging the first soldiers stomach out of where it was rightfully placed, proceeding to imbed its huge stinger into his chest. A few men dropped their rifles, while the rest took aim and opened fire. As the gunshots erupted, it almost called the demons to the landing zone.

As the last of the infantry exited the landing craft into the now demon-human fighting ground, another wave came up, holding the armored divisions. The landing doors opened up to release a stream of 'Apocolypse' and 'Arctic Wolf' light tanks, converted for jungle warfare. One of the first arrivals trained its barrel at the standing wall of jungle, and as was customary to the ASW military, shot an incendiary round into the thick mass of foliage. Others trained their cannons on the rapidly appearing demons.

Lost-
78 infantry
2 Eurofighters
1 Nimitz Aircraft Carrier (Devastator)

EDIT

am i allowed to bump this post?

Cause I just did, I think

OOC: Yeah.. RL issues have pretty much forced me to neglect this thread for a good, long time. Hopefully it can be restarted if ASW is still around. And Chochezkoo.. before you participate, t-gram me with exactly what's going on and what you're doing.

IC: The Blitzkrieg itself was a ship on a suicide mission. After the initial bombardment as many of the crewmen(crewthings?) took to the air, dispensing with the need for lifeboats entirely and giving the Eurofight pilots what must be quite a shot as great, leathery wings were unfurled.

Only the gunnery crew was left onboard, to get off as many final vollies as possible before the Blitzkrieg sank beneath the waves. Those who had abandoned their vessel abandoned their fight as well, making way for the relative safety of the infernal fortress.

----

The situation on the island itself was not a particularly favorable one. By this time only a few strategically placed lines of trees had not bee completeley clear-cut, but the rest of the island appeared a dusty wasteland. Infernal constructions dotted the landscape, most of whom's purposes would be unclear to the mortal troops. Most ominously, the near complete Fort Emergence loomed in the background with a terrible majesty, it's ziggurat-like form casting a long physical and spiritual shadow over the landscape.

The area near the Tulao shores was teeming with extraplanar life. ASW's enemies were prepared to strike back at an attempt to dislodge them, and strike back they did, with terrifying and ruthless efficieny.

The first wave was a vanguard of the undead, of which Dispator had legions at his disposal. Hundreds of mindless zombie minions lunged without fear or sense of self preservation at the encroaching ASW troops, tearing at flesh with claws and teeth, never stopping or falling as round after round pounded into their rotting, dessicated flesh. Many carried captured human rifles, with they fired wildly into the groups of emerging soldiers before closing in to strike with butt and bayonet.

It was as the first wave finished that Fort Emergance began to make its prescence known. Though only partially completed, Dispator's minions had wisely placed priority on the construction of the defensive batteries; gigantic, prefabricated and later assembled Hellfire Throwers, much like those seen on the Blitzkrieg after refitting. From underground storage pits the weapons drew the precious, volatile magical energy and belched it forth in tremendous balls of flame, which as they had on the Nimitz carrier burst into a rapidly spreading and seemingly unquenchable inferno. Targetted foremost were concentrations of tanks; infantry would certainly be affected, but the way the immobile Hellfire artillery thwarted them was rather less direct. As the shots burst, they created a massive, immolating wall between the ASW soldiers and their objectives, and would have to either move around the burning obstacle or take cover and wait for it to die down; all the while, all the more vulnerable to the infernal's artillery.

Airborne creatures were beginning to circle overhead, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The bone devils merely held their positions near the tree line, heedless of their own casualties and awaiting the order to begin the assault in earnest.

Meanwhile, the Charge Towers along the island's edges crackled and buzzed with magical energies. Dispator of course was the most defense-minded of all the 9 archdevils and preferred to build up his defensive structures before anything else. These odd-looking, vertical blackiron slabs would most certainly prove useful in the inevitable ASW airstrikes.

Whatever arms the creatures had at their disposal, their most potent at this point was fear. ASW troops were thousands of miles from home, fighting on a barren and inhospitable landscape against otherwordly monsters and the living dead, as fireballs flew from seemingly out of nowhere to immolate tanks and landing ships. The aura of evil and terror exuded by the collective Devilish hordes was palpable and smothering.

Casualties:

Blitzkrieg and 21 hands
all 900 or so undead infantry
320 "2nd wave" bone devils awaiting the order to strike.

Visual aids:

http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM35_gallery/MM35_PG52.jpg

The large winged figure is what Izual is, a horned devil. The female devil on the right is an erinye, but they haven't come into play yet.

One more:

http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/MM35_gallery/MM35_PG57.jpg

The smaller, skeletal thing is a bone devil, nasty little creatures who often serve as the Nine Hell's primary footsoldiers. The larger fellow is a pit fiend, equivalent roughly to a commander or general in the infernal legions. There aren't any there at the moment.

OK, last one, I promise. Dispator with his bigass mace-o-doom.

http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/bovd_gallery/88161_620_44.jpg

The last landing crafts were nearing up, depositing their soldiers onto the banks. Hundreds of corpses of soldiers and demons littered the soil, and many a tank were smoldering ruins.

No one was quite sure who issued the order among the tankers, but gradually, the line started to move forward at a frightening pace, mowing over numerous undead in their paths, swapping out the rounds for something more efficient and sending the dearly departed into a mess of parts sprawled in the earth.

Above air, the demons were taking vicious tolls on the advancing team, picking soldiers up off the ground, and tearing them in the air. RPG teams were moving up into the cover of the minimal plant growth to cover their advancing infantry men.

-

The last Nimitz had sustained extroardinary damage, and was barely afloat. The ship's engines started up, leading the bombardment fleet across the now empty ocean. Explosions rocked out overhead as teams of demons and fighter squadrons of Eurofighters duked it out.

In 10 minutes, the cruisers were in firing range of the shores. Multiple smooth-bore 12.7" cannons opened fire on the withstanding structures on the beach. Overhead, a Eurofigher was downed, and struck the last Nimitz in a deepened hole from the excessive fire of the ex-ASW employed Blitzkrieg. The ship started to sink from site, leaving a grim testimony of hundreds of crew members running from the decks, and then gradually drowning in the ocean.

-

A team of Eurofighters had begun an assault run, heading towards the center of the iron, where black iron monoliths stood, shooting out beams of energy, disabling numerous crafts. Gradually, they neared the center of the island, numbering few, maybe about 7 out of an original 28.

Breaking formation, they headed around what appeared to be a central portal, and opened fire. For a long time, the ASW military had been incorporating francium, one of the more unstable elements and probably one of the most powerful explosives, into their rockets. The structure wasn't expected by the pilots to stand after 10 shots.

-

Back in Viewpoint, Shacklar was resting in his chair, listening to the streams of reports coming in. Power had been out most of the day, and had come back online maybe 10 minutes ago. He was sending out a call for additional reinforcements to be transported to the combat area.

Should the second wave fail, 5 Sternsturm warheads, gauranteed to eliminate the entire island of life and materials, were being prepped for launch. Shacklar intended to drive the threat, whatever it was, away from the island and back to the hellhole where it came from.

Casualties:

2 Nimitz Aircraft Carriers
1,580 ASW infantry
127 'Apocolypse' Tanks
292 Converted 'Arctic Wolf' Tanks
98 Eurofighter Typhoons

The barrage of tank fire was taking it's toll on the bone devils lines, a toll partially mitigated by the huge clouds of billowing black smoke that made accurate ground targeting nigh impossible. The erinyes found themselves extremely vulnerable to small arms fire, the winged female devils taking higher to the air and continuing to unleash their volley of wickedly barbed javelins at the ASW soldiers (albeit at greatly reduced accuracy).

It was then that the 'bonies' made their charge, the skeletal scorpion tailed monstrosities uttering a horrific collective shriek and launching themselves through the walls of flame at the mortal enemies. An initial volley of long throwing spears of bone or ivory were hurled with great force and accuracy, and once their single weapon was expended the infernals simply laid into the troops with claws, teeth and poison-barbed tail. From long distances they were pushovers; at close range, they were a menace. Many took several rifle rounds to the vitals to finally give up the fight and lie silent. Bayoneted bonies simply grasped the rifles impaling them and struck with their tails at the momentarily helpless troops.

Even though their ranks were being drastically thinned by tank and RPG fire, the horde seemed to merely get denser as time went on. The source of the constant reinforcements, of course, was the ominous fortress that was readily wreaking to much death and havoc on the invaders. Hellfire guns turned their attention from the already disembarked men to the vessels at sea preparing to hit shore now that their own troops were engaged.

The Eurofighters, of course, had no knowledge of the wondrous properties of blackiron. Despite repeated pointings, the fortress stood. Individual structures were mangled and holes blown into the surface walls, but on the whole the structure remained intact. The portal, of course, was nestled deep within the (relativly) small structure's center, for the moment safe from harm.. but the mages in charge of its operation were preparing detonation glyphs all over the surface, lest the portal be captured by the advancing troops. Dispator always, always had a contingency plan.

While his fanatical and well-organized troops didn't know any better, Izual himself knew that a prolonged battle wound not end in their favor. His hope for victory hinged on two things; a terrified, disorganized retreat on the shore, or a general pullback from the naval forces. He had drastically underestimated his enemy, believing that the sinking of two fleet carriers would be enough to convince the mortals that invasion would be far too bloody and costly. It seems that he would have to do it personally.

Vast wingspan spread and Izual left the safety of his bunker, making a run for the ASW fleet. Anti-aircraft fire proved to be a relativly small distraction, as electronic systems would find it nearly impossible to get a lock on a slightly larger than man-sized target who was giving off no heat trail.. and as it was, he was flieing so close to the hull's water line that such a task would prove relativly difficult (OOC: Correct me if I'm wrong about the targeting systems here). In a brazen display of his own percieved invincability and supremacy, the horned one landed directly on the deck of the lead cruiser.

While the soldiers on the beachead might be able to explain away the hideous appearance of their enemies as mutants or some other earthly thing, Izual's appearance: great horns sprouting from his forehead, a wingspan almost as long as he is tall, a massive trident and scaley skin screams 'demon' (not entirely accurate) to the casual observer. As he leaps onto the deck in front of the crewmen, he makes use of an ability all baatezu inherently posses, communicating with any creature telepathically in its spoken language. This he does en-masse, in a booming voice within the heads of the ship's crew whose volume and authority is impossible to ignore, relying on the magical aura of fear he emnates to keep him safe from stray bullets.

"I am Izual, commander of the Iron Duke Dispator's legions in this realm. I demand to speak with your admiral, for your actions here are foolish and toying with powers you cannot possibly understand. Slay me and you shall pay tenfold. Aquiesce to my demands, and you have my sacred oath by the power of Dispator himself that you shall all live to see another sunrise."

Losses: 1,619 bonies, 200 erinyes (fliers)
To fighter attacks: moderate damage to Fort Emergence, 6 of 20 Hellfire guns destroyed.
To shore bombardment: 13 of 30 anti-aircraft lightning monoliths destroyed, 4 out of energy

*tag*

BUMP. Just cause.

For some reason I think I should've put this in the Nation States section instead,

Crew members scattered from side to side, trying to avoid the demon that had landed on the cruiser. Several men ran on deck, holding M4's, and crouched in position. Someone yelled "put your weapons on the deck." As the last man ran out, a short and decrepit looking person in a green trenchcoat stepped up from the main decks.

"Greetings, Izual, I'm Anthony Roberts, and this is my vessel, Regal. You cared to speak to me?"

OOC: I'll get to writing another war post a little later.

"I am here, Anthony Roberts," replied the malebranche out loud this time, "to call for an end to this pointless conflict."

Izual addressed the ASW officer with none of his former threatening ferocity and anger, speaking to him almost as an equal.

"Allow me to explain our position. We are the baatezu, a race of beings from a place far outside your own world. Our reason for entering Tulao was that we sought an uninhabited space in which to create a prescence in your realm and make contact with your race.

"As we made landfall, our party was attacked by human soldiers training on the beaches, whom we did not know would be present. Despite our entreaties they continued to fire upon us, and we had no choice but to fight back. The incident with your ship, the Blitzkrieg, and your fleet occured in a similar manner. It was our belief that the slain soldiers had called for assistance during the fray and summoned seaborne troops to again assault us."

The 8 foot tall devil gazed down upon the officer and his crewmen, calling upon them to look at the burning wreckage of the aircraft carriers his hordes had managed to sink, still billowing noxious-smelling black smoke into the air. "As you can see, there has been enough bloodshed on both sides for a single day. Our tiny force has managed to exact great damage on the mightiest ships of your fleet. I make to you this offer, Anthony Roberts, only once. Call off your ships, and your soldiers, and I assure you we shall leave you be and trouble you no more. Continue this foolish course of action, and I am afraid many, many more of your kind will have to die."

He waited patiently for Roberts' response, trident clutched in his right claw, barbed tips pointing at the admiral's feet as if to emphasize his ultimatum.