NationStates Jolt Archive

The troops whistled nonchalantly as they trekked through the thick snow, marching across the rugged, rocky, daunting terrain. Occasionally they exchanged dirty jokes, lit a few butts, or complained about the bitter cold. They journied into the heart of a dark, forbidding forest. It was snowing lightly, and frigid winds nipped at their flesh. Their faces felt as if they had been doused in gasoline, sprinkled liberally with gunpowder, and set ablaze. Damn, it was freezing out there. They were bored out of their minds. So far, they hadn't come across a single rebel.
One of the troops, a private named Bob Mahoney, decided to lighten the mood with a dirty joke. He grinned a vacant, rather dopey, toothy grin. "What'd th' blonde say to th' bartender?" he asked.
A taciturn soldier by the name of Leonard Bernie shook his head. "I dunno, man. What did the blonde say to the bartender?"
"She sai- GGGGGGGRRRRAAUUGH!"
Bernie clicked his tongue. "Man, that's gotta be the stupidest joke I ever-"
He turned his head and saw that Mahoney was lying in the snow, which was now red as it was drizzled by the continuous blood flow that gushed from his lower back. Already he was dying.
" 'Ey, yo, git over here, all y'all!" Bernie shouted, motioning for the rest of the platoon to gather around the dying Mahoney.
"Eesh." One of the soldiers, a devout pacifist with low tolerance for the sight of blood (he was only in the military because he had been drafted), turned away, nauseated.
"What happened?" someone asked.
"He got attacked," another replied.
Bernie rolled his eyes. "No s***, Sherlock," he said sarcastically.
The soldier who had said "He got attacked," shoved Bernie. "Man, don't be mouthin' off to me," he said. The soldier was a rough-talking, ill-tempered, bullyish sort.
"I ain't scared o' you," Bernie said, shoving the soldier back.
"Well, you're gonna be scared 'n 'bout two seconds, when I-"
BLAM!
The soldier slumped to the ground, dead, as blood oozed from his head.
Before the troops' brains could even register what had happened, before their instincts could have react, a flurry of bullets whizzed at them from every direction. Left and right RB soldiers collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain, as blood flew everywhere.
Dammit, Bernie thought, looking around and beginning to choke with tension. We wished for action, and we got it. Didn't Grandma always say, 'Be careful what you wish for?'
He heard a wet splat sound and turned around. What he saw was horrific, by far the grisliest death he had ever seen. He turned away, pale, sick, and frightened.
Bullets continuously zipped through the air, opening new wounds and increasing the death toll every second, as the ill-prepared RB troops dropped like flies.
Within seconds, all 157 of them were dead, with the exception of Bernie. Not a single rebel had been killed.
Bernie dropped his weapon and raised his arms, signalling that he surrendered. The rebels emerged from the foliage, silent as wraiths. Their faces were grim, their eyes brimming with hatred and devoid of remorse. They began herding Bernie to an interrogation cell, where horrors beyond the wildest nightmares of hell awaited him...

((OOC: I'll let you RP what happens to Bernie, GE. Do whatever you want to him, just don't kill him yet, please))

Several miles east of St Marie... AM

The village came alive with the crackle and rattling of machine guns, but they were firing wildly and were not targeting anyone, the rebels unsettled greatly by Zerkovich's sniper shot.

It had begun to rain.

"Pull back, my fine Zerbian soldiers!" Commander Zorkovich shouted, "and encircle!" Zorkovich did not care about shouting now, he doubted the rebels could understand Zerbian anyway.

"100 men to left, 95 men right! Zerkovich! Stay where you are! You, you, and you!" he pointed to three soldiers, "fire and cover the middle of the road! Move, move!"

We will do this, Zerkovich thought, as he saw his soldiers go over the hedgerows through the fields with tall grass, head down in a charge, surrounding the small village. my, boys, my men! My soldiers!

A loud gunshot close by his ear shook him. It came from Zerkovich and his sniper rifle, still hidden in the hedge.

"Two kills" Zerkovich said.

Zorkovich saw the 3 men he ordered to cover the road turn the corner. 1 had a Dragunov sniper rifle, 1 had a RPG, one had a AK-47. The sniper laid down on the road, all 3 aimed down the road.

Zorkovich jumped over the hedgerow to his right, and ran after his men, head down.

twwhmp thmm! Crack! dish! more and more bullets whizzed by past him.

whizzzzz

A huge explosion shook the ground Zorkovic was on, and he saw out of the corner of his eye a house that was on the edge of the village leading out to the three men covering the road partially explode.

The RPG man. Zolkervich! Hoorah for Zerbia!

Zorkovich had no time to dwell on this happy thought, he caught up with some of his men to his right, those that were visable in the long grass, and the moved in.

The village was small, and was made up of a small row of six houses on each side of a country road, all one storey, apart from the two houses that had faced them on the road, and it seemed the three cover men had them covered.

Zorkovich lifted his AK-47 to his shooting eye. He could see men and women running backwards and forwards acorss the street, aiming at his three soldiers down the road. We've got them!

Zorkovich fired at a woman in his line of fire who was running towards a house.

The AK-47 recoiled in his hands to his extreme satisfaction as her body twisted and convulted from the bullets entering her body. She fell when Zorkovich stopped firing, her body spewing with blood spray.

A soldier to Zorkovich's right was firing his AK-47 at the running figures, changing mags, firing again.

Zorkovich followed the soldier's lead and was about to continue pulling his own trigger-

Thwwwmpzzz!

The soldier jerked. Zorkovich turned just in time to see the solder begin a fall backwards, a glimpse of the soldier's face facing the sky, head back, mouth open in surprise, eyes rolling back, a bright red bulb of brain protuding out of the back of his skull and helmet.

Then the soldier was gone, fallen into the long grass.

twwhmp thmm! twwhmp! thmm! thwwmp thmm! twwhmp thmm! Crack! dish!

For a horrifying moment, Commander Zorkovich did not know what to do. Then-

"Zerbian down!!! Enemy Sniper!!!!! RPG's, Fixed attack on houses, FIRE!!!" he screamed in rage, spit flying from his mouth.

10 Zerbian Soldiers stood up from the long grass, each of their RPGS aimed at a house in the village in their range. They fired almost as one before diving back into the cover of the grass again.

whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The RPG missiles left a white trail in the air as they slammed into the one storey buildings, which exploded in a cloud of dust, debris and bricks flying everywhere. Zorkovich saw a rebel fly through the air, one leg almost ripped off.

The houses on the other side of the road out of the range of the RPG men also exploded. The RPG men on the left side of the encirclemnt must have heard his order carried across the wind.

Zorkovich ran over to his fallen soldier in the long grass, screaming "MEDIC!!"

A Zerbian soldier jogged over, carrying a AK-47, taking off a rucksack.

Zorkovich looked down at the dead soldier. His eyes were almost rolled back into his head, the grass around his head stained red with blood.

Zetokovich. An especially brilliant soldier at training camp. Zorkovich mused.

"He is dead Commander Zorkovich" The Zerbian Medic said in a flat, unemotional tone.

By now, the Zerbian Force was closing in on the village. The RPG's seemed to have broken the resistance.

"Zenovich" Zorkovich said to the medic, "Go back to where the assault started. Find Zerkovich and the others, and tell them to to move in."

"Yes, My Commander!" Zenovich saluted Zorkovich, and trotted away, towards Zerkovich's position.

Zorkovich slung his AK-47 over his shoulder and kneeled next to the dead soldier, placing his hand under the man's limp head and lifting it up, feeling the warm, wet mush of the man's brain.

With the other hand, he took of the man's black, blood smeared pith helmet and looked at it, before holding it by the chinstrap. Then he moved towards the village, following his men.

Secret IC:

Several miles East of St Marie...AM

Commander Zorkovich coughed as he entered the village. Dust was in the air from the RPG hits. The houses had all been damaged. Dead bodies of the enemy, male and female, lay in the street, mutilated or bullet ridden, often both.

The Zerbian forces begain entering the houses, to crush any remaining resistance there maybe.

Zorkovich had other things on his mind. The sniper who had not killed me.....why?

He began making his way left to the two storey house that Zerkovich had said had had a enemy sniper positioned. Smoke and dust hung in the air, and Zorkovich again coughed.

He finally came to the house on his left, and entered it slowly and carefully.

through the front door, into the living room.... no one........kitchen.......no one.

He climbed up the stairs, his jackboots clumping on the stairs, sweat gathering underneath his Commander's cap.

Zorkovich heard a baby scream and cry.

door ahead...bathroom....empty......door to right....

Zorkovich open the door, fired a shot off his AK-47 that hit a wall opposite, making a puff of dust.

A man lay dead slumped against the wall, a bullet hole to the heart, AK-47 in hand. In a chair facing the window sat a woman, her sniper rifle laying on the floor her brains a bright red chunk of gristle hanging from the back of her head. Blood spray covered the wall.

From a cot in the corner of the room came a wail of an infant. Zorkovich ignored it. But as he walked round the dead woman's body to face her, he realised.

She had been nursing her baby while being a sniper.

How very primitive, Zorkovich thought.

He faced the dead woman. He eyes were vacant, staring out of the window, staring, but yet, not seeing. Her mouth was open, in a loose 'O' shape. A trickle of blood had ran down from the bullet hole in her forehead, over the ridge of the nose and had trickled off the end.

Zorkovich hoisted his AK-47 onto his back and bent over, and peered at the body.

"And I suppose" he said out loud to the dead woman, "this man with you was your lover? The infant's child?"

Commander Zorkovich took off the black leather glove of his right hand, and tossed a quick glance towards the screaming cot.

He cupped the dead woman's chin with his hand and leant his head toward her ear.

"Well don't you worry my dear. I'll take care of your child." he said, before pushing the dead woman's head back, so her head hung over the back of the chair.

Zorkovich straightened, and pulled his glove back on, before moving over to the cot.

He peered over the edge. Zorkovich saw a screaming baby, wrapped in blankets, only a few weeks old at best.

What a ugly, disgusting, subhuman bastard, Zorkovich thought, as he picked up the baby with revulsion. He looked at the dead man against the wall. no wonder, he concluded.

Zorkovich walked down the stairs carrying the baby, got to the doorway, craned his head right and left, and walked out into the road.

To Zorkovich's left, Zerkovich, the medic Zenovich, and the three cover team were walking towards him.

To Zorkovich's right, a group of Zerbian soldiers had rounded up a bloodied woman and three children from Zorkovich's guess were aged between 6 and 12. All were sobbing as they lay kneeling, hands on top of their heads.

"My Commander Zorkovich!" said a soldier, walking up to Zorkovich, "This woman killed Zetkovich! We found her and the children hiding in a cellar! A sniper rifle was nearby!"


Zetkovich. With a bright red bulb of brain protuding out of the back of his skull.



The baby screamed in Zorkovich's arms.

"Well done Zonovavich." Zorkovich said quietly. "Well done my Zerbian soldiers!" Zorkovich said in a louder tone. "Kill the children first. Let her know pain."

"Yes, my Commander Zorkovich" Zonovavich said in a smug voice.

Zorkovich watched as Zonovavich slung his AK-47 over his shoulder and pulled out a pistol from his tunic. A group of soldiers had their AK-47's trained on the woman and the children. They lowered them as Zonovavich walked behind the terrified group and pointed his pistol at the back of a boy's head.

The woman sprang up towards Zonavavich her hands clawed, her face twisted in rage, but Zonavavich saw it coming and swung his pistol holding arm backwards, and the pistol hit the woman's face with crack. She fell backwards on to the ground and Zonavavich stood over her, before lifting his left leg up, high, high, high as he could, and then he brought his black jackboot down, and it stomped on the woman's cheekbone.

crackshhhh!

The oldest child, a girl leapt up towards Zonavavich, who saw this coming and aimed his pistol at the child, firing once. It was enough. The girl's body fell like a ragdoll, dead.

The other two children, a boy and a girl stayed kneeling, screaming. The baby in Zorkovich's arms screamed too.

Zonavavich carried on stamping on the woman's face, huge stomps of power that came from lifting the leg up high, and bringing the boot down on her face.

Crruuuunch! Scruuuuunch! Squeeeelch!

With each stomp, the woman's legs twitched weaker and weaker.

Scrrruuuunch! ruuunch! eeelch!

Zonavavich stopped after the 13th stomp, grinding his jackboot from left to right into the bloody mulsh that was once the woman's head.

He stood, triumphant, smug smile on face, hands on his hips as he did so.

"See my fellow Zerbians? Subhumans!"

The soldiers laughed and nodded their heads in agreement.

Zonavavich lifted his boot out of the mulsh, and scraped his boot across the tarmac, smearing blood across it.

Then he turned and walked round to the back of the two screaming, kneeling children.

"Sleep well, little ones" Zonavavich said. He laughed before shooting the boy in the back of the head. He pushed the child over with his boot, so the boy landed on his front dead.

He did the same with the girl, shooting her in the head, pushing her over with his boot.

Now only the baby screamed.

Zorkovich saw four Zerbian soldiers down the road to his right bringing a distraught elderly woman up the street.

Zorkovich suddenly had an idea.

"Let the woman go!" He ordered the soldiers, they did so.

Zorkovich shifted the baby to one arm, and with his free one, beckoned to the woman with his gloved hand.

Zorkovich stopped beckoning and unclipped a grenade from his belt.


"Take cover" Zorkovich shouted cheerfully.

The Zerbian soldiers stood, confused.

"Take cover My Zerbian soldiers, fire in the hole!" bellowed, with a smile on his face.

The soldiers cleared from the streets, taking cover behind buildings. Only him, the elderly woman and the baby was in the street now.

good.

Commander Zorkovich pulled the pin out of the grenade and tucked it tightly into the baby's blankets that were wrapped round him.

"Catch!" Zorkovich called brightly, and he threw the infant as hard as he could at the old woman.

The baby sailed through the air, a bundle wrapped in blankets, screaming.

Instinctively in horror, she lunged forward to catch the baby, which she did.

Zorkovich dived for cover, giggling.

Booom!

The elderly lady and the baby exploded in a outwards spew of blood and shrapnel that littered the ground. Blood, guts and body parts rained down everywhere.

Zorkovich got up, and dusted himself down, and called for his brave Zerbian soldiers to come back into the street.

The village had been cleansed. Now they would rest

We may not be angels, but we do not slay babies. We warn your men to nt stray to close to ours.

We may not be angels, but we do not slay babies. We warn your men to nt stray to close to ours.

OOC: Why? They're not scared of the Zerbian troops are they?

Anyway, I can't see how you could be aware of what my troops are doing, seeing as they are not near your battlefied.

Satelites, and spies. ANd my men are coming in from all over the place. Chances are some would pass by.

No they aren't scared. Im warning your men not to stray close to mine, becuase tehy may not come back.

And this is me IC. OOC I think your cool, just to clear that up. You write very well.

Also, if you don't want me to know this happened say: 'Secret IC' before it. Otherwise there are hundreds of ways to find out and its pretty much assumed that the info can be found out.

IC:

To: Borman Empire
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia

I thankyou for your message.

My policy is that no witness should be left behind after a Zerbian military action. This includes the children. The reason why this is is quite simple.

Today's child is tommorow's adult. That adult shall seek revenge upon us because we killed his or her parents, who were enemy combatants.

I send my regrets that your nation should find this policy offensive, but it is a most efficient one, that denies the enemies it's soldiers of tommorow.

I ask also, following your veiled threat, that your troops keep your distance from the Zerbian troops.

This is because, as your spycraft may have seen, as well as being efficient at killing tommorow's enemies, My Zerbian soldiers are efficient at killing today's enemies too.

Take heed.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia


OOC: Thankyou for your compliment :) I think you're cool too. I enjoy reading your RP. Very well constructed. Thanks for the advice about the secret IC too.

Got to go, I'll RP more tommorow.

Baskindale 9:13 A.M.

The rebels laughed jovialy as they lit up their cigarettes.

"And then he says to me, he says, And who do you think you are?"

The men laughed as teh Borman sniper fondled the trigger on his gun.

"So I, I say to him, I'm your fu-"

The man's brains splaterred against the building as the rifle recoiled in the snipers hands.

"Shit! Sound the alarm."

A man ran off to go to who knows where. But suddenly he stopped. Before any rebels could ask why his limp body fell forward smashing into the concrete.

The guns instantly fell from the grup of 10 or so men. Their hands went up, but to no avail.

A white stream appeared in teh air as a rocket slammed into the concrete infront of the men. THeir bodies flew backwards smashing into buildings and the like. If they were alive most of them would have been sad to find they lost their 'equipment'.

The town came to life as doors flew open and rebels charged out with Ak-47s in hand. Most of them did nto have a jacket and their pants were only half on. They would be denied the chance to dress.

As they tried to approach their defenses the snipers held them back. When the occasional rebel leaned around the corner to see if there were enemies, pow, he owuld be gone.

As the rumble of the tanks driving through the snow began to become more evident the rebels knew their only chance was to make it to the defenses.

Like an army of ants they charged out in a chatic yet organized patern. RPGs and sniper bullets took many out, but not enough.

Mounted guns and connons came to life as rebels brushed the snow off the seats.

Trees splintered and blew up as mortar fire destroyed them along with the snipers they held.

Mortars smashed into tanks, destroying some and boucing off others.

Soldeirs climbed out of the burning ruins of what had been theri tanks, only to find their chests full of machine gun fire.

As the tnaks drew closer more and mroe rebels began to flood to the defenses.

When the tanks were no more than 100 ft. from the defenses they began to slow as their guns recoiled form teh shells. At teh same time doors opened as soldiers flooded out of the convoy and charged the defenses.

Several CaDs drove right through, theri chainsaws ending the lives of many men.

It wasn't long before the rebels began to fall back into the town. The borman onslaught pressed forward.

T-80s were mercilessly blown to hell as the cannons on Borman tansk searcehd the otwn for targets.

In the end the fortress capital building was all that remained. Dinosaurs flodded in the enterance and back door after rounds of grenades had been tossed in.

Bodies littered the defences as the Borman soldiers quickly swept the building. Except for several fire fights in offices the building was empty.

Colonel Pilanstone kicked down a door to the ledge surrounding the 4th floor. He walked along it untill he found a long silver pole valiantly displaying a Rebel flag. He pulled the cord on teh diagnol pole until the flag came from above the steps to his hands. He tossed it down.

"Use this in the fire."

He then unfurled a Generic flag and replaced that where teh rebel one once hung.

Sympathizers were round up and shot as those remaining were given rations and supplied with sturdy buildings to live in.

Defences were quicklly erected and repaired as SAM misile batteris were brough in and M270s guarded the town.

"Scratch anotehr one for the empire," Pilanstone said as he took a deep puff of his cigar.

IC:

To: Borman Empire
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia

I thankyou for your message.

My policy is that no witness should be left behind after a Zerbian military action. This includes the children. The reason why this is is quite simple.

Today's child is tommorow's adult. That adult shall seek revenge upon us because we killed his or her parents, who were enemy combatants.

I send my regrets that your nation should find this policy offensive, but it is a most efficient one, that denies the enemies it's soldiers of tommorow.

I ask also, following your veiled threat, that your troops keep your distance from the Zerbian troops.

This is because, as your spycraft may have seen, as well as being efficient at killing tommorow's enemies, My Zerbian soldiers are efficient at killing today's enemies too.

Take heed.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia


OOC: Thankyou for your compliment :) I think you're cool too. I enjoy reading your RP. Very well constructed. Thanks for the advice about the secret IC too.

Got to go, I'll RP more tommorow.

OOC: Thanks. And it is a very good strategy, if it weren't for the world I would employ it. I kill sympathizers and yeah, sometimes children. But tucking a grenade into a babies clothes and throwing it to an old lady. I wouldn't be surprised if Mcleod nuked you. Not alot of people take it well.

Lt. Jacob Sanovan felt as though he would lose the contents of his stomach. The scene before him was grisly, to say the least. The bodies of women and children lay as far as the eye could see. He held up his hand, and his team halted behind him, their faces contorted into expressions of disgust. One of his men muttered.

"Sick bastards."

Sanovan felt rage boiling within him . Hot, blind rage. This was not war, this was murder. He growled, low, and menacing. They may be rebels, but they were still his brothers and sisters, Generian all, even if mislead. He vowed to have the heads of those who had done this. He spoke to a man next to him, his voice low and gravelly.

"Get HQ on the line. Let 'em know what happened. Get some pictures to 'em too."

The soldier saluted, his eyes cold and hard.

"Don't worry, boys. We'll get these fucks."

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

Official Imperial Communique

To:Zerbian High Command
From: Chancellor Avidius Cassius

We know what your men have done, and we are disgusted. Your vile 'soldiers' who slay women and children are not necessary, and are an affront to the military profession. We will not have this. The commander of the unit responsible, a certain Commander Zorkovich, is to be immediately delivered into Imperial custody to undergo trial for war crimes in our land. As of now, your autonomous operational status is revoked, and your men are to report immediately to the Imperial forces at St. Marie for deportation.

Should you refuse to comply, your men will be as outlaws in our land, hunted by every Praetorian the Empire has to offer. When we find you, and we will should you refuse to comply with our previous requests, we will enact upon your men the most horrifying tortures ever concieved in Hell's dominion, and we shall laugh in joy as we do so.

Then, we shall be faced with the choice of whether to allow your nation to exist at all. Should we decide to annihalate you, it shall be so, and your people will be as slaves in our land for a thousand years.

We hope that you will comply, and order your men to return to St. Marie. Your soldiers shall not be mistreated, and all but Commander Zorkovich shall be allowed to return to Zerbia. Good day.

Chancellor Avidius Cassius,
Appointed Chancellor of the Imperial Congress,
Loyal Servant To Emperor Antonius I

((OOC: By the way, excellent writing Zerbia. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.))

Uh-oh

The president leaned back as his butler bought him another glass of Brandy. He was drunk. He was drwoning his sorrows. The F******s who defied the reveloution were dead. The children and women first. Haitensburg had comitted national suicide by killing its own Women and Children

The menacing form of an Abrams MBT rumbled down the road into the quaint town of Billave. Behind it more dark forms emerged from the mist that had settled over the land. The column stopped and the Marines filed out of their Styrkers and formed up into platoons of 30 men each.

Lieutenant Bowers was the commander of the 1st platoon, and through the luck of the draw was to lead the assault into town. Bu they would not be going alone, the Abrams revved up their Gas Turbine with a high-pitched whine and began into the heart of the village.

"Lets get this show on the road boys," he yelled out to his troops.

The Wirrwayan Marines, battle-hardened through years of combat looked on impassively, they had faced death and laughed in its face so many times that they just didn't care anymore, they formed up and shouldered their well-worn weapons.

As the column passed through the outskirts of town it looked as if it had been un-touched for generations, its neat stone houses with flower boxes on each window looked like it was out of post-card, in fact it looked like Wirraway.

"Where the fuck it everyone." whispered one marine as they passed through deserted streets and squares. There was no noise, the fog settled like a heavy blanket muffling everything. The Marines shifted un-easily as they looked from window to window.

"What the hell? Look, its Bravo-2." a marine suddenly pointed at the burned out form of a Stryker.

The whole contingent looked on at the horrifying sight but another was waiting about 15 feet in the air.

"Holy shit, look on that tree, they fucking hung them, those bastards hung them, look there's Garcia." shouted another Marine

"That’s it, they’re all going to die, every single one of those cursed rebs."

Captain Bowers was also consumed by rage," find them, find every-single last one of them and terminate them with extreme predjuce."

The battalion was whipped into a frenzy by he sight of their desecrated comrades. Squads poured into houses looking for rebels or their sympathizers. They ripped apart homes and left terrified families standing in the the street.

Near the center of town they began to take some fire from the largest building in town, town hall, where the rebels had barricaded themselves. The Marines attempted several assaults, only to thrown back with losses.

Bowers, frustrated by the rebels holed in their made a decision, "level it, level the whole damm thing, they wanna die fine, but they die on my goddamm terms."

The Infantry pulled back and Strykers and Abrams moved in. The combined fire-power of 5 105mm and 3120mm guns quickly blew gigantic holes in the centuries old building. But they didn't stop. The massive building had braved the elements for hundreds of years and refused to go down easily, but the shells began to take thier toll. Huge cracks ran down the facade as portions of the building broke off. Finally the foundation crumbled and the whole building collapsed in its-self in massive cloud of dust and debris. The few rebels who managed to escape were gunned down and left dying in pools of thier own blood, no quarter was given to any rebel found, summary execution was the sanctioned course of action.

After all the resistance was mopped up the battalion went back and cut down their comrades, The battalion had sustained casualties of 35 killed and 15 wounded, and was down to 100 operational men. They had also lost one Stryker to RPG fire from town hall.

The column made its way back the base camp to recuperate and continue to assault.

East of St.Marie, HQ

Rumors of atrocities committed by Zerbian forces had filtered into the Wirrawayan HQ. The Generian statement had only confirmed these suspicions and the Wirrawayans stood ready to help the Generians if the need arose.

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((OOC: GE, could you RP what happens to the soldier the rebels captured? Thanks! :)))

bump

((OOC: GE, could you RP what happens to the soldier the rebels captured? Thanks! :)))

((OOC: Sure, i'm gonna make one of my really long, all encompassing posts, but i'm half studying for a history test right now, and when i write those really involved posts, i want to be able to focus, so i might not get to it right away.))

((OOC: Sure, i'm gonna make one of my really long, all encompassing posts, but i'm half studying for a history test right now, and when i write those really involved posts, i want to be able to focus, so i might not get to it right away.))

((OOC: Okay, thanks. Good luck with your test, btw))

Secret IC......Secret IC.......Secret IC...

Commander Zorkovich and the rest of the Zerbian Force stealthily crept along the country road.

sooner or later, Zorkovich thought with great aniticipation and glee, we will come across another village.

They had left the first village behind, the resistance crushed without question. They would return later to burn the dead Zerbian soldier's body, as part of a respectful farewell ceremony. He still lay, in the grass outside the village. Zorkovich had taken the man's ID to ensure that if his body was captured, the enemy would not gloat on how the man was and publicise.

And so on to the next village! Zorkovich thought jovially.

This was Zorkovich's first all out war, and he was throughly enjoying it. That sniper that did not see him, irrellevant now. They had lost a fine Zerbian soldier, but the subhuman who had done it had been brought to account by his boys, his men, his soldiers!

Suddenly, Zorkovich felt a vibration on his chest. He stopped in his tracks. For a moment, Zorkovich was alarmed.

Yes I'm fourty, but stroke?? Heart attack?

Calmdowncalmdowncalmdown.......

Then Zorkovich realised. It was the cellular phone in his tunic pocket. He pulled the phone out, took off his Commander's cap, putting the phone to his ear.

"Halt my fine Zerbian soldiers" Zorkovich said in a authoritive tone.

His soldiers stood, and waited. A phone call could mean a change of Mostarvian military directive.

"Hello." He said into the phone.

A cold, hard voice replied back over a crackling line. "This is the Initiator for War."

"Yes, Initiator." Zorkovich said in a flat tone. He was ready for any order.

Withdrawl? the thought swam up into his conciousness...

"Commander, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor wishes to pass on his extreme happiness and satisfaction at your current military actions. The nation of Zerbia is in gratitude. You are all heroes, and you are to continue as you are. Tell this to your soldiers. Now." the voice said in an authoritive, if urgent tone.

"Yes Initiator" Zorkovich replied brightly, and took the phone away from his head.

"My fine Zerbian soldiers!" Zorkovich shouted excitedly at hs men excitiedly, "The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor whishes to say he is extremely happy and satisfied with our military actions! Our Great Nation of Zerbia is in gratitude! We are heroes!" Zorkovich's voice had reached a high pitch, and he stopped to pause for breath. "We are to continue as we are," he finished, smiling.

The Zerbian soldiers cheered waving their guns in the air, some puffing their chests out.

Zorkovich raised the phone back to his ear.

"It is done, initiator. Please pass on the fact that we are fighting with Zerbian honour and that any of us who die, are dying with honour also, against those we face on this battlefield. One of my soldiers has died fighting with full Zerbian honour." Commander Zorkovich said proudly.

"The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor knows this, Commander. He expects nothing less than total commitment only known to Zerbians in war." The initiator replied, in a patronising, impatient tone. The voice went on:

"The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor has recieved word that The Borman Empire, who are also seemingly in the area, are not pleased with the Tommorow's soldier policy that your brave soldiers carried out. They have told The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor that you and your men must not go near their soldiers. Likewise, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor has warned The Bormans that their soldiers should stay away from you. The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor does not-"

Zorkovich could not help interrupting.. "Borman Empire, initiator?" he said in a surprised tone, "How do they know what we are doing? what do they mean 'stay way from them'?"

Zorkovich looked round. His men looked calm, ready for order. Ready for battle.

The voice on the other end snapped, irritated by Zorkovich's interruption and ignorance.

"Spycraft, Commander, spycraft. Do not interrupt the initiator again!"

Zorkovich fell into silence. Then-

"My apologies initiator." He said humbly.

The voice ignored the apology. "The Bormans have a significant force in the battlefield, not near you.....yet. As I was saying, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor does not believe you will come into contact with Bormans, but if you do, you may expect hostile action. Alternatively, if they come into contact with you, initiate hostile action. Pre-emptive combat." The voice finished pompously.

"Yes, initiator. That is understood" Zorkovich replied automatically.

Two enemy forces to fight? Possibly...

"For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, for the republic! For Zerbia!" The voice proclaimed.

"For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, for the republic! For Zerbia!" Zorkovich shouted in to the phone. The line went dead.

Zorkovich took the phone away from his ear and paused, deep in thought.

Bormans he thought. He had heard about them. Strong army.
Ah but so are we, for we are Zerbians.

Zorkovich stirred quickly from his thoughts.

"My fine Zerbian soldiers" Zorkovich began.

My boys, my men, my soldiers....

"...It appears a nation by the name of The Borman Empire has been spying on us. It seems that they do not like our tommorow's enemy policy and have warned us not to go near them."

The Zerbian soldiers were silent. Then they all, Zorkovich included, burst into racous, loud laughter.

Someone opposed to the tommorow's enemy policy? Absurd! So UnZerbian. Silly foreigners, ignorant! What a laugh!

"Warning us not to go near them?!" Zonovavich piped up admist the laughter. "Scared of us are they? They should be!"

A unison of "YEAH!" arose from the Zerbian soldiers and they fell into renewed fits of laughter and the clapping of each other's backs whilst bending over to stop from falling over in laughter.

IC:

"Look to the skies, my fine Zerbian soldiers! Wave at the Bormon spycraft!"

The Zerbian soldiers laughed and waved at the sky.

"Hello!" Zorkovich shouted joyfully at the sky, laughing "Pleased to meet you!!"

More laughter rang out, and tears of laughter ran down Zerbian faces.





Official Imperial Communique

To:Zerbian High Command
From: Chancellor Avidius Cassius

We know what your men have done, and we are disgusted. Your vile 'soldiers' who slay women and children are not necessary, and are an affront to the military profession. We will not have this. The commander of the unit responsible, a certain Commander Zorkovich, is to be immediately delivered into Imperial custody to undergo trial for war crimes in our land. As of now, your autonomous operational status is revoked, and your men are to report immediately to the Imperial forces at St. Marie for deportation.

Should you refuse to comply, your men will be as outlaws in our land, hunted by every Praetorian the Empire has to offer. When we find you, and we will should you refuse to comply with our previous requests, we will enact upon your men the most horrifying tortures ever concieved in Hell's dominion, and we shall laugh in joy as we do so.

Then, we shall be faced with the choice of whether to allow your nation to exist at all. Should we decide to annihalate you, it shall be so, and your people will be as slaves in our land for a thousand years.

We hope that you will comply, and order your men to return to St. Marie. Your soldiers shall not be mistreated, and all but Commander Zorkovich shall be allowed to return to Zerbia. Good day.

Chancellor Avidius Cassius,
Appointed Chancellor of the Imperial Congress,
Loyal Servant To Emperor Antonius I


To: Chancellor Avidius Cassius
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia

We are most dissapointed you view our operations this way, and the way my Zerbian soldiers shall be treated.

You should look upon them as heroes, not villians. By carrying out the Tommorow's enemy policy, they are eliminating those that will grow to adulthood who will fight your enemy.

By killing children, my soldiers are killing the enemy of tommorow who would seek revenge after the death of their parents, who are the enemy combatants.
I starve the enemy of having soldiers for tommorow.

Commander Zorkovich was killed in battle with those that oppose you, they are the real enemy. He died under fire at the village that the operation was carried out in. The Republic of Zerbia mourns his loss. His body may still be there, or on the outskirts.

However backwards I feel your views are towards the Tommorow's enemy policy, I will nonetheless order my troops to withdrawl to be taken into your captivity. Seeing as Commander Zorkovich is dead, I therefore expect all of my Zerbian soldiers to be returned to The Republic of Zerbia.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia

Secret IC.....secret IC......Secret IC.......

The laughter, ten minutes was just subsiding, the Zerbian soldiers including Commander Zorkovich wiping tears from their eyes, feeling lucky they had not all been shot by the rebels as they laughed when the cellular once again vibrated inside his tunic.

Another change of events? Zorkovich pondered, and he immeadiatly became serious.

He lifted the phone up to his ear.

"Initiator?" He said carefully.

"Commander. The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor is saddened to hear of Commander Zorkovich's death. But it is-"

At first, Zorkovich could not believe his ears.

"W-what? D-Dead? No-"

The Initiator talked louder over the phone, a loud over exaggerated tone.

"YES! I know, Commander, it is still indeed a shock, but it is-"

"But I'm n-

"SILENCE THY TONGUE!" The initiator screamed before calming into a more palatable tone. "Pull yourself together. Are you of Zerbian blood or not? Do not interrupt me."

The Zerbian soldiers stood round confused. They could hear a loud voice on the phone, but they could not make out what he/she was saying.

Zerkovich was lost for words.

The voice went on at a urgent. fast pace:

"It is probably best that Zerkovich is dead, Commander. The backwards Generic Empire that we offered help too did not like the tommorow's soldier policy and wanted him arrested. Not very civillised is it Commander? Good job for him he is dead. Yes so Zerkovich is dead, lying in that village or outside it perhaps? Yes that's right. Shame his ID papers were lost in battle, such a shame indeeeeeed his ID papers were....lost. The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor is pleased you took his mantle Commander. Anyway, you have done a admirable job. But now, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor is pulling you out. the Generic Empire will escort all of you on your way home, Commander Zlekovich You are heroes. Yes Zerkovich would have been arrested by those backwards lot, may never have seen his beloved Republic of Zerbia again, good for him he is dead, Commander, he is free that way. Shame if you lost this phone, I know they can short circuit and burn, Here is the cordinates where you will meet up with Generic troops *gives coordinates* Good luck Commander, to you and your troops."

The Initiator paused and took a huge deep breath.

Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr...........

"For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, for the republic! For Zerbia!" He finished and the phone line went dead.

Zorkovich turned the phone off and dropped the phone from his ear, it clattered on the ground.

But he understood. He knew.

He stood there, surrounded by his soldiers, the colour draining from his face.

Zonovavich stepped forward, looking concerned. "Are you all right, Commander Zorko-"

Zorkovich snapped. "DO NOT CALL ME ZORKOVICH AGAIN!!!" He screamed in a high pitched voice.

The Zerbian soldiers were taken aback. What in the name of Zerbia...?

Zorkovich calmed himself, and continued in a calmer, is shaky tone.

"Listen my brave, fine Zerbian soldiers. The Geneiric Empire, backwards as they are, like the borman empire, did not appreciate our Tommorow's enemy policy...."

"But-" Zonovavich began.

Zerkovich cut him off. "SHUT UP AND LISTEN!.....they want me arrested for 'war crimes'....and I would never return to Zerbia, to the Supreme chancellor. Therefore our brave fine Zerbian soldier who fell at the village back there shall be me. I died. I therefore assume his identity. I have his ID papers....and....."

Zerkovich pulled out his own ID Papers and tossed them on the ground. He tossed the phone on top of it.

".....any proof of who I really am shall evaporate." Zerkovich paused. here comes the hard bit.

"We will meet with generic troops and be escorted home by the ungrateful backwards fools. Because I am dead, I shall be free, like you."

The Zerbian troops murmered in confusion, then cursed the Generics for the treatement the Generics had given to them and their commander.

"Ungrateful subumans!" shouted one soldier.

"Backwards shits!" yelled another,

A chorus of agreement went up.

Zorkovich raised his hand. "Step back my fine Zerbian soldiers."

They obliged, still muttering.

I want two flamethrowers to burn my ID and that phone. Do it. You and you." Zorkovich pointed at two flamethrowing carrying Zerbian soldiers. "Burn them for The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor and for Zerbia"

The other Zerbian soldiers including Zorkovich stood back as the two flamethrowing soldiers burnt the ID to ashes and the phone to cause it to melt into a plastic fusion of a blob.

good

Zorkovich sighed, then smiled.

I hope this works.

"Now my fine, brave Zerbian soldiers, we shall meet with the generic"

The Zerbian Force marched towards the meeting point.


OOC: Thank you Generic, for your kind compliment concerning my RPing. :) I very much enjoy reading yours, that's why I joined in with yours. :)

The Generians watched the Zerbians march into the town square of St. Marie, the ordered meeting point for the deportation orders to be issued. Each and every Imperial soldier looked upon the foul murderers with seething hatred, for word of their actions had circulated about the ranks.

The Zerbians marched into the square, and waited. To their extreme surprise, a horde of Praetorians, 500 in fact, marched in from all sides, each of the four streets leading into the square, and surrounded the group. Imperial tanks moved in, and blocked the exits. Lt. Sanovan stood in front of a row of Imperial Praetorians. He lifted a document and read it aloud.

"By order of Emperor Antonius I, by way of Chancellor Avidius Cassius, you are hereby sentenced to death for the murder of innocent Imperial citizens. May God have mercy on your souls."

Lt. Sanovan folded the document. The Praetorians raised their XM-8s, Sanovan his dual GM-8s (think extended clip Mac-10 crossed with MP-5).

"Fire!"

The sound of rifle fire rattled through the streets, as the hot lead filled the air. Bodies fell, cut to ribbons by the hail. The blood ran, and seeped into the gutters. Such was the way of the Empire. She would always have her holy vengeance.

Pilanstone put down the paper.

"Shit!"

"I know sir."

"Well thats why we work with, nto against Generia."

bump

(Anything my guys could do?)

Borman soldeirs have secured various towns and villages in the name of Generia.

Official Imperial Communique

To: Generic Empire
From: Chancellor Licinius

We have multiple towns and villages under our control. Can we hand these over to you so our soldiers cna continue to battle?

End Transmission

Secret IC:

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor sat on his throne in his palace in the Zerbian capital Zelgrade, unemotional.

He did not flinch, or grimace when the Priest For War timidly informed him that the Zerbian Transport plane had touched back down at the Zelgrade Military Air base and that when the hatch opened, 200 Zerbian soldiers were inside, stacked on top of one another, bullet riddled.

such treachery, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor thought. He almost smiled, but instead, his face was as ever, unemotional.

So very typical of the uncivillised world.

The plan for Commander Zorkovich to escape with the rest of his soldiers had not worked. They had all been executed.

It was worthy of commendation, no one would escape, all would be killed.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor knew his Zerbian soldiers would not disobey his supreme order to withdrawl and meet up with the Genieric Forces.

The willingness to conform led to their deaths, he mused.

Again, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor almost smiled, the long tapered index finger of his right hand resting on the throne armrest, lifting once, then settling back down again.

But they would not betray their beloved Supreme Lord Chancellor....

He watched the TV in front of him, the sound was on mute. He saw a town that had been earlier described as St marie.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor continued to be embroiled in his own silent thought.

It was the treachery of the subhuman Genieric that had killed them in the end.

So backwards......

So primitive....

So subhuman..... He concluded.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor almost laughed at their stupidity.....instead, his face remained stone set cold.

"Priest for War" he said in a deep, authoritive tone.

He dictated the Priest to type.


To: Chancellor Avidius Cassius
From:The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia

You and your nation's reengagement and outright treachery on your promise to deliver my Zerbian soldiers back to The Republic Of Zerbia alive and unharmed is something you and your nation are most likely to regret until the end of your days both as yourself and the nation of 'geneiric' you represent.

Your actions are not unlike my tommorow's enemy policy. You killed all of my soldiers to ensure they would not pose a problem for you in the future.

In fact, I would come close to commending you for it.

We are not so unalike after all....are we.

However, they were not a problem to you, they were of great help and of great asset to you.

The fact remains that your betrayed the trust of my Zerbian soldiers, who I had sent to help you in your cause.

When you should have been killing those that seek independence from you, you killed those that had been doing it for you.

My Zerbian soldiers are heroes, and the ones lost shall be treated posthumously as such.

The Republic of Zerbia lost a man to those that seek independence from you. The Republic of Zerbia have lost more men to your treachery and backwards betrayal.


You and your nation, I feel, shall learn to deeply regret this.

May you live in interesting times... and sleep well tonight.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia



OOC: lol I had plans for Zorkovich, sort of like a wanted War criminal but it's ok. I was thinking of carrying on the RP, by having Zerbian forces join up with the rebels and fighting generic, but I don't really want a full out war declared on me, but a lo-fi war carried out by Zerbian forces in civillian colthes near St Marie.....tell me what you think anyway, and I'll RP it. (Zerbia's leader will send a message to the rebel leader asking him if he wants help etc.)

This is great fun. :)

IC

the Zerbians marched into the town square of St. Marie, and waited.

Commander Zorkovich looked at the war ravaged buildings around him, trying to look as normal as possible.

The Imperial soldiers threw looks of hatred at the Zerbian force, and the Zerbians threw them right back.

cowards, Zorkovich thought, we've done nothing wrong.

Suddenly several, no dozens, no, hundreds! of troops and tanks!! marched in from all sides, and surrounded the Zerbian force.

An overkill to an escort home surely! Zorkovich thought, looking round, concerned.

Zorkovich noticed Zonovavich and Zerkovich to his left and right, edge their fingers closer to their triggers.

Zorkovich looked quickly from left to right at them both, head shaking: No.


A military man appeared from a row of soldiers, and stood in front of the Zerbian soldiers.

The Zerbians stayed silent. Zorkovich had told them to before entering the town.

Zorkovich saw the man lift up a document.

Our ticket home.

The man began jabbering away in his native tongue, and all of the Zerbians began looking each other in puzzlement.

The man finished reading and folded the document away

Zorkovich stood on his tiptoes and was about to ask for a translation when-


"FIRE!"

The man with the document bellowed.

Zorkovich understood what that meant, but yet did not understand . He dived in horror.

The machine gun fire was deafening, and Zorkovich saw his men, his brave, fine, Zerbian soldiers bodies jerk. chunks of red flesh and meat flew from Zerbian men, their bodies dancing as bullets, lots of bullets hit their soft bodies before falling, twitching

this can not be happe-

twwwwhhhhhmptwwwwwhhhmmmmpkakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakdadadadadadadadadadada....


Thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip thwip...

Zorkovich felt pain tear through and rack his body as bullets entered his body.

Gunfire, loud gunfire, deafening......foreign soldiers, hatred on their faces, firing their guns, bullet cases pinging on the tarmac.

twwwwhhhhhmptwwwwwhhhmmmmpkakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakakdadadadadadadadadadada....[/I]

"uuuuuurgggh!!"

chunks of flesh from the jerking bodies around him hit his face and torso.

Zorkovich fell, and fell into blackness. Long blackness.


Secret IC......Secret IC......

Running across a meadow. Why am I running? He did not care....the grass was soft and lush underneath his bare feet. Running without his jackboots......(can't breathe properly.....don'tworrydon'tworry...) sun bright, cloudless sky...but no sound.....Why can't I hear? Why am I running (don'tcare don'tcare)... then he saw who he was chasing. there was two girls and a boy, all between 6 and 12, smiling, running away from him, flying a kite. "I know you!" he called after them without opening his mouth, before pausing...."don't I know you?" Then the realisation came. They were kneeling in the village...Zonovavich(he'sdeadnowdeadnowdeadeadead) had got out his pistol and shot them....slow motion.....the woman, lunging for Zonovavich...but he saw her...... hit her with pistol....then stamped on her...... face(Scruuuuuunch!) legs twitching...the oldest girl, jumping up towards Zonovavich(It had been raining!) his pistol aimed at her.....the slow...flash of the pistol muzzle in the drizzling rain........(BAM!) girl falling......Zonovavich stamping on the woman's head.....(squeeeelch) over, and over, the slow rising of the boot, fastmotionfastmotion the boot crushing down on her head.......normal motion...."You see my fellow Zerbians? Subhumans!" laughter...echoing laughter.......then phhhhwiipppp phhhhwiiipppp PHWWWWWIIIIIIP back at the meadow.....the children are gone.... who is that woman......(herheadherhead!) "uuuuuuuuurrrrr" Zorkovich prepared to scream.

The sound of plane engines.


"Blloooooooooooooooggggggb" Zorkovich felt blood spew from his lips...the sound inaudible because of the plane engines.

plane engines.

I am dead. Where am I?

Plane.

He could hardly breathe....

breathebreathebreathe

But I'm dead.

BREATHE!

He took in a gulp of air.

"Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah................"

Open your eyes.

He opened them.

Plane roof.

I'm alive?

Dying.

Pain racked his body, nearly all over, apart from his head.

Zorkovich tried to scream in agony but found he had no energy.

He looked down.

A lump in black was across his legs.

What in the name of Zerbia?

It was a body. Yes, a body.

Zorkovich felt he was laying on something soft...but By Zerbia, I can't breathe!!

Another body.

Zorkovich was enveloped in darkness, it engulfed him like a blanket.


Zerbian voices.

"By Zerbia, they were brave..." said a sombre voice.

"Yes, my fine Zerbian soldier, as is expected of every Zerbian. Now load them into the trucks." a cold voice replied.

"Yes Initiator for war."

Zorkovich felt cold.

Breathe......

"Guuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrr"

"By Zerbia, Initiator for War! This one's alive!" said a startled voice.

"What?!"

"It's.....it's Commander Zorkovich sir! He's...he's alive!" replied the scared, excited voice.

"In the name of Zerbia.....by Zerbia...." The initiator for war's voice tailed off.

"For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, for the Republic of Zerbia keep him alive!!!" The initiator for war bellowed.

End of Secret IC.

'Blimey thats one mighty descriptive RP' Morgaine exclaims looking at her records. She liked the heartless type, perhaps he would like her.

Serafima are currently piloting an army programme launched by Morgaine La Tissier, all russian originating nations are invited; she craves companionship from fellow russians, as you can understand being in a huge government building on your own can be scary (the other governors dyed in the tornado)

Saturday 2230:

The Jackdonian PM told the crowd that he would help them get to democracy by sending 52 Bradley IFVs 43 M60,Patton Tanks and 1500 Troops,and the crowd cheered loudly then a shot came behind the Jackdonian PMs back,he whirled around. "Guards kill this man!"

The barracks open and 500 Soldiers of the Imperial Army charged at the Pm who had his 500 Jackdonian Soldiers come out of baskets and they charge in the middle of the enemy.

Saturday 2230:

The Jackdonian PM told the crowd that he would help them get to democracy by sending 52 Bradley IFVs 43 M60,Patton Tanks and 1500 Troops,and the crowd cheered loudly then a shot came behind the Jackdonian PMs back,he whirled around. "Guards kill this man!"

The barracks open and 500 Soldiers of the Imperial Army charged at the Pm who had his 500 Jackdonian Soldiers come out of baskets and they charge in the middle of the enemy.


OOC: huh?

Saturday 2230:

The Jackdonian PM told the crowd that he would help them get to democracy by sending 52 Bradley IFVs 43 M60,Patton Tanks and 1500 Troops,and the crowd cheered loudly then a shot came behind the Jackdonian PMs back,he whirled around. "Guards kill this man!"

The barracks open and 500 Soldiers of the Imperial Army charged at the Pm who had his 500 Jackdonian Soldiers come out of baskets and they charge in the middle of the enemy.

OOC: What?

IC:
Borman soldiers gathered their equipment adn packed it up for the battles ahead. Imperial praetorians were arrving to occupy the town. When they saw teh Generic flag flowing they helped the men pack up. Another battle was just over the horizon.

OOC:I am helping the generic people for a free democracy!

IC,
The Jackdonian PM defected to generic empire and promised to help the people forever!

OOC:I am helping the generic people for a free democracy!

IC,
The Jackdonian PM defected to generic empire and promised to help the people forever!

((OOC: Um, you can't say what my characters do, only your own, and you have to RP your men getting into my country and all. I'm gonna ignore that last post, but you can have another chance, since i'm such a nice guy.

Zerbia! Fuck that post was awesome! Keep it up, man. This is one of the most amusing RPs i've done.

IC post to come.))

OOC: Damn, what'd I miss? Meh, I'll just deploy a small unit, then.

10,000 feet above hostile controled terrain-

A lone C17 carrying Doomingsland's best men, a Doom Legion Hunter-Killer team, flew over enemy territory,

"Red light! On your feet!" the twelve-man unit got up, awaiting the next light...

"Yellow light! Check your partners!" the men made sure the man next to him was properly hooked up. They now awaited the green light...

"Green light! Move move move!" the men swarmed out of the doors, into the black abbyss. There was no anti-aircraft fire, so they could asume they'de made it in undetected...

Hostile Territory-

The men quickly regrouped, and checked their GPS. A rebel encampment was supposedly five miles south of their position. The commander of the unit, Major Reynolds, looked into his HUD at the objectives,

DESTROY ANY AND ALL HOSTILE PRESENSE

"Alright men, we've got a hostile encampment five miles south. Kill them all."

That was followed by several 'affirmatives', as the men marched toward the enemy...

OOC:Someone want to RP the bad guys?

OOC: Wow, that Zerbian commander must have lost like both arms and legs, plus be made of metal. Wow...A robot. Can I see?"

Secret IC

Viper walked along the cobbelstone street. His camo was up and his sensors showed enemies all over.

He walked up to the first house on the left and pushed on the door. Locked. His middle blade slid out and he began to pry at the lock. The door silently swung open.

Viper came in and quickly scanned the first floor. He found a closet full of weapons and two bodies of Generian soldiers.

He quietly crept up the stairs with his back to the wall. He turned right and found a door. He quickly opened it to reveal a bed with two sleeping occupants. Plastered on the wall were pictures of St. Marie. Red arrows went this way and that and little drawing of tanks litteed the area. Next to it hung papers in the Generia tougne and pictures of St. Marie. Viper gathered all of these up and put them in his bag. As he turned to leave he heard a voice.

"No. I won't let you do it. Hmm...Kill him! Kill antonious."

There was something false about the tone of the man. Viper cautiously approached.

As he hovered over the body the mans eyes snapped open as his hand flung out from under the pillow. He was gripping a Baby Eagle.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Viper instantly realized he had taken off his camo upon entering the house.

"Stupid...Stupid."

Then Viper's claws shot out and pierced the mans neck. Before he could react his arm fell to the side of the bed. The gun fell onto the carpeted floor and a slight thud ensued.

The blood pooled in the bed as Viper walked to the other side. the woman in the bed was stirring.

The rubbed sleep from her eye as she looked at Viper.

"Who are you? Whats on me?"

She turned and saw the bleeding body of her husband. Before she could scream Viper wrapped his hand around her mouth. He stabbed her in the back and went upwards.

He let her limp body fall into the pool of blood.

Viper walked outside and activated his camo. It was times like these he was happy he hadd SACS.

In front of him 2 rebels walked underneath the pool of light from hte lamps. Their AK-47s hung over their shoulders and they rubbed their hands back and forth over their arms. Viper could easily see their breath as they walked and talked.

He looked up to see tiny snow flakes falling.

Viper walked down the street and found a massive building surrounded by a fence. He scaled it easily.

Viper waited outside the doors as Guards stood sted-fast. Eventually some one came out, while the door closed he slipped through it.

Viper walked through staris and hallways until he came to a large set of doors. A guard walked by talking on his radio.

Viper wuickly opened the door and shut it. He checked to make sure his camo was on, it was.

He walked up to a large bed and found a man sleeping in it with 4 women.

He searched through the desk and drawers, collecting all of the information he found. This man was obviously an influential rebel.

Viper then walked over to the bed and let his claws slip out. He killed the man without waking the women in the bed.

He almost ran through the building and came to the doors. No time to wait. He pushed through the doors and the guards snapped to attention. They looked through dumb-founded, then a scream woke them.

He ran through the open street and high-tailed it out fo town.

As he left he saw search-lights go on and heard the town come to life.

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

Viper walked to the command building of St. Marie with his camo off.

"Who is in charge? I need to see them."

General Ivanov looked up from his map, and approached Viper.

"I am, soldier. What do you have for me?"

General Ivanov looked up from his map, and approached Viper.

"I am, soldier. What do you have for me?"


"This."

Viper produced nearly two inches of papers from his pack.

"I think the rebels planned or plan to take St. Marie. Maps, pictures, documents, and the like. I killed some rebel leader and a most likely high ranking soldier. This info outlies lans to retake St. Marie and several other places. This can put your forces several steps ahead of the rebels."

"This."

Viper produced nearly two inches of papers from his pack.

"I think the rebels planned or plan to take St. Marie. Maps, pictures, documents, and the like. I killed some rebel leader and a most likely high ranking soldier. This info outlies lans to retake St. Marie and several other places. This can put your forces several steps ahead of the rebels."

"Ah, yes. This proves our suspicions. They really don't have any idea, do they? However, it matters little now, for our armies shall soon be overrunning the west, and they will have far too much to worry about."

"Ah, yes. This proves our suspicions. They really don't have any idea, do they? However, it matters little now, for our armies shall soon be overrunning the west, and they will have far too much to worry about."

"Very well. Goodbye for now sir."

Nac Mac Feegle sat in front of his weary men.
"We've been here before and I know it. But may the gods damnit our shamans" He made a slight pause to let it sink in "OUR SHAMANS have decreed that we are to help the half wolf who helps the snake. We all know who this is." He stopped and looked into the crowd of red and brown faces many of whom were streaked with blood.
"What of the child killers?" Many voices swelled to the surface agreeing what would they do about the Zerbians.
"We will lay their mothers in our path. Their sons bodies will fertilize our crops and their daughters will warm our beds!" Nac Mac Feegle screamed with eagle-like fury as he raised a great war hammer above his head and began the march to St. Marie.

Nac Mac Feegle sat in front of his weary men.
"We've been here before and I know it. But may the gods damnit our shamans" He made a slight pause to let it sink in "OUR SHAMANS have decreed that we are to help the half wolf who helps the snake. We all know who this is." He stopped and looked into the crowd of red and brown faces many of whom were streaked with blood.
"What of the child killers?" Many voices swelled to the surface agreeing what would they do about the Zerbians.
"We will lay their mothers in our path. Their sons bodies will fertilize our crops and their daughters will warm our beds!" Nac Mac Feegle screamed with eagle-like fury as he raised a great war hammer above his head and began the march to St. Marie.

OOC: Why are they going to ST. Marie?

Y'all said there would be fighitng in St. Marie and seeing as they're allies now I figured that the Hannari would have been informed of the captured rebel plans. Yous got a problem with dat? ;)

Y'all said there would be fighitng in St. Marie and seeing as they're allies now I figured that the Hannari would have been informed of the captured rebel plans. Yous got a problem with dat? ;)

OOC: I dont hink I would have told you. Seeing as Generic is about to sweep down on them. But you can if you want. It sounded like you wanted to attack us.

If you'll look in there you'll see that they must aid the HALF-WOLF that aids the SNAKE. Hmm. What is it the Hannari call themselves the people of the wolf and who is half Hannari? And what half wolf aids a snake? Hmm. types of snakes python, rattlesnake, VIPER, cottonmouth. Well i don't know what he meant either.
Enjoy the wonderful steaming pile of sarcasm my good friend.

OK a wee bit harsh I'll grant no offense intended.

Zerbia! Fuck that post was awesome! Keep it up, man. This is one of the most amusing RPs i've done.


OOC: Thanks Generic! That means alot. It's my first RP as well, and it is excellent to be involved in a great RP :) I try my best. I was thinking of doing a Zerbian guerilla action near St Marie. Tell me what you think. I'll do a RP of my leader contacting the rebel leader. I don't want a full scale war declared on my nation though, if that's ok.
OOC: Borman, lol the commander is in a pretty bad shape, his legs and arms are still intact, but the bullets did mash him up, as he dived to the ground, he was not killed outright, but let's just say he is not in the best of health, and is in surgery. I did think of having two other survivors, but I thought that would be pushing it in realism terms. the commander will be out of the RP picture for awhile, I'll do one more secret IC for him, then he will disspear from my RPs, but he'll return in other RPs in the future.

Secret IC....Secret IC....Secret IC....

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor continued to sit on his throne, in his palace, in the Zerbian capital of Zelgrade, his face, and posture, unemotional, eyes watching the news reports of the conflict in Buchiana.

He thought about his plan that he had formalised, thought about it alot. He did not question his plan, my judgement, but was working out to perfection what the operation would be.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor was as ever, surrounded by his aides, standing in a circle around the room. They were the Priests who held various positions.

He ignored them. They were pathetic. He was deep in his own thoughts of his plan.

Of course, he knew, it was likely they would not return to Zerbia, most likely in fact.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor remained unemotional.

But, he continued, they would not care. It was for The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor, for the Republic, for Zerbia.......

He almost chuckled, but nothing about him to outside observers would have suggested this.

Impassive, stone set. hard.


It was not vengeance for the deaths of the Zerbian soldiers that drove him torwards this, no, it was a show of...power, yes, power that had led him to this.

So Zerbian soldiers had died, Generic soldiers would die too.

Not vengeance, but the correct path....a show of Zerbian durability and strength......My strength!

Yesssss he almost nodded in agreement with himself, my strength. The strength of The Republic of Zerbia, of I, The Supreme.

Again, he almost grinned and laughed, but no, there was no emotion to show.

The Zerbian soldiers he would send were known in the ranks as the unholy gods.

This irritated The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor a little, it felt, somehow, threatening to him. I am supreme, not them! And Zerbia was strictly aethist too.

He had wanted to be rid of them, but apparently it related to the way they carried out combat missions, he had been informed sometime ago by the Initiator For War. Something to do with the way they took extreme chances, the roll of the fate dice, that placed the fate of the enemy in their hands, those chances carried out by the uholy gods, that either failed or succeeded, the deciding factor in whether the enemy soldier lived to see the dawn of the next day or not.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor found that amusing and unorthodox.

Very amusing.

He finished his musings and could suddenly hear the approaching sounds of a pair of purposeful jackboots echoing on the long corridoor outside leading to the palace room.

Blah bloh, blah bloh Blah bloh, blah bloh Blah bloh, blah bloh

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor ignored the sound.

"Priest for War" he said in a loud, non urgent, but authoritive tone.

The Priest For War Stepped forward timidly. "Yes, My The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor."

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor ordered him to type.

Continuing ongoing Secret IC:

To: Buchiana Military command opposing Generic Empire
From: A Friend.

We have heard of your struggle against the Generic Empire, and we wish to help you.

We have been wronged, just like you, by Generic forces in the past.

We wish to send a transport plane carrying 200 armed civillian dressed men to an airstrip in an area of your choosing, that is still held by your soldiers, preferably not to far from St Marie. We have heard of this town, and would like to cause a poisonous thorn in the side of the Generic soldiers. We have issues with Generic.

We work better alone, and only require the airstrip to land our plane.

Hoping for your agreement.

A friend.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor was satisfied. He had just finished ordering the Priest of War what to type when the owner of the purposeful jackboots walking up the corridoor, knocked on the door.

"Come in" The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor boomed in a superior tone, not taking his eyes of the television screen. Villages were burning.

The palace double doors guarded by two Zerbian solders opened. The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor turned his head towards the doors. The two Zerbians had their guns aimed at the person coming in.

It was a third Zerbian soldier.

"My Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor." The visiting Zerbian soldier said in a humble and respectful tone, bowing his head slightly.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor looked at the Zerbian soldier with utter disdain. He had seen the soldier before, he was the messenger.

The third Zerbian soldier hesitated upon seeing the look on The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor's face before handing The Priest for War who had returned to his standing position, a small piece of paper.

The visiting soldier saluted the man on the throne before leaving hurriedly, closing the palace doors behind him.

I'll have him shot one day, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor mused as his eyes watched the doors shut and the two soldiers at the door lowered their guns.

He turned his attention to the Priest for War, who had just finished reading the note.

His eyes slowly met The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor's and he relayed the message in the note, which was from The Initiator For War.

A survivor.

Commander Zorkovich

A completely stunned silence from the room greeted the news.





End of Secret IC

Jackdonian Troops stormed St.Marie shouting to the rebels saying "We will help you !

Jackdonian Troops stormed St.Marie shouting to the rebels saying "We will help you !

OOC: I think you just used up your last chance.

The tents had started to leak, although made of the strongest material avaliable in Wirrawayan stocks, nothing could stand up to kind of beating the elements were handing them. For over three months there had been rain, rain and more rain. The once picturesque fields of Buchania were now no more than muddy, barren earth, churned into a froth by countless jackboots, treads and tires.

Dammit, God damm this rain, this place, these infernal people,

General Albus leaned over his map table watching the colors slowly run as the drops of water formed on the ceiling, colasced and then fell, turning the paper to mush. Red dye from Euroslavia began to seep into the Generic Empire and soon all of Buchania was a scarlet red. He slammed the table with is fist, knocking off the unit markers and disrupting his coffee. He turned and stalked out into misty afternoon, his eyes momentarily blinded as he left the dim HQ tent. He walked towards the airfield, where it had all begun. A truck passed him, black bodybags bumping around in the back.

Ahhh, so much bloodshed, for what? They must now it is a lost cause, what drives them onwards, forwards in their doomed quest? The end is inenvitable, but yet they fail to see that victory is not an option, and we must pay for their ignorance

He savagely kicked a stone in his path, it flew momentarily before landing in the mud and sinking back into the earth with a squelch bah.

On his right stood the ruins of what had once been a small settlement, now just a few walls and cracked chimmneys after the Generian Airforce had mercilessly bombed it out of existence.

Now, this threat from the Zerbians, how could anyone, any nation, any people commit the atrocities they have? Morals are an important part of any culture, they must be stopped, good will win in this harsh world, By God and by me, it will win.

((OOC: Just before anyone does it again, it's "Generian" not "Generic" when referring to anything relating to my Empire. It's just a little thing, I know, but it really drives me crazy.))

Rebel Camp

"Blue, in position."

"Gold sniper, acquiring target."

Affirmative. Wait for the signal.

The men had quietly a rebel camp, and were preparing to slaughter the inhabitants. The sniper brought the reticle of his SR-25, and prepared to end the life of an enemy colonel...

OOC:Someone want to RP the badguys? GE?

Now official Buchianan Prime minister Josef Steyovich's eyes scanned the message that had just been delivered into his hands. Despite the lack of signature, he knew who had sent it.

He was not blind. He had his eyes and ears wide open. He had heard of the animals that had butchered his people, first in the name of the Empire, and then simply to sate their own disgusting lust.

His face contorted into an expression of extreme disgust, and, almost reflexively, his fingers snapped open and the message fell to the floor. Steyovich felt unclean after reading the words, knowing that such evil was on the other end of the pen. He spoke to a soldier who stood next to him.

"Burn this. I will have no help from unholy monsters."

Official Communique

To: Zerbian High Command
From: Prime Minister Josef Steyovich

I know it is your nation that has offered its demonic services to us. You will have my answer now. Never. We will have none of your butchers wandering our lands, in support of or against us. We have morals, unlike those subhuman primates that you refer to as soldiers. This will be the end of formal communication between us. You sicken me.

Prime Minister Josef Steyovich,
Republic of Buchiana

Rebel Camp

"Blue, in position."

"Gold sniper, acquiring target."

Affirmative. Wait for the signal.

The men had quietly a rebel camp, and were preparing to slaughter the inhabitants. The sniper brought the reticle of his SR-25, and prepared to end the life of an enemy colonel...

OOC:Someone want to RP the badguys? GE?

((OOC: If they're just going to die, can't you just RP them? They're basically just statistics in that case. Oh well, here you go.))

Colonel Iyich Koykanov was pacing back and forth across the muddy ground, puffing on a cigarette. These were precious items among the troops, Buchiana having no way to import them from the outside world. For now, he would enjoy this one, as he contemplated tomorrow's plans.

The Imperial armies were coming. This was a given. They would bear down on the rebels, and sweep them back across the Deska. It was an obvious strategy, elementary in nature, but it's execution would be the defining factor. The Buchianan forces (what was left of them, anyway) still in the St. Marie area would do what they could to disrupt its execution.

The colonel had his orders. At dawn tomorrow, he would move his 1,000 or so men towards the Imperial front line. There, they would do battle with the larger, better equipped, and battle hardened Imperial army, in a hope to divert them from a secondary force, that would move to attack St. Marie. Hopefully, this would buy time for the Prime Minister to organize his defenses, and stand a chance when the Imperials came down upon Deskograd and the east.

Now, this was a secondary priority. The cigarette was priority one.

Albus was growing impatient, after returning from his walk he decided to speak with General Ivanov again. He picked up an unused radio a tuned it to the Command Frequency of the Generic Empire.

He pressed to the speaker, and waited for a few seconds as the encryption process began. A low buzz pronounced the process finished and began to speak,

"This is Brigadier General Albus, I request to speak with General Ivanov about our upcoming strategy in this war, over."

He released the button and waited for a response from the Generian General.

Albus was growing impatient, after returning from his walk he decided to speak with General Ivanov again. He picked up an unused radio a tuned it to the Command Frequency of the Generic Empire.

He pressed to the speaker, and waited for a few seconds as the encryption process began. A low buzz pronounced the process finished and began to speak,

"This is Brigadier General Albus, I request to speak with General Ivanov about our upcoming strategy in this war, over."

He released the button and waited for a response from the Generian General.

General Ivanov answered.

"Yes. Who is it?"

General Ivanov answered.

"Yes. Who is it?"

"Its Albus, commander of the Wirrawayan Task Force, I wished to speak to you about several matters. Firstly is there any date set for when we will begin to move again against the rebels, I'm sure you want to see them dead as much or more than I do, but we've been sitting in St.Marie for some time now. They must be re-grouping, we have to deny them the oppurtunity to do so. Secondly, what are we to do about Zerbia, do you require assistance, or can you handle it yourself?"

OOC: You might want to go help Doomingsland against Hogsweat he's being invaded, I've already thrown my lot in with him as has Dailey and Borman.

"Its Albus, commander of the Wirrawayan Task Force, I wished to speak to you about several matters. Firstly is there any date set for when we will begin to move again against the rebels, I'm sure you want to see them dead as much or more than I do, but we've been sitting in St.Marie for some time now. They must be re-grouping, we have to deny them the oppurtunity to do so. Secondly, what are we to do about Zerbia, do you require assistance, or can you handle it yourself?"

OOC: You might want to go help Doomingsland against Hogsweat he's being invaded, I've already thrown my lot in with him as has Dailey and Borman.

"Relax. Everything is under control. There will be no counterattack."

((OOC: Alright.))

"Relax. Everything is under control. There will be no counterattack."

((OOC: Alright.))

"I trust you have more information than I do so I agree with your judgement, just inform me or my HQ when we are to advance once more. The hanging incident has left my men thirsting for rebel blood, Good bye Ivanov."

He hung up the radio and walked briskly to his tent to get some much needed rest.

CRACK

"Tango down."

The colonel's head snapped back, brain tissue and grey matter flying out the opposite end. The whole area soon errupted in a plume of aimed rifle fire, as the Legionaires carefully picked off the remaining rebels. Finnaly, they stepped from their concealed positions, and put a pistol bullet through the head of anyone still alive.

Finnaly, the men strung up the corpses, and hung them upside down in the trees as a warning to the rebels. They then beheaded the bodies, took out some hastily fasioned spears, and set the heads upon them. The sniper who had taken out the colonel approached his victom, hanging upside down in the trees, and placed a playing card with a golden skull in his pocket.

"Our work here is done. Let's move out."

Before leaving, the men gathered up ammunition and fuel caches, and evenly distributed throughout the camp, and set fire to them. The following explosions would draw the attention of nearby rebels, who would come on the camp, and find their comrades...

OOC: Wasn't Zerbias offer for help Secret IC. If so how does Wirraway know about it?

It was time. Time to sweep down upon the west like locusts, hungry for traitorous flesh. Across the front lines, the tanks had stood waiting for several days. The Imperial soldiers had long endured the cold, the chill winds whipping snow about their faces, freezing their sabers, causing the blades to stick. Now, they would wait no longer. The blood would once again traverse their veins, flowing, bringing warmth to frozen extremities.

The orders were delivered, encrypted, to the commanders of each unit. They were announced at noon, as the white sun rose high over the muddy, snow covered fields, bringing memory or warmth to solid bones. The Imperial soldiers rejoiced, for they were as eager for battle as they were for warmth.

They had been preparing for this, and were ready to move in two hours. And so, the wheels began to turn, as the Imperial bear rose from temporary hibernation to finish the hunt.

Colonel Georgie Kuskov closed the hatch behind him, as he descended into the tank. He removed his leather gloves, blew into his hands, and rubbed them together, seeking warmth. The vehicle rumbled beneath him as it crawled over the ground.

On either side, tanks knocked down fences as they traversed the fields. Colonel Kuskov unfolded a map, and looked at it. They were making excellent progress. With luck, the Doomingsland soldiers would have eliminated the secondary rebel encampment, and now this drive by the armor would effectively break the back of the rebel forces. Operation: Hardball had begun.

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

encrypting...

transmitting...

Official Imperial Communique

To: Brigadier General Albus, Wirraway Military Command

From: General josef Ivanov

RE: Operation: Hardball

The next stage of our assault has officially begun as of 1400 hours this afternoon. we intend to overrun the western province as far as the Deka river, whereupon we shall attack the final rebel stronghold at Deskograd, leaving the underbelly of the east open to our forces. If we play our cards right, by Christmas, the war will be over.

Your forces shall be charged with supporting our northernmost extremities of the armored divisions currently pushing forward. You are to meet up with General Sergei Breskhov at Sorograd, and join the push from there. You are offered complete autonomous military authority in command of your own forces, so long as you remain within the range of the rules of engagement, namely refrain from the murder of innocents.

This will be all. Good luck, General, and may God grant us victory.

General Josef Ivanov,
Supreme Commander of Imperial Military Forces in Buchiana

terminating...

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

encrypting...

transmitting...

Official Imperial Communique

To: Doomingsland Military High Command

From: General josef Ivanov

RE: Operation: Hardball

The next stage of our assault has officially begun as of 1400 hours this afternoon. we intend to overrun the western province as far as the Deka river, whereupon we shall attack the final rebel stronghold at Deskograd, leaving the underbelly of the east open to our forces. If we play our cards right, by Christmas, the war will be over.

Your forces shall be charged with providing the spearhead for the operation in the extreme southern end of the province. You are to move along the Rusik River, and eliminate any resistence you encounter. Upon reaching the Deska River, you shall meet up with Imperial forces for the strike on Deskagrad.

You shall be given Autonomous Operational Status, so long as you remain within the range of the Rules of Engagement, namely do not kill any innocents without just reason.

This will be all. Good luck, and may God grant us victory.

General Josef Ivanov,
Supreme Commander of Imperial Military Forces in Buchiana

terminating...

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

encrypting...

transmitting...

Official Imperial Communique

To: Borman Military High Command

From: General josef Ivanov

RE: Operation: Hardball

The next stage of our assault has officially begun as of 1400 hours this afternoon. we intend to overrun the western province as far as the Deka river, whereupon we shall attack the final rebel stronghold at Deskograd, leaving the underbelly of the east open to our forces. If we play our cards right, by Christmas, the war will be over.

Your forces will be charged with providing extra force in the center of our offensive. You shall fight side by side with Imperial troops as they make their way to Deskograd. Upon arrival, you are ordered to aid the Imperial army in capturing the city.

You shall be given Autonomous Operational Status, so long as you remain within the range of the Rules of Engagement, namely do not kill any innocents without just reason.

This will be all. Good luck, and may God grant us victory.

General Josef Ivanov,
Supreme Commander of Imperial Military Forces in Buchiana

terminating...

encrypting...

transmitting...

Official Imperial Communique

To: Borman Military High Command

From: General josef Ivanov

RE: Operation: Hardball

The next stage of our assault has officially begun as of 1400 hours this afternoon. we intend to overrun the western province as far as the Deka river, whereupon we shall attack the final rebel stronghold at Deskograd, leaving the underbelly of the east open to our forces. If we play our cards right, by Christmas, the war will be over.

Your forces will be charged with providing extra force in the center of our offensive. You shall fight side by side with Imperial troops as they make their way to Deskograd. Upon arrival, you are ordered to aid the Imperial army in capturing the city.

You shall be given Autonomous Operational Status, so long as you remain within the range of the Rules of Engagement, namely do not kill any innocents without just reason.

This will be all. Good luck, and may God grant us victory.

General Josef Ivanov,
Supreme Commander of Imperial Military Forces in Buchiana

terminating...

OOC:Yeah

IC:The tank turrets swiveled as they traversed the muddy ground. Mud splashed against teh chanisaw baskets, but they just sat there.

Soldiers marched slightly behind the tanks, their guns over their shoulders but angled for a quick pull around. Finally, they would see more action.

OOC:Should I use my SpecOps guys? Or should I send in the marines? BTW, It'd be kind of interesting to see what the rebels do when they find their camp blown up, their buddies strung up, and their heads on spears. You just have that great knack for writing cool posts.

OOC: he does

OOC:Should I use my SpecOps guys? Or should I send in the marines? BTW, It'd be kind of interesting to see what the rebels do when they find their camp blown up, their buddies strung up, and their heads on spears. You just have that great knack for writing cool posts.

((OOC: Send whatever you have. The army's moving out, so there's not much to see behind us. And yeah, i'll write that post where the rebels find their dead buddies.))

OOC: he does

((OOC: Thanks.))

((OOC: Thanks.))

OOC: Your welcome

(OOC: Doom, if I get the name wrong, please correct me))


To: Skar Tactical Enterprises
From: President J.L.

My friend, I have another assignment for you if you're interested. It's another assassination job. Your target: the leader of the rebellion. The prize: 10 billion RB Dollars. Please contact the Department of Diplomacy if you're interested.

-President J.L.

OOC:Please,one more time I know i can do better!

OOC:Please,one more time I know i can do better!

((OOC: Last chance. I'm serious this time.))

((OOC: GE, could you RP the enemy torturing my soldier they captured? Or, someone else can, if they want. Thanks!))

((OOC: They probably won't torture him. the Buchianans are less barbaric than the rest of the Generians, but i'll make the post with the captives soon. i plan to include my two downed airmen in it.))

((OOC: They probably won't torture him. the Buchianans are less barbaric than the rest of the Generians, but i'll make the post with the captives soon. i plan to include my two downed airmen in it.))

((Thanks. :) Btw, I'm gonna do another battle scene, if you don't mind. Could you name some of the rebels' areas? Thanks!))

OOC:Blegh,fine you have no mercy,I would have done better had you not said that!

OOC:Blegh,fine you have no mercy,I would have done better had you not said that!

((OOC: I said I was giving you one more chance, but since you failed to acknowledge it, you're out. Good day.))

((Thanks. :) Btw, I'm gonna do another battle scene, if you don't mind. Could you name some of the rebels' areas? Thanks!))

((OOC: Sure. Any number of fields and farms can be rebel held. Some towns and cities are: Serioka, Iriov, Iligrad.))

(OOC: Doom, if I get the name wrong, please correct me))


To: Skar Tactical Enterprises
From: President J.L.

My friend, I have another assignment for you if you're interested. It's another assassination job. Your target: the leader of the rebellion. The prize: 10 billion RB Dollars. Please contact the Department of Diplomacy if you're interested.

-President J.L.
OOC:Its Skar Tactical Inc.

To-President J.L.
From-You-Know-Who

I would be pleased to embark on such an assignment.

OOC:GE, can I have super-duper assasin guy take out the leader, or do you have something special planned?

Briefing Room, Camp Honor, 53rd Independant Marine Brigade-

All of the senior officers had crammed into the tiny room, either stadning or sitting on the bench. A Brigadier General was briefing his men,

"Gentlemen, we have just recieved word from the High Command that we are to be the very tip of the spear in this op." he hit a remote, projector turned on, showing a map of the area.

"Gentelmen, I give you Operation:Hardball. This is to be the final blow to the rebelion. I want third battalion spearheading our thrust along the river, and want first and second to follow on the flanks. Fourth will be doing the clean up job, cleansing the rear area, and wiping out any resistance that remains. Time is money, gentlemen, and we all want money, don't we? Move out!"

The officers exited the log cabin, and reported to their respective units to brief their officers, who would in turn brief their men. The engines of the King Abrams started up, and the men piled into their LAVs. Within a matter of hours, they were in motion, and heading towards their objective...

Somewhere in rebel controled territory

The men were now ten miles from the enemy camp, and moving in on a major road, preparing to amush enemy supply lines. They had staked out the area, constructing well concealed foxholes, with the rear exposed for a quick escape. In the distance, they could hear engines and treads. Their HUD indentified them as four Ural trucks, and a BMP-2. This would be a standard ambush. Before the men had detected the vehicles, they had made it their buisiness to mine up the roads. Finnaly, the vehicles made it around the bend, and came into view. There were infantry visible mounted in the trucks, and probably men in the BMP. The infantry didn't expect anything to happen on their way to the battle...

"Convoy moving into position."

"Affirmative." replyed Major Reynolds. The BMP came over the lead mine, "Blow it."

The BMP errupted in a massive fire ball as the ten pound satchel of C4 detonated directly beneath the passenger compartment. The turret went soaring through the air, crushing a tree. Several crewmen fled the wreckage, their uniforms set on fire. They ran around in circles for a few seconds, and fell down dead. The first truck didn't react quickly enough, and rear ended the destroyed BMP. The rebels attempted to pile out of the vehicles, but were met with fire from the Legionaires. The rear vehicle recieved an AT4 right into the engine block, blowing the entire front of the truck up, and incinerating the driver and the squad leader. The battle was over in a matter of minutes, the rebels had stood no chance against the perfectly planned ambush, most of them being shot before they could even get out of the truck. There were several wounded rebels, but they were killed on the spot by a .45 to the back of the head.

OOC:GE, can I have super-duper assasin guy take out the leader, or do you have something special planned?

((OOC: Don't. He needs to live.))

((OOC: Don't. He needs to live.))
OOC:Whatever. Planning another thread after this?

OOC:Whatever. Planning another thread after this?

((OOC: No. It will go with this one.))

Torture! Torture!

((OOC: No. It will go with this one.))
OOC:Meh, whatever. How's that post coming?

Lieutenant Mikhail Shebanova of the Buchianan armed forces pulled his jacket tighter around himself, trying to keep out the blast of air pouring through the shattered window of the pickup truck he was riding in. Contrary to him, the driver seemed quite comfortable, humming along with an old Robert Johnson tune playing on the radio.

Shebanova was slightly perturbed by the assignment, and more than a little annoyed with high command for giving it to him, of all people. He could have been relaxing in the officer's barracks ten miles from here, reading a magazine, or sipping from a bottle of imported Jack Daniels. He grumbled to himself, and pulled the coat even tighter around him.

The lieutenant had been dispatched to deliver a message to the commander of a nearby camp. As it was assumed the area would be reasonably safe, they had neglected to give him an armord vehicle and escort, instead resorting to the base 'limousine' as it was so affectionately referred to.

Two soldiers armed with AK-74s lay huddled in the back of the truck, waiting for the nightmare duty to be over. they had been accused of stealing rations from the camp storeroom, and so had been given guard duty on this mission.

The pickup sped over the muddy roads, nearing her destination. She turned suddenly off-road, and began barreling across an open area, with scattered groves on either side.

Suddenly, the truck came to a stop, throwing the men forward. The sound of her wheels spinning uselessly met the ears of Shebanova, as the driver continued to pump the gas pedal in an effort to get the stuck thing to move.

"No use. You're gonna have to get out, and help push her out."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, do you wanna get back to your cozy barracks or not? You're gonna have to help the others lift her out."

Shebanova, grumbling, opened the passenger door, and stepped out, walking around to meet the others, one with a bump on his head from being thrown forward into the side of the cab.

The men neglected to salute, and Shabanova did not notice, being too occupied with his own personal bad luck.

The men leaned forward, throwing their weight into the rear of the stuck pickup. The sound of spinning wheels came once more. After several minutes or exasperated shoving, and gainless axl rotation, the tires managed to catch hold of something solid, and the truck leapt forward, spraying mud all over the three soldiers.

Shebanova wiped his arm across his face, and spat out the filth. One soldier ran his hands through his hair, his gaze travelling upward to a nearby tree. His jaw dropped.

"Le-le-Lieutenant, s-sir. You better look at this."

Shabanova turned, annoyed and exhausted. He followed the soldier's pointing finger. From the tree hung three freshly scorched bodies.

"Oh my God."

The truck pulled up alongside them. The driver rolled down his window.

"Hey, you comin' or not? We gotta get to the camp before dusk."

Shabanova turned to the man, his face white with fear, beneath the dark spots of mud.

"I think this was the camp."

The 'field' that the men were standing in was covered in craters, bodies hung from trees all around. Feet protruded from mud holes, and scorch marks from where buildings once stood speckled the area. The snow, rain, and mud had caused it all to blend in with the landscape. The four men had had no idea they had been standing in the middle of a graveyard.

((OOC: That good enough for you?))

The scene was hectic at the Wirrawayan HQ and Albus was getting frustrated

"God Fucking dammit, get those frigging tents collapsed and loaded in the next 10 minutes or every last one you worthless fools will be walking point when we take the capital, is that perfectly clear," spittle fell down the side of his mouth and he wiped it onto the ground with a flick of his wrist.

Finnaly we get to move and these fools take so long that it will all be over by the time we get there

"Guthrie, get your ass over here"

His aid, Captian Guthrie, hustled over to the brooding General, instantly knowing that he was about to get a verbal beatdown of the first degree

"Yes, sir"

"Guthrie, can you explain why this operation is taking so goddam long."

"Well sir the mud you know, the mud, it uh, clogs things up and uhh, its just uhh---

"Shut up Guthrie, I don't want any more excuses, we are out of here in 15 minutes or its your career, now move."

Guthrie scampered back to quicken the preparations.

15 minutes later the 1st Battalion of Wirrwayan Marines rolled out on the Northwestern Flank of the leading Generian armored divisions, barly on schedule. Albus sat in his command track, outwardly he was passive, but on the inside he was burning with a lust for the fight.

"Any contact yet." he shouted to Guthrie

Guthrie, rolled his eyes This is the 5th time he's asked it and the past two minutes, gimme a break.

"No sir, none yet."

"Good, hoefully we can link with the Generian forces without a hitch and then take the capital."

"Yes, Sir"

The Battalion spread out to avoid ambushes, the 15 Abrams led the way with the Strykers fanned out behind them, the SAM hummers were mixed in with the mass, waiting for any aircraft to materialize.

The Wirrawayans were on the move, god help anything that stood in their way, becuase they were out for blood.

OOC: Generic, could you post a map or something so I can get my bearings and RP accuratly.

OOC:Nice, great post.

OOC:Nice, great post.

OOC: Thanks, but the real thanks should go to Zerbia, he raised the bar for us all. If I had my way I'd RP with Zerbia and you guys everytime.

OOC:Actualy, I was talking to GE, but its still a good post.

A column of armor drew near a rebel road block...

"Black Knight Six, we're coming onto hostile controled terrain. Possibly their recon screen, be advised."

"Affirmative, Iron Six, We are staying on your six. Engage and destroy enemy recon screen, we'll leap frog over and hit their main body."

Radio chatter could be heard within the tanks, most of it not even pertaining to the men, but this new area had them pumped.

"Gunner, center."

"Affirmative. Load HEAT."

"HEAT up."

A platoon of King Abrams were leading the column of armor, they now prepared to destroy the roadblock.

There were two technicals, and around twenty men standing around, no where near a challenge to the armored beheamouths, but they were in he mood for a kill...

The gunner of Iron Six, the lead tank and leader of Alpha Troop, also called "Black Knights", lined up for a shot, targetting one of the technicals...

"Away!" the 120mm ETC gun roared, and a heat round was propeled towards the unweary rebels, sending the technical flying ten feet in the air. The rest of the platoon opened fire, quickly finishing off the remaining forces. The platoon rolled over the roadblock, crushing five wounded rebels in their path.

The armored thrust had begun...

OOC:This is probably one of my last posts for today, don't skip ahead of me.

((OOC: Here's a crude map for now:

http://img34.exs.cx/img34/9479/Buchiana.gif

((OOC: Here's a crude map for now:

http://img34.exs.cx/img34/9479/Buchiana.gif


OOC: Thats great, it'll work well, btw could somebody tell me what a "technical" is?

OOC: Thats great, it'll work well, btw could somebody tell me what a "technical" is?

((OOC: It's a pickup truck with a mounted machine gun in the back, like in "Black Hawk Down".))

((OOC: It's a pickup truck with a mounted machine gun in the back, like in "Black Hawk Down".))

OOC: oooo, gotcha, I wish we could get someone RP the rebels, what ever happened to the guy allied with them? He made one air-strike and left.

OOC: oooo, gotcha, I wish we could get someone RP the rebels, what ever happened to the guy allied with them? He made one air-strike and left.

((OOC: These rebels don't really use technicals en masse or anything. They're actually decently equipped for rebels and all. They have some light IFVs from abandoned Imperial bases.))

The scene was so tranquil it was eerie. It was a small, slovenly, craphole of a farm, in a very impoverished area. Aside from a few bleating goats, a pleasantly plump cow with a scarred udder, and a rusty old tractor that barely functioned, the farm was pretty much empty. There was a small house- actually, shack would be a more accurate term- but it was empty.
One of the soldiers smashed the front door down and entered the house, swinging his head laterally, scanning his surroundings methodically, attempting to detect any hostile forces. Nothing. Just a filthy table, a floor littered liberally with crumbs, and an occasional cockroach scurrying across the floor going about its merry little roach business. There was a fridge, but, to his disappointment upon opening it, no beer. Just some moldy, putrescent old food infested with maggots that looked like albino earthworms. He retched and quickly turned around, nearly incapacitated with nausea. He slammed the door shut.
He heard someone rap on the window and he walked over to open it. It was the commander.
"Anything?" the commander asked.
The soldier shook his head.
Then, he turned around to resume his search. He examined the bedroom. Nothing. Ditto for the living room.
That left the basement.
The stairs groaned, creaked, and shuddered when he stepped on them. Even if he lightly stepped on one of them it shook like an old man suffering a cataclysmic case of Parkinson's disease. It felt like the stairwell would collapse any second. His heart hammered in his chest rapidly, as a combination of exhileration and fear spurred a surge of adrenalin which coursed through his veins. The scene was nerve-wracking, intense. He finally reached the bottom of the stairs and let out a long, heavy sigh of relief. Then he whipped out his flashlight and turned it on.
He scanned the basement as meticulously and painstakingly as if he were a crime scene investigator. He moved the beam of light across the right wall...nothing. The left wall...nothing. He turned around. The back wall...n-
He paused.
" 'Ey, Sarge!" he bellowed, so loudly that the air vibrated.
A moment later, the commander scurried down the stairs and came over. "What's up, soldier?"
"I found this." The soldier pulled out a loose brick from the wall, and revealed a highly sophisticated and advanced control panel with hundreds of buttons.
"Hot damn," Sarge said, blinking. "Better not fudge with it."
The soldier didn't listen. He began tapping random buttons. A second later, they heard a shrill and ear-splitting BZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZT! BZZZZZZZT!
A flat, metallic voice with a feminine lilt said over a hidden intercom, "Intruder alert, intruder alert. Destruction of these premises will commence in 10 seconds. Vacate the premises immediately. This is not a drill."
They ran like hell, barely managing to escape the house before it burst into flames.
"Damn, what the hell was the purpose of that?" Sarge asked.
"I dunno, Sarge. Y'alright there?"
Sarge nodded. "I'm fine," he said laconically.
Unbeknownst to them, hidden in nearby bushes, a photographer snapped photos of the two leaving the burning house. Now all he had to do was hurry back to headquarters and get to work on his propaganda story. The title: RB Soldiers Commit War Crimes in Generia! Farm Burned Down by Trigger-Happy Troops on a Search-and-Destroy Mission!

((OOC: How was that?))

Viper sat in a Buchian bar, his SACS off. He had almost no tan and seemed strange to almost all there. He fondled his Desert Eagle as he threw back his mug.

Then the door flew open

"Hey hey. Look what we got."

Three rebels carried a struggling Generian soldier in their grip.

"What should we do with him momma?"

"Take him to the basement."

Viper quickly left, to reappear with his SACS on.

With his camo on he quietly slipped down to the basement.

"PLEASE NO! gET TEH HELL OFF ME, IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"Hey hey, a squealer."

"FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKK!!!"

Viper came down in time to see a serrated knife draw near the mans balls.

A gunshot ripped through the room.

"Jesus christ!"

The knife clattered harmlessly to the floor at the man nurtured (sp?) his wounded arm.

THe other men swung thier AKs around.

"Who's there?"

"Come on, we're gonna fin you."

Viper skirted the wall, claws out, as he came behind the rebels.

1...2...3

His claws lobbed their heads off as the remaing rebel struggled to grab his gun.

"Please, dont hurt me." He began to load it. "I can help."

"No, you can't."

The mans head fell to the floor as the Generian soldier looked on in awe.

"Who is there."

"Just shut up."

VIper grabbed the man in his arms and quietly inserted a needle into his backside.

The man felt relief as he dazed off into sleep.

"They're coming!"

Viper looked up, half drawing his gun.

Upstairs the door swung open as a wounded rebel came in.

"They;re coming. Generian and Borman forces, they're almost here."

"Grab your guns!"

Feet shuffled around as people ran behind the counter grabbing one of the many AK-47s that were stacked there.

Viper crept up the stairs to find the line of fire was much closer than expected. No more than 50 ft. to his left numerous rebels stood and lied firing on the incoming soldiers. It was evident that the armor would soon come, as they were in sight, but for no the infantry engaged the rebels.

Viper spasmodically went around teh building and ran through allyways. Eventually he came out a little whiles behind the Borman soldiers.

"Take this."

"Who is it?"

"Generian soldier. Bring him to his men."

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

Sgt. Paulie loaded his XM8, done. He leaned around the corner of the building and fired multiple rounds. As he quickly came back paint form the building chipped off as a bullet lodged itslelf in the wall.

"Close call."

Soldiers all over returned fire as some hastened to get some manner of shield and move into the streets.

"Sir."

"What?"

"Shields. Much improved mob police shields. These will give us time to move into the street."

"I hope I dont die."

The men from one ally exploded outwards quickly bridging the street. They advanced and took position related to teh rebels. Eventually the rebels were forced to shoot out of corners.

Paulie leaned up with his XM8. He felt it humming as he dropped rebels left and right. Then the unthinkable happened.

"Sir we-Holy SHIT! MEDIC!!!"

Paulie's gun stopped the moment the bullet hit his neck. It flew out of his hands as he fell to the ground. It looked as if it hadnt punctured any major vein as only a slight flow of blood was comign forward.

Men quickly arrived and took one look at him.

"Hes gone."

Several soldeirs pushed htem away as they grabbed his legs, arms, and chest.

"On 3. 3."

THey made it back to a corner and took a backroute to the advancing line fo armor.

"Get him to a real medic, ASAP!"

"Yes."

THe body of teh slowly dying Paulie was loaded onto the jeep as it drove off back to the main camp.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

His binoculars came away form his eyes.

"Nnnnnnnnow."

The tank momentarily stopped as teh shell shot forward. A corner from which multiple rebels were leaning exploded as shrapanel and body parts flew over.

The rebels quickly ran down the street, but were cut to ribbons by the machine guns.

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

The main defences fell with the city. Merly the presence of the soldiers brought the city under their control.

And thus the convoy moved forward, ever closer to their goal.

((OOC: Gimme a B!

B!

Gimme a U!

U!

Gimme an M!

M!

Gimme a P!

P!

Official Declaration from Great Bethune

The Confederacy of Great Bethune and associated republics formally announces its recognition of the fully independent state of Buchiana. Be it resolved that all political power is inherent in the people, and that the people of Buchiana clearly and without denial oppose further union with the undemocratic and authoritarian Praetorians, the people of Buchiana are thusly recognized. Let it be known that legislation enabling the creation of a lend-lease program will be created, and that further steps may be considered if deemed necessary by the corporate and government leaders of Great Bethune. We support any friend in the struggle for freedom, and oppose any tyranny and injustice. Let this be the first step in a long future of friendship, fellowship, and trade. Buchania is hereby recognized.

Official Declaration from Great Bethune

The Confederacy of Great Bethune and associated republics formally announces its recognition of the fully independent state of Buchiana. Be it resolved that all political power is inherent in the people, and that the people of Buchiana clearly and without denial oppose further union with the undemocratic and authoritarian Praetorians, the people of Buchiana are thusly recognized. Let it be known that legislation enabling the creation of a lend-lease program will be created, and that further steps may be considered if deemed necessary by the corporate and government leaders of Great Bethune. We support any friend in the struggle for freedom, and oppose any tyranny and injustice. Let this be the first step in a long future of friendship, fellowship, and trade. Buchania is hereby recognized.


OOC: Who's puppet is this?

The armor continued to pour along the river, destroying all in their path. A tank loader was sitting with the hatch up, and snapped a few photos of a scorched T72 as they drove by at 40MPH.

Finnaly, they came to a small town, sitting in the way of their objective...

Five LAV-25s pulled up, and the infantry dismouned. They entered the war-torn city, marching behind the tanks. The men kicked down doors into the buidlings, dragging the civilians from their homes kicking and screaming, and rounded them up. They occasionaly found a group of rebels in one of the houses. When that occured, satchel charges were placed at the foundations.

"Your lucky we've decided to do only this." remarked a marine to one of the civilians.

((OOC: Even though GE doesn't want the leader to be killed, I still think it would be cool if Skar got to do something...))

To: Skar Tactical Inc.
From: President J.L.

My friend, would you be interested in working for my government as a mercenary soldier during this conflict? Your utter ferocity in battle, your predatory cunning, your innate wisdom, and your absence of cowardice, are all the hallmarks of the ideal warrior. I will pay you handsomely to combat these rebels alongside GE, RB, and your nation of Doomingsland. The salary is yours to name. If interested, please contact the Department of Diplomacy or the Department of War. Thank you for your time.

-President J.L.

The Wirrwayan column rolled thorugh the Northwestern end of the battle area with ease, what little resistance they encountered was quickly silenced by the main guns of the Abrams and Strykers. Albus bounced around in his command Stryker pondering the situation. He looked through the viewport at the barren inhospitable land rushing past him

Why is it this easy? where are those rebs mustering, sure as hell ain't here. Must be in deskograd, that thing is gonna be a bitch to take

Guthrie shook him out his thoughts

"Were 5 hours out from General Ivanov's army pushing down from Sorograd"

"Good, when were 2 hours away radio him and alert him to our presence, I don't want any deaths from friendly fire."

Just then the lead Abrams fired into a small cottage, at the same time a missile raced out from it only to explode harmlessly on the thick frontal armor of the Main Battle tank. Two shots later the cottage was a burning pile of rubble with the faint outline of 4 burnt corpses encased in the debris.

The column moved onwards, leaving a trail of decimated rebel units in their wake.

((OOC: What city exactly are you guys fighting in?))

((OOC: How was my post on the previous page?))

((OOC: What city exactly are you guys fighting in?))
OOC: Dunno, some town near that river you told me to push to.

The town had been thouroughly cleansed of rebels, and the charges were set off, leveling half the village, and setting the rest on fire. The civilians were left there standing, a punishment for betraying Generia.

bump

bump

Awful quiet around here.

*Crickets chirp in the background*

"Damn it screw St. Marie. We're heading to New Bucharest." The soldiers had been sullen marching to the spot where so many of their own had died. At this many soldiers lifted their long hairy heads and smiled they would end this war once and for all. "Bring the Battle Shamans." Nac Mac Feegle called. Eight young men stepped forward. "Make me Perun-Volu." Feegle's voice was low and intense as he told the shamans to make him the most feared creature in the Hannari mythos.
"Surely you jest."
"No. I do not." The shamans moved closer their eyes glowing with an ancient fire. A storm from another world ripped through the sky as Nac Mac Feegle suffered through the most dangerous and powerful transformation spell the Hannari knew. Lightning hit Feegle square in the chest summoning the Thunder Ox into his body. Nobody knew how long the lightning stayed there pumping Nac Mac Feegle full of heavenly might. He lowered his face the lightning fading away. His hair had grown eight feet and his nails were like claws. He was no longer Nac Mac Feegle. He was Mac Perun-Volu son of the Thunder Ox. And he was unstoppable.

...to combat these rebels alongside GE, RB, and your nation of Doomingsland...

OOC: What about Borman, and Wirraway. Why not hire Panther? I shall now go in the corner and cry.

"Damn it screw St. Marie. We're heading to New Bucharest." The soldiers had been sullen marching to the spot where so many of their own had died. At this many soldiers lifted their long hairy heads and smiled they would end this war once and for all. "Bring the Battle Shamans." Nac Mac Feegle called. Eight young men stepped forward. "Make me Perun-Volu." Feegle's voice was low and intense as he told the shamans to make him the most feared creature in the Hannari mythos.
"Surely you jest."
"No. I do not." The shamans moved closer their eyes glowing with an ancient fire. A storm from another world ripped through the sky as Nac Mac Feegle suffered through the most dangerous and powerful transformation spell the Hannari knew. Lightning hit Feegle square in the chest summoning the Thunder Ox into his body. Nobody knew how long the lightning stayed there pumping Nac Mac Feegle full of heavenly might. He lowered his face the lightning fading away. His hair had grown eight feet and his nails were like claws. He was no longer Nac Mac Feegle. He was Mac Perun-Volu son of the Thunder Ox. And he was unstoppable.

((OOC: You can't get there without going through Deskograd. The rebels would eat you alive. It will be much tougher once you cross the river.))

Then we will go through Deskograd. Remeber Nac Mac Feegle (the leader) underwent a super pump up. Plus the Hannari are powerful warriors Borman just kept announcing a few of our losses at St. Marie. Trust me we will break through and we will end the war once and for all.
OK I saying we doesn't sound healthy but hey.

((OOC: Even though GE doesn't want the leader to be killed, I still think it would be cool if Skar got to do something...))

To: Skar Tactical Inc.
From: President J.L.

My friend, would you be interested in working for my government as a mercenary soldier during this conflict? Your utter ferocity in battle, your predatory cunning, your innate wisdom, and your absence of cowardice, are all the hallmarks of the ideal warrior. I will pay you handsomely to combat these rebels alongside GE, RB, and your nation of Doomingsland. The salary is yours to name. If interested, please contact the Department of Diplomacy or the Department of War. Thank you for your time.

-President J.L.
To-J.L.
From-Skar

Way ahead of you., he typed, tearing the head off of an unwary rebel...

Then we will go through Deskograd. Remeber Nac Mac Feegle (the leader) underwent a super pump up. Plus the Hannari are powerful warriors Borman just kept announcing a few of our losses at St. Marie. Trust me we will break through and we will end the war once and for all.
OK I saying we doesn't sound healthy but hey.

OOC: I doubt it. I will cry when they get cut to pieces.

IC: Shryke ran up to the man.

"Is Paulie okay? Will he live?"

The man came out and stood still for a monet, a solum look on his face.

"Well..."

Then we will go through Deskograd. Remeber Nac Mac Feegle (the leader) underwent a super pump up. Plus the Hannari are powerful warriors Borman just kept announcing a few of our losses at St. Marie. Trust me we will break through and we will end the war once and for all.
OK I saying we doesn't sound healthy but hey.

((OOC: Don't. It would just screw everything up.))

OOC: I doubt it. I will cry when they get cut to pieces.

IC: Shryke ran up to the man.

"Is Paulie okay? Will he live?"

The man came out and stood still for a monet, a solum look on his face.

"Well..."
Thank you your tears mean much to me. So Paulie dies? That's certainly interesting.

((OOC: Don't. It would just screw everything up.))
Alright where's some village that we can slaughter? Honorably of course.

Alright where's some village that we can slaughter? Honorably of course.

((OOC: Pick one.))

"Well...He won't fight in the rest of this. But miraculosusly the bullet missed every vein in his neck. Only like 1 out of 1,000,000 bullets would do that. He will have no long term effect."

Shryke jumped up.

"YES!!"

On their great march the Hannari began marching through a village. A man stepped forward and held out his hand. "Sir, you and yours need to get or" He glanced around showing the Hannari the many armed men. Mac Perun-Volu lifted his head and laughed easily crushing the man's skull and then ripping him in half. The Hannari spread out quickly gunning down any and all who crossed their path. Mac Perun-Volu just stood their as hundreds of bullets hit him and he just laughed stepping over corpses and breaking through brick housing as he picked up rebel after rebel and ripped them apart. As their peoples village burned to the ground those rebels that remained were rounded up and thrown living kicking and screaming into the fire. Janla (Mac's personal aid) turned and spoke to the women and children "Come with us or die with those you love on the fire." Most of the wives and children came with them they were easily absorbed by the Hannari women who held them as they cried. A small boy ran up to Mac Perun-Volu and kicked him as hard as he could. Mac smiled picking the child up and said "Now why did you do that?"
"I saw you kill my father." Mac didn't want to harm the child or to tell him his father was a horrible rebel.
"You're father fought well" He said solemnley "Tell you what I'll train you to become a warrior and when you feel the time is right you will challenge me. And I will either kill you or you me. Understand?" The child just nodded.

OOC: Just dont end the war, remember.

bump

Look a bunny.

Look, A bump.

Look a bunny but what's that on his leg why OMG the horror it's a bump!!!
No GOD let him go take me instead. Oh wait it's dead. YAY!!! DINNER!!!

OOC: Is the war still on? I'll send some troops if it is.

OOC: Very sorry about the lack of posts but life had to go and intervene. If it's not too late I would like to stay in the RP.

OOC: Thanks, but the real thanks should go to Zerbia, he raised the bar for us all. If I had my way I'd RP with Zerbia and you guys everytime.


OOC: Thankyou Wirraway, I am blown away by that, thankyou! I would RP with you and all of you everytime too. Excellent RPing by all.

I'm starting to think letting Commander Zorkovich survive was stretching the realism barriers, but then again, I have heard of people surviiving mass executions.....I don't know.....I might just be a bastard and kill him, after all he's been through. lol

Secret IC

Official Communique

To: Zerbian High Command
From: Prime Minister Josef Steyovich

I know it is your nation that has offered its demonic services to us. You will have my answer now. Never. We will have none of your butchers wandering our lands, in support of or against us. We have morals, unlike those subhuman primates that you refer to as soldiers. This will be the end of formal communication between us. You sicken me.

Prime Minister Josef Steyovich,
Republic of Buchiana


Secret IC....Secret IC


The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor read the message and almost laughed out loud, but his posture remained that akin to a corpse, emotionless, empty of any flicker of weakness, for he seemingly had none.

"....subhman primates that you refer to as soldiers."

Oh the irony.

Again the man on the throne found this humourous.

Somewhat akin to a chimpanzee at a tea party admonishing a professor for efficiently eating the bread crust off the plate as the Chimpanzees defecated into their tea cups and slung it at one another. He thought.

Yes, quite. he agreed with himself. Pathetic primitive subhumans......never cease to surprise.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor's thoughts wondered back to that Zerbian soldier.....Commander Zorkovich, that was his name.

So, he was alive.

But only just.

He was not surprised, he had been the only person in the room who had not been shocked at the news of his survival. Nothing ever did surprise him, if ever....certainly not Zorkovich's survival.

Such was the Zerbian way, the Zerbian zeal, the Zerbian.... superioty. The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor mused and acknowledged. His attention drifted back to the matter of the moment.


"Priest for War" The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor said in his usual commanding tone, ordering the Priest For War to write in reply:

(Continuing ongoing Secret IC)

To:Prime Minister Josef Steyovich
From: A Friend

We are quite dissapointed that you so willingly believe the propoganda that the Generic Empire has spread about nations that wish to aid your cause.

They are spreading this propoganda to ensure that no foreign power offers its aid to you, the propoganda being that possible foreign nations who may aid your cause have already commited atrocities against your people.

In fact, it was Generians, in alternative uniform to provide 'eyewitness accounts' of foreign power atrocities, who carried out these actions. They did this because they feel betrayed that you and your people betrayed The Generic Empire. They killed all who opposed the empire, in utter rage

You must admit, despite the horrific nature, their plan is quite ingenious, to carry out atrocities, and to spare themselves any blame, they blame it on nations willing to help you, so you then, quite naturally should you believe the propoganda, turn down their aid.

I say it is ingenious, because it appears you have fallen for their propoganda, and without our help, it seems you and your people's fate is sealed at the hands of the 'justice' The Generic Empire dishes out on those who oppose it.

We still offer our services, despite the offensive words and tone you used to describe those willing to aid you, but if you still feel to believe the propoganda, that is fine, and we can only hope you and your people do not suffer at the hands of The Generic Empire.

A Friend.


The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor finished dictating the message and looked around the palace room, at his Priests.

"Priests, you know as well as I do that there are no such things as 'atrocities', but such is the art of fooling." He said to them all in an affirmative tone.

The priests smiled at the man on the throne. "Yes, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor" they said quietly in unison.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor did not smile back.

"By talking in their language, I shall fool them. For those that are fooled are the foolish, and those that are foolish are primitive in mind and matter, and subuman overall. It is the Zerbian way, therefore, that we should fool the subhumans." He finished and hunched forward, craning his neck to look at each and every Priest intently.

foolish minions.


Continuing Secret IC:

Zelgrade Military Hospital......PM.......23 days later....

Mummy.

....

Mother.

He could see his mother, calling to him, her jet black long hair down to her shoulders, standing in the doorway of home....home.....homehomehomehome....homemummyiamhome. he ran down the street towards her with glee. (IamsevenIamsevenIamseven) "Zorky!" She said to him in a surprised tone, picking him up and embraching him, "where have you been?" she pulled her head back from his shoulder and looked at him questionly...... "Mummy I-" He began. He did not know, (mothermothermummy) where had he been? "Mummy I-I-"......she was gone....(mummy?)..."mummy?" he called out, alarmed. He was in the street now.....(itisrainingitisraining)The two children are kneeling.....a soldier is behind them....pistol in hand, pointed at the boy's head sleepwellmylittleonessleepwellmylittleonessleepwellmylittleones..... the flash of the muzzle in the drizzling rain, BAM! blood and pink grey brain matter spurts from the back of the child's head as he falls....the jackboot pushing him over....Zonovavich (Zonovavich? Who is he mummy? Mummy?) aiming the pistol at the girl, the flash of the muzzle in the drizzling rain in slow motion BA-A-A-A-A-A-A-MM! blood and pink grey matter spurts from the back of the child's head as she falls, the jackboot pushing her over.... now Soldiers are standing around him.....a man in front of them with a piece of paper (who is that mummy? MUMMY!) says "FIRE!" thwipthwipthwipthwipthwipthwipthwip... (What's that noise mummy?What's that noise mummy?mummywhatsthatnoisewhatsthatnoisethatnoisemummymummymummymummyMUMMYMUMMYOWMUMMYOWW!ITHURTSMUMM YMUMMYMUMMYMUMMY-)

pssssssssh pump.


pssssshhh pump.


pssssssssssh pump.


psssssssshhhhh pump.

pssssssssssssh pump.

open your eyes.

mummy?

Mother died. She betrayed Zerbia.

pssssssssssh pump.

Commander Zorkovich opened his eyes.

whiteness

I am dead.

mother.

Mother died. She betrayed Zerbia.

pssssssssssh pump.

Whiteness

white

A bald head appeared into view, from his left. The blue eyes stared intently at Zorkovich.

"Ah. Commander Zorkovich. So glad you could join us." The bald head said in a emotionless, cold tone.

God? Zorkovich wondered.

There is no God.

End of secret IC.

OOC: Awesome man. But with the italics, try to sperate the stuff a bit, its kind of hard to read.

The rain beat against the tanks as the soldiers rode comfortably inside the transports/tanks. What were once fertile farms were no more than mud as the tracks ripped any hope of life apart. Turrets swiveled left and right, waiting for something to shoot. The mounted guns were un manned becuase none wanted to fel=el the ice-cold rain. Chainsaws were left in fixed positions as the men manning them dozed into sleep with the rthym of the rain.

"Full house."

Several soldeirs sat on the floor of a BHalk-34. In the center were various guns and amounts of money.

"5 of a kind."

"We aren't playing with wilds."

"Oh..."

"Anyone else got better?"

"No."

"Then its mine."

The man began to rake in his money, jumping around inside himself. He stuffed bills in his pockets and guns in his seat container in the tank.

"CONTACT!"

The soldier never got a chance to enjoy his winning, the tank was blown to pieces.

All over the convoy doors slammed into the mud as chainguns, machinge guns, and the like roared to life. Soldiers charged down the walkway, splashing about in the mud as they sought to find protection from bullets. The tanks were in a loose cluster wioth almost no order, becuase of this only the first rows could fire.

Shells flew off as entiere buildings blew up, destroying the seemingly peaceful enviorment.

Trenches were up ahead with sandbags and guns here and there. But that did not deter the tanks.

Rebels ran from hole to hole through a small system of tunnels.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Shit, We have to fall back!"

"No. Everyone else is evacuating. We have to hold here for a while."

"Fine."

THe rebel took aim with his AK. It began to vibrate and bring a sligth warmth tio his hands as he saw men fall on the enemy side. Then a tank shell tore him and his entire hole to pieces.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lets go! Lets go!"

The rebel sttod at teh back end of the town. THe rain beat down on him soaking him through. He held his gun by the barrel and the other waved people down the roads.

"Come on, the Generian bastards are coming!"

Then a tree fell as a tank emerged. Several rebels began to aim RPGs when another tnak appeared. Then the flood of people on the mudddy road (It was a dirt road) began to slow. Rebels shot some people in the back ranks and then they charged forward again.

Then Dinosaurs popped out of covered foxholes, immediatly losing their dryness, and aimed guns.

"On the ground."

As if to further the nightmare of the peoples tanks began to appear coming down the back road.

Civilians began to lye (sp?) face down in the mud. Rebels took cover at the slight stone walls that bordered and wrapped around the road. A tank shell blew them to hell.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sir."

"Yes?"

"Our soldiers have secured the back. No one is getting out that way."

"And the sides?"

"1st armor on the left, 2nd on the right."

"Good."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rebels quickly abandoned their foxholes and fled into the ruins of houses that had faced the farms. THe tnaks progressed further, firing as they went. Ruins were reduced to rubble, then to dust. The tanks began to drive over the trenches, some getting stuck.

All along bullets bounced off the tanks and some went into soldiers.

"Back in the tanks!"

Men hopped intot he tanks as the doors slightly elevated so as to not drag. In this way if need arose the soldiers could instantly exit. They were protected from bullets and rain on the most part.

Gunners on top and the guns on the tank brought hell to teh rebels as shells ripped apart buildings in their search.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sir!"

"What?!"

"The western half of the city lay in ruin. Armor is covering the north and south. We have yet to hear form our men at the back of the city but we msut go. We can follow the road east to the main stronghold."

"Let su go."

The rebels quickl fled the oncoming wave and made their way to the back. They were so occupied they did not notice bodies as they passed them. Finally they neared the remnanats (sp?) of the stone walls rebels had taken cover behind.

"Sir. These lie in ruins. Trees are broken there and there. The road up there had massive imprints and I see foxholes that aren't ours."

"Looks like they have been here. They're probably waiting down the road."

Suddenly the rain became more intense as lightning flashed through the sky. THe men were soaked through which gave no aid to the fact that it was freezing cold. They all chatteerd their teeth as they stayed as close togehter as possible.

"Lets go this wa-"

"Not so fast!"

Borman soldiers appeared from and in the buildings immediatly behind them. As they turned to view the backroad they saw tanks proceeding forward. The armor was closing in on the side and the main force was only a little behind the men that had just appeared.

"Throw your weapons down and live."

"For freedom."

As their numb slow limbs went to grip their guns XM8 fire tore them apart.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Men stayed at the town overnight, only so the rain could stop. They recieved dry clothes and in the morning the procession went forward.

The 213 civilians found were turned over to Generians within the force.

The marines had made it to the river, crushing all resistance in their path, leaving hundreds of civilians homeless, but only losing thirteen men. They began the final leg of the journey, the drive to the capital to link up with the Generians.

((OOC: Here's a crude map for now:

http://img34.exs.cx/img34/9479/Buchiana.gif

OOC: We are a little past where it says Deska. Not that place but the place on the map where it is named.

Bump?

OOC:Just because I'm bored...

Forward Scouting Unit, Charlie Platoon

The men proceeded through the forest, fully alert of their surroundings, and constantly scanning for heat signatures, gripping their XM8s tightly in their hands. They were creeping low, off the main path through the woods. The pointman, Cpl. Conners, rased his right hand in a fist, signaling for the men to halt. The squad leader, Sgt.Sharps, got on the comlink,

"What do you see?"

"Movement, multiple heat sigs. Possibly hostile, not getting IFF."

"Affirmative."

He signaled for the men to take up firing positions. They were on a slope, proceeding along the side. The heat sigs were directly in front and below the squad. The men had taken up positions behind felled trees and stumps, their MARPATs making them extremely difficult to see. They saw the signatures head their way, and the men deactivated their thermals, gaining a better perspective of their surroundings. There was a group of three men, dressed in green fatigues, and armed with AK74s, with ammo pouches hanging off their chests.

Playing army, I suppose. the sergeant thought to himself as he brought the red dot of his rifle sights over the head of the lead man. they got within three feet of the pointman, and the marines rose...

"Get on the ground! Drop your f**** rifles!"

The lead man was surprised, and went for his AK, but Sharps squeazed the trigger, and a 5.56mm round went spiraling toward the tango's head, striking him below the left eye, and exiting out the back, his brain hanging out of the large hole in the back. The rest of the rebels were taken, bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the spot.

"What the hell do we do with 'em?"

"Well, they ARE traito-" just then, a second group of rebels, upon hearing the commotion, opened fire from the bottom of the hill, striking the pointman in the chest, and knocking his down. He was still alive, and returned fire, crawling back into cover. The men exchanged fire with the rebels.

The men squeazed off accurate bursts of fire, and a rebel was quickly dropped, but the others had managed to take cover behind the trees.

"M249! Point fire! Twelve o'clock!"

The two SAW gunners immediatly rose from cover, and sprayed down at the enemies, suppresing them for a vital few seconds as the rest of the squad manuevered around, and flanked he rebels, who were quickly blown away by their immense fire power.

Forces are waiting for the other branches to arrive and progress to the enemy stronghold.

The Wirrawayan column continued in their drive to secure to northwest of Buchania. There had been little to now resistance for the past 3 hours. They drove on steadily, passing sleepy villages and open fields shimmering with golden grain as the sun made its first appearance in three months.
Albus was standing in roof hatch with a pair of binoculars, the warm air rushed by his face blowing his hair back into the wind.

What a lovely country this is, reminds of the old farm back Wallybe. What a life that was eh? Running through the fields, swimming in the river, not a care in the world.

He glanced forwards at the massive black and battle scarred Abrams, their guns weaving menacingly in the afternoon air.

And now this.....

He dropped back into the interior of the Stryker

"Guthrie, get me the radio,"

"Yes, Sir"

He took the microphone and tuned it to Generian Command Frequency

"This is Albus, requesting to speak with General Ivanov, just want to tell him that were about 40 klicks from his poistion and closing fast."

The replaced the microphone and waited for a response as the colum drove onwards.

OOC: BTW,just wanted to let you guys know, I joined CAD.

OOC:http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=363093

Any support would be much appreciated.

OOC: Dont you dare spam here, joking. Im there.

Awesome Wirraway.

OOC: What about Borman, and Wirraway. Why not hire Panther? I shall now go in the corner and cry.

((OOC: Sorry, man. I'll hire him, too.))

To: Panther
From: President J.L.

I've heard favorable things about your combat skills. I would be honored to hire you as a mercenary soldier to help combat the filthy pigs who threaten the peace of Generia. I will pay you handsomely to fight alongside RB, Generian, Bormanian, Wirriwayian, and Doomingslandian troops against our common enemy. The price is yours to name.

-President J.L.

Excellent RPing by all.

By all? :eek: You must not have read any of my posts. My RPing, while not the worst, and while not bad, is far from excellent.

((OOC: I may not be able to make an IC post until Friday. I'm busy tonight, and I'm not going to be home at all tomorrow until late, so if it's possible, could you guys hold off on any action against Deskograd until I can make my post? Feel free to write about any other military action before that, however. Thanks. I would really appreciate it.

RB, don't worry, I'm going to include what happens to your prisoner and mine.))

Borman quote: OOC: Awesome man. But with the italics, try to sperate the stuff a bit, its kind of hard to read.

OOC: Thankyou Borman! Your RPing is more awesome however. Advice noted and taken on board. Basically concerning the italics, Zorkovich was in a thought and dream pattern, where he was panicking more and more, and becoming more feverish, without stop for pause. I wanted to emphasise this by not putting a space between words towards the end, this is so the reader gets a 'feel' of the panic within the man's thoughts, as he became more upset and scared. Thus, the reason why the words appear jumbled is because his thoughts have become jumbled, without a pause. I will take your comments on board though. :)




By all? :eek: You must not have read any of my posts. My RPing, while not the worst, and while not bad, is far from excellent.


I did indeed read your posts and RPing Roach-Busters, and I can tell you quite truthfully, that is was an excellent character layout and read, and most readable thus. :) Excellent writing.

((OOC: Sorry, man. I'll hire him, too.))

To: Panther
From: President J.L.

I've heard favorable things about your combat skills. I would be honored to hire you as a mercenary soldier to help combat the filthy pigs who threaten the peace of Generia. I will pay you handsomely to fight alongside RB, Generian, Bormanian, Wirriwayian, and Doomingslandian troops against our common enemy. The price is yours to name.

-President J.L.

"Hmmm..."

To: Presidnet J.L.
From: Panther

Anywhere in the millions or billions, and if your felling crazy the trillions, would suit me.

Panther

The smoke billowed over Buchiana, that unhappy, war torn land. The calm and peaceful day, with the lightly snow covered hills upon which the war had begun was no more. Now, the forests burned, and craters littered the fields, beside the burning barns, and shattered towns. It was a land ravaged by battle.

It had been two weeks since the beginning of Operation: Hardball. The Imperial armies had overrun the western portion of the province, the Generian tanks crushing everything in their path. Now, the Buchianans held their breath as they waited fort hat final offensive, that dark hour that would bring forth the assault on Deskograd, the last stronghold of the republic.

Colonel Georgie Kuskov leaned back against the side of the open hatch, as he watched from the top of his tank. It rolled down a devastated street in a large town by the name of Rusika, approximately 12 miles southwest of Deskograd. The town’s buildings were in ruins, and flames licked the shattered stone. Rubble clogged the street as IFVs and GIT-100s rolled over it.

Imperial mobile artillery divisions had shelled this city for days before the armor and infantry had entered. There had been little left. The rebels, weary from war, had simply given up, not wanting to face slaughter like so many of their predecessors. The secessionists were tired. They no longer held the zeal that had consumed them before. They had seen too much death, too much war.

A refugee woman ran across the street, and knelt beside a corpse, driving the crows away. She looked to the heavens and screamed as she pulled at her hair, tears flowing down her face. The same sight so many times before, in so many different towns, all blending into one scene.

The woman looked to a nearby Imperial soldier, rage in her eyes. She scrambled to her feet, and ran at the man. The woman threw herself at him. The man smacked her with his rifle, and she fell to the ground, weeping in anger and frustration. The soldier ran a hand across his face, blood on his fingers from a scratch left by the woman’s nails. He looked at her, emotionlessly, and continued on with the rest of the force. Kuskov sighed.


Imperial military Command Center, Rubelliska, 20 miles east of Deskograd

General Ivanov read the report in his hands, his brow furrowed as he contemplated the message. There had been a coup in the capital by rogue divisions. Emperor Antonius had been forced to flee with several officials unnamed in the message. Apparently, a General named Brezhnekov had taken power, and was soon to proclaim himself Emperor.

“What do you make of it, General?”

“It is an unusual circumstance, I’ll say that, colonel. However, I have always made it my business to not meddle in the affairs of politicians.”

“He is a General, sir.”

“When a general starts wanting power, he’s a politician. It says here to continue with our previous orders. I suppose they still want the province back.”

“I would assume as much, sir.”

“Colonel, I don’t know what you want to make of this, but I will tell you to always remember that we’re soldiers. We serve our nation no matter who’s in power, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do now. Emperor Antonius was a good man, a good ruler. It’s a shame to see him go, but we still have a job to do here. I don’t know much about this Brezhnekov. I met him once before. Seemed a bit extreme, but a sound tactician, and a good soldier. Either way, he’s our Emperor now, and we’re going to follow him. Clear, colonel?”

“Of course, sir. I’ve always put my trust in you above the Emperor, so if you’re inclined to accept this, then I will as well.”

“Excellent. You’re a good soldier colonel. You’ll be rewarded for that in the end.”


The Imperial armies rumbled over the land, moving into position for the strike at Deskograd.

OOC:GE, want me to RP my guys fighting there?

OOC:GE, want me to RP my guys fighting there?

((OOC: Of course, but let me post the first part of the attack. I want this to be a long, drawn out battle. costly urban war for everyone. It'll be cool.))

OOC: finally, some action.

Secret IC:

Zelgrade Military Hospital.

Darkness.

the sound of laughter, racous in nature.

who?

it was.....

who?

them.

Commander Zorkovich could suddenly see Zerbian soldiers, laughing all around him. They appeared to be on a country road.

His heart swelled.

My brave, fine Zerbian soldiers! he thought.

Zorkovich realised he was laughing too.

my boys, my men, my soldiers!


thhhhwiiiiiiiip! pttchhoooow! thhhhup! thhhhhwwiiiiiiiiiip thwiiiiiiiip!

Bodies falling, red chunks of flesh flying off......

thhhhhwiiiiiiiiip! thhhhhhhwiiiiiiiip! thwiiiiiiiip! thwiiiiiiip!

His men, falling, bodies writhing, blood spraying....

No.....

thhhhwiiiiiip! thwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwiiiiiiippppp!

NO-

The intense pain wracked his body, making it stiffen in agony.

Zorkovich screamed.

...


...


...

...


Zorkovich opened his eyes.

whiteness.

where am I?

Do you care? a voice from the catacombs of his mind replied.

Where am I?

Hospital the voice said again.

ah.

yes.

I remember.

Zorkovich let out a small sob, his chin trembled, just once. He lay on his back on the hospital bed, in the private hospital room.

Dead. All dead, he acknowledged bluntly.

what's that smell?

The disenfectant used to keep the hospital sterile wafted into his nostrils.


They had questioned him for hours.

hours? More like eternity....

The bald head that had greeted Commander Zorkovich upon awakening from his coma was The Initator For War, and the questions had come thick, and they had come fast.

Zorkovich remembered he felt drowsy, and wanted to dissapear back into conciousness, and had dozed off whilst questioned.

The cold hard hand of The Initiator for War had stopped that at every oppurtunity, slapping Zorkovich's face.

"What was the strength and ability of the resistance in the village?" The cold and demanding voice of the Initiator for War asked Zorkovich for what Zorkovich guessed was the seventh time.

let me sleep.

Darkness had begun to envelop Zorkovich.

SLAP!

The cold, hard, swift hand stung Zorkovich's left cheek, and Zorkovich looked up into the Initiator's face, looked at his ice blue eyes, questioning, demanding, the mouth pursed.

"What was the strength of the force that captured you?"

Sleepy time mummy! Zorkovich thought, his eyes closing in bliss. He wanted his teddy bear, ZoZo.

"ca...captured you" He repeated after The Initiator for War sluggishly.

"Answer... me." the irritated voice said shakily, barely retaining it's calm.

"answer me... mummy" Zorkovich said thickly, his tongue lolling in his mouth. His tongue was dry, like a sponge.

Need drink-

"IN THE NAME OF THE SUPREME ZERBIAN OVERLORD CHANCELLOR AND THE REPUBLIC OF ZERBIA, ANSWER MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" The Initiator for War screamed in a high pitched screech, his head leaning down, inches from Zorkovich's face, the spittle spraying onto Zorkovich's face.

Zorkovich snapped to attention like a computerised robot, his eyes opening, staring into space.

"The strength and ability of the resistance force was weak." Zorkovich began in a flat tone, "We lost a fine Zerbian soldier who died with honour, but the might and will of the Zerbian way crushed the fighting spirit of the subhumans and we cleansed the village of filth." Zorkovich's tone was emotionless, like that of a computer, relaying information from his memory that had been activated upon the order he should give the information in the supreme overlord chancellor's name.

He continued: "We were not captured, we were directed to designated meeting point. Strength of traitorous subhuman filth was in thousands of troops, supported by 500 Tanks."

Zorkovich's eyes looked into The Initiator for war's own. The impatient eyes stared back, and the initiator for war let loose a rare smile, but it vanished as soon as it had appeared, a mirage perhaps.

"That is a commendable report." The Initiator for War said in a bitter tone, barely above a whisper, whilst pulling his bald head back and straightening. "And you do know what happened to your fine Zerbian soldiers?"

Zorkovich felt drowsy again.

Sleepy time mummy!

"They.... were... slain" Zorkovich said slowly.

And the questions went on.

He returned to the present time, stirring himself out of his thoughts.

Pain wracked him. It felt like a cramp grabbing his body in a vice grip.

"siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttthhhhh" Zorkovich hissed from the pain, gritting his teeth. his left hand clenching the bed sheet.

The pain passed, and Zorkovich looked around the bare, white hospital room.

It was empty.

Apart from the armed Zerbian soldier standing beside the exit door.

Zorkovich looked at the soldier's face below the black pith helmet.

wait....

The face, smiling, instantily familiar.

Zonovavich?

Shock overcame him.

Can't be! He reasoned.

Zerbian Zeal! Zorkovich thought excitedly.

"Zonovavich! By Zerbia! You made it too! My fine Zerbian soldier!" Zorkovich babbled, dribbiling, sitting up, staring at the soldier.

"Commander Zorkovich?" Zonovavich said, face frowning, confused.

"Yes, my fine Zerbian soldier Zonovavich! I made it too!" Zorkovich said in a high pitched excited tone, "It is the Zerbian way we should survive! Oh how good it is to see you!" Zorkovich laughed, almost crying.

Zorkovich pulled back his covers and swung his legs round to touch the floor.

Pain wracked him again but he ignored it.

"Commander Zorkovich...." Zonovavich said delicatlty, "I am not Fine Zerbian soldier Zonovavich, I am Zezkovich."

Zorkovich stared at Zonovavich from his hospital bed, then burst out laughing, in confusion at Zonovavich's behaviour.

"What? By Zerbia, don't be silly Zonovavich, for Zerbia's sake-" Zorkovich stopped.

Zonovavich's face was changing.

The eyes were becoming different, the nose also, more hooked, the lips, thinner.

The face set.

The face was human, Zerbian, but..... different.

It was no longer Zonovavich.

It was someone else. Some other Zerbian soldier.

No, Zorkovich blinked, trying to discard the illusion.

Not Zonovavich.

"No..." Zorkovich whispered.

"I'm sorry Commander Zorkovich, I did not hear you?" The Zerbian soldier said, questioningly.


It was a trick! Zorkovich thought angrily, A trick by this...... this........traitor!


traitor.

traitor. the voice within his mind agreed.

TRAITOR! TRAITOR TO ZERBIA!!! TRAITOR TO THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!!! DEADDEADDEADDEADDEADDEADDEADALLDEADEADEADDEAD....


Zorkovich leapt up from his bed, filled with rage, a hospital gown covering his body. He lurched towards the Zerbian soldier TRAITORTRAITORTRAITOR! with stiff legs, arms outstretched.

"TRAITOR TO THE REPUBLIC OF ZERBIA!" Zorkovich screamed, spit drenching his teeth and flying from his mouth. "TRAITOR OF THE ZERBIAN WAY!! TRAITOR OF THE SUPREME ZERBIAN OVERLORD CHANCELLOR! KILL HIM!!"

Zorkovich staggered towards the Zerbian soldier, whose eyes were wide open in terror.
He would kill this imposter, this traitor, purify! PURIFY!

The door by the Zerbian soldier opened.

Men in white coats charged towards Zorkovich, syringes in hands, along with more Zerbian soldiers, and The Initiator for War who walked in calmly after the rushing crowd, hands behind his back.

"ARREST HIM!!!" Zorkovich screeched, pointing at the Zerbian soldier by the door.

"He's hallucinating. Sedate him." The Initiator for war said in an authoritive tone.

The crowd as one charged and toppled Zorkovich back onto the bed.

what? What's happening?

"HE'S THE TRAITOR, NOT ME!! GET OFF-" Zorkovich's voice was hoarse.

Pain tore through his body, freezing his voice for a moment.

Black leather gloved hands restrained him. Dozens of serious faces surrounded him.

His arms were held down. He felt a prick of pain in his arm.

"No-" Zorkovich managed to say.

"He'll be out for a while." A voice amongst the melee said.

"That is accepted" A cold, superior tone replied.

Zorkovich felt drowsy, he looked at the faces over him, saw the Initiator for war, all unsmiling.

His eyes shut.

Sleepy time mummy!

out for a while.

out for a while.

Sleepy time mummy!

out for a while.

TRAITOR!

out for a while.

Sleepy time mummy!

traitor.

out for a while.

out.... for... a... while.

The darkness welcomed Zorkovich like an old friend and he embraced it, falling into it's deep depths of nothingness.


End of Secret IC.

OOC: Generic Empire, can I have a force of Zerbians land in an airplane near Generic troops? I want to practice Rping by engaging in Guerilla warfare with Generian troops? Or are you ending the RP?

OOC: Generic Empire, can I have a force of Zerbians land in an airplane near Generic troops? I want to practice Rping by engaging in Guerilla warfare with Generian troops? Or are you ending the RP?

((OOC: Of course. I have no intention of ending this any time soon. And it's Generian. Sorry, just a stupid little thing that drives me crazy. Nice post, by the way.))

OOC: Awesome post. Keep up the good wrk.

Secret IC:

darkness

Location.....


Computing.......


Recognising.......


Skies over Buchiania.



Time....



Computing....




Recognising....


3:00am local time......


The darkness dissapates....


The sound of plane engines.....


Sheeeeeeeeeeeeee


The white plane flew through the darkened sky, through the flurry of snow that swirled outside it's frame, carrying it's precious cargo.

The Camera pans to move through the frame of the plane, to it's cabin interior.

Oak sat on the right side of the plane, his eyes closed, listening to the rhythmitic humming of the plane engines.

By Zerbia, he thought, by the act of the unholy gods, we shall strike a blow.

Low voices disturbed his thoughts, and Oak opened his eyes and looked around him slowly.

The 199 men were all seated, opposite him, and either side of him, all dressed as civillians, but heavily armed, in their 20's and 30's. Their eyes staring into space, or at him. Lips unsmiling. Faces hard. Hair bleached white.

The pride of Zerbian mothers. Oak thought, and unconciously nodded in agreement with himself.

The soldiers opposite him nodded back, emotionless.

Oak scanned his head around slowly, looking at all the men, remembering their code names given to them.

Horse Chestnut, Fir, Willow, Conifer, Sweet Chestnut, Pear, Apple.....

Oak paused in thought, staring at one man, who was staring into space, eyes unblinking.

Mahogany.

That's right. Oak remembed.

Mahogany.

They had all been given code names upon entry into the 'Unholy Gods' section of the Zerbian Forces, Oak acknowledged, deep in thought. Mine is....Oak. Oak. Oak.

Oak knew how important these codenames were. That and having no ID papers, all dressed in civillian clothes and having all of our hair bleached white.

A authoritive, cold voice floated up from Oak's subconcious into his mind.

"It is to sever all the ties of appearance between yourself, and that of The Republic of Zerbia and The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor to the enemy, fine, brave Zerbian soldiers!" The Initiator for War had lectured them in a pompous tone during a visit to their training camp in the north, near the city of Zbrenica on one cold grey day. "They will not know what hit them, nor who did it! So Ruthless you shall be! But The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor knows, and he is proud of you! and The Republic of Zerbia knows! And they are proud of you! Your mothers and your fathers shall be proud also!" The Initiator for War concluded, shaking his fist in the air to emphasise his point.

Oak remembered the silence that had greeted The Initiator For War, who looked around at the men, before shouting:

"For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!"


"For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" The Unholy Gods shouted back in unison proudly.

Oak knew when taking off in the plane with his men that he might not see beloved Zerbia again, his wife, his children. But this he had accepted without doubt and without any problem.

It is my duty.....For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!

Oak and his men had, through the ranks heard about Commander Zorkovich and his men. Oak had trained with Commander Zorkovich, although their paths had split when Oak took the invited path of The Unholy Gods whilst Zorkovich stayed with the Orthodox Army discipline.

Only Zorkovich had survived. Oak mused.

Zerbian Zeal!


"How is Commander Zorkovich?" Oak had asked The Initiator For War during his visit to the training camp. Snow flakes drifted down lazily between them as they stood outdoors, enclosed by a fence.

The Initiator for War had a fur coat on over his grey tunic that reached down to his toes. He looked at oak with irritation, his eyes narrowed.

"Commander Zorkovich is just fine, brave fine Zerbian soldier, just......fine." The Initiator replied in a irritated tone.

The subhuman, treacherous Generians shall pay. Oak thought, smiling to himself. They shall be subject to the might of the Zerbian Zeal, Zerbian.....superiority over such filth! They shall be.... cleansed.

"Yes." Oak said out loud.

Some of the Zerbian soldiers on the plane looked at him.

Oak roused himself from his thoughts. The plane was descending.

"We've found the airstrip......appears abandoned." One of the pilots shouted from the open pilot's cabin.

"Then land." Oak growled back in the direction of the cabin, standing up.

No air defences.... Oak noted. Buchianian or Generian.

Oak suspected the rebel defences had been destroyed by the Generian air force, and the Generian air defence had not advanced with the armoured colums to the territory the plane had flown over.

The Plane touched down with a hard bump.

By Zerbia....

The plane slowed.

Oak addressed his men. "The time has come for us to strike the blow of Zerbian superiority against these subhumans!" he bellowed, looking round at his men. "Kill them! Make these inferior incestous beasts of filth beg for mercy as we enact justice! Make them bathe in their vile blood! Tommorow's Enemy Policy shall be enacted as always! Purify this land! For we are Zerbians! And we shall crush! And Crush! And Crush!" Oak's voice reached a crescendo and he stamped his right boot on the plane floor.

CRRUM! The boots of the 199 other Zerbian soldiers stamped on the plane floor in unison and agreement. Their faces cold, hard..... efficient. Oak realised with happiness.

The plane stopped.

"For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" Oak shouted in an authoritive tone.

"For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" the 199 men shouted back with enthusiasm as one.

Oak watched as The plane hatch door opened, and flurries of snow flew in. He turned his attention back to his men, snapping his head round.

"50! North With Me, 50! East with Mahogany! 50! South with Willow! 50! West with Conifer! Go, go, go!" Oak ordered.

It had been agreed what team formations would be organised and who would lead who and what directions each would take before the boarding of the plane.

The Zerbian force charged stealthily into the cold winter night.

50 men charged East, 50 charged south, 50 charged west.

No resistance so far... Oak observed.

He charged North, with the 49 men under his command.

End of secret IC

OOC: My apologies Generian, for calling you 'Generic'. It won't happen again. Thanks to you and Borman for your kind compliments regarding my RPing. I do try my best. As I have said before, I joined this RP for the excellent RPing done. You are both very descriptive, and your writing well structured and I always look forward to reading your RP's immensely.

Generian, I will start Guerilla stuff tommorow. Do I have your permissin to kill your soldiers? I don't mean thousands lol, Just one or two here or there. I have their deaths mapped out already, I will start doing that tommorow if that is alright. That's if my computer is working though. I have been having horrible computer problems today.
Also, I've noticed you have another thread that is ongoing concerning a nationalist revolt in your nation? Is this occuring on the same time line as this RP?

((OOC: Zerbia, no prob about calling me Generic. I don't really mind, but this is just for clarity and is addressed to anyone, not just Zerbia:

With regard to how people should refer to things about my nation, I have decided to post this note on nation references:

To state that a person or thing is of the Generic Empire, one should use either the adjective 'Generic' (less proper, and slightly offensive to people of the Empire) or the more commonly accepted adjective 'Generian.'

To refer to the Empire, one may use the official title of 'Generic Empire', the common abbreviation 'GE,' or the broad 'Generia'.

Hope that helps everyone out.

Zerbia, with regards to your questions, I have no problem with you killing my soldiers. It is, after all, a war. However, I hope you don't mind me retaliating and all. Don't worry, I won't destroy your nation or anything like that. You're too good to lose. Without good writers, we get left with a bunch of Hatarias.

With regard to my "Nationalists" thread, yes it is occuring simultaneously to this one.

Keep up the good work. I genuinely enjoy reading your writing.))

(OOC: Zerbia, could you please give me some RP lessons? I need 'em badly. Thanks!)

"Hmmm..."

To: Presidnet J.L.
From: Panther

Anywhere in the millions or billions, and if your felling crazy the trillions, would suit me.

Panther

Would 500 million dollars be adequate?

OOC:Hey Zerbia, want to have your guys fight with my Doom Legionaires(the guys that butchered the camp and strung up the corpses)?

"They should be just over that rise sir."

Albus stood in the open hatch of his Stryker which was motoring along at close to 45 mph through the fields of Buchania. The vehicle crested an embankment, becoming momentarily airborne beofe crashing back to earth with a heavy thud. Albus scanned the area,

"I don't see anything, you sure about that force placement."

"Yes, sir, this should be spot on."

"Well lets go a litt---- Holy shit, look out." A cow suddenly appeared from a hedge to the right of the speeding Stryker. The driver wrenched the controls to the left, but it was too late, the cow was literally blown apart by the force of the impact. Body parts flew everywhere along with fluids and other assorted cow peices. The vehicle came to a sudden halt halt as the rest of the convoy looked on with horrified fascination.

Inside the Stryker it was silent, everyone was too stunned to react, the first to regain the powers of speech was Albus's aide,

"You okay sir? sir" he asked tenativly

After a moment Albus replied "Ya, im fine, but, jeez, look at this crap,"

He tossed cow entrails off the roof and attempted to brush the gore off his uniform.

Dammit is than an intestine? Gross.

He tossed it of the Stryker gingerly

What the hell is cow doing in the middle of a field?.......Okay, that was stupid, still, dumb frigging animal should know better than that. There more of a menace than the damm Buchanians

He leaned into the main cabin to talk to aide

"I'm gonna stink like hell in a while, sorry guys. But what I want to know is where hell is that Generian Force."

"They should be here sir, I don't know what to tell you."

Albus stood up the hatch and scanned the land around him again. He was about to give up and move on but then out of the corner of his eye he caught a glipse of movement in the treeline to west. The movement resolved itself into a squadron of Generian MBTs. Albus quickly hopped out of his command vehicle and walked out to the lead tank. An officer appeared at the top hatch and Albus made his introductions

"Sorry about my state, we had a run in with a......cow. Long story, I'm afraid, but anyway, I'm Brigadier General Hecor Albus, commander of the 1st division Wirrawayan Marines. We're supposed to meet up with General Ivanov, you don't happen to know where he is?"

Would 500 million dollars be adequate?

Yes.

Secret IC

Location....


Computing....


Recognising.......


Perimeter of Generian held North Buchanian Village.


Location......


Computing......


Recognising....


6 A.M Local time....


Darkness fades.

....

As the camera takes in the scene of a bombed and shelled village, amid the flurries of snow, a crow caws across the Buchanian Steppe. Ra! Ra! Ra!

The Camera snaps to soldiers crawling on their bellies towards a line of four 30 foot trees outside the village.


By Zerbia, this will be done. In the name of Zerbia and The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor, this striking blow of Zerbian Deliverance shall be delivered upon the filth that is the enemy.

The words rattled over and over through Oak's mind, as he crawled with 19 men, all spaced out over the ground, on their stomachs, inching closer and closer to the trees, armed with AK-47's, Sniper rifles, RPG-7's and grenades.

They had been doing so for 2 hours. Inching painfully slowly, so as to avoid detection. 30 Men had been left behind some distance back.


Too many men on this mission is just asking to be spotted. Oak thought grimly, his breath creating a cloud of mist around his mouth from the cold.

Another thought came to him.

Good things come to those who wait.

Oak smiled at that.


An hour passed by.

...

...

7:00am

Oak had to admit that he was surprised they had reached the trees. There appeared to be no Generians patrolling outsde the village. No snipers in the trees either.

Warming their subhuman arses in the chimney fires in the village, Oak reasoned.

He stifled a chuckle. Yes. Well we will roast them... nice and proper....the Zerbian way.

Yes...

Yes.

Oak stirred himself from his thoughts. They were now at the foot of the trees, all crouched in a circle on one knee.

He looked round at the men with him, all cold but determined, their breath creating mists in the cold biting air.

A crow cawed in the distance.

"Redwood!" he hissed at a soldier carrying a Dragunov Sniper Rifle with a silencer equipped.

Oak pointed at the first tree in the row, to his right.

"Climb Tree One!" Oak whispered, "Establish position to fire, hold fire until my order!"

Redwood nodded, unsmiling, and headed for the first tree.

What a fine Zerbian soldier, Oak mused briefly.

He turned to two other Zerbian soldiers, one carrying an RPG, one carrying a Dragunov Sniper Rifle equipped with a silencer.

"Ivy!" Oak said to the RPG man barely above a whisper in an urgent tone, "Climb Tree two, Establish position to fire, hold fire until my order!" "Lyme!" "Same orders, Tree 3!"

Oak looked at his remaining men.

The pride of Zerbian mothers, Oak thought again.

"Contingent, Hold position. Engage when engaged." He said in a whisper full of authority.

The crouching men nodded silently, all looking into Oak's eyes.

6 Minutes passed.

"Position to engage" a voice said quietly high up in Tree One.

Oak looked up into the first tree. He could not see Sniper Redwood up there. Just thick branches.


10 Minutes passed. The snow whirled around Oak and his soldiers.

"Position to engage" Lyme said softly from tree 3.

Oak did not bother to look up.

15 minutes passed.

"Position to engage" said Ivy in a low tone.

Good things come to those who wait, good things come to those who wait good things-

Oak cleared his mind.

"Tree One, engage." He said firmly but quietly.

....

...

...

Redwood lay on his stomach on the thick branch, camoflagued by the over hanging branches. He estimated he was about 20 feet up. His silencer equipped Dragunov Sniper Rifle was comftably in his hands, it's body and the top of the scope wrapped in white cloth to neutralise any sun reflection of the rifle that may give away his position.

He peered through the scope, had been doing so for a while.

Redwood surveyed the scene.

The village had Generian troops patrolling it, walking back and forth, in between and in and out of houses, warming their hands, breath misty in the cold morning air, rifles slung over their backs, sharing information, talking......

But again, for what must have been the seventh time, he returned his aim sights to a house at the end of the street straight ahead.

He could see straight through the living room window.

A Generian subhuman bastard...sitting at a table, his rifle slung over his shoulder. His arms outstretched, across the table, his hands holding the hands of a woman who sat opposite, whose arms were also outstretched across the table.

Not for the first time, Redwood noticed the Generian wore what appeared to be a wedding ring.

A roaring fire was underway in the fireplace in the background between them. The man was talking rapidly, a stupid grin on his face. The woman stared back at him dreamily, nodding her head, smiling lazily.

Well, well, well, Redwood thought with a mixtue of malice and revulsion, The dirty, filthy, backwards, ugly subhuman bastard is cheating on his dear, dirty, filthy, backwards, ugly subhuman bitch wife.

"Tree One, engage" a quiet voice said from below.

Redwood let loose a thin smile of satisfaction. "Well don't you worry, my dear." he whispered aiming the cross hairs on a spot just behind the Generian's ear, "The father of your spawn shall not be returning home to the children, to be embraced by their beloved father. By Zerbia he will not."

...

Redwood pulled the trigger.

TUM!

The shot of the rifle stifled by the silencer. The rifle recoiled in Redwood's hands as he saw the window make a tish! sound. the Generian's head snap back, the back of the head disentragrating in a explosion of brain matter, skull fragments and blood that splashed onto the wall above the fireplace in a bright red splat, the Generian's body rocking back and forth simutanously, before resting with his face facing the ceiling, mouth agape. Blood ran in spools from his head.

His hands still held the woman's, his body twitching twice before stopping.

The woman did not seem to react at first. She just sat there, her dreamy smile starting to fade off her lips.

Redwood moved the crosshairs of the rifle to a Generian soldier crouching outside the front door of the house, looking around wildly for the cause of a noise he had heard. Probably the window cracking, Redwood thought hurriedly as he aimed the crosshairs between the soldier's eyes and pulled the trigger.

TUM!

The Generian soldier fell backwards, a pool of red bubbly blood growing around his head where he fell.

Redwood quickly moved the crosshairs back on the woman at the table in the house. Her chest is puffing out beneath her blue sweater, her mouth open in a 'O'.....

She's preparing to scream, Redwood acknowledged, placing the crosshairs on her cranium.

TUM!

She jerked and fell backwards, a fountain of red spurting from a hole in the side of her head. backwards her and her chair went, landing her on her back.

Only her pair of legs, complete with pink furry slippers on her feet remained in view.

Redwood searched for more targets, Generians were running down the street-

"Tree One! Hold Fire! Tree two! Tree Three! Engage!" Oak commanded at the bottom of the tree, his voice just above a whisper.



Ivy crouched on a thick branch, RPG-7 on his shoulder, in the tree designated 'two'. The order to engage came just as Ivy had set sights on two Generians crouched in a doorway along a street. One of them was shouting across the street into a house, waving one hand about. The shouting was inaudible to Ivy, it did not matter. He fired the RPG-7.

whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Ivy watched the white vapour trail whoosh away from him. The Generian who was not shouting saw the RPG heading towards him, mouth agape, eyes bulging and he pushed at his fellow soldier in front of him to run. The shouting Generian was too busy shouting orders and-

BOOOM!

Ivy, from his position in the tree, felt the ground rock as The two soldiers dissapeared in a cloud of red and grey.

The mist cleared and Ivy saw the body of a Generian lying prone on his back, his head missing, a streak of dark red blood smeared on the road, and-

and...

the other Generian, lying on his back also but-

but...

His legs were missing. Blown away, blown off. Red, fat Intestines poured from what remained of the Generian's stomach like lazy snakes wanting to bask in the air. The Half Generian was screaming, his arms flapping up and down like the wings of a naked baby bird in it's nest.

The man's screaming was audible, carried along the Buchianian Steppe, the screaming merging into a word understandable in all languages.

"MOMMA! MOMMA! MOMMMMAAAAAAA! NYAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!"

Ivy laughed. "Your dog of a mother can't help you now." He said, fully knowing the dying Generian would not hear him.

The sound of TUM! TUM! TUM! reached Ivy's ears, coming from Tree 3.

Lyme began picking off the Generians running down streets, who were taking positions.

His crosshairs fell upon the back of the head of a running Generian.

By Zerbia, thy shall be done... Lyme pulled the trigger of his silenced Dragunov.

TUM!
The Generian fell forward, blood gushing from his head.


Lyme moved the crosshairs.


Another Generian hiding behind a wall of a house with three others, looking, guns aiming in all directions, preparing to run to seek better cover.

In the name of Zerbia...

TUM! The first Generian fell onto his side, blood spraying from his head.

The other three Generians stood looking shocked, the second in the line opened his mouth, hand raised to mobilise the other two-

For the Republic...

TUM!

The second Generian's head smashed into the wall from the force of impact from the bullet, his skull glued to the wall from the amount of brain matter that had exited the head, his tongue lolling.

The other two Generians ran across he road, as hard as they could.

Lyme's crosshairs followed them.

For Zerbia....


TUM!

One of the soldiers fell over, clutching his left leg, screaming, a crimson flood spewing from his calf.

The other Generian soldier stopped and turned to help his fallen companion.

For The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor.

TUM!

The bullet finished the fallen Generian off, the bullet penetrating in a rapid movement that made the brain splatter in a red splosh! on the road as the bullet eixited the back of the man's skull, silencing him.

The other Generian, turned away from his fallen companion and reached cover before Lyme could get aim.

Lyme heard the tank first.

rooooooom! rom! rom! roooooooooom! the sound floated over to Lyme's position. The sound of a revving Tank engine somewhere in the village.

Oak heard it too. He had just been thinking about how well the operation seemed to be going, how the plane to take them back home will return to the abandoned airfield in two days time, when the sound reached him. "TREE 1, 2 3, DISENGAGE!" Oak screamed. "Retreat, my brave men! We have completed our first mission!"

Oak watched Lyme, Redwood and lvy climb down the trees.

The sound of the Tank's engine began to echo in his mind.

ROM! ROOOOOOOOOM! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

.....

......

End of Secret IC

OOC: Generian: No problems. Your forces can retaliate, I have no problem with that at all. I've left it open for you there, to do what you wish.

I have a couple more mapped RP's lined up for the other groups of soldiers I have (3 groups of 50), but probably not for the one just used. By all means exterminate them.

It is a joy to know someone takes pleasure from reading my RP's, and I say again, that I would not have done it had it not been for the excellent RPing I have seen.

I always think that they key to excellent RPing is to see it in your mind as you read what is described. To feel it is actually happening. You are an excellent RPer, as is everybody else on this thread. I take my hat off to you all in respect.

Roach-Busters, you are an excellent RPer! I don't know what I could teach you!

Doomingsland: That sounds like a great idea. If you give me some OOC details like how strong is your force,equipment and where they are (description) so I can get a general idea how to RP it

General layout of Zerbian 'Unholy Gods' soldiers for you:

A group of 50 men

Armed with Dragunov Sniper Rifles equipped with silencers, AK-47's, Flamethrowers, Pistols equppied with silencers, RPG-7's, Grenades, and a small quantity of Landmines and a couple of shoe mines and 2 mortars.

Civillian clothing. and Unethical.

I'm looking forward to this! Should be fun.

OOC:Well, actualy I meant for your guys to kinda walk right by them, then we both RP a fight. Well, here's the stats.

Doom Legion Hunter-Killer Team-

Twelve men, six riflemen armed with XM8 carbines, two armed with M60E4 LMGs, two armed with an AT4 in addition to his rifle, one armed with an SR25, and one armed with an OICW. All of them have a suppresed SOCOM .45 as a sidearm. Each man is equiped with an ACS suit in MARPAT camo pattern(land warrior type, only the helmet actualy has a visor that covers the face, and so filters out chemicals)

The men are Doomingsland's most elite soldiers, taken at birth, trained to the limits of human capability, unable to feel emotion, unaffected by any propaganda, genetically pure, ect. Not someone you'd want to mees with, I'd say these guys alone would be able to massacre one of your 50-man units.

OOC Hmmm. Okay, I'll RP a fight tommorow, I have not got time to do it right now.

The Zerbian forces are educatated and trained to believe that they are superior to anyone or anything else. If it's not Zerbian, it is subhuman or substandard.

They fear nothing. They are cunning, and have a ruthlessness when it comes to any enemy who opposes them.

They have a Tommorow's enemy policy, where they execute children because they are taught that to let the child live is to an allow an adult to fight them in the future.

They are disciplined in combat, and are highly trained in hand to hand combat, particulary in the use of knives.

They are unlike Zerbian Orthadox forces in the fact that they are seperated from the Zerbian Army and trained seperately, to have more initiative then to follow The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor every word. They make the Supreme Over Lord Chancellor distrust them, for being so unorthadox.

They take chances, alien in a Zerbian world of believed certain superioty. If they lose, they lose, if they win, they win. Fate is in their hands and they toss the dice, and await the outcome. Different from the orthodox Zerbian belief of certain victory over subhuman enemies.

lol Ok I got to go now. I'll RP tommorow if I have time, if not, Monday.

*crackle*Does any---copy---over!—Repeat-doe--*crackle*--py! Saber-1----heavy fire! Reque----ng ai*crackle*pport! Over!

“You hear that?”

Captain Boris Morshkov’s brow furrowed as he listened to the garbled distress call over the whir of the blades of the GH-1.

“Copy Saber-1, umm, what is your situation?”

*crshhhhh* We’re under heavy fire! *crackle* Dead! They’re dead! Dropping like *crshhhhhhh*-lies! God! They got our CO! *crackle*--is dead! Get us the hell out of here!”

“Copy, what is your position Saber-1?”

Skorkograd! 20 kilks west of---*crshhhhhhhcracklecrshhhhhhhhhh*

“Fuck. Alright Ivan, looks like we got a change of plans. This bird’s goin’ to Skorkograd!”

Captain Ivan Gregho got on the radio.

“This is Black-4 to sorograd! Black-4 to Sorograd!”

“Roger. Go ahead Black-4.”

“We have received a distress call from some of our boys in Skorograd. We’re gonna go give ‘em a hand.”

“Roger that. Proceed Black-4. We’ll send a few birds to give you a hand up there.”

The GH-1 wheeled around, changing course for the village of Skorograd. The chopper moved in fast and high, over fields, cratered and burned, over the burning hulks of vehicles, and over dense groves of trees.

In the distance, plumes of smoke marked their target. The plumes grew bigger, and the village materialized. As the chopper moved in over the town, Imperial soldiers were seen scurrying about in the streets, dragging their dead, and caring for their wounded. The GH-1 descended, the door gunners training their M-60s on the nearby group of trees, searching for any sign of the ones responsible for this.

Sergeant Abraham Creschko looked up from the headless body he was dragging to watch the chopper descend into the town square. With the help of another soldier, he tossed the corpse onto a pile, and walked towards the steel bird. Creschko crawled into the fuselage to speak to the pilot.

“What the hell happened here?”

“We got hit. Snipers from those trees.”

Creschko’s voice was cold and solemn. He pointed to the grove where the snipers had taken up position.

“They’re gone now. Pulled when they saw those tanks.”

“Christ. What’s your numbers?”

“10 dead. 4 wounded. They killed his wife. Jesus Christ, the fuckers killed his wife.”

The sergeant looked to the ground, shaking his head back and forth.

“God. Get your wounded in here. We can get ‘em to an airbase.”

“No. It’s too late. Too fucking late! They’re gonna fucking die on us! They’re gonna fucking die!”

Tears of rage welled in the sergeant’s eyes. His blood was on fire, boiling inside him. Inside. Inside, unlike that of the unfortunate victims of the devils who had done this. The sergeant’s head drifted to the ground, then snapped back upwards, teeth bared. He growled like an animal, a hellhound, a beast fueled by hellfire. His tone changed. He was no longer the shellshocked grunt. He was the composed, authoritative officer. The demi-god. The avenger.

“Lt. Dmitriev’s dead. They shot him, and they got his fiancée. I’m Sergeant Abraham Creschko. Highest ranking officer left, so that puts me in charge here. The wounded are too far gone. They’re gonna be completely gone in a half-hour. There’s nothing we can do. I need to know what command is doing with this situation?”

“They sent us, and they’re bringing up a few more choppers.”

“Alright. We’re gonna need to bring HQ up to speed. We’ll do it from the air.”

Sergeant Creschko climbed into the chopper. He pointed to one of the door gunners.

“You, you’re in charge here. Get out. Now!”

The man, startled, jumped down into the street, and stared dazedly at the sergeant.

“What are you doing?”

“Chances are, they wouldn’t have gotten very far. I intend to find them. Let’s grease these sons of bitches.”

A smile crossed Captain Morshkov’s face. He turned around, and the helicopter began to ascend. Sergeant Creschko took the M-60, and waited. Waited for his chance to exact revenge, to bring holy death from above.

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

Command, this is Black-4. It’s a real massacre down at Skorograd. Apparently some snipers from God-knows-where shot the place up. Killed the CO, Lt. Dmitriev. Acting CO asays they’re still around, so we’re going after them. We suggest you be on the lookout. There’s probably more of them.

Creschko watched the ground, scanning for any motion. There was nothing.

“Bastards got farther than-“

“Up there! We got movement! Looks like about 20 of ‘em!”

The GH-1 came in like a bird of prey over the fleeing Zerbians.

Creschko saw the figures, and the hot rage returned. He swung his M-60, and unleashed on the cowards who killed the innocent when they weren’t looking. The machine guns buzzed like demonic saws, the lead kicking up clouds of dirt as it buried itself in the ground, but it was searching for flesh. The bullets found their mark, burrowing deep into a Zerbian soldier’s back, the spouts of blood spraying forth, as the hot lead slammed into the man’s spinal column. The man straightened and fell forward, nose down in the dirt.

Creschko turned his wrath on a group of three men, turned to see their fallen comrade. He unloaded on them. One man had his legs cut out from under him, and he fell backwards, blood soaking the dirt. The other found his lower abdomen riddled, digestive juices mixing with blood as they ran down the front of his pants. The third man caught three bullets in his throat, followed by a hail in his forehead. His head disintegrated into a mess of blood and skull fragments.

A soldier with a rocket propelled grenade launcher had turned, and now knelt taking aim at the chopper. Creschko fired into the man, riddling him with holes. The dual guns blazed wildly, hacking the Zerbians to pieces. They fell, riddled and cut to ribbons, they’re blood soaking into the mud.

Creschko spied a Zerbian, the last still untouched by the onslaught. He had the look of an officer about him. Creschko aimed his M-60.

“This is for Dmitriev.”

The machine gun spit forth an angry swarm of bullets. The ground around the officer exploded, clouds of dirt spraying as the bullets impacted. The bullets found their mark in flesh, slamming into the man’s legs and thighs. He fell back, supporting himself with his arms, as his riddled lower body bled. Creschko bared his teeth and growled once more.

“This is for his fiancée.”

He fired another burst, the bullets this time slamming into the man’s arm, leaving it hanging by a tendon. He writhed in agony on the ground.

“This is for Jaroslav.”

He fired again, three bullets cutting into the man’s lower abdomen, and shredding his lower digestive system.

“This is for Mikhailvich.”

The bullets smashed into the man’s chest, piercing a lung.

“And this is a present from yours truly.”

Creschko fired once more, holding the trigger and allowing the bullets to flow. The man was obliterated, his head blown clean off, his neck mangled along with the rest of his body.

“That looks like the last of ‘em. I’m gonna take her down, so we can see who these bastards were working for.”

The GH-1 descended and touched down on the bloody earth. Creschko got out, and approached one of the bodies. He looked at the uniform, the emblems it bore. He knew it. He had seen it before, once in St. Marie, in a large square. He remembered the screams, the thunder of hundreds of bullets slamming into the flesh of devils. Oh how it satisfied him. Creschko bent down, and tore and emblem from the cloth.

“Zerbia.”

“We got a live one!”

Creschko got to his feet and walked over to the other gunner, who knelt beside a writhing figure. The soldier’s legs were full of holes. He moaned in agony. Creschko knelt to examine the man.

“He’ll live. Get him in the chopper. We’ll see what we can find out about these fuckers.”

The man was loaded into the GH-1, and they were off. The chopper landed at a secure airfield 30 miles to the west. The prisoner was unloaded and locked up, to be prepared for interrogation.

Throughout the Imperially controlled areas in Buchiana, the word had gone out that there were enemies in their midst. The soldiers were ready now, alert, waiting for the chance to spill blood of the devils. They would not be caught off guard again.

OOC: Generic are you going to reply to my post.....?

"They should be just over that rise sir."

Albus stood in the open hatch of his Stryker which was motoring along at close to 45 mph through the fields of Buchania. The vehicle crested an embankment, becoming momentarily airborne beofe crashing back to earth with a heavy thud. Albus scanned the area,

"I don't see anything, you sure about that force placement."

"Yes, sir, this should be spot on."

"Well lets go a litt---- Holy shit, look out." A cow suddenly appeared from a hedge to the right of the speeding Stryker. The driver wrenched the controls to the left, but it was too late, the cow was literally blown apart by the force of the impact. Body parts flew everywhere along with fluids and other assorted cow peices. The vehicle came to a sudden halt halt as the rest of the convoy looked on with horrified fascination.

Inside the Stryker it was silent, everyone was too stunned to react, the first to regain the powers of speech was Albus's aide,

"You okay sir? sir" he asked tenativly

After a moment Albus replied "Ya, im fine, but, jeez, look at this crap,"

He tossed cow entrails off the roof and attempted to brush the gore off his uniform.

Dammit is than an intestine? Gross.

He tossed it of the Stryker gingerly

What the hell is cow doing in the middle of a field?.......Okay, that was stupid, still, dumb frigging animal should know better than that. There more of a menace than the damm Buchanians

He leaned into the main cabin to talk to aide

"I'm gonna stink like hell in a while, sorry guys. But what I want to know is where hell is that Generian Force."

"They should be here sir, I don't know what to tell you."

Albus stood up the hatch and scanned the land around him again. He was about to give up and move on but then out of the corner of his eye he caught a glipse of movement in the treeline to west. The movement resolved itself into a squadron of Generian MBTs. Albus quickly hopped out of his command vehicle and walked out to the lead tank. An officer appeared at the top hatch and Albus made his introductions

"Sorry about my state, we had a run in with a......cow. Long story, I'm afraid, but anyway, I'm Brigadier General Hecor Albus, commander of the 1st division Wirrawayan Marines. We're supposed to meet up with General Ivanov, you don't happen to know where he is?"

Colonel Georgie Kuskov looked down from his tank at the Wirrawayan officer.

"Yes, you're the wirrawayan team then. General Ivanov is overseeing the operation from a secure undisclosed location, but he gave me orders to meet up with you here. As you already know, we're preparing to make our move on Deskograd. Just follow us."

OOC: My men are also at their position, waiting to take Deskograd.

Secret IC

Location....


Computing....



Recognising.......


quarter of a mile from Skorkograd, Buchania.


Time....



Computing.......



Recognising....





7:10 am local time.



Lavender and the 29 Zerbians had been ordered to stay behind by Oak, who with 20 Zerbians, planned to attack the village.

Oak had said that too many men would be asking to be spotted, and that should something go wrong, those of you not taking part.....

"do not aid us, retreat to strike again against the backside of the Inferior." Lavendar ran through the order in his mind again and again.

They waited....in silence. Each man deep within his own thoughts. They sat in a circle, weapons pointed outwards.

The snow drifted down, together with a biting chill.

CRUM...M...M...M...M.

The explosion came from some way off, from Lavendar's estimate.

RPG-7?

Lavender looked round at his men, faces stone hard and cold.

A scream came from the distance,the wind carrying it to Lavendar's position.

"MOMMA! MOMMA! MOMMMMAAAAAAA NYAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!"

Lavendar chuckled, he saw some of his men were too. Not a Zerbian accent, different accent, Lavender thought. He was satisfied.


The minutes passed by.

WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP....

The sound, coming from the distance, coming closer.

Rotar blades, Lavendar realised. His men remained calm.

duffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduffduff.... .......duffduffduff.......duffduffduffduffduffduffduff..

Machine Gun. M-60. Lavendar knew with clarity.

Distant screams. Zerbian?

Subhuman filth!

Lavendar opened his mouth and was about to order his Zerbian force to aid the 20 led by Oak-


"do not aid us, retreat to strike again against the backside of the Inferior." Oak's voice, speaking calmly around Lavendar's mind.

Yes. Lavendar agreed.


"Retreat my fine Zerbian soldiers!" Lavendar commanded, looking at the 29 under his command, "We have struck a blow against the subhuman traitors. We even heard one squealing for his mother!" He said quietly.

Humourous laughter came from the 29 men.

Lavendar took a deep breath.

"We have lost Oak, but such is the roll of dice we take as unholy gods. Let us retreat to strike again against the backside of the Inferior."

The loss of 20 fellow Zerbian soldiers did not affect them, to them it was simply Zerbians dying with Zerbian honour, opposing the subhumans.

They retreated.




Secret IC

Location....


Computing....


Recognising.......



Buchianian Field, Eastern Buchiania.


Time....



Computing......


Recognising....


6 A.M Local time.... (OOC: Same time as Oak and his men were advancing on Skorkograd.)

Secret IC:

Darkness fades...

Mahagonany and his men had been crawling, crouching, and jogging through field after field for a few hours. Birds of various kinds had took to the air in front of them on various occasions.

Plenty of fields, but where be the scummy filth? Mahogany wondered.

Come out, come out, whereever you are!

The morning mist clung in the air with a chill as Mahagony crouched walked, his 49 men doing the same.

Swish, swish, swish.... the long stalks brushed against their bodies as they advanced, their breath creating clouds of fog in front of their faces.

Where are you subhuman bastards? Mahogany thought eagerly. He wanted to kill as many Generians as he could.

KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! SEE THE DEATH! SEE THE DEATH! ON THEIR FACES! SHOW THOSE WHO OPPOSE US! OUR FURY, OUR ZERBIAN SUPERIORITY! The voice within his head raged.

Mahagony smiled. Some of the other Zerbians saw this, and smiled back.

Mahogany did not see this. He carried on smiling, his eyes glazing over as he crouched walked, listening to the voice in his head, the voice of reason. .

I AM THE ANGEL OF DEATH, I SHALL STRIKE UPON THEE, THE HAND OF JUSTICE, OF RIGHTOUSNESS, FOR THY SHALL STRIKE DOWN WITHOUT MERCY THOSE WHO OPPOSE THE ZERBIAN WAY, FOR THE REPUBLIC-

Mahogany giggled, before urging the voice to be quiet. "shhhhh....shhhhhh" Mahogany staggered.

Some of the other Zerbian soldiers looked at him, curious.

-FOR ZERBIA, FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR! The voice residing in his head screamed.

"shhh! shhh!" Mahogany half laughing said, holding an index finger up to his lips, looking round at his soldiers whilst bent over, "We don't want the subhumans to hear us!"

Some of the other Zerbian soldiers stifled chuckles, others just nodded.

Mahogany's inner voice fell quiet and Mahogany straightened, his mind clearing.

Up ahead, he noticed a break in the field. A road?

Yes, a road. he acknowledged.

Mahogany ordered his men to advance to the edge of the road, but remain hidden in the field.

hehehe! Ambush! hehehe! Mahogany thought with glee.

The Zerbians settled down on the edge of the field, breathing clouds of mist into the cold morning air.

"We shall ambush the next passing subhuman bastards." Mahogany whispered, "But do not fire until I say so."

25 minutes passed.

Vrrruuuuum! Vrrrvrrrrrruuuuuuuuuuuuuum!

It was the sound of an approaching vehicle.

The Zerbians remained silent, perfectly hidden on the edge of the field.

Mahogany watched from his left a Jeep come down the road.

vruuuuuuuuuuuuuum! eurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

The brakes squealed and the jeep came to a stop right in front of the Zerbian's position.

"Hold fire" Mahogany whispered softly.

A Generian patrol, Mahogany observed. They must feel pretty safe to be so light in number-

The left passenger door opened, and a Generian soldier got out. The driver of the jeep stood up from his seat, leaving the engine running, and his upper torso appeared through a hole in the roof, and he grabbed the mounted machine gun on the roof, all the while shouting at the other Generian soldier who had got out of the jeep and was heading for the other side of the road, away from Mahogany.

The Generian soldier outside of the Jeep slung his rifle over his shoulder and waved his hand in dismissal of his shouting colleague in the jeep and he preceded to stand, legs apart, with his back to the Zerbians on the other side of the road. A glistening stream of urine emerged from between the Generian soldier's legs. Steam rose up from the warm flow, melting the snow at the man's feet.

"Ahhhhh" The Urinating Generian said breathlessly with relief.

The Generian soldier on the mounted machine gun grimaced, but aimed his mounted MG down the road, then over to the right, over Mahogany's position-

By Zerbia-

-and then behind the jeep.

Mahogany turned to a soldier with a silencer equipped Dragunov sniper rifle to his right.

"Elk!" Mahogany hissed. "Execute the subhuman machine gunner. I shall take care of the pissing dog!"

Elk nodded once and looked through his scope.

Mahogany turned his attention back to the Generian, on the machine gun.

TUM!

The Generian soldier's head rolled back from the bullet impacting into his temple, bright red blood spurting wildly. He let go of the machine gun and his body slipped through the hole in the jeep's roof, crumpling into a heap inside.

The urinating Generian did not react, he was looking at the sky, in utter bliss.
Mahogany guessed that the jeep's idle engine drowned the silencer out.

"Hold position, fine Zerbian soldiers." Mahogany whispered. He stood up, unseen by the urinating Generian with his back to Mahogany.

Mahogany slung his AK-47 over his shoulder and calmly walked over to the urinating Generian, pulling out a silenced pistol in one hand and a long sharp knife in the other.

Mahogany aimed the pistol at the back of the Gernerian's head.

Filthy, dirty, fucking subhuman, Mahogany thought with disdain.

The Generian turned round, looking at the ground, shaking his legs, getting the last drops of piss out. He noticed Mahogany's boots and looked up into Mahogany's face, his eyes widening, mouth agape.

....

....

...

The two men stood, one Zerbian, one Generian..... the Zerbian aiming his silenced pistol in his left hand, the left arm straight, at the Generian soldier's forehead, whose rifle is slung over his shoulder, his penis exposed. Snow drifts down in flurries between the two men, a crow caws in the distance, the flapping of wings from nearby trees. The Zerbian has an emotionless, unsmiling hard face. The Generian has a shocked face with bulging eyes and a open mouth, and the colour has drained from his face. Mists of breath seep through their mouths.

Silence.

Silence.

S I L E N C E.

...

...

It was the Generian who broke it, jabbering something in Generian.

Mahogany did not understand.

"Stop speaking your filthy pig latin, subhuman." Mahogany said with an emotionless tone in English. "Speak English."

The Generian soldier swallowed hard, shaking.

"I-I-I- Have.....wife!" The Generian stuttered. "A-a-and children!"

Mahogany looked down to observe the Generian's exposed penis, his pistol still aimed at the Generian's head.

"Well, I must say," Mahogany said coolly, half smiling, his eyes meeting the Generian's frightened own, "You do indeed surprise me."

In a quick rapid movement, Mahogany brought his right hand holding the long knife up underneath the man's chin and thrusted it up.

Frrleeeeeee!

The knife penetrated the throat first, pushed up by Mahogany, and it smashed through the bottom jaw, upper jaw and finally the brain of the Generian soldier all in one swift deadly movement.

The Generian's eyes bulged, gazing at Mahogany in extreme agony and blood poured from his mouth and nostril, arms stiffening away from his sides.

"gaaaaaarrrrrrr" The Generian breathed.

Mahogany twisted the knife handle clockwise. Cruch!

The Generian's body spasmed once, arms jerking. His bulging, staring eyes turned red and bled down his cheeks from the knife induced brain haemorrage he was suffering. Blood poured from his nostrils, mouth, and ears.

"Guurrrrrrr" the breathless noise came from the Generian's mouth.

FOR I AM THE ANGEL OF DEATH AND ALL WHO SHALL OPPOSE MY PATH SHALL FALL DOWN, STRUCK UPON BY THE JUSTIFIED HAND OF THE ZERBIAN WAY-

Mahogany twisted the knife handle anti clockwise and pulled the knife out of the Generian's skull, it's blade covered in bright red blood, brain matter and skull fragments.

Blood streamed from the gaping hole in the Generian's throat, down his uniform, onto the ground, his life blood ebbing away.

Mahogany watched calmly as the Generian, bleeding eyes wide open, and mouth agape, fell backwards, stiff as a board, onto the grass by the side of the road, dead.

Mahogany cleaned the knife with a tissue from his pocket, and placed the knife back in it's holster on his right hip, discarding the blood soaked tissue on the ground.

The jeep's engine continued to idle as he ordered his fellow Zerbians to place a small foot mine underneath the body of the Generian laying on the ground.

And when the body is lifted, the pressure is released, and it shall explode, Mahogany knew.

Next Mahogany placed a grenade from the dead Generian he had killed. on the seat of the jeep, tieing a thin wire string he had for such an occassion on the pin of the grenade. Next, he placed the Generian's rifle on top on the wire that led to, and was tied, to the inside door handle and the pin of the grenade.

Mahogany shut the driver's door. When it was next opened, the force should pull the string hard enough to ensure the grenade's pin shall pull out and BOOM! He chuckled to himself.

"The blow of Zerbian deliverance has been made. For the Republic, for Zerbia, for The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" He shouted.

"For The Republic, for Zerbia, for The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" The Zerbians shouted in unison.

The Zerbian force of 50 left the jeep in the middle of the road booby trapped, it's engine still running. A Generian lay dead in the jeep, and a Generian lay dead by the side of the road.

Mission accomplished. Mahogany thought.

and hour later, and the Zerbians were resting, eating small amounts of food provided, and drinking small amounts of water from their canteens.

CRUM!..........CRUM!

The sound of two explosions, one after the other, came from the far distance from where they had come from.

Mahogany smiled smugly.

Mission accomplished.

...

....

...

End of Secret IC.

OOC: Generian, that RP about the aftermath of my soldier's attack and the killing of my soldiers was an awesome post man! That is probably the best RP I have ever read. Awesome, I loved it.

Concerning the captured Zerbian, he won't break easily. Just a tip when it comes to you RPing him.

Doomingsland, I'll do an RP of my soldiers meeting yours on Tuesday, I have to study until then.

General Ivanov looked at the tattered emblem he held in his hands. He knew it, where it came from, who it came from. They were no longer anonymous, and they would pay dearly.

“Colonel, get a message to the Chancellor. I believe we may have another war on our hands.”

“Yes, sir.”

Communique

To: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai
From: Colonel Ivan Aleexovich

Earlier today, Imperial forces stationed at Skorograd came under fire from a then unknown group of assailants. Under the direction of the courageous Sergeant Boreschkov, one of our GH-1s tracked down and eliminated the party. Upon investigation of the dead soldiers’ uniforms, it was determined that the nation they served was Zerbia, the nation responsible for a massacre of Buchianan civilians several weeks ago.

There have also been other isolated attacks reported throughout the morning, and so we have reason to believe that Zerbia is currently undergoing special forces operations within our borders. Myself and General Ivanov agree that this must not be allowed to stand, and so have authorized the purge of the Zerbian teams. With respect, we request permission to authorize deployment of the Imperial Praetorian Black Guard to deal with the problem.

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

Communique

To: Colonel Ivan Aleexovich
From: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai

We are already aware of the situation, and will certainly not allow this to stand. Zerbia shall pay dearly for her mistake here. You are authorized to deploy units of the Imperial Black Guard.

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

Official Imperial Communique

To: Zerbian Supreme Overlord Chancellor
From: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai

The Empire is aware of your operations within our borders. If you expect us to sit idly by, and allow you to continue with this, then you are sorely mistaken. You have one hour to issue a full withdrawal of your forces from our lands, or face full Imperial retaliatory action against your homeland, and we assure you, the Empire shall show no restraint in dealing with your disgusting, inhuman populace. They will die like the dogs they are at the hands of our noble Imperial Praetorians. Should you fail to withdraw, we shall indeed purify Zerbia.

Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai,
Appointed Chancellor of the Imperial Congress,
Loyal servant to Emperor Alexei II

((OOC: I’ll make a longer IC post in a bit. I have to write an English paper now.))

OOC: If you do invade, I dont know if I want to help.

Official Imperial Communique

To: Zerbian Supreme Overlord Chancellor
From: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai

The Empire is aware of your operations within our borders. If you expect us to sit idly by, and allow you to continue with this, then you are sorely mistaken. You have one hour to issue a full withdrawal of your forces from our lands, or face full Imperial retaliatory action against your homeland, and we assure you, the Empire shall show no restraint in dealing with your disgusting, inhuman populace. They will die like the dogs they are at the hands of our noble Imperial Praetorians. Should you fail to withdraw, we shall indeed purify Zerbia.

Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai,
Appointed Chancellor of the Imperial Congress,
Loyal servant to Emperor Alexei II




Secret IC


The Zerbian Supreme Over Lord Chancellor read the communique unemotionally as he walked down the long corridoor back to his Palace room where his throne was.

He had just had a lovely bath, scrubbed down by his soldiers, for he considered it far too subhuman too bathe himself. The same when it came to feeding time and defecating. I am superior! All shall bow down! He had often thought as he was bathed.

His sleek, black, neck length wet hair dripped with water on the floor behind him as he walked, and a Zerbian soldier kneeled down behind him to mop it up.

It has succeeded, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor thought with satisfaction, the blow has been struck in the name of The Republic.

For Zerbia.


For....me.


He finished reading the communique, immensely overjoyed, but showing no emotion outwardly, walking with a superior stride towards the palace room doorway, held open by two armed Zerbian soldiers.

They're scared, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor thought again. We have avenged, and they are scared. The backwards, subhuman excreta.

And so they should be.

He walked through the doorway, to be greeted by the silent circle of standing Priests.


The Initiator For War was also present, standing alongside the Priest For War.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor looked at them all in disdain as walked in, before instructing the Priest for War to write a communique via his dictation.



To: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

I am overjoyed that you are aware of our operations, for it obviously means Generian blood has spilt, which has taught you a lesson. That lesson being that should you be treachorous towards Zerbia, I shall strike back.

The operations have been carried out to avenge the betrayal of Fine Zerbian soldiers, who were slain by Generian soldiers over a disagreement over policy regarding engagement with Buchanian forces. The Zerbian force was ambushed and slain in a act of betrayal.

I notice that your 'empire' is under new administration, and I realise that such a treachrous act was carried out under the previous administration that you have replaced.

This could be a chance for both of us to start again in relations. Zerbian soldiers were slain and it is only rightous that I should order the slaying of Generian soldiers as revenge.

The revenge has been enacted.

A chance now springs forth for us to put aside the bloodshed of past, and start again.

I will withdrawl my forces, out of the fact that their mission is complete.
I assume that you may well attempt to kill them all before they withdrawl.

Let me assure you that any action that is taken along these lines by your forces shall result in myself enacting avengence once more. More and more of your swine hounds, those you pitifully call 'soldiers' shall die from the Zerbian bullet, the Zerbian knife, the superior black gloved hands of my fine Zerbian soldiers.

In such a case, you shall never know peace, never. I shall order the killing of as many Generians as Zerbian zeal can.

The war will be brought straight to your doorstep. Regardless of age. Regardless of sex. Regardless......with the only regard in killing Generians.

You may well indeed have plans to invade, but I can assure you, the Republic of Zerbia shall be one suffocating tomb, one fiery furnace, that shall crush and burn your invading subhuman hordes alive.

My fine Zerbians shall punish those who interlope.

Of course, you may have already killed some of my fine Zerbians.

That is acceptable in the rules of engagement.

But should none come back, my hand of deliverance shall be forced to enact a high degree of pain upon the filth you call your populace, those that are the walking, talking afterbirth, those mistaken for humans. Your doctors incinerated the real babies born to your ugly women in shame.

In the extremely unlikely scenario that you have taken any Zerbians prisoner, I ask you to inform me, and thus release.

I say again that peace can be established between us. Grasp this oppurtunity, seldom do we offer it to those of your......breed.

Failure to do so will be the biggest mistake your minimal mind has ever made, and you will live to regret it........ if my fine Zerbian soldiers don't kill you.


The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Of Zerbia


The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor was satisfied, and sat on his throne once more and ordered the message to be sent.

Of course they will try to kill all of them,Their previous treachery had proved that. He acknowledged.

But if such a thing happened, then we kill more of them. In the name of my honour.. The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, as usual, looked impassive and cold in his chair.

The loss of the Unholy Gods.......what does that matter. He thought of the soldiers he had deployed to strike at the Generians.

Small ounces of Irritation crept in at the thought of them.

Too.....unorthodox....too.......out of control.....

They were convicts for various crimes, and he had ordered them to be executed as the norm, but The Initiator For War had begged him not to.

They could be useful for us....think of it.....penal battalions.......why waste such a resource that could be put to good use? They can be re-educated, The Initiator For War had said to him.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor looked at the Initiator for war now, and he stood next to the Priest For War, awaiting instructions.

Well, they have succeeded on their mission. He reasoned.



The flitterings of unease irritation dissapated, and his thoughts turned back to the Generians.

They shall learn, these backwards subhumans. They shall learn to fear me. They shall learn to fear The Republic Of Zerbia.

His long, tapered index finger on his right hand lifted once, then settle back on the arm rest. He stared at the TV, showing the Buchanian Steppe.

The death of Zerbian soldiers did not anger him, their deaths were accepted.

But to strike back! That is important! To show superiority, Zeal, potency over the weaklings in this world.

Yes.

Yes....

He almost nodded in agreement, but he remained still, his face set like stone, unemotional.

The threat of war did not enter The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor's mind. It was something of insignificant in nature to him. Fear was not invoked, nor anger. Just satisfaction.

The Zerbian 'Unholy Gods' had succeeded after all, he mused again.

He ordered the withdrawl of troops back to the designated meeting point to be issued via the commander's mobile phones.

I have struck, the subhumans have suffered. It is done.

End of Secret IC

OOC: I'll RP the withdrawl the troops of withdrawl tommorow if that's alright G.E.
I haven't got time today.

Bump for my men sitting and waiting.

Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai read the Communique. He chuckled.

Then they think we are afraid. No, no. Not in the least. We are angry.

Official Imperial Statement

To: Zerbian supreme Overlord Chancellor
From: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai

To say you insult the Empire would be an understatement, you vile, subhuman piece of shit. Quite frankly you disgust us, you and your whole fucking nation. You mention revenge. Generia knows all about revenge. It would seem the time has come to exact revenge of our own. You have murdered in cold blood today, and as such, you shall pay. Not a single soldier shall leave our land alive. If by chance, they managed to escape, it would not matter, as they would return to find their homeland besieged.

Yes, and besieged it shall be. Three Generian Imeprial battlefleets have been dispatched to your lands. Our demands: surrender. You, my dear overlord, shall turn yourself in to Imperial custody, and order immediate cessation of all hostility to Generia. Should you refuse, well then you shall become yet another province of the Empire. Yes, the Empire knows much about revenge, and we shall have it. Good day, Chancellor.

Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai,
Appointed Chancellor of the Imperial Congress,
Loyal Servant to Emperor Alexei The Great

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

It was payback time.

Dozens of black helicopters and GI0-111 transport aircraft had been pouring into the major Imperial airfields over the past day. Soldiers in unmarked uniforms unloaded sealed crates into closed tents. Secrecy and discretion were the rules of the hour, for the Imperial Black Guard had come to Buchiana.

Colonel Marko Dmitriev stood on the windswept tarmac, the frgid air whipping across his rigid face. He bore many scars, but among the most impressive was one that ran from the bottom of his forehead to the top of his cheekbone, cutting straight across his dead grey eye. It was a wound he bore from the final great battle of the last Imperial civil war, when the forces of Emperor Tiberius had done battle with those of his treasonous brother Alexius.

His assailant had come at him from the blinding chaos of the close-quarters frey, and slashed his eye, killing it as a useful organ. Dmitriev had responded by ripping the man's throat out with his bare hand. A fragment of his dead assailants skull now adorned the colonel as an earing.

The Colonel sniffed the cold air. This land would be good for the hunt. A soldier, a black cloth covering the lower portion of his face, approached the colonel.

"We are ready, sir."

"Excellent. I hunger to add an ornament to my other ear."

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

In the skies, Imperial GH-1s flocked like vultures, scanning every square inch of ground. Nothing, nothing at all could have avoided their detection.

A pilot spotted motion beneath the foliage below him.

"We got something, Black-2."

"Roger that. Level the forest."

The aircraft halted, hovering and arming up. Hellfire missiles from each ofthe 20 choppers streaked into the grove. In the skies above, a flight of GIF-77s streaked in low, unleashing payloads of napalm. When the smoke and flames blew off, there lay fifty scorched figures upon the equally scorched earth.

"Subhuman my ass. These bastards got no idea what kind of mess they're in now."

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

A flight of Imperial GI-77s was making a routine patrol near the Deska river. Above, a GIU-1 radar aircraft was watching the ground searching for their targets.

"This is Hawk-4, we got ourselves something down there."

"Copy Hawk-4. Alrigt boys, let's kill it."

The aircraft decreased altitude, and increased speed, moving over the location of the targets. They released their payload of incendiary and unguided bombs, leaving enormous, flaming craters in their wake.

"Whatever it was, it's dead now."

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

Captain Dmitriev sniffed the air. He held up his hand, and the twenty silent, invisible men behind him halted. The colonel was hunting, and they knew to obey his instincts. He moved forward, completely without noise. His eye caught motion on the ground. He lashed out with his hand and grabbed the creature, covering its mouth with his other hand. It was a foreign soldier, who had been trying to sneak in and dispatch the colonel, obviously not trusting him to react. This angered the colonel, and it showed in his eyes.

Dmitriev slammed his fist into the man's chest, directly over his heart. The bones cracked audibly. Dmitriev removed a knife from its sheath, and plunged it hard intot he man's chest, breaking the chest plate. He worked about with the blade while the man writhed like an animal, still barely alive. Dmitriev forced his fingers into the opening he had carved, and pulled the man's heart out. He squeezed it between his fingers, and it exploded in a mist of warm blood.

"Spread out. There's more of them."

The Black Guard moved through the wooded area like jungle cats, their desire to slay burning in their souls. Muffled shots could be heard, and the flashes of knives and sabers seen. When it was all over, thirty wretched corpses were dragged out of the woods, doused in gasoline, and torched. The Black Guardsmen watched the conflagration from their choppers.

On the ground, Imperial AA systems were scanning everything that moved. The interlopers would not escape by air.

In the Black Sea, as the battlefleets steamed off towards Zerbia, the remaining Imperial fleets set up a net to make sure nothing got in or out. They would not escape by sea either.

OOC: Uh, I thought this wasn't escalating Generic, oh well

To: Generic Empire
From: Iron Concordiat

We will honor our alliance with your nation, do you wish or require our assistence in this invasion?


OOC: Little time, more detailed IC later.

Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai read the Communique. He chuckled.

Then they think we are afraid. No, no. Not in the least. We are angry.

Official Imperial Statement

To: Zerbian supreme Overlord Chancellor
From: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai

To say you insult the Empire would be an understatement, you vile, subhuman piece of shit. Quite frankly you disgust us, you and your whole fucking nation. You mention revenge. Generia knows all about revenge. It would seem the time has come to exact revenge of our own. You have murdered in cold blood today, and as such, you shall pay. Not a single soldier shall leave our land alive. If by chance, they managed to escape, it would not matter, as they would return to find their homeland besieged.

Yes, and besieged it shall be. Three Generian Imeprial battlefleets have been dispatched to your lands. Our demands: surrender. You, my dear overlord, shall turn yourself in to Imperial custody, and order immediate cessation of all hostility to Generia. Should you refuse, well then you shall become yet another province of the Empire. Yes, the Empire knows much about revenge, and we shall have it. Good day, Chancellor.

Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai,
Appointed Chancellor of the Imperial Congress,
Loyal Servant to Emperor Alexei The Great




Secret IC:

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor read the communique whilst being spoon fed soup whilst sitting on his throne by a Zerbian soldier with a steady hand.

"To say you insult the Empire would be an understatement, you vile, subhuman piece of shit."

He nearly roared with laughter at that, but remained unemotional, slurping the tomato soup from the spoon in the outstretched hand of the Zerbian soldier.

The irony. The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor thought, An excreta throwing Chimpazee admonishing something superior....such....envy.

Such.....empty words.


To: Chancellor Dmitri Rubellai
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

I can tell you are quite envious of our superiority, even to the point you start describing myself and my republic as subhuman, taking a leaf out of our book when it comes to descriptions are we?

I have always wondered, somewhat with revulsion admittedly, what it is like to have a Dog for a mother and a Donkey for a father.

Tell me, do you and your shit heap of an empire say 'woof woof' or 'eyore, eyore'?

Perhaps indeed, you are bilingual, but I doubt such primitive excreta such as yourself can speak two languages.

You are a empire of incestous Beastiality driven subhuman whores. You can only have wet dreams of how superior in blood and mind I and my Republic are.

You are the excreta which ommits itself from the anus of a maggot, you are the piss which springs forth from the penis of a weasel. You are the vomit that spews forth from the mouths of rats.

You are primitive, backwards in nature, I spit upon you and your whore of a mother.

As I said, I am fully prepared to cease hostilities now vengeance has been enacted.

Move your ships away from Zerbian waters. And hostilities shall cease.

You talk of beseiging. Zerbia is a fortress, a castle of a nation, a rock!. Your 'soldiers' enter, the land of Zerbia shall eat them alive. Their screams shall echo around the world, and they shall be a joyous harmony to the ears of every Zerbian.

You want me to surrender? We shall see who wishes to surrender when the blood begins to pour.....we shall see........Dimitri. For I shall never surrender.

Have a lovely day, to the best of your subhuman, limited mental capacities.


The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

He ordered troops to be deployed to the coast, to the borders, and at important strategic spots across Zerbia. He prepared to address his subjects, the people of Zerbia.

Just for one moment, he thought he saw The Initiator For War look nervous.


....


......

.....

Location.....




Computing....




Recognising...



Eastern Buchania.



WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP

The call had come on Mahogany's cell phone and to the other Zerbian commanders across the Buchanian steppe, from The Initiator For War, ten minutes ago. Withdrawl back to plane.

Mahogany was infuriated. The voice in his head raged.

THEE ANGEL OF DEATH SHALL NOT HALT UPON THY ACT OF DELIVERANCE!!!!!!!

Mahogany's head hurt as he turned his men around, it felt like it was slowly being wrenched apart by the voice inside it.

KILL! KILL IN THE NAME OF ZERBIA! KILL IN THE NAME OF THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR! the voice screeched.

Wrrreeeeeeeench.... His head was being torn...

"No.." Mahogany whispered breathlessly, moving through the long stalks in the field, "He has ordered us to withdraw..."


THEE ANGEL OF DEATH SHALL NOT HALT UPON THY ACT OF DELIVERANCE!!!!!!! The voice boomed in his head.


WREEEENNNNNCCCH!

SHALL NOT HALT! SHALL NOT HALT! SHALL NOT! SHALL NOT HALT! KILL! KILL! KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL-


WREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENCH!

Mahogany felt his head was being cracked in two....Intense pain tore through his forehead, around to the back of his skull.

"Hurrrrrrrrrr" Mahogany breathed in shallowly, his eyes winched shut, his teeth gritting from the pain, spit drenching his clenched teeth-


WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP

The approaching sound disturbed his thoughts.

"2 Subhuman Copters!" shouted Elk, the Zerbian soldier who had taken out the Generian with the MG on the jeep.

The pain in Mahogany's head dissapated, his mind cleared.

"10 RPGS! 1 ROCKET EACH, 5 FOR BOTH TAILS AT 2 TAILS!" Mahogany screamed, spit flying from his mouth, eyes bulging.

The helicopters were approaching in the sky, Mahogany could see their side profiles, they were about to turn to face him-

Whiiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whizzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz!

The 10 RPG-7's were fired from Mahogany's right, and he watched the white vapour trails head towards the two helicopters. 5 headed for one's tails, 5 for the other's.

"MOVE!" Mahogany bellowed to his fellow Zerbians, "SPREAD OUT!"

All but Mahogany ran. He stood and watched the RPG rockets head towards the copters.

The pilots saw the rockets coming and tried to avoid the rockets, swinging their copters around, one of them evaded 3, but two more slammed into the tail rotar of the copter, CRUFFF! and it began to swing around in circles, it's tail rotar on fire, it's engine whining.

WE, WE, WE, WE, WE, WE, WE! The engines whined as the copter dissapeared behind a tree line, spinning in the air.

BOOM!!

The gound shook under Mahogany's feet.

The second copter twisted and turned to evade the 5 rockets aiming for it, and somehow succeeded, facing Mahogany as 3 rockets flew past it's left flank, 2 past it's right.

3 more helicopters appeared.

Mahogany dived to the ground.


DUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFF! The sound of an M-60.

thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp!


The bullets whizzed past Mahogany, through the field, the tips of stalks shredding, and falling on him.

dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooof!

The sound of a chain gun.

thhhhwwwwmmmp!Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip!thwwwwmmmp!thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip!thwwwwmmmp!thhhhwwwwmmmp!Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp!thhhhwwwwmmmp!Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip!thwwwwmmmp!

Screams nearby.

Mahogany crawled through the long stalks, on his hand and knees, his AK-47 slung over his shoulder.

DUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFF!


thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp!

The machine guns stopped.

WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP The rotar blades of the copters.

Mahogany lay perfectly still on his stomach, not moving a muscle.

foreign voices.

DoffDoffDoff! DoffDoffDoff! A short bust of AK-47 fire from nearby.

A short yell in Generian.

DuffDuffDuffDuffDuffDuff! a burst of returning fire.

"SWINEHOUNDS!" A Zerbian voice.

More AK-47 fire DoffDoffDoffDoffDoffDoff!

A Generian shouting back something......... another burst of return fire.... DuffDuffDuffDuff!

The rotar blades of the copters, whirring.

WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP

Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzz!

The sound of an RPG-7.

BOOM!

Foreign screams....

"Yaaaaa! Nyaaaaaargh!"

DuffDuffDuffDuffDuffDuff!

"Gah!" A Zerbian voice.

Angry foreign shouts.



Mahogany moved, and got into a crouch walk position, moving through the grass, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

The sound of slow, careful footfalls came to his ears, from in front of him.

Mahogany moved slowly towards the source of the noise.

From his position, crouched, he saw a Generian, walking through the field, machine gun in hand.

Mahogany sprang. He crossed his arms, right arm above left arm, his right hand with a quick reflex reaching and grabbing the top of the barrel of the Generian's machine gun, his left hand grabbing the grip of the machine gun near the trigger.

The Generian soldier was unprepared as Mahogany, with his right hand, flipped the machine over onto it's back so it faced the Generian, his left hand now on the trigger and pushing the muzzle of the gun underneath the Generian's chin all in one quick movement.

Mahogany pulled the trigger.

DUFF!

The Generian's brains exited the back of his helmet in a red spray of blood, and he dropped to the ground, dead.

Mahogany also dropped, very much alive, on top of the dead Generian.

Alarmed Foreign shouts. A burst of gunfire close by.

Mahogany moved swiftly now, crouch crawling through the long stalks. He pulled out his long knife.

TUM! The sound of a Dragunov sniper rifle equipped with silencer. Zerbian sniper, Mahogany thought.

"Levistriev! Levistriev!" A Generian voice called out not far away. The voice screamed in rage.

A pair of legs walked past in front of Mahogany. going to the left. Mahogany stayed crouched and with his left hand grabbed the left leg that was nearest in a vice grip, and with his right hand, quickly slid the knife across the back of the knee, bringing the movement of the knife towards him, cutting open the trouser material and the flesh behind the knee.
Dark, Red blood sprayed out of the wound wildly. a veign had beeen ruptured.

Mahogany let go.

The Generian screamed in agony and fell onto his back, his cut left leg folding behind his back as he fell.

Mahogany pounced, thrusting his knife into the Generian's throat, through his adam apple.

FRRLEE! The knife penetrating the throat.


Mahogany stared into the large, horrified eyes of the Generian.

Mahogany rested his left hand on the hilt of the knife, and his right palm over the Generian's mouth. He looked into the sky, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, only his whites showing, and his teeth bared in ecstacy of the kill.

None shall halt the flight of the Angel of Death, The voice whispered in Mahogany's mind.

He withdrew the knife, the Generian choking to death, blood spewing from his mouth.

Mahogany moved on, still crouch crawling, the long stalks covering his progress.


TUM! The sound once more of a silenced Dragunov Rifle.

Generian shouts.


DUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFF! The M-60 of one of the helicopters.

thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp!

The M-60 stopped.

Mahogany saw another pair of Generian legs in front of him, walking left. Mahogany plunged his knife with his right hand deep into the Generian's left hip, right up to the hilt, hoping to get the Femoral artery.

The Generian screamed, blood spurting from his hip, as Mahogany withdrew the knife and stood up, flicking his knife sideways towards the Generian's face.

The Generian rose his gun, but Mahogany was too quick, thrusting the knife in to the Generian's left eye, and into his brain.

The Generian stopped screaming, and gargled, falling to the floor, dead.

Mahogany went down with the dead Generian, and withdrew the knife from the eye socket of the dead Generian.

thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp

The bullets were firing Mahogany's way, from Generian soldiers.

Mahogany ran, his head down, body bent, through the long stalks of the field.

thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp

Generian shouts.


thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp

Pttchoooooooooowwwwwwp!

That bullet was close, snicking into a stalk to Mahogany's left, shredding it.

By Zerbia, I shall survive to fight another day, Mahogany thought as he ran.

He put his knife back into it's holster by his right hip as ran. His AK-47 slung on his back battered against his spine.

thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp



Running still, he pulled a grenade from his belt with his left hand, pulled the pin out with his right.

He threw the grenade as far and as high as he could over his head, not looking back.

thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp! thhhhwwwwmmmp! Thwwwiiiiiiiiiip! thwwwwmmmp

A Generian shout.

CRUM!

The ground beneath Mahogany's feet shook as he ran, and clods of earth showered him, thumping onto his shoulders.

But still he ran.

Multiple Screams came from behind him, but he did not turn to look, and he ran on, and on.

Mahogany noticed nobody was shooting at him anymore.

Mahogany ran a quarter of mile before stopping, breathing hard, resting against a rock.

In the distance, the whirring of rotar blades, and the odd gunshot. But it was far off.

He waited for ten minutes to see if any other Zerbians would join him.

When they did'nt, he took off again.

For I am the Angel of deaththeangelofdeaththeangelofdeaththeangelofdeath... The voice echoed around his mind.


End Of Secret IC

OOC: Generian, this is not escalating into a full scale war is it? I thought we were not going to do that. Just checking.

Also, I have plans for Mahogany. Could you let him escape? Kill all the rest in his group, that's cool.

Just to add also, sorry about the language coming from my IC RP communique, it's just showing what a nasty person the supreme over lord chancellor is for the sake of RP.

OOC:Can you have one of your surviving groups come near my SpecOps, I'm in the mood for a massacre.

End Of Secret IC

OOC: Generian, this is not escalating into a full scale war is it? I thought we were not going to do that. Just checking.

Also, I have plans for Mahogany. Could you let him escape? Kill all the rest in his group, that's cool.

Just to add also, sorry about the language coming from my IC RP communique, it's just showing what a nasty person the supreme over lord chancellor is for the sake of RP.

((OOC: Well, I can assure you that I won't hold your country as a province. As you said, your overlord chancellor is rather nasty, but Generians are proud by nature, and Emperor Alexei II and Chancellor Rubellai definitely do not take shit, so an invasion is possible, if only do some burning and pillaging. Nothing major of course. You're too cool for me to destroy your country. Again, it's all only to add to the flare of the RP and our two cultures' dominant personalities, so don't worry.))

Edge of Zerbian Territorial Waters, 0400 Hours

The pre-dawn darkness enveloped the Imperial warships as they cut silently through the water. Silent Praetorians watched the shadowy mound that was Zerbia rising up in the distance, a fat whale fit for a harpoon.

Admiral Mikhail Gencha watched the land from the bridge of his flagship, the upgraded Iowa class battleship Vladimir Kreschnev. His face was cold and without expression as he scanned the distant target.

"Bloody hellhole, if you ask me."

An officer approached the admiral from the side.

"Admiral Gencha, sir, we are approaching our attack range. Shall we commence the air assault?"

"By all means, captain. Send the word."

Across the fleet, alarms sounded and the red lights flashed, as pilots aboard the eight heavy carriers scrambled to the deck, and boarded their aircraft. GI-77s, GI-101s, and several GB-1 heavy bombers careened off the deck into the blackness, towards that distant shore.

The squadrons of of GIF-77s were first to reach the shore, coming in fast and low. Guided bombs and incendiary rockets were unleashed on marked shore defenses. The towers of flame rose into the sky as the roar of explosions resounded out across the water.

As they finished their pass, the GIF-77s turned and rocketed out over the sea to rearm and refuel, followed by their GIF-101 escorts.

The GB-1s followed the GIF-77s, flying high above the Earth. Hundreds of high explosive bombs fell from the bellies of these great beasts, plummeting to Earth to join the collage of flame and smoke, shattering stone, twisting iron, and mangling flesh.

The bombers turned to follow their counterparts, as the soldiers and seamen watched the shore light up, and the flames dance in the distance.

OOC: Cool. Basically, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor (and the populace) are proud too (and nasty) and they have no concept of surrender, and don't take shit either, so naturally they will retaliate to attacks, and I was concerned this would escalate and escalate, but as long as we both have a handle on things, that's cool. You're cool too. I'm enjoying RPing with you.

Doomingsland: At the moment, I am concentrating on skirmishes between the Zerbians and the Generians. Also I want to keep back the surviving Zerbians in Buchania for attacks against Generian troops still in an ongoing Guerilla War.

When things start to wind down between Zerbia and Generians, then I will start to RP a battle between my forces and yours, and you can RP it also, but I warn you, it won't be a walkover for your forces. The Zerbians are highly skilled in combat, and heavy losses will be incurred on both sides. Just give me a little bit of time, because I have to fit Rping in with studying coursework.


Secret IC:

The palace doors to the Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor's Official chamber opened.

A Zerbian soldier hurried in with a purposeful stride, a harried look on his face.

He nodded at the Supreme Over Lord Chancellor sitting on his throne, who noticed with disdain it was the same soldier that he had promised himself he would shoot one day.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor watched as the soldier handed the Initiator For War a piece of paper.

The Initiator For War read the contents, the colour draining from his face.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor became irritated at the Initiator For War's facial expression.

Pathetic Bastard, speak up! he thought angrily.

"Well?!" The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor Demanded, in a loud and urging voice. He had not slept all night, and so neither had his Priests.

The Initiator For War looked up from the paper, and his eyes met those of the man on the throne.


"Coastal defences reported aerial bombardment from aircraft." He began, in a deadpan tone, "believed to be Subhuman Generian, at 10 minutes past 4 am. Various ordanances used. Contact was lost with coastal defence Headquarters soon after."

A hushed silence greeted the news. Strained faces showed on some of the Priest's faces, others showed anger.

And so it has begun. The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor thought, Here, and now.

The plan for the Zerbian 'Unholy Gods' to return from Buchania, as heroes, the defeater of the treachourous Generians, for the populace to celebrate at my power, has turned into this.

And so shall it be.

He stirred himself from his thoughts, and looked at the Priest for Education, the youngest member of the group, who had the look of Christopher Lee about him.

"Wake the population." The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor said in a authoritive tone. "Any means neccessary. Loudspeakers shall tell the populace to wake up, and listen to the loudspeakers, to their radios, and to watch their televisions. I shall speak to them."

He stopped and looked round at all the Priests, before focusing on the Initiator For War.

"I and we, as The Republic of Zerbia shall strike back immeadiatly against these subhuman interlopers. The Republic of Zerbia shall spank the bottoms of these revolting creatures, and we shall repell them, casting away these whores. 15 Zerbian Fighter Jet Bombers shall attack their primitive ships, sinking them to the bottom of the sea." The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor finished.

"Yes, My Supreme Over Lord Chancellor." The Initiator For War replied anxiously.

The man on the throne looked at The Initiator For War and at the Priest for Education. "The Initiator For War and The Priest for Education are both excused from the chamber" he said in a loud, calm tone.

The two men bowed their heads and left the chamber with the Zerbian soldier who had brought the message.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor himself stood up, and with his Priests in tow, walked towards the TV studio beneath the Palace, to address the nation. He decided he would leave the Palace afterwards, to the safe refuge he could rely on.

He had little trust for his Priests.


All across The Republic of Zerbia, the population were awoken either by loudspeaker, or by Zerbian Police and Army Patrols, ordering people to switch on the TV, the radio, or gather by loudspeakers. In the more rural areas, Zerbian Police patrols banged on doors of village houses, telling them to listen to their radios, their TVs, or gather around the Zerbian Police and Military Patrol vehicles and listen to the message being broadcast over their radios.

Everywhere in The Republic of Zerbia people, famlies either watched huddled around their TV's in their living rooms, or around their radios in their kitchens, ears cupped and almost pressed to the radio speakers.

In City Squares, and in Town Squares, crowds gathered under loudspeakers.

In village squares, people gathered around patrol vehicles, some heads leaning into the windows of the vehicles.

In Pubs in various towns, people gathered, drinking traditional Zerbian brews, listening to the radios.

Everyone listened to The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor's every word, which resounded around living room walls, and city squares.

"To my proud, fine, brave Zerbians of The Republic of Zerbia. This is The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor speaking to you.
As you know, proud, fine brave Zerbian Soldiers, Zerbian sons, were betrayed and killed in the Generian province of Buchania, by the subhuman Generian dogs. The Republic of Zerbia struck back against these primitive, traitorous subhumans, and Zerbia has spilt much blood of our inferior enemy in an act of Pure Zerbian Deliverance ordered by myself.
Now, The Subhuman Generians have sent their primitive ships, and their primitive planes to attack and soil the pure and superior lands of The Republic of Zerbia. They have attacked you, your land, and your leader.

Their bastard airplanes have attacked the coastal defences of Zerbia, but they were repulsed.

We shall resist my fellow Zerbians, and show our superiority over these subhuman bastards.

We must show them who we are. Arm yourselves, register at local sign up points, and deploy in force.

Zerbian Men! Protect your Zerbian women from these Inferior whores! It is your duty! KILL! KILL! KILL!

KILL ALL INVADERS! FROM AIR, FROM THE SEA! WE SHALL CRUSH THEM! AND BURN THEM!

FOR THE REPUBLIC! FOR ZERBIA! FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!"


The Zerbians repeated as one, in groups, in crowds, all across Zerbia.

"FOR THE REPUBLIC! FOR ZERBIA! FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!"

Their fists raised into the air, all as one. They began to get out weapons, AK-47's, pistols, sniper rifles, RPG-7's, and those without weapons started making molotov cocktails anbd other homemade devices.

Zerbian Tanks rolled down streets, through fields in preparation. Crowds, mostly women and children and the elderly tossed flowers onto their hulls in gratitude.

The Zerbian population were angry, very angry. They had been betrayed by the subhuman Generians, we had retaliated, and now the subhumans wanted war! They shall get it! Bastards!

Anger seethed. fingers on triggers.

State run TV took to the streets and gathered the opinion of Zerbians in the breaking dawn.

"We shall kill them all, by Zerbia, they shall drown in their own blood." said a determined looking Zerbian soldier surrounded by a crowd, who cheered at his words.

"I shall slit their throats and watch them die screaming for their whores of mothers." said a Zerbian eight year old boy, recieving a proud pat on the head from his father, a Zerbian soldier.


"THEY DARE TO DIRTY OUR LAND WITH THEIR INFERIOR BREED?!" screamed an angry Zerbian soldier, surrounded by others, "WE SHALL CLEANSE, AND PURIFY!"


Zerbian Air Force pilots, put on standby across The Republic Of Zerbia, listened to the broadcast. The Zazkarvi airbase pilots, not far from the Zerbian coast, received the call. The order: Attack Subhuman ships off Zerbian coast.

They were ready. They had heard the explosions not far away.

15 F-18 Pilots ran to their Jets, and within a while all had taken off from the runaway, heading for the sea, flying into the cold early Zerbian morning.

Air Commander Leader Zulokovich led the way.

He breathed into his oxygen mask, flying at speed.

Subhuman bastards shall pay for this, He thought with rage, we shall deliver a crippling blow in the name of all that is Zerbia. For the Republic, for Zerbia, for The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!

He considered the threat of invasion, and he thought about his wife, Zelda, and his 5 year old daughter, Zacha.

Images sprung to his mind.........


.....

.....

....

The subhuman hordes were running down the street, my street! hunched over and dribbling, cross eyed, pig faced, and they stopped outside a house.......my house! They kicked down the front door..........my door!.......and they marched up the stairs, snorting and squealing like pigs.....up the stairs, into his and his wife's bedroom......


No-

"No" he whispered softly.

And.....and.....Zelda was laying in the double bed, asleep on her side facing the left, under white clean covers, her left hand on the area where he slept-

"Please" he said breathlessly, trying to stop the thoughts processing through his mind. But on they went.


Their hooves drew back the covers and the subhumans squealed with pleasure, and his wife awoke, sitting up in her white night gown, and she screamed, she screamed as the subhuman hordes dived on her, and they, and they were-

NONONONONONONONONONO-

"Stop." Zulokovich moaned.

-they were raping her, and she was screaming-

"Stooooooop" he hissed to himself. He flew over the burning coast.

-and then they brought in little Zacha, his baby girl, and they had her by the scruff of her Pyjamas screaming and-

Zulokovich screamed, a long anguished howl in his cockpit.

Concerned Voices came over his radio. They were the other pilots in the formation.

"Air Commander Leader Zulokovich?" asked one voice questioningly.

"Are you alright, Air Commander Leader Zulokovich?" asked another.

Zulokovich breathed in and out slowly before speaking.

"We shall complete our objective" he began in a shaky voice, "to strike upon the subhuman enemy, a crippling blow. A blow of Zerbian deliverance to punish them for daring to touch our beautiful Zerbia. To show them who is superior in breed and race." He paused.

"For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" He bellowed. He could see the Generian ships below him now.

"For The Republic! For Zerbia! For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" The other pilot's voices chanted back in union.

Zulokovich circled his jet. Anti aircraft fire flew up in orange dots, as did missiles.

Whooooooooosh!

BOOM!

Zulokovich's plane shook from the soundwave.

"We've lost Pilot Zolpkovich." said a pilot in a dull tone over Zulokovich's radio.

Zulokovich saw to his right spirraling Orange balls of fire with orange tails fall towards the sea.

Whoooooooooooooooosh! He saw the missile to his left, and he craned his head round fast, but lost sight of it.


BOOM!

"We've lost Pilot Zelkovich" said the same pilot with the dull tone over Zulokovich's radio.

By Zerbia-

"DIVE, DIVE, DIVE!!!!!!" Zulokovich screamed, "FIRE AT WILL AT SHIPS!"

Zulokovich launched his plane into a steep descent down, down, and in between two ships. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR screamed the Jet engine. He saw in quick blur, people on the decks, firing machine guns and mounted machine guns.

PTINK!TONK!TUNK!TONK!TUNK!PTINK! Bullets hit his plane.

Zulokovich saw what looked to be an aircraft carrier ahead. He armed his forward firing missiles.

A Missile headed straight for him, head to head.

Zulokovich flipped the plane over to the left and down. The missile streaked past.

WHOOOOOOOOSH!

The plane shuddered from the sound wave of the Missile's path.

He straightened the plane, the aircraft carrier was closer, just below him.

TARGET LOCKED

Zulokovich fired the two missiles and lifted up.

BOOOOOOM!.... BOOOOOOOM!

Zulokovich's plane shook from the sound wave of the explosions.

"Great shot Air Commander Leader Zulokovich! You Got The-" The voice on Zulokovich's radio cut short as a Whooooooooooooosh! could be heard over the radio-

BOOOOM!

Another voice came over the radio, with a familiar dull tone. "We've lost Zakovich."

Loud explosions, whooooooooshs, Jet engines screaming and AA Fire tore through the dawn air.

"In the name of Zerbia, I've struck a enemy ship down!" screamed another voice over the radio in elated triumph, "For The Republic For Zerbia, For The-

Whooooooooooooooooooosh! the sound came over the radio.

BOOOOOOOOM!

More explosions. Zulokovich rose his plane high into the sky, high above the action and he looked down.

Three ships were ablaze, one was listing. Zulokovich could see people-

Tiny ants!

- jumping into the sea, on fire. Others were trying to fight the fires, Zerbian planes blowing up, hit by missiles, one twisted and dived to avoid a missile, then flew right at a ship below it, firing it's missiles whooooooosh!-

"For Zerbia, Air Comman-" The dull voice began again over the radio, but was cut off when the plane Zulokovich was observing was hit by two anti aircraft missiles and exploded into a ball of fire. The two missiles fired from the jet hit the ship, and now four ships were ablaze-

enough. Accomplished.

"PULL OUT! WITHDRAWL!" Zulokovich Bellowed into his radio, "IT IS DONE, WE HAVE AVENGED WITH THE STRIKING BLOW OF ZERBIAN SUPERIORITY! THESE SUBHUMANS SHALL BURN! WITHDRAW!" He screamed in a crescendo.

The surviving 5 planes pulled out, and headed back to their airbase to refuel and rearm, and landed safely. 10 did not, But all 15 had left four ships ablaze, the flames and smoke billowing out into the Zerbian morning sky, their flames a beacon of distress.

They died with full Zerbian honour. Zulokovich mused about the 10 who had not made it back as he got out of his plane and observed the bullet holes that had riddled the left side.

All over The Republic of Zerbia, news begain to filter through over the radio, the TV and the loudspeakers of the 1st Zerbian Air Force and it's daring and successful raid on enemy ships.

"The Republic of Zerbia has struck back!" A voice shouted at the Zerbians in triumph after announcing the attack, "The Hand of the Zerbian people has smashed down on the invaders and their inferior race! For The Republic! For Zerbia, For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!"

"For The Republic, For Zerbia, For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!" The Zerbian population chanted back with joy and happiness, their faith as always, in Zerbian strength, and the embodiment of it, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor.

End of Secret IC.

OOC:Sure, whatever, but my guys will most likely have the advantage, they're only a small group, so the tables would have completely turned. And from the way your folks sound, they wouldn'y expect a small group was hunting them. Plus mine have much more training(trained from birth in every form of warfare, genetically pure, ect.)

((OOC: Zerbia I'm enjoying our antagonism, but it would be so deliciously ironic if we somehow came out of this as allies, like through some strange form of mutual respect or something. Then we could really do some damage to the world. I'll make an IC response when I get around to it.))

bump

OOC: That's cool Doomingsland, we can RP it together, I will start it off with an ambush by your troops. I've got a plan for how it will start off, then we can take it from there. I can't do it today, no time, but I promise you, it will happen, and it's going to be great.

Generian, I think it would be awesome if we came out of this as allies too, I totally agree! It's just about how to get there, something has got to happen, mutual respect sounds great, or maybe there is an upsurge in Buchanian resistance somehow and the Generians and the Zerbians left in Buchania find themselves fighting alongside each other as the Buchanians threaten to overrun them all? And a mutual respect comes out of that? Or out of the exchanges taking place? I do think that the antagonising between the two sides has got to recede somehow, otherwise it will get too bloody, and old wounds from it will run too deep between the two.

Just to say also, I won't be online tommorow, my apologies.

Secret IC:

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor stood in the middle of the gathering chambers at Zelvelzburg Castle, to the North of Zerbia, 350 miles from Zelgrade, the capital.

The Castle stood on a hill, only reachable by Cable cart, helicopter, or the most determined of climbers.

The wind whistled round the ancient Grey walls of the immense castle, and 350 Zerbian soldiers were with him, sitiuated around the castle, 100 more roamed outside, down the hill, roaming across the moorland.

Hands behind his back, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor stood, and wondered. He had heard about the Zerbian Air Force attacks on Generian ships.

And they shall burn through my deliverance, he thought with satisfaction.

He had waited for what happened next.

The hours had passed by since then and-

nothing.


No retaliation from the Subhumans.

Nothing.

Not enough ships had been hit to stop the subhumans from counter attacking, he knew that but....


nothing had occured....


The calm before the storm or the calm after the storm..... He pondered calmy without fear or anxiety.

Victory?...yes.

He had ordered no form of other attack against the Generians, to wait and see, what will be the response....

Their move. he almost nodded in agreement with himself, hands behind his back.

But hours later........


Nothing.

The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor waited.

They underestimated our strength. The thought suddenly came to him.


The waiting game continued in The Republic Of Zerbia, Zerbians scanning the skies and the seas, but all was quiet, only the blustering wind winding it's way across the Zerbian landscape, through the villages and throughout the towns, and around Zevelzburg Castle.


End of Secret IC.

bump

IC:


Location.....


computing......




Recognising.....




The Steppes of Western Buchania.



Time.....





Computing....




Recognising...




10:00 am local time (OOC:couple of hours after Oak's assault on Generian held village on first day of raids)


IC:

Commander Conifer led his 49 men crouchwalking through the fields, endless fields.

They had, as yet, seen no combat.

Not a single subhuman! Conifer thought, Not one! Nobody!


Good things come to those who wait. He mused. It was something he had told his men a few minutes previously, in a hushed tone. It was a popular motto amongst Zerbians.


Every Zerbian had a face of hard determination on their faces as they crouch walked through the long stalks. Hard. Cold. Stony.

The only thing we have seen is birds, Conifer acknowledged.

The birds had taken to flight from the fields, in front as the men advanced, and if they were not seen, the birds were heard.

But now.... Conifer observed, but now....

He looked around and stopped. Conifer held up his right hand, and the other Zerbians stopped also.


No sound.



No birds twittering.




No birds calling.




Silence under a grey sky...


.......


........


.......


........

........

.....

The blood roared in Conifer's ears, like a huge tidal wave hitting shore........... ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrr..... shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..............ruuuuuuuuuuuur............shhhhhhhhh!



The snow's stopped falling..... Conifer noticed.



ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuur!...... shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The raising of the wave, before it hit the shore.


Conifer saw his soldiers had sensed it too. Their fingers on their triggers....


ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuur!!!!!...... shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!



Too quiet........ the voice of instinct told the Zerbians. The fields were too still.


ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuur....... shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!


something's wrong.....



Conifer opened his mouth, to hiss "Ambush", the tidal wave gathering in his head, gathering momentum, not hitting the shore in his mind-


ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-



Silence.

....

S I L E N C E.



Thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwp!

A Zerbian soldier to Conifer's right, fell forwards, blood spurting from a hole in his fore head.


thhhhhhwwwwwwmmmmmp! thhp! thhhhmp! thhhhmp! thwaaaaaap! thhmmmm thmmmmm thmmmm thmmmmm thhhhhhhwwwwwwwmpp!


The sound of bullets at supersonic speeds.

DADADADADADADADADADADADADADADA! The sound of the chatter of machine gun fire.

"AMBUSH!!!!" Conifer screamed, "KILL THEM ALL!!!"


A Zerbian soldier to Conifer's left flew backwards, bright red blood spurting from multiple holes in his chest, his mouth agape.

10 other Zerbians jerked and danced, bullets entering their bodies at multiple points, maroon fountains spraying forth from bullet wounds as they fell to the ground.

Conifer detected the gun fire was coming from straight ahead amongst the stalks, but he could not see anyone.


thhhhhhwwwwwwmmmmmp! thhp! thhhhmp! thhhhmp! thwaaaaaap! thhmmmm thmmmmm thmmmm thmmmmm thhhhhhhwwwwwwwmpp!



A proportion of the Zerbians began to fan out, to encircle the attackers, their progress covered by the stalks.

"FINE ZERBIANS WITH FLAMETHROWERS!" Conifer roared, "LIGHT UP FIELDS AHEAD! BURN THE SUBHUMAN BASTARDS!"

Conifer straightened from his crouch and stood up, turning to a mortar team who were about to set off to the right.

"WHEN THE FLAMETHROWERS WITHDRAW, FIRE INTO THE FIELD, WE SHALL CRUSH THEM!!! BY ZERBIA THESE FILTH SHALL BLEE-"


Thhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhwwwwwwwwwp!


Commander Conifer knew no more. He fell back, blood spurting from the wound in his forehead, his pink grey brains exiting out of the back in lumpy sprays, the wounds made by a bullet, that had smashed through his brain, turning it into mush and tossing it out of the back of the skull.

Conifer's eyes rolled to the top of his head, his mouth open. He fell back, his arms straight out to his left and right, aand he landed on his back with soft thump! , dead.

None of the Zerbians felt demoralised on seeing their commander dead. As far as they were concerned, all that mattered was killing the enemy.

In the case of the mortar team who were next to Conifer, his death did not register any emotion. He had died with Zerbian honour. They simply watched The 20 Zerbians with flame throwers advance into the field, flames emitting from the nozzles of the flame throwers, lighting up the fields ahead in quick fashion.


thhhhhhwwwwwwmmmmmp! thhp! thhhhmp! thhhhmp! thwaaaaaap! thhmmmm thmmmmm thmmmm thmmmmm thhhhhhhwwwwwwwmpp!

The 20 Zerbians with the flamethrowers suddenly all burst into flames.

Their bodies became engulfed in red hot orange fire, and some of the other Zerbians watched with calm, others engaged in combat.

uuuaaargh! arrrrrrrrgh! nyaaaaaaaaaaarhhhh!

The human torches screamed, their skin and flesh burning away, but they all as one charged into the burning fields, all enveloped by the fields alight.

Gunfire rumbled and rattled around the fields.

The mortar team moved in. One of them, a soldier called Palm, saw a figure with a strange looking helmet on emerge from the burning fields unscathed to the left.

A Zerbian soldier with a Dragunov Sniper rifle must have also seen him, because the next moment Palm heard a soft TUM! and the figure fell to the ground on his front.

The mortar team set up their mortars and fired into the alight fields.

DOOM!! DOOM!! DOOM!! DOOM!!! The sound of mortar shells leaving the tubes.

ooooooooooooooofffff! ooooooooooooooofffff! ooooooooooooooofffff! ooooooooooooooofffff! The sound of the shells moving through the air.

POOM! POOM! POOM! POOM! the shells impacted into the earth.


Palm saw a subhuman fly into the air with clods of earth from one of the mortar strikes, his legs cut off at the knees, his upper legs mangled as he sailed through the air, arms waving, before dissapearing from view as he landed head first on the ground.
At the same time Palm saw another subhuman fly through the air, limp, unmoving, his head missing, blood spewing from the neck, and a third who went up in the air briefly, long trails of rope? no, no, intestines. streaming from the stomach before dissapearing from view.

Two more of them were running to the left now, emerging from the burning field, their large helmeted heads bowed down, running.


Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!


Palm watched a white trail cut through the air from his right. Whichever Zerbian fired it timed it just right.

The RPG-7 rocket streaked across towards a position in front of the first enemy soldier. He saw it coming, and dived sideways to avoid it. But it was too late. The rocket slammed into his midriff and exploded in a shower of bright red blood, BOOOM! the soldier's body aparts flying everywhere.

The second enemy soldier behind the first fell backwards with force, his head blown off, dark blood spurting from his neck.

Palm and the rest of the mortar team continued to fire their mortars, the other Zerbians firing AK-47's, RPG-7's and silenced Dragunov Sniper rifles at moving enemy targets.

DoffDoffDoff! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiz! TUM! DOOM!



The Zerbians had suffered heavy casualties, but now equally, so were the Doomingsland soldiers. A bloodbath was well underway on the Western Buchanian Steppe, a fierce battle between two forces who both thought they were superior to the ones they were fighting, two forces who fought on land that neither of them owned.


End of IC


OOC: This battle takes place on the first day of operations for the Zerbians, so it has already occured and finished by the time Generian ships have entered Zerbian waters. This is a step back in time therefore, to observe what is happening to some of the Zerbians on the steppe.

Doomingsland, over to you! This is the current ratio for the engagement thus far. It's so we can keep a check of how many we have killed of each other's soldiers for when it comes to RPing the combat.

Number of Zerbian 'Unholy Gods' Forces: 50
Number Killed by Doomingsland Forces:32
Number injured: 0 (All casualties killed outright)
Number still active in engagement: 18

Number of Doomingsland Forces: 12 (I think that's what you said)
Number Killed by Zerbian 'Unholy Gods' Forces: 5
Number injured: 1
Number still active in engagement: 7

OOC:Great post!

One thousand meters from engagement,

Heretics....kill the heretics, thought sniper 128 as he brought the crosshairs of his SR25 over the head of the Zerbian sniper that was constantly bagging kills.

Crack.

The Zerb's head snapped back as the .308 round impacted his skull, spilling brain tissue and blood onto the scorched soil, making it fertile. He then spotted the mortar team dropping rounds in.

Bwahahaha. Foolish heretics.

He brought his crosshairs over a mortar shell just as it was about to be dropped in the tube,

Crack...BLABLOOSH

The hole area errupted in a ball of flame, and chunks and gibs of the Zerbian mortar crews could be seen soaring through the air. Major Reynolds came upon a group of Zerbians fireing straight ahead of them at his machinegunner. He quietly and casualy walked up behind them, drawing his scimitar...

"SUBHU-" the Zerb was cut short as the blade cut the air, and his head rolled on the floor. A second Zerbian stood up, and fired his AK at Reynolds, who staggered back as the rounds impacted his armor, and fell over. Then, like out of something from Friday the Thirteenth, he arose, and charged his opponent, hacking him to pieces, and taking his head as a trophy. More men continued to manuever along the enemy's flank while the M60s layed down cover fire.

A second group of legionaries came upon a second group, who weren't as unsuspecting as the last. The whole section errupted in a fire fight as an AK round pierced the lead Doomingslandian's visor, and cracked in inwards, completely mutilating his face. The rest hit the dirt, and sprayed at the hostile soldiers with their XM8s, making most of their kills headshots.

It could be noticed by the Zerbians that it was nearly impossible to stop a Doomingslandian once he closed with you with his scimitar, slashing the air, taking the heads of his fallen enemies as war trophies.

The battle raged on, the Zerbian group now only slightly larger than the hunter-killer team.

OOC: This is awesome!


IC:

Birch remained calm, emotionless as bodies fell metres away, Zerbian and Doomingslandian.

He held his Dragunov Sniper Rifle equipped with silencer in his hands, his crosshairs were focused on a subhuman sniper who had just killed the Zerbian mortar team before Birch could stop him and was now shooting at other Zerbians.

By the grace of Zerbian superiority, my will shall be done. Birch murmured in his mind, as he pulled the trigger.


TUM!

The Doomingslandian sniper's visor cracked and dark red blood spurted out from the helmet, as the soldier fell onto his back, and Birch saw to his satisfaction that the soldier was writhing on the floor in apparent agony, his legs kicking, arms flailing, head twisting from to side before finally being still.

Another Zerbian with a RPG-7 saw a subhuman walking along with a schmitar, holding a head up for a trophy. A subhuman commander? The Zerbian thought.

The Zerbian noticed the severed head was that of a fellow Zerbian by the code name of Apple.

Know your place, inferior filth. the Zerbian thought, firing his RPG-7.

whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzz!

The Doomingslandian soldier was not looking in the direction of the RPG rocket, and turned too late to escape it's path.

BOOOM!

The Doomingsland soldier exploded in a outwards spray of entrails and bright, red, harsh blood, his Schimitar went flying, spinning in a circle-

Wah, wah, wah..............

The schimtar struck another Doomingslandian in the neck, the sharp blade slicing the soldier's head off his body.

Elsewhere on the blood soaked battle field, a Zerbian soldier with a knife in his right hand pounced from behind to put his right arm across a Doomingslandian's throat, slitting it open as he pulled the kinife towards the right to create a open envelope that spewed forth a maroon flood. The Doomingsland soldier collapsed in a dead heap, and the Zerbian triumphantly picked up the dead soldier's schmitar in his left hand, turning just in time to see another Doomingsland soldier charge at him, schmitar held high.

Silly, silly subhuman, The Zerbian thought as with his left hand, his newly owned Schmitar struck the Doomingsland's own, holding it off, and with his right hand in a fluid fast motion, thrusted the knife in his right hand through the Doomingsland's soldiers throat, though the bottom and upper jaw and into the Doomingsland's soldier's brain with a Thrleeeeeeeee and Thrrrrrrlllluuuurr before withdrawing the knife, covered to the hilt and gore.

Yet another Doomingsland soldier headed towards him, schmitar raised.

The Zerbian dropped his knife and picked up the Schmitar of the second soldier he had just killed in his left hand. He folded his arms, a Schmitar in both hands. The Doomingsland soldier charged and the Zerbian unfolded his arms, ducking forward towards the enemy soldier, his Schimitar's moving outwards together to slice through the midriff of the Doomingsland soldier who sliced in the air with his Schmitar where the Zerbian was a moment before.

The Doomingsland soldier's upper torso, slowly, slowly, ever so slowly, began to slide to the left off the legs holding it up, the intestines and stomach expanding and stretching out like a elastic band, the shiny red, fleshy stomach exposed and moving with the upper torso, as well as the long strands of intestines.

The Upper torso feel to the ground, but the legs stayed standing.

The Zerbian took a swipe at them both with the schmitar in his right hand, below the knees, and the mutilated legs collapsed to the ground, blood spewing.

The Zerbian looked down at the bloody mess that was once a Doomingsland soldier.

"You have no leg to stand on, so subhuman are you." He whispered, before hacking off the dead soldier's head.

A gunshot rang out, just once. There was no more gunfire to be heard.

The Zerbian looked up, his clothes bloodsoaked with the blood of others.

A Doominglandian soldier had shot a Zerbian holding an A-47 with his own rifle.

Now the Doomingslandian saw the Zerbian, and he tossed his rifle aside, pulling out a schmitar that was carried on his back.

The Zerbian stared, his eyes dead, cold unemotional. He shrugged off his AK-47 on his back, tossing it to the ground.

He held a schmitar in both hands.

Silence reigned.


....

...

...


The two soldiers stood, 30 feet apart, facing one another. The Doomingsland soldier holds one schmitar in one hand, the Zerbian holds two bloodrenched Schmitars. It has begun snowing once more. Both men do not look around, they can already tell from the silence that accompanies them.

They are the only two that remain alive, the only two remaining standing out of this massacre on the western Buchanina steppe.


"It shall end here, subhuman." The Zerbian said in a calm, emotionless but authoritive tone, his breath making a mist in the cold air, "I shall crush you, and your very soul, in my hands. You shall know your place in the scheme and order of things. For you are filth, and you shall be cleansed." The Zerbian paused and continued in the same calm, matter of fact tone, "And cleanse I shall, in the name of Zerbia, the Republic, and the Supreme Over Lord Chancellor."

And so it would end, the two soldiers amongst the mutilated, bleeding bodies of ally and enemy alike, both men convinced they would prevail over the other, in a mind set of certainty.


OOC: Doomingsland, I think it would be awesome, if both men killed each other in a deathly embrace of hand to hand combat, what do you think? I think it would portray the ultimate annihilation of each other, the ultimate testament to a vicious and bloody battle.

I will hand it over to you.

OOC: Zerbia, could you please give me some (badly needed) RP lessons?

The Wirrawayan Armor column raced down the Wetern Buchanian steppe towards Deskograd. They were moving with a purpose which belied their desire to finish off this war once and for all and get back to the real fight, the war in Europe which had just expanded the territories of Wirraway two-fold.

Albus once again stood in the hatch of M1-A2 surveying the terrian

Just cows, not a single enemy out here, just fucking cows

All around him hundreds of vows milled about sparse fields, trying to find what little grass was left before winter set in.

He pulled out his Desert Eagle, aimed closely and put a bullet right into the head of large Holstein grazing by the road

Thats for my tank you bovine fool

BOOM

Albus jumped back into the tank and closed the hatch behind him. What the hell was that?

The gunner responded, "sounded like a mortar round sir."

"Find out where that came from, now"

The call went out on the radio, and soon one marine a lead Bradley replied that he had seen it come over a rise from the Northwest.

"Time to kill some rebels boys," Albus grinned savagely and the whole column wheeled to the North. The path was too steep for most armored vehicles and the only one that succeded in making it to the top was a Stryker IFV Tank Killer. One company of Marines also went up to check out the area. As they crested the rise they were not prepared for what they saw. In front of them it seemed that a Doomingslandian hunter-killer team was locked in deadly combat with some unknown fighting force.

"Sir, those don't look like rebels" shouted one marine.

"Must be those damm Zerbians," replied his captain.

He grabbed him comm mike

"All units, open fire, all units fire away."

The Company stood silohuetted on the hillside for a few seconds before their position was covered with flame and smoke, as the Stryker and the 50 Marines of Alpha company opened fire on the Zerbian positions.

OOC: If you guys don't want me in this, dis-regard this post, I was just bored....

The man smiled beneath his mask, and removed his helmet, revealing his scarred face. He was clean shaven and bald, like evey other Doom Legionarie, and had a scar going across his face. He had a twisted, cruel smile on his face. His scimitar had a black blade.

"Muahaha. Puny heretic. You are the one who shall be purged in the name of God and the Imperium. Your sinful ways shall be no more. The Lord commands me to purge the heathens. Prepare to defend yourself. Perhaps the Lord shall have mercy on you soul, but more likely you shall forever dwell in the Pits of the Damned," he said, his voice twisted and warped, in an emotionless tone.

On his left arm, a three foot long blade extended, making them pretty much even for this duel to the death. He removed his armor, revealing his muscular stature. He spun around his blade, and beckoned for his opponent to sally fourth.

The Zerb took up his challenge, and moved to engage his opponent. The Doomingslandian had trained for a situation like this all of his life. He knew exactly how to emerge the victor. This would be the three hundred and first time he'd killed with his blade.

The two men immediatly began blocking and attacking one another, the Doomingslander rolling about, dodging, leaping up nearly five feet in the , flipping over his opponent. They continued slashing, occasionaly drawing blood from one another. Neather of them felt the pain.

The Doomingslandian managed to break one of the Zerbs's blades, who in turn broke his wrist blade. The Doomingslander's blade was spring loaded, and he fired the broken piece of titanium at his opponent, who in turn deflected it.

The Zerb slashed his opponent in the arm, spewing blood all over the soil. The Doomingslandian in turn slashed his opponent's leg, catching an artery. Finnaly, both of them stood. They were evenly matched, and that surprised both of them. Both charged at the same time, but the Doomingslandian made a quick sidestep, decapitating his opponent. It was then he realized that the Zerb had impaled him through the chest. He fell down to his knees, lifting his trophy in the air, and slowly but surely, drifted into a sleep from which he would not awaken.

The battle had no survivors.

Only the victors could wright the history.

There were no victors.

OOC: Excellent post Doomingsland, excellent!

Roach-busters, you don't need RP lessons, you are a great RPer! What do you need help on exactly?

Wirraway: It would have been awesome to have been a 3 way fight! But my forces and Doomingsland's were already annhilating each other, and had come down just to the two soldiers left, so by the time your forces reach the battlefield, you will find 62 dead bodies. Sorry. I do want to RP with you though. Thing is, there's only two Zerbians left alive in the whole of Buchania (Mahogany, who survived Generian helicopter attack, and a Zerbian taken prisoner by Generian forces) but Mahogany is miles away from where this battle took place, and it would not be much of a match up as a result.


IC:

The snow continued to drift downwards on the Western Buchanian Steppe.

Where there had been a vicious and bloody battle minutes before, filling the air with gunfire, bloodspray and shouts, there was now silence.

Only the mutilated 62 bodies of warriors who had fought to the death remained as a testament, along with the blood, smeared, sprayed, and splattered across the field.

....

Silence

....


.....


....


SILENCE



Caw! Caw! Caw!


A single black crow called as he allowed the thermal to carry him to the ground, and he landed amongst the dead.

The crow cocked his head to the right, rolling his eyes, trying to sense any danger, any sign of life.

None came to him.

The crow cawed again (Caw!) as he saw the upper body of a Doomingslandian soldier lying on the ground, intestines and stomach pulled out.

The crow hopped over with a small flap of the wings and began pulling with his beak at the intestines, fat red snakes under the winter sun.

The crow quickly became overwhelmed from the multiple choice of food and hopped onto a decapitated Zerbian head, and with a sharp peck of his beck, ripped off the right eyelid off the head. sllllllloooooo!

The wily bird swallowed the eyelid, tossing his head back as he did so, and chuggling the fleshy strip down his throat.

With one quick pounce of his beak, he pulled out the dead Zerbian's right eyeball.

The crow looked around.

humans.

Unbeknown to him, they were Wirrawayans who were approaching, but the crow did not know nationalities, only that they were humans, and he took to flight, a human eyeball in beak.



End of IC

It was like a scene from the 7th circle of hell, an apocalyptic battleground where two fanatical forces had fought to their deaths. Blood, innards and mangled bodies lay half frozen on the hard ground. Men died together locked in the final embrace of death.

"My lord, what in god's name happened here." muttered a marine

The company continued onwards through this valley of death. A cool wind began to whip up, ruffling the torn and destroyed uniforms of the dead. It was deathly quiet, the quiet of the dead. The marines began to look around nervously and shift with apprehension, everyone suddenly felt a strong urge to leave this desecrated land.

The captain radioed back to Albus

"All clear here, just an old battlefield, were heading back."

The company receeded in the distance as they toiled up the steep slope back to the comrades.

A Doomingslandian with a knife through his head could be seen, his hands wrapped around the neck of a Zerbian soldier who he had taken with him.

Decapitated bodies littered the frozen tundra, the severed heads lying close by, the rage of battle still visible on their face.

A lone crow settled down again to finish his meal.

The war continued on.

OOC:C'mon, you didn't even think to give my guys a proper burial? Good post.

OOC:C'mon, you didn't even think to give my guys a proper burial? Good post.

OOC:Thanks. You know what, your right? I'll go ahead and do that.

The company made it back to hastily erected camp at the base of the mountain and re-counted what they had seen.

Albus, after being told of the the battlefield, decided to see for himself how the brave men of Doomingsland had fought to the death. After viewing the carnage and utter determination of both sides to win he felt a grudging respect for the Zerbians as well.

Must have been fanatics, only fanatics could do this, could fight to the last man, literally.

He shivered involuntarily as the wind picked up again, whistling through the rocky valley.

They deserve a warriors burial, its the least we can do recognize their sacrifice.

"Get me the morturary brigade"

A group of haggard and hollow looking men, ex-convicts, slowly made thier way into the valley.

"Bury these Doomingslandians properly, we will not leave them out to freeze and be eaten by animals. I want a mass grave for the Zerbians, no use in digging individual ones."

The brigade went about their gruesome task, lifting up frozen body parts and torso's and attempting to match them up with their rightful owner. It was hard going digging graves in the frozen ground but evetually all the Doomingslandians had been put to rest.

Albus ordered a 21 gun salute for their fallen comrades. Not wanting to waste anymore time on attempting to bury soldiers, esepecially enemy ones, the brigae doused the Zebains in gasoline and set them alight.

The Wirrawayans continued to move on Deskograd as a pillar of black smoke and burning flesh rose in the distance.


OOC: Sorry about spelling and such, don't have alot of time.

OOC: I was about to bury them

A platoon of marines arrived at the battlefield, and began hunting for the helmets of friendly soldiers. They would've had a record of the battle. After several hours of searching, they'd recovered 11 out of twelve helmets. The helmets were shiped back to Doomingsland, and a computer generated model of the battle was created(and it was quite accurate, too). They also came up with other battles they'd taken part in, the convoy ambush, the massacre of the camp, and various small engagements.

bump

The Wirrawayan Armor column raced down the Wetern Buchanian steppe towards Deskograd. They were moving with a purpose which belied their desire to finish off this war once and for all and get back to the real fight, the war in Europe which had just expanded the territories of Wirraway two-fold.

Where is this thread? Is it your attack on Belgium?

Where is this thread? Is it your attack on Belgium?

OOC: Ya I took Belgium and Luxemburg, here is the thread if your interested

http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=366967

I saw it. I thought you had taken more. Also Afmanistan is trying to rebel (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7318737&posted=1#post7318737) and any help would be appreciated.

OOC:

Doomingland, that was fun, I enjoyed that.


Great post Wirraway!

OOC:

Doomingland, that was fun, I enjoyed that.


Great post Wirraway!
OOC:Yeah, it was fun, we should do something similar.

bump for GE to continue this

*hint, Hint*

"And I saw the beast and the kings of the earth with their armies gathered to make war against him who sits upon the horse and against his army. 20 And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who in its presence had worked the signs by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshiped its image. These two were thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulphur. 21 And the rest were slain by the sword of him who sits upon the horse, the sword that issues from his mouth; and all the birds were gorged with their flesh.” Revelation 19:20-21

Deskograd Area, November 12th, 2008

The sky, as for the first time in Buchiana, shone clear and blue, cloudless and cold. The river Deska was full of chunks of ice, which bobbed up and down, riding with the swift current. The white snow stretched out across the endless fields, leading up to that grey stronghold, that ominous fortress, cage of destruction. Deskograd, silent, save for the heavy breathing of her tarnished walls as she bellowed forth the plumes of black smoke, the product of air raids and artillery bombardments.

Across the miles of fields, on a series of rolling hills, the great steel beasts, Imperial mobile artillery cannons, stood silent and forboding, sentinels on the cold, clear morning, waiting to break the calm that was the bane of all instruments of death. The barrels of the guns were still warm, having been pounding the city for days prior to this one. Soon, they would thunder again.

The mechanical wail of the cannons adjusting height sounded across the quiet hills as they took aim. The thunder ripped through the air, accompanied by the lightning of the muzzle flashes, and the eventual distant flashes as the shells hit home.

Closer to the city, one could witness the true effects of those brilliant flashes. The heavy shells screamed through the air, to slam into the sides of skyscrapers in a cloud of smoke and flame, sending the towers falling over, an avalanche of dust and rubble rampaging through the streets. Pillars of fire rose high over the city, sending further plumes of smoke to join those that already drifted towards heaven.

For hours this continued, as it had for hours before that, but we leave this seen of destruction to travel several miles to the west, where the Imperial army was moving at full speed to make sure the bombardment was not in vain.

Over the icy fields the Imperial tanks raced, sending clouds of dust and exhaust behind them. In three prongs, the Empire would penetrate the city; one from the northwest, battalions of mobile infantry and armored units; one head on from the west, an armored spear, of which this tank detachment was the tip; and one from the southwest, a hammer of Praetorian guards to compliment the armor. The waves would smash the city into submission, and send the rebellion fleeing for the last time, all the way to the Black Sea and final defeat.

On the tank column raced, through the cold, bitter air towards Deskograd, the fuming metropolis. Colonel Georgie Kuskov opened the commander’s hatch just slightly, so as to deflect the cold air as best he could, and peered out. He could see nothing but the sky and the hill his tank climbed. As the machine crested the low mount, the sight before him was biblical.

Deskograd was alight, the fires red, orange lapping at the stone, smoke rising in a great cloud as if from a volcano. The once magnificent city, nearly the size of Los Angeles, was a sight to behold.

The tanks halted. Colonel Kuskov looked out around him, and observed, atop peaks, and in low valleys, Imperial units coming into position. This was the sight of the empire clenching its fist for an epic blow. There they waited, setting up camps as high command made ready.

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

Kuskov paced about in the center of a hastily erected command tent. He had been called by his superiors, hopefully to be issued the order everyone was waiting for. A man entered the tent. He was of average height, middle aged, an officer. The man approached Kuskov. The colonel saluted, and the man returned the salute.

“Colonel, General Ivanov sends his regards. Your performance throughout Operation: Hammer has been exceptional. He regrets not being here to personally congratulate you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“As you know, across those fields lies Deskograd, and her various suburbs. This is the culmination of all of our efforts here, colonel. If we take that city, the rebellion fails and we get the honor of driving the bastards into the sea. We’ve been here for two days, and everything is finally in order. Our men are ready, our supplies are here, and our allies are ready to support our push.

So today’s the day. Operation: Enduring Torch, colonel. The siege of Deskograd. In light of your record throughout this war, General Ivanov has seen fit to give your brigade the honor of spearheading the whole thing. Yeah, that’s right. You get to start it. In one hour the attack begins. Get you men ready, Kuskov. Let’s give ‘em a hell of a time.”

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

November 14th, 0600 hours
Operation: Enduring Torch

Colonel Kuskov closed the hatch behind him as he climbed into his position. He took a deep breath and said a silent ‘Hail Mary.’

“Alright. Gun it.”

The tank, along with the rest of the brigade surged forward over the snow. The armored fist raced over the snowy fields towards the outskirts of the city. The other prongs began to move as well. Overhead, Imperial jets screeched through the sky. Fireballs rose above the city. Colonel Kuskov did not breathe, he did not hear the screaming fighters. Everything was silence in his mind, calm, strange. He did not feel his legs, but was not dizzy. Complete clarity was his. He could see it, the battle playing before his eyes. He could not tell who was who, but somehow he liked what he saw. Then the armored fist struck.

He was back as the tank turret swiveled to take aim at a distant target.

“Fire.”

The gun boomed, the smoking shell was thrown away, a new one was replaced by the autoloader.

“Target destroyed.”

The turret swiveled again.

“Fire.”

The gun thundered as the tank moved forward. The armored brigade slowed, and the Imperial IFVs overtook them, driving into the streets of the outskirts of Deskograd. So was the beginning of the great battle of Deskograd.

The ground rumbled as the tnaks proceeded forward. THey were as far as the eye could see and they came to kill.

Turrets swivled as fires and explosions appeared left and right.

The backs of Bhalks silently lowered so as to allow them to jump out while not hindering the tank from moving.

The town began to come out of their false sense of security after Generian forces lying dormant so long.

Buildings fell down as men scrambled to get away from debris. Explosions ripped through the city. Blood sprayed everywhere.

The seige had begun.

They had left the mountainous region of Northwestern Buchania, following an ancint pass through the sheer cliffs the 1st Division, Wirrawayan Marines had finally reached the place which had become a legend of its own. Its very name, Deskograd, sent shivers up every man's spine. Should Deskograd fall, then would Buchania, and end the war.

The Tanks and APC's fanned out as they came into the broad slope which swept down towards the mighty river Deska. In the distance a organge glow lit the night sky, muffled explosions rolled across the black river followed by blinding flashes of light. Helipcopeters and aircraft whizzed overhead, dropping tons and tons of ordinance into the beleagured city, turning a once tranquil setting into a area that could have been mistaken for the foulest pit in hell.

The column moved into the suburbs surrounding the war-torn city. An airstrike had preceeded their arrival and the damage was immense.

"My lord" whispered Albus, he quikcly threw his hand to up to shield against the white flash of phopshorous round.

"What, that was aimed at us, return fire" he yelled into his mike.

The units of the Wirrawayan marines began to blast away at the outer defenses of the rebels. The chatter of the Bradley chain guns was interspersed by the booming of the Abrams and Strykers.

Enemy units exploded in massive balls of flame and men screamed out as they died, stray shells shmashed into houses and front yards, civillians were caught in the deadly crossfire by the thousands.

Albus yelled orders to his commanders

"Stay with Ivanov, were suppoed to have the Western Flank and we've go to hold."

He looked through is viewfinder and saw the lead elements of the Wirrawayan column meet up with the Western end of Ivanov's Imperial army.

"Okay, hold it there, now we take the city." he turned off his mike....I hope.

Bump for Doom to reply

OOC:

I'm loving the RP posts.

Doomingsland, it's a shame that all evidence of the battle has been destroyed, otherwise I could have Rped 'The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor' finding out about it. He would have probably recognised Doomingsland as not being subhuman, and would have sort a mutual alliance out of recognition of you as equal warriors.

How about sending the computer re-enactment you did to Zerbia? Just an idea. Imagine us RPing a slaughter, but side by side.....that would be something.

Generian, what's the situation on the Generian naval blockade of Zerbia? Is it continuing? The last thing that happened was that Zerbian planes attacked three ships. I know we both want to end up allies.

I would like to end up RP allies with all of you, but it will have to be someway that the Zerbians don't feel broken and despondent about it, and have a bit of proudness come out of it, because they are nationalistic.

Any suggestions?

Sorry for the long OOC.

OOC:No, the evidence wasn't destroyed, you'd still find blood soaked soil, various body parts, and the ashes of your folks. Plus I've made a 3D recreation of the battle, and if you have decent enough intell, you could find out pretty easily.

Zerbian Territorial Waters

The skies were growing dark over Zerbia. It was strange. For days the Imperial fleets had not made a move, but simply waited. Save for a failed attack mission from a Zerbian air squadron, the stillness had been absolute, oppressive even.

The Zerbian shorelines were empty. The preliminary bombardments had left no stone intact. Smoke still rose from heated coals buried deep beneath piles of rock and twisted iron. A desolate wind blew over the beaches, carrying clouds of sand with it under the rising moon.

However, this was not to last for long. Aboard the ships of the Imperial fleets, red lights began to flash in the below decks and crewmen scrambled about their duties. On the bridge of the GIS Vladimir Kreschnev, Admiral Gencha watched the darkening shores intently. All the pieces were set. All there was to do now was to sit back and watch it unfold.

“Admiral?”

“Execute directive 27C.”

“Aye, sir.”

Aboard the imperial AEGIS cruisers, the scene became frantic, as the order was received. 174 Imperial cruise missiles rocketed forth into the sky, soaring towards the dark shore and their pre-programmed targets: airfields, military bases, and major population centers. They would kill as many as they could, hopefully easing the job of the Praetorians. Most of the missiles, coming in at supersonic speeds, found their targets, and brilliant flashes lit up the sky as death and carnage spread over the area.

Aboard the Imperial transport ships, the orders came in, and the Imperial soldiers, eager for combat, poured into their landing craft. The craft sped towards the beaches and the men poured out. There was no one left to oppose them on this shore, and so they went about preparing a command center and readying themselves to push inward towards the cities.

OOC: Doom, post your men bringing up the other throng of the attack on Deskograd.

IC:

Location.....





Computing....






Recognising....




Skies over Zerbia.


The 35 F-18 Jets equipped with Napalm bombs were from two Zerbian airbases. 5 were from The Zazkarvi airbase, not far from the coast of Zerbia, and 30 were from Zavich air base, 300 miles from Zelgrade, capital of Zerbia. They had been patrolling the skies inland and on parts of the Zerbian sea.

The 5 jets from Zazkarvi had learnt their airbase was under attack whilst they were in the sky. They, along with the 30 comrades from Zavich air base, had been told over their radios by The Initiator For War not to intercept the air attacks by the Generians, but to stay with the original plan, to wipe out the subhuman invasion that was expected. They would have to bomb Zerbian soil, but in The Initiator For War's words:

The Zerbian soil they touch must be cleansed of their filth, to purify once more, in the name of the Republic, of Zerbia, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!


The words rumbled through Air Commander Zalovich's head now as he circled with the 35 others above the coast. He could see subhumans running onto the coast to his left below him.

The Vileness! Zalovich thought angrily. He and the other 29 pilots had watched, restrained by order to watch the desecration of areas of Zerbia, and now another pilot had reported a minute ago that there appeared to be a gathering point for the subhumans. a base being set up, for command perhaps. Zalovich pondered.

FILTH! FUCKING FILTH! Zalovich had thought with rage. They needed to be eradicated, all of them.

Zalovich ordered 19 planes along with his to bomb the beach where the invaders were landing, and the other 15 jets in the formation to attack the Command centre, 10 Apache helicopters hovered slightly inland, awaiting orders to engage.

"ZERBIAN JETS!!! ENGAGE! CLEANSE ZERBIA OF THIS PURILE FILTH!!! CRUSH THEM!!!! FOR THE REPUBLIC, FOR ZERBIA, FOR THE SUPREME OVERLORD CHANCELLOR!" Zalovich screamed hysterically into the radio, spittle flying in wet glistening globs from between his teeth and down his chin.

Zalovich led 19 planes towards the beach, low, low, low, each pilot chanting "For the Republic, for Zerbia, for The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!"

Eoooooooooooowwwwwww! The 20 Zerbian Jet Engines screamed as they closed in.

Zalovich could see stunned enemy soldiers looking up as they ran onto the beach, mouths open, eyes wide, some diving onto their fronts, others firing at him, hate on their faces, orange flashes emitting from their rifles.....

Zalovich dropped his napalm bomb.


.....



.......


........

Slow motion.

......


........



Sloooooooooooooooowwwww Moooooooooooootion.


.....



.....


Silence.


..........


S I L E N C E







The bomb, missile shaped, slowly, slowly, leaves the first F-18 jet, aiming nose down towards the ground............. a Generian soldier watches this and starts to jump to the ground......slowly.......slowly...... another Generian soldier slowly raises his rifle, to fire........the bomb heads towards the sand.......the black F-18 slowly passes over the Generians, leaving the bomb to it's task.....a third Generian simply watches, his rifle by his side... he stands straight, watching the plane drop the bomb..... we see this all in slow, slow motion, yet the only thing we can hear is the normal speed breathing of this third Generian......


haaar... the breathing in.


Hurr.... the breathing out.


haar....


Hurr....


harrr....


hurr...


The bomb is about to touch the sand, 5 feet away.......


Harrr......


Hurrr........


The bomb, 2 Feet away from the sand......


Haarr.....


....



Silence.....

.....


...


S I L E N C E


......


Silence Broken.


Slow motion.....


The large orange Fireball that erupted across the sand came with a roar, a roar reminiscent of some terrible beast.


FROOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLM!!!!!!!


The Firestorm raged across the sand, in slow motion we see it, and the three Generians we see, the one firing, the one just standing engulfed in flames in slow motion, the third Generian is caught mid dive, his body covered in a orange furnace-





STOP.


The picture has stopped. But we can hear the screams.


NYAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!

MEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!!!!

NOAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!




Normal motion






The Orange firestorm curling up and reaching into the sky, as Jets fly over, making the hell reach for heaven in it's pinnacle of power from the slipstream, the beach scorched along with the Generians caught up in it.


ROOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWMMMMMM! The furnace eating hungrily as it races across the beach.


Zalovich pulled up, banking to his left. He saw out of his left view 5 other Zerbian Jets drop their napalm load on the beach. He could not see how many Generians were caught up in it, some had ran back into the sea-


Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh! Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh! Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh! Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh! Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh!


Zalovich watched as 10 Zerbian Jets exploded into fireballs-

BOOOOOOM!

BOOOOM!

BOOOM......


-And enemy jets swoop down, the other Zerbian Jets tried to evade-

Multipe Whoooooooooshs..... as more missle from enemy planes fired at the Zerbian Jets.

Multiple BOOMS!


The 19 Zerbian Jets exploded in to fiery red fire balls.


They died with Zerbian hon- Zalovich interrupted his own thoughts-

"ZERBIAN APACHES! MOVE IN AND FIRE AT SUBHUMAN LANDING CRAFT!!!"

Got to get out, Zalovich thought, as he began to race away from the beach towards inland. Gottogetoutgotogetoutgottogetoutgotogetout-


WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSH!


whereISITwherewhere - Zalovich thought as he tried to evade the missile-

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"ARRRG-" Zalovich's scream was cut off as he and his plane was engulfed in a fiery explosion, incinerating man and machine.

The 10 Apaches moved in low, all of the pilots ignoring the the air battles going on above in the sky. The helicopters were just above the furnace that was the beach.

The Apaches hovered admist the boiling hell below, aiming their targets on Generians who had ran back into the sea, or were on landing craft.

Silence....


Silence....

The chainguns roared.


Dooooooooooooooooooooooooorrrrr


The bullets poured from the 10 copters.

Thwwwwwwp! Thwaaaaaaaaap! thhh thhhhm! thhhhm! Thwwwwwwp! Thwaaaaaaaaap! thhh thhhhm! thhhhm! Thwwwwwwp! Thwaaaaaaaaap! thhh thhhhm! thhhhm!

Generian soldiers tried to dive beneath the waves, but bullets impacted upon flesh, turning the waters red, arms flailing, short screams cut short as men were reduced to vapours of blood. It was a slaughter.


In the boats, the Generians were trapped. Bodies jerked, lumps of flesh cut away from the bodies in fast moment, blood spraying from the front of the boat to the back, The Apaches fired their missiles, sinking some landing craft.

The Apaches were surrounded by Generian jets, none could evade the missiles that blew each one apart.


The fifteen Zerbian jets that headed for the Generian command centre, found it and began to fire missiles, sending the encampment up in flames, Generian soldiers running around on fire, screaming.

These Zerbian Jets were too surrounded by Generian jets, and none of the 15 could evade them.

35 Zerbian Jets and 10 Apache Helicopters were sent on the mission, none came back, but they left a burning hell for others as their legacy.


End of IC

Secret IC

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor remained at his castle, his hideaway, although now he sat on the throne, peering at the monitor of his lap top that sat settled on his knees.

The Wind rattled outside, around the ancient walls.

He had been informed over the phone by The Initiator For War of the attack on the Generian invading force. He had also been informed that none of the attack craft had returned.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor mused before sending the communique to Generia.

To: Generia
From The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia.

I know your 'invasion' is underway. I know you wish to kill as many Zerbians as you can.

This conflict between us started over my 'Tommorow's enemy' policy, over the killing of children, to stop them from being the soldiers of tommorow.

Watch this video I have attached:

The video shows a young Zerbian boy, with a pistol in his hand.

"I shall slit their throats and watch them die screaming for their whores of mothers." says the Zerbian eight year old boy acidly, recieving a proud pat on the head from his father, a Zerbian soldier.

The video loops six times, over and over, the same footage.

This Zerbian boy is quite prepared to die for Zerbia, killing your forces.

Should you kill him, and other children like him, would it not make you hypocritical in criticising our policy?

Your forces will be facing elite Zerbian soldiers, but they will also face Zerbian children with weapons, it is unavoidable.

So what do you do? Kill them and become like us........ 'Child Killers' as you may put it.....or do you let them shoot your soldiers, not returning fire, suffering casualties?

Decisions, decisions....


Watch the video again, look into the boy's eyes......are your prepared to become one of us.......we who you find so vile........a 'Child Killer'?


Interesting is it not, what decisions you have to take in a war..... of course, there does not have to be a war, and you do not have to face this decision......

Decisions, decisions! Kill the little children or don't kill the little children.......hearing their screams........haunting the chambers of your mind.

You see now. You kill the child who is armed, you kill the enemy of today and the possible future.

We kill the unarmed child, the enemy of tommorow.


But killing a child........the act you so deplore....... can you live with that? Can your soldiers.......live with that?


Suffer the Little children.........


The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor


He sent the communique.


End of Secret IC

OOC:You gonna have your chancellor guy somehow find out about that incedent with my folks?

Official Imperial Communique

To: Zerbia
From: Chancellor Licinius

We know of the communique you sent. LIARS! You murdered unarmed innocent children who were begging for mercy. Generian soldiers shall shoot Zerbian children who are guilty, armed, and attacking Generian soldiers. It has been commanded, and so shall be done.

ENd Transmission

Learning of the horrid events in the generic empire, the Empire of Teutonburg pledged 500 of it's elite Kaiser Wache,(a large portion of the Empire's army) to put down this rebellion.

To:Zerbia


After viewing the communique which was sent to The Generic Empire (OOC: Just assume it was shared with us) we are both shocked a disgusted that you would place children not even in their teens in the army. Childhood is a time for nurturing and growth, not the chaos and destruction of warfare. We condemm your actions and are serioulsy considering joining up with the Generic Empire's invasion force unless you pledge to stop using children as part of your armed forces.

Concordiat Department of State

Official Imperial Communqiue

To: Zerbia
From: Chancellor Licinius

It has been agreed upon between Wirraway and Borman that if you do not stop using children in the military we will join Generic Empire. We are sure you have gotten their communqiue and send this to second their threats.

End Transmission

The Kaiser Wache marched to the allied Loyalist staging grounds, where they were ready to attack at any moment. (OOC: when ever the combined offencive was planed)

IC:

To: Chancellor Licinius
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

Yes we eradicated them, but they were far from innocent, for they would become the enemy of tommorow, and needed to be eradicated.
And so Generian soldiers shall shoot Zerbian children. You have become like us in our policy despite the vileness of your blood. You are no different from us are you? Except we Zerbians are the superior race.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia



To: Wirraway
From:The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

A child's growth and nurturity is indeed what every child should be entitled too, regarding they are not today or tommorow's enemy of Zerbia, but the fine, brave Zerbian children are going to fight. They are going to fight because Generia has invaded our Pure land of Zerbia. Persuade Generia to withdrawl their forces or the children of Zerbia will fight them.

If Generia withdrawls, then of course it is certainty the Zerbian children shall live.

Pass this communique onto the Bormans too.

Should both your nations invade Zerbia, not only will your soldiers be suffocating in their own blood, your nations will be child killers for ever, something you both seem to deplore.

My, how will you live with yourselves.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia


Secret IC:

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia sent the communiques, then watched the footage over and over again on his laptop of the Satellite images, and the computer reconstruction, sent to him 10 minutes ago by someone who simply put: Doomingsland.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia watched the Computer reconstruction again and again, of fine, brave Zerbians engaged in glorious! combat with soldiers who wore large helmets, watched the battles become smaller, more bloody until there were two soldiers.


By Zerbia. He thought with wonder.


He had watched the soldiers battling the Zerbians use swords to fight, to decapitate, and watched Zerbians fight back with knifes, but what really fixated the man on the throne, he who sat in his large hideaway castle, was what happened at the end each time he played the computer reconstruction.

The Doomingsland soldier throws aside his rifle and body armour whilst facing the brave Zerbian, and pulls out his schmitar.


That, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor mused each time he saw it, is the sign of a true warrior.

He watched the Zerbian soldier do the same.

Tossing aside his rifle, two schmitars in both hands.

That also, he mused again, is the sign of a true warrior.

He watched the computer reconstruction, and he had to admit it.

I admire them both.

The Zerbian, and the Doomingslandian locked in a fierce battle.

CHING! CHING! The reconstructions played out the sounds of schimitar hitting schimitar, the drawing of blood, the evasive techiniques.

It made The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor yearn for this sort of battle on the ground himself. His heart swelled, his pulse ran just ever so slightly faster, but yet he watched showing no emotion.

The equality of battle........ He acknowledged.

It can't be. It just can not be. He told himself.


He knew it could be a trick, a propoganda stunt by the Doomingslandians.


But if so, they would have portrayed the Zerbians being slaughtered one-sided, He thought.

He knew also it was a computer reconstruction, but The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor liked computers, he trusted them for what they could do.

It can not be! It...can not. He tried telling himself again, but it was the final act that always dealt away with the doubts, and seeing it yet again cast away those doubts forever.

The Zerbian and the Doomingslandian charge at one another, the Doomingslandinan decapitates the Zerbian, the blood spraying from the bloody stunt of a neck, but the Doomingslandian falls also, a Schimitar through the chest. Both fall, locked in battle, dead.

The final thought of his sealed his view on the matter.


They both died with honour. He thought, showing no emotion at all.

Equal in battle, they died binded by blood.

Equal. The thought stuck in his mind as a foreign object would in the throat, so foreign, so alien to him was it. But he acknowledged it. He knew what this meant.

(Still Secret IC, but shared with Doomingsland)


To: Doomingsland
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia.


I have watched the computer reconstruction.


I have viewed the satelite photos.


Your soldiers fought like warriors, just like my own.


It is something that I never thought possible until now.


But it has happened.


You are warriors, equal in battle and honour with my own.


I, The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor and The Republic Of Zerbia hereby recognises you as that of people who are of honour, of warrior, of no cowardice, above that of the ranks of the subhuman, alike to that of the Zerbians of the Zerbian land.

From this battle forth, in a battle full of honour, of supreme conflict, our forces emerged as something that still is hard to understand.

Equal.

Our two last surviving soldiers of this battle fought to the death just like their companions, but both died together, in the arms of one another's death.

Let it be known we recognise you for the honourable people you are. Let it be known that from this battle of equal standing our peoples are bounded by the blood of a great battle of such honour and equalness that is should be wrong for us to take the weapon to one another again.

I hope to find ourselves fighting alongside each other one day, against enemy hordes.

But for now, I grant you a good day, warrior nation.

The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic Of Zerbia

He sent the communique, and felt odd, foreign thoughts running round his mind that had never been considered before.


End of Secret IC


OOC: Don't worry Generian, Borman, Wirraway, I'm not trying to drag Doomingsland onto Zerbia's side in this conflict I have with Generia, but is a message of respect and recongnition by The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor, of Doomingsland as a nation of non-subhumans and as of honourable warriors following the cool kick arse battle me and Doomingsland had. Nothing malicious I assure you all.

OOC: So can I attack when ever I want, or is there a specific offencive planed? L read the whole thread but I could not find one.

OOC: So can I attack when ever I want, or is there a specific offencive planed? L read the whole thread but I could not find one.

OOC: I'm sorry but at this point I think its pretty safe to say the thread is closed, even though I didn't start it, we're waaay to far in to have another nation involved, it would just be too hard.

Chancellor Rubellai chuckled as he watched the footage of the child. He then picked up a black telephone that sat on his desk.

"Send this message to all of our commanders in the Zerbian campaign."

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

General Dmitri Ilsyvich read the communique, and watched the attached video feed of a small (rather unattractive) Zerbian child.

"So, they're using kids now eh? What ever happened to that whole warrior ideal they had goin for 'em? Kid looks like he can barely lift that knife. This is gonna be easier than I thought."

The General stood up and went about issuing his orders

Official Communique

To: All Imperial COs in Imperial expeditionary force: Zerbian theater
From: General Dmitri Ilsyvich

As you are no doubt aware, these foreign fools have a major inferiority complex, and have taken to recruiting children to compensate for the lack of a trained fighting force. When you enter Zerbia, you will most likely encounter many untrained militias, some of which may include minors. The Zerbians severely underestimate us if they think a few kids are going to stop us from having our vengeance.

As always, your orders are shoot to kill. Everyone in country is to be assumed armed and dangerous, and a threat. When you enter a population center, you are to leave nothing alive. Burn the cities behind you and continue towards your final objectives.

The foreigners are confident that their populace will overcome us with their ferocity. Obviously they have never witnessed an Imperial military action. This is revenge, men. Brooke no aggression, leave no stone unscorched.

General Dmitri Ilsyvich,
Supreme Commander of Imperial Expeditionary Force

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

The aircover over the beach and the surrounding area was impeccable. An air mission would be suicide. Enemy aircraft would be cut to ribbons before they got within a mile of the Command Center.

On the beach, the Imperial army assembled. The cruise missiles would have killed off thousands, if not millions of the Zerbian militia members. The Empire had inspired awe through the power of her ordinance. Now she would invoke terror through the brutality of her armies.

"Praetorians!"

A uniform cry answered the call to arms.

"Go forth to do the will of the Empire!"

The soldiers, black masses on the white sand, scrambled to their APCs. The Imperial armor, GIT "Reaper" Mk Is, advanced, hundreds of them having been unloaded, many already stationed off the beach, ready to move.

Overhead, Imperial GIF-77s and GIF-101s flew in towards the nearest city. Cruise missiles that had targetted the metropolis were suspected to have taken out much of the air defenses as well as a decent number of the population.

The fighters and attack aircraft moved in, GIF-101s leading the way, GIF-77s following, readying to unleash hell on the alabaster city. There were 60 of them, white streaks under the clear blue sky.

The aircraft moved in.

"Let's send these bastards back to God."

The jets screached over the city's airspace, unleashing death in the form of guided and incendiary bombs. The clouds of flame stretched into the sky, plumes of thick black smoke following.

On the ground, the Imperial armored divisions entered the rolling field that stretched for miles before the city that now spat black smoke into the air. Imperial mobile artillery followed the tanks, and halted when in position. The armor also came to a halt. The barrels of the artillery cannon elevated, and the thunder of the cannon split the peaceful air.

The shells fell over the city in the distance, the explosions echoing over the fields towards the Imperial positions. The city would be softened first, and then subjected to the full wrath of the Empire.

((OOC: I have a hell of alot of aircover flying over the beach and the surrounding area from my 6 or so carriers operating off the coast, so any air attack would most likely be shot to hell before it got close to Generian positions.))

bump

bump

((OOC: I have a hell of alot of aircover flying over the beach and the surrounding area from my 6 or so carriers operating off the coast, so any air attack would most likely be shot to hell before it got close to Generian positions.))

OOC: By that, do you mean you are cancelling out the Zerbian air strike on the beach and command centre?

Because none of the Zerbian attack aircraft survived it to equate for your air defence.

I think he means if you tried again they wouldn't get close enough to kill a single person.

OOC: Hmm.

Secret IC:



Location.....






Computing......







Recognising...






Fields outside the city of Zagreb.



Air Defence Commander Zulzazovich looked around him, his eyes steely cold, a fury brewing in his chest. His heart was pumping.

Burning flesh, burning wreckage, scorched land, But I am here. he thought, breathing in hot vapid air.

The Generian Jets had come in hard, bombing the field Zulzazovich's air defence division was in and bombing the city of Zagreb several miles behind. Zulzazovich had dived for cover on the ground-

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!





Zerbian Mangled, blackened bodies, fused with mangled blackened wreckage.

They died with Zerbian Honour. He thought determindly.

The Generian Jets were still coming over past, but in fewer number, dropping co-ordinates some way away from Zulzazovich's position, but the Zerbian air defence had not shot a single plane down.

Yet. Zulzazovich pondered angrily, looking at the sky, and stomping over to a surviving Patriot Missile battery, but by Zerbia it shall be done, by Zerbia it will.


EOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! EOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

The screams of two jet engines in the sky.


Zulzazovich saw a enemy aircraft screeching across the sky, 100 feet up, side profile, hotly pursued by a Zerbian, Fine Zerbian! Jet, that was struggling to keep up and match with the enemy jet's movement.

Now.

Now.

Now.


"FIRE!!!! FIRE AT THE SUBHUMAN CRAFT!" Zulzazovich screamed as loud as he could at the patriot crew, leaning over forwards from the force.

The missile was already aimed in the sky-


WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH

The ground shook underneath Zulzazovich's feet as the missile took to the sky. He watched the missile leave a white trail and head for the Generian plane which was heading from right to left.

The enemy craft was dodging missiles fired from the Zerbian F-18 in pursuit, and as such, the Generian plane's pilot did not register the danger from the patriot missile, which closed in on the underside on the plane.


The plane turned onto it's side-


POOF---BOOOM!!!!!!! The patriot missile sheared the Generian Plane's left wing off before exploding, sending the plane reeling.

The plane was out of control, heading towards the ground nose first, spinning, twirling, debris flying away, all aerodynamic control lost by the loss of the wing.


SHEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! The screaming protest of the jet in peril.


The Zerbian plane pulled back, and shot up into the clouds, but Zulzazovich took no notice, he watched the Generian plane in peril with extreme satisfaction, his face unsmiling.

Got you, you subhuman bastard. He thought with satisfaction.

He suddenly saw movement in the sky above the spinning plane and realised it was the pilot, that he had ejected.

The pilot's parachute opened.


"FIND HIM BUT DO NOT KILL HIM!!!" Zulzazovich screamed at other Zerbian soldiers watching who had survived the bombardment, "WE WANT THE FILTH ALIVE!"

Without taking his eyes of the descending pilot, Zulzazovich hitched a ride on the back of a Tiger II Tank, and banged with his black leather gloved fist on the top of the turret for the tank to move. His breath made a mist in the chilly air but the heat of the Tank's engine warmed him as the Tank headed down the muddy green hill, it's 88mm Gun raised high in the air, the engine revving and roaring.

ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! ROOOOM! ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!


There is no escape for you-hoo. Zulzazovich thought as he watched the pilot land on the open clearing at the bottom of the hill despite his best efforts. Must not let him escape, mustnotmustnotmustnot- The command upon himself charged through his mind like a freight train.


BOOOOM! The Generian Jet exploded upon impact on ground some metres away.


Zulzazovich jumped from the Tiger II Tank and rolled on the soft grass before springing to his feet, bringing his Ak-47 to aim on the moving parachute at the bottom and running towards it ahead of the tank, a truck carrying Zerbian soldiers as well as Zerbian soldiers on foot.

"SURRENDER!" Zulzazovich bellowed in English, as he came to a stop in front of the moving parachute, aiming his AK-47.

A helmeted head appeared from beneath the parachute. So did a pistol.

DOFF! DOFF! FRLEE! Zulzazovich fired his AK-47 twice, the rifle recoiling in his hands, the bullets pulverising the right hand of the pilot holding the pistol into a bloody mush.

The pistol fell to the ground.

The Generian screamed in agony. "YAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" But he was not done, he dived for the pistol with his left hand-

DOFF DOFF! FRLEE! Zulzazovich fired his AK-47 twice again, the bullets pulverising the left hand of the pilot into a bloody mush to make twins with the other hand.

The pilot fell to the floor on his back screaming once more. "NYAAAAAAAARRRRRRRGH!"

"HANDS UP!" Zulzazovich shouted at the Generian before realising how silly such a command was. He addressed his fellow Zerbians loudly who had now gathered, a smug smile coming to his lips. "But of course. The Subhuman bastard no longer has any hands."

A smattering of loud laughter arose from the Zerbians gathered, despite the bombardment they had been through. Some still looked up at the sky, on the lookout.

Zulzazovich kicked away the pistol on the ground, and ordered the Zerbians to surround the bleeding Generian as he slung his AK-47 over his shoulder and pulled a cell phone from his tunic, flipped open the hatch, and dialled a number.

The dial tone barely had time to ring before the call was answered.

"Who is this?" A cold, irritated voice asked.

"Air Commander Zulzakovich, Initiator For War." said Zulzazovich said proudly. "We have a live subhuman pilot. I and my fine, brave Zerbian soldiers shot the filth down." He finished with pompous venom.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then:

"Excellent, fine brave Zerbian Commander." The unemotional voice replied. "Tell your fine brave Zerbian soldiers that the The Republic, Zerbia, and The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor is proud of you and your actions. Bring the subhuman to the meeting point, as arranged should such a thing have happened, as The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor knew it would."

"Yes, Initiator For War!" Zulzazovich said with pleasure.

But the line was dead.

Zulzazovich took the phone away from his ear, shut the hatch, and put it back inside his tunic pocket. He turned back to the Generian, who still lay on his back, but had stopped screaming, and was looking around at the circle of Zerbians around him, his eyes wide.

Zulzazovich walked towards and then stood over him. He looked down at the Generian's frightened face.

"IN THE NAME OF THE REPUBLIC, OF ZERBIA, OF THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR, I DECLARE THIS SUBHUMAN PRISONER FOR THE REPUBLIC, FOR ZERBIA, FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!" Zulzazovich screamed, bringing his right black Jackboot up and down hard on the Generian's face with a CRUNCH! before grinding his boot right to left into the face beneath.

"FOR THE REPUBLIC, FOR ZERBIA, FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!" The other Zerbians bellowed in union, raising their guns up and down in triumph.

Zulzazovich ordered bandages to be wrapped around the prisoner's bloodied stumps of hands, and then ordered him to be lifted onto the truck, and for 10 Zerbians to accompany him to take the subhuman to the meeting point. The remaining Zerbians would withdrawl to Zagreb.

Within several hours, the truck carrying Zulzazovich, the 10 other Zerbians and the captured Generian pilot had arrived at the meeting point.


End of Secret IC


OOC: I have RP plans for this.

Doom Citadel, Doomingsland

The emperor sat at his large wooden desk within his dark office, his mantle piece decorated with the severed heads of fallen enemies, enemies he'd personaly killed. He had a dark robe, and a hood shadowed his face. Beneath the robe, he wore his black ceremonial armor, and his sword sat on the mantle, next to his trophies. Suddenly, his secretary buzzed him,

"My lord, you have recieved a communique, it's from the...errr...Supreme Overlord Chancelor of Zerbia."

"Aye, put it on screen." came his twisted, warped voice from beneath the hood.

A flat screen moniter came up in front of his desk, and a key board came from inside. On the screen was a message from the Zerbian.

Hmmm, I was also surprised a group of heretics were capable of even inflicting one casualty on my children. Perhaps this is worthy of a response? he thought to himself, begining to type...

Official Imperial Communique

To-Supreme Overlord Chancellor of Zerbia

From-Lord and Emperor of Doomingsland

We were greatly impressed by the fact you even managed to kill even one of our men. We too see you as equals in battle. We are a nation of warriors, trained as children to serve the Empire. A Doomingslander has never been taken alive in battle by a foreign army. It is our way, and is also your's.

I have but one bit of advice for you: Don't under estimate Generia.

---END TRANSMISSION---

Secret IC to Doomingsland.


To: Lord and Emperor of Doomingsland
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

It is indeed a surprise that Zerbia should find non Zerbians who are equal to Zerbians in terms of Warriordom and blood.

Like your culture, Zerbians are raised from birth to follow my every command, to follow my every will. I am the embodiment of all that is Zerbia.

Our ways are indeed similar, alike. Your soldiers were brave in battle, just like my own, and both fought by the code of the true warrior.

I thankyou for your advice concerning Generia, but I do not underestimate them, I estimate them by knowing them, and by this knowledge, they are quite low in the nature and thus order of things.

Indeed, I feel they underestimate us, such is the primitive frame of thought they have via tiny subhuman brains.

Well I have a surprise for them. Yes indeed.


The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor


OOC: Generia, Unfortunatly, I am going to be busy over the next few days, so I may not be online until Tuesday, so I may not be able to respond to RPs until then. Would it be alright to stop or slow down the RP of the Generian invasion until Tuesday? Then carry on where we have left it here on Tuesday so I can keep up?

Study work you see. Sorry.

Secret IC to Doomingsland.


To: Lord and Emperor of Doomingsland
From: The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of Zerbia

It is indeed a surprise that Zerbia should find non Zerbians who are equal to Zerbians in terms of Warriordom and blood.

Like your culture, Zerbians are raised from birth to follow my every command, to follow my every will. I am the embodiment of all that is Zerbia.

Our ways are indeed similar, alike. Your soldiers were brave in battle, just like my own, and both fought by the code of the true warrior.

I thankyou for your advice concerning Generia, but I do not underestimate them, I estimate them by knowing them, and by this knowledge, they are quite low in the nature and thus order of things.

Indeed, I feel they underestimate us, such is the primitive frame of thought they have via tiny subhuman brains.

Well I have a surprise for them. Yes indeed.


The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor


OOC: Generia, Unfortunatly, I am going to be busy over the next few days, so I may not be online until Tuesday, so I may not be able to respond to RPs until then. Would it be alright to stop or slow down the RP of the Generian invasion until Tuesday? Then carry on where we have left it here on Tuesday so I can keep up?

Study work you see. Sorry.

((OOC: No problem, but i'll make a post or two so you have something to read when you get back.

About the air cover, Borman said it right. Seeing as I hit your air fields with cruise missiles, and my air cover over the beach and front lines is rediculously heavy, I doubt you could get a squad or aircraft within a mile of Generian positions. I accepted your first attack since you already wrote about it and I had neglected to mention air defenses. That was my fault.anyway, I need to get some specs drawn up for my GIF-101s and 77s and my GIT "Reaper" tanks, so I'll make sure to link you to a thread with the specs when they're done, or just post them here. In the mean time just think of my aircraft like lighter, faster F-18 hornets. GIF-101s are interceptors, and GIF-77s are attack aircraft.

Think of the Reapers as rediculously heavily armored Israeli Merkavas, as they're loosely based on that design. Keep up the good work, and i'll make an IC post sooner or later.

Doom, you're damn right to tell him not to underestimate me. I have a sneaking suspician he has no idea what i'm capable of.))

OOC: Thanks for waiting! I would love to see the technical details of your weapons, it will help me RP contact with them with my soldiers.





Secret IC:


Darkness


...

Darkness

....


The scraping of a chair on a hard concrete floor. Euuuurrrr!


drip.....drop.....drop.....drip...drop.....drip....drop......drip...



The sound of slow waterdrops coming from the ceiling of this dark room.


.......


Ting! A light bulb is turned on, it is in a metal lampshade, hanging from the ceiling.

There is 4 Zerbian soldiers stood around the small room, heavily armed in the shadows.
Two others sit at a wooden table, a metal box in front of them with knobs and dials.

A small grey table is in the middle of this room. To the left, a man in black trousers, white shirt, black tie, black long leather coat, and black 40's style hat is seated. He wears wire rimmed spectacles, reflecting the light from the lamp. His black leather gloved hands are folded in front of him on the table. He is skinny, his lips thin but firm.

He stares across the table at the naked man sitting opposite, who is a quivering wreck. He is in handcuffs, his hands locked behind the chair he sits on. Handcuffs are around his ankles. Wires that end in crocodile clips are attached to his scrotum, pinching the wrinkly skin. The wires lead back to the metal box with knobs and dials.


Zilosevich looked at the Generian prisoner with disdain, he was badly bruised.



Weakling, Zilosevich thought, no resistance at all when we took his clothes off.

Despite his feelings towards the prisoner, Zilosevich smiled at him, a thin, twisted smile of malice, his eyes dead and cold.

"You do know where you are, don't you, subhuman." He said to the naked man in English in a patronising tone, "You are in the custody of the ZerbSPol, the Zerbian Special Police. That is because you are the prisoner of The Republic, Zerbia, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor."

Zilosevich paused and steepled his fingers under chin as he leant forward, gazing at the prisoner, the same thin smile on his face.

"Tell me," He contined in a friendly tone, "Why do you think this is so? Hmm?"

The naked Generian pilot did not answer, he was in a state of denial, his face blank, his eyes looking around the darkened room at the standing Zerbian soldiers. He whimpered slightly from the pain of the crocodile clips grasping and pulling on his nutsack. He dared not move for making the crocodile clips pinch and pull harder.

Oh! How he had screamed when they had been attached,Zilosevich smiled further at the thought, That will teach you, you subhuman filth!

Zilosevich stirred himself from the thought. The prisoner needed a jumpstart to get him going. He turned his head to the two Zerbians sitting at the small table with the metal box, and nodded his head, down, just once, before turning back to the prisoner.

One of the Zerbians smiled at Zilosevich and raised his right hand on to to a dial on the metal box. He turned the dial to the right.

The Electricity ran from the box, through the wires and into the pilot's testicles with a lightning shock of agonising pain.


IIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ The sound of electricity.

"GeeeeeeeYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The Generian jerked in his chair, mouth open, screaming, spit spraying from his open mouth. His body shook.

Zilosevich nodded once again to the Zerbians sitting at the table with the metal box, and the Zerbian with his hand on the dial turned it left, and the electricity was cut.

The pilot hung his head, released from the grip of torture by the electricity, but still in the grip of the crocodile clips. Drools of spit hung from his mouth.

Zilosevich was pleased by the sight, but he wanted answers.

"Tell me again, why do you think you are here?" He said loudly.

The Generian pilot slowly looked up at his interrogater, looking in him in the eye.

"I must have.......done something...........shitty in my past life....." He said breathlessly in English, managing a tired grin.

Zilosevich's smile faded off his face.

Fucking Filthy Primitive bastard, he thought.


"You Filthy, dirty, putrid subspecies." Zilosevich whispered, his face hard staring at his prisoner, "You are so primitive you do not realise what you have done. Your blood, your species declares war on our superior land, our superior being, and you try to violate this pure land with THE VILENESS OF YOUR INFERIOR SPECIES!" Zilosevich screamed at the naked man.

"You carried out atroc-" The prisoner began, but he was cut off by Zilosevich.

"THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS ATROCITIES!!!! WE HAVE THE TOMMOROW'S ENEMY POLICY!!!!!! THAT IS WHAT YOU FAIL TO COMPREHEND! YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND ZERBIAN CULTURE, WHAT IT MEANS TO BE ZERBIAN, YOU AS A SUBSPECIES, WILL NEVER KNOW!!!!" Zilosevich screeched, puffing his chest out.

"I'm not sure I want to." The Generian croaked.

Zilosevich calmed himself, that same malicious smile returning to his face.

"You will know the Zerbian way of justice, for violating our land. You will know our methods of extracting every single piece of information about the invasion 'plans' of your subhuman race from you. And when we are done with you, after we have broken you down into little pieces, which I dare say should not take long, we will crush you. We will crush your soul. We will crush any hope you have. We will crush your very existence into nothing. You shall know pain, not endless pain, for it will end, but pain that shall feel eternal, and you shall realise how futile in the scheme of things you really are." Zilosevich said calmly and confidentally.

Zilosevich nodded once to the Zerbian behind the metal box and the dial was turned.


FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

"NOGEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGH!!! ARRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!!" The Generian jerked and shook in his seat, screaming in a high pitched tone, spit dribbling down his chin, as the electricity thrust through the crocodile clips attached to his scrotum and through his body.

FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!




Zilosevich watched, a smug look on his face, as the Generian lost control of his bodily functions.


FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRFPHHHRRRLEEEEEEWW!

The prisoner farted and defecated as he was electrocuted, the brown excrement in liquid form spraying and thrusting from his anus on to the chair he sat on and seeping onto the floor, creating a foul stench in the room.


FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

HUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAGGH! Orange-yellow Vomit flew from the naked man's mouth onto the table, just missing Zilosevich.

FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!


FriiiiiiiiSSSShhhhhhhhhhhhh! Urine sprayed from the Generian, creating a puddle on the floor. And still his body jerked from the electric currency.

FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

A manic open grin came to Zilosevich's face, his jaws opened, and strands of white spit clung between his top and bottom teeth.

FRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!!

In the name of The Republic, for Zerbia, The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, this will be done. He thought.


End of Secret IC

Official Imperial Statement

The Imperial government has recently been made aware of the fact that a Generian pilot was captured by Zerbian forces. As we know the nature of Zerbian hospitality, we are sure that the pilot is no longer breathing. Therefore, the Empire has seen fit to reciprocate.

As the Zerbian government is no doubt aware, the Empire has been holding a Zerbian soldier captive for some time in the case of such a situation. Enclosed is a recorded video feed that the Zerbian government may find interesting.

Recorded 11/13/xx

The Zerbian prisoner stand against a stone wall in a dimly lit room. He is half naked, shivering, and bruised beyond belief. A look of abject terror is plastered on the man's face, and his once dark hair is beginning to show streaks of white after a month of captivity and subsequent brutality. Two masked Imperial officers stand on either side of the man. One holds a long metallic object, similar to a cattle prod. the other, a long knife.

The man wit the metallic object presses a button on the handle, and the prod begins to buzz and glow blue. The second man kicks the Zerbian into a wooden chair, and pries his jaw open. The first man slams the prod into the Zerbian's clenched teeth, breaking several. The electrical current begins to flow, and the man screams in horrible agony as the burning overtakes him. After several minutes of this, the man removes the prod. The Zerbian shakes violently.

The second Generian steps forward, knife ready. He grabs the Zerbian's arm, and movesthe blade over a finger. The appendage comes away as the blade severs flesh and bone. The Zerbian screams as his blood falls to the floor. The knife moves to the thumb. The torturer forces the knife through the flesh, cutting along the joint, as the victim writhes uncontrollably. The thumb falls to the ground. The Generian repeats the process with every finger on each hand, and proceeds to move the knife towards the Zerbian's contorted face.

The knife flashes through the air, and an ear comes away. The knife moves towards the center of the face, and slices the nose in half, then off completely.

The Generian wipes the knife down with a dirty rag, and hands it to the other, who in return hands him a spoon. The man moves the spoon towards the Zerbian's eye, puts his hand on the back of the victim's head, and gouges the eye out. The Generian holds the eye, optic nerve trailing, in front of the Zerbian's good eye, and crushes it in his hand.

The second Generian than drops the Zerbian's pants, and again hands the first man the knife. The Generian tormentor goes to work on the man, who now pleads for mercy in English. The Generian cuts off the man's penis, and rips his testicles free with his bare hand, holding them up in front of the Zerbian's mutilated face.

The Zerbian's screams die out, and he falls over, dead. The Generian raises the knife again, this time over the man's chest, plunges it through the chest plate, and works away at the bone, until a good sized hole is open in the chest. He then reaches into the man's chest cavity, and pulls out the Zerbian's heart. The Generian turns towards the camera, holds the heart up, and takes a bite out of it.

The screen fades to black.

OOC:Those two posts in succession came close to making me physically ill, good job guys.

OOC: That is too much to read. Can I get a summary form my last post to now?

OOC: Thanks Wirraway. I got a feeling I might just make you feel even more physically sick.

Generian, great post!


IC


Official Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor of The Republic of Zerbia Statement:

Following the attempted invasion by the subhuman hordes of the Pure lands of Zerbia, my brave, fine Zerbian forces swatted down from the sky a aircraft of the subhuman, subspecies enemy who violated our pure Zerbian airspace and subsquently captured the subhuman pilot.

On my orders, Zerbians have been enacting the Zerbian way of justice upon this interloper Filth.

I invite you, the world, to watch. You shall learn what happens to those who try to make enemies of Zerbia.


....


...


Darkness fades


A badly bruised naked man lies on his back, whimpering, on what looks like a table. His head is shaved of all hair, including his eyebrows. We look down his body and see his chest hair has been shaved, and his pubic hair also. His arms are outstretched over his head, and are tied to what looks like a large rolling pin. A Zerbian soldier stands at the side of the table, his hand unmoving on a small handle on the rolling pin. The naked man's legs are outstretched, his feet tied to what looks like a large rolling pin. Here too, a second Zerbian soldier has his hand on the handle.

The Cameraman moves in further. A man wearing spectacles and a black hat, in a black leather coat and white shirt and black tie can be seen briefly.

He leans forward and says something to the two Zerbian soldiers.

The Zerbian soldiers begin turning the handles of the rolling pin, the one with the prisoner's hands tied to it is turned anti clockwise. The other tied to the prisoner's feet is turned clockwise.


The shaved, naked Generian Pilot's live body is being stretched on this table, the joints in his arms and legs cracking as the bones are stretched.


"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH! AHHH! AHHHHHHH! NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" The screams of the damned. The screams of the tortured.

CRICK! CRACK! CRUCK! the cracking of stretching bones.

The Generian's head shakes from side to side, his mouth open, screaming.

The arms and legs stretch long, long as the Zerbian soldiers trun the rollers on the table.

Criiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiickkk.......POP! POP! The kneecaps of the prisoner pop out, and outwards to the right and left, but remain in the skin.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRR! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!" The high pitched screams of the tortured man are deafening.


Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! CRACKCRACK! The cracking of bones, and then elbows, which pop out of joint.

"UUUURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! NYAAAAAAAAA! NYARRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!"

CRACKTISH!CRACKTISH!CRUUUUUUUUUUUUCTASH! FRLEE!!!! Splinters of white bone pierce through the pasty skin on the naked man's arms and legs, Maroon blood sprays everywhere.


"AAAAAAUUUUUUURRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! AUUURRR! NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEER!"

"Smile for the camera." A bright voice says in English, the owner of the voice not in the camera's view.

The two Zerbian soldiers look round. They both smile, smug, satisfied grins, but their eyes are cold, unemotional.


Camera cuts to black.


....


Darkness fades.


At first the viewer believes they are seeing the side profile of an elderly naked man before us, a bald elderly man, hunched over, his back bent, standing in a dark room, who has bandages on his arms and legs.

But the viewer looks closer, and we can see that the face is familiar.

It is the Generian pilot's face.

But it can not be! Generian pilots are not elderly! Your disbelieving mind says.

But then you realise that this is the result of torture. The spine, bent and curved over, making the man hunch over, the lines and hollow gauntness on the man's face, the arms, long, long, knuckles scraping the ground and floppy, from being stretched and broken, the legs, twisted out of shape, white dry flesh sagging over where the knees should be, but they are not where they should be, they are at the back of the knees. The ankles, bony, lumpy, covered in bandages, and his feet are leaning over outwards.

The man slowly turns his head towards the camera, big, sad, sorrowful eyes, his tongue hangs out of his mouth.

"Urrrrrrrrr?" he says thickly.

Cloom! cloom! cloom! Cloom! cloom! cloom! Cloom! cloom! cloom!

A stampede of Jackboots can be heard, and six Zerbian soldiers run in front of the camera, long, black truncheons in their black gloved hands.

A man out of view of the camera shouts something in Zerbian.

The Zerbians surround the hunched over, naked, helpless Generian.

Truncheons swing, hitting the prisoner on the legs, the arms, the ribs.

"AAAGG! AAGG! AAGG! AAGG ARRRG!" The Generian falls and dissapears under the mass of Zerbians, screaming in pain as he is savagely beaten with the truncheons.

WHUMPT! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! The sound of hard trunceons hitting a soft body into pulp.

"AAAGG!"

THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT!

"AAAAAAGG!"

THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT!

"AAAARRR!!"

THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! CRACK! CRUNCH! TASH! The breaking of bones from the hard impact.

"NYAAAAAAAA!" A final high pitched scream from the Generian. A bloodied and broken hand appears from between the melee of Zerbian bodies, reaching out for something, for hope-

THUMPT! CRACK! WHUMPT! CRUCK! THUMPT! CRUNCH! WHUMPT! TASH! THUMPT! WHUMPT! THUMPT! CRUNCH! CRACK! CRUNCH! CRUNCH CRACK! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

The Zerbian soldiers stopped hitting their prey with their truncheons, but now stamped and kicked on the Generian with their Jackboots instead.

BUMP! THUMP! BUMP! THUMP! BUMP! THUMP! BUMP! THUMP!
BUMP! THUMP! BUMP! THUMP! BUMP! THUMP! BUMP! THUMP!




"HALT!" A Zerbian commanded out of view of the camera.


The Zerbian soldiers stopped and stepped back with bloodied black truncheons.


A bloodied body lay on the floor, on it's side, arms and legs at twisted angles. It jerked, once.



Camera fades to black.

...

...



Darkness fades.


A close up of the Generian's face by the camera.

The face is bloated, swollen and bruised. It is badly discoloured, purple, yellow and black, both eyes are welded shut behind puffy eyelids. The nose is crushed, the lips are fat and bloody. Red dark blood pours from the naked prisoner's nose as the camera zooms out to reveal the naked Generian is sitting on a wooden chair, his broken arms bound behind the chair, legs too.

The Zerbian man in the black leather coat and black hat, wearing spectacles is standing by the beaten man in the chair. The Zerbian holds a red hot poker glowing brightly orange in his right black leather gloved hand. He smiles at the camera, a malicious grin on his face, his eyes cold and hard.

He turns his head and leans over the prisoner, nearing the poker towards the Generian's right eyeball, closer, closer, closer.....



HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The red hot poker hissed and flesh burnt as the poker was pressed into the eye socket, melting the eyelid away, making it smoke, melting the eyeball away, just a slight thrust but enough. The Generian wailed.

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!"


The Zerbian withdrew the bloodied poker rapidly, and blood poured from the right eyeball, unplugging the hot, dark red blood that ran down the prisoner's right cheek whose swollen head jerked back, mouth open, screaming.

The Zerbian smiled that same smile, the same dead cold look in his eyes. He plunged the poker in the Generian's left eye socket, melting the eyeball.

HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"NYAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!!! NYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRR!!!"

The poker was withdrawn and the torturer placed it on the ground, turning to a black suitcase on a small table nearby.

The Generian pilot looked around the room, rolling his head, screaming in pain and agony, black-red smoking empty eye sockets where his eyes had once been.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

He became still, his head flopping onto his chest, dark red blood streams of blood pouring slowly from his eye sockets on the concerete floor.

He had fainted.

The Zerbian retrieved a long, sharp scalpel shaped blade from his suitcase, and turned back to the Generian.

He turned back to his victim and placed the scalpel against the Generian's right cheek, wedging the blade into the skin, bringing it down.

The skin peeled into a curl, and clung on, like how a wallpaper falls off the wall, how a banana is peeled, revealing the dark red muscle underneath. Red blood streamed onto the floor from the freshly made wound.

The Generian was still unconcious.

The Zerbian continued, flicking his scalpel of the blood on it before sliding it across the forehead of the prisoner, making the skin peel sideways, and clinging in on in a curl as the red live muscle was revealed.

The torturer repeated the process on the other side of the face, on the legs and thighs, on the arms, tatters of skin clinging on to the multiple wounds like a wet band aid that comes off slowly.

The Generian awoke.


And screamed.


The Zerbian with the scapel smiled at the camera with satisfaction at his subhuman sculpture.



Fade to black


...

...


Darkness fades


The Generian is suspended in the air, with chains leading from him to the walls of the large room. The camera zooms in on the chains leading to the naked man, and they are attached to various parts of his body, from his arms and legs, making them outstretched, the sides of his torso, the sides of his neck, from both sides of his face, and from either side of his scrotum, making it stretched.

The viewer realises the chains are attached to the prisoner by meat hooks, embedded into the flesh, skin and bone.




"Please...." The Generian gasps breathlessy in English, "I beg of you.....please....show mercy."

He sobs and moans, his battered chin trembling as a grinding can be heard. He is being stretched, his sinews and muscles pulling apart-


UUUUUUUUUUUUUR! The sound of the stretching.

"NAAAAR! NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARG!"

The walls that the chains are attached to are moving wider apart, making the chains taut. The remaining skin of the Generian is webbing, like a bat's wing, more and more. He screams, a High pitched screech that is seemingly endless

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

The prisoner's face is expanding as the hooks try to cling on, pulling the live body two ways.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"


The scrotum goes first, bursting with a PAP!

Dark red blood splashes onto the ground, the high pitched scream continuing.


"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-


The live body one big webbed white bat wing-


"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"


PUMP!!


The body exploded, internal organs, body parts, skin, blood, flesh, splattering the walls, the ceiling and the floor of the room, now showered in a crimson shower.

The hooked chains banged on the walls, and the grinding noise stopped.

The Zerbian Scalpel Man, and several Zerbian soldiers walk into the camera's view.

The Scalpel man picks up something from the blood soaked floor. It is a penis. The Zerbian prompty drops it and stamps on it with his right jackboot, squishing it.

The Zerbians turn to the Camera, all their hands on hips, triumphant looks on their faces underneath Black Pith Helmets.


"THIS IS WHAT SHALL BECOME OF THE SUBHUMAN ENEMY WHO INVADES our PURE LAND!!!! FOR THE REPUBLIC, FOR ZERBIA, FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!!!" The scapel man bellows, raising one fist.


"FOR THE REPUBLIC, FOR ZERBIA, FOR THE SUPREME OVER LORD CHANCELLOR!!!" The other Zerbians chanted, raising their fists in the air.


Screen fades to black.


Finish.




End of IC

OOC:I feel like putting some Zerbian villages to the torch, post later.

OOC: Can I get a summary from my last post before the one asking for a summary untill now?

((OOC: Zerbia, I didn't read your post for fear of getting angry/sick, but i already know what happened.))

The Empire had been bombarding the city for days. Hour after hour the shells fell upon the once proud metropolis, now little more than a burning scar in the middle of Zerbia. GIF-77 strikes complimented the rain of death that came from the mechanized artillery units.

When it was decided by the Imperial military command that the city had been sufficiently softened, the order was given, and the hammer fell. The Zerbian military positions would be in ruins, leaving a reasonably clear path for the Imperial army. By sundown, the Imperial standard would fly over the city.

The Imperial Reaper tanks rumbled over the earth towards the ruined city as the Imperial jets streaked overhead. The behemoths entered the streets, the sound of the flames cauterizing the wound echoing through the streets. Gunfire erupted on the Imperial tanks. Now and again, a rocket propelled grenade would streak from a broken window of a ruined building, to bounce off the armor harmlessly, the Zerbian who fired the missile to face the full force of the Reapers.

The tanks erupted, machine gun fire shredding anything that so much as looked at the tanks. The blood began to pool as the tanks penetrated deeper into the streets. Overhead, Imperial Mi-24s and GH-1s unleashed hell on every human they laid eyes on. The forms of the Zerbian soldiers and civilians writhed as the bullets slammed into their bodies. The battle was quickly becoming a massacre.

From the rear compartments of the Reapers, squads of Imperial Praetorians poured forth, to be complimented by the hordes that followed in Imperial APcs and IFVs. The Praetorians moved with surgical precision, sweeping streets, bursting into buildings, and terminating everyone in their paths.

Captain Marcus Arius ran out into the street, the chaos of gunfire and explosions meeting his ears. He gripped his XM-8 and headed to the building on the right. His unit followed, each man scanning every window, alley, streetcorner for their infamous enemies.

Captain Arius pressed himself against the side of the building, and motioned towards the door. One of his men approached it, kicked it in, and opened fire. Arius threw a grenade into the room, and the first man dove to the side.

Explosion.
Eruption.

Arius spun off the wall, and charged into the room. Several figures lay on the floor, some moving, groaning in pain. Arius aimed and unleashed on the wounded men indiscriminately. It mattered not if they were soldiers. They were all animals.

The Captain and his men ran towards a stairwell. No one. They raced up the stairs, checking rooms on each level. Most were empty. Once, the unit came upon a family huddling in their darkened apartment. A young boy and girl clutching their mother. For a split second, Arius hesitated, but only for a second. They soon joined the others in the afterlife. The Zerbians had brought it upon themselves. If they would put their noncombatants in ahrms way through their fanaticism, then they would all die. The unit finished their sweep and returned to the street.

The hammer pushed through the city, smashing their enemies through sheer force. As the tide began to turn in the overwhelming favor of the Empire, the Praetorians drew their sabers, and hacked the Zerbians to bits. The steel shone in the setting sun, soon dimming as the red stain blotted out the reflection.

The blood of the murdered flowed down the streets and into the storm drains as the black boots sloshed through. They would indeed pay dearly for their betrayal. The Imperial war machine was so efficient, so clean in operation. It was beautiful, in a way.

The Imperial standards began to fly in the stiff winds on rooftops and in plazas as the Zerbian flags were hauled down and put to the torch.

OOC: Can I get a summary from my last post before the one asking for a summary untill now?

...

OOC: Borman, I responded to your IC Communique on page 31. Since then, Zerbian forces shot down a Generian Jet and began torturing the captured pilot. Generia, following the discovery that one of their pilots was missing and presumed captured by Zerbian Forces and thus shortly would be dead, tortured, than killed a Zerbian soldier that was caught in Buchania, and broadcast the video footage to the world.

The Republic of Zerbia, in response to this, tortured and killed the captured Generian pilot that was shot down and broadcast the video footage to the world.

Generian forces have now entered the Zerbian city of Zagreb.

Generian, I have an idea. We could make this city a Stalingrad for RPing. Imagine it, long bloody and brutal battles, street to street fighting, house by house, room by room. Troops from both sides pouring in, could be awesome. Then at the end of it, end up as mutual allies.

We could even post pictures of urban warfare from various conflicts to add to the realism. What do you think? I'll start a RP resonse later, probably tommorow. Sorry about my last torture post, I did not mean any offence to you.

Doomingsland, you could burn Zerbian villages if you want, but it would probably mean that the respect The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor has for you would end. You could join in the battle of Zagreb if you want, but I will say not too much of an overwhelming force, as the Zerbians have to have a fighting chance to keep the battle 'alive.'

OOC: Thanks. Ill just watch. I dont think Ill get involved wiht attacking you.

OOC: Borman, I responded to your IC Communique on page 31. Since then, Zerbian forces shot down a Generian Jet and began torturing the captured pilot. Generia, following the discovery that one of their pilots was missing and presumed captured by Zerbian Forces and thus shortly would be dead, tortured, than killed a Zerbian soldier that was caught in Buchania, and broadcast the video footage to the world.

The Republic of Zerbia, in response to this, tortured and killed the captured Generian pilot that was shot down and broadcast the video footage to the world.

Generian forces have now entered the Zerbian city of Zagreb.

Generian, I have an idea. We could make this city a Stalingrad for RPing. Imagine it, long bloody and brutal battles, street to street fighting, house by house, room by room. Troops from both sides pouring in, could be awesome. Then at the end of it, end up as mutual allies.

We could even post pictures of urban warfare from various conflicts to add to the realism. What do you think? I'll start a RP resonse later, probably tommorow. Sorry about my last torture post, I did not mean any offence to you.

Doomingsland, you could burn Zerbian villages if you want, but it would probably mean that the respect The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor has for you would end. You could join in the battle of Zagreb if you want, but I will say not too much of an overwhelming force, as the Zerbians have to have a fighting chance to keep the battle 'alive.'

((OOC: Sure. That would provide a nice way to end this war and move on to bigger, badder things. We could do the whole mutual respect thing that I was talking about. But no more torture scenes. I think we're even on that front. I doubt if any of our soldiers would allow themselves to be captured anyway, seeing as both of our nations are so badass.))

bump

OOC:

Borman: That's cool.

Generian, I agree. When we become allies from mutual respect, I think we are going to rock. All of us who have contributed to this thread should be allies.

Agreed, no more torture scenes.


Secret IC:


...


....


Darkness


....


...


The sound of distant explosions.

....



CRUM! CRUMCRUM! CRUM! CRUMCRUM!


SPLISHSPLOSHSPLISHSPLOSHSPLISHSPLOSHSPLISH!

The sound of Jackboots stomping through shallow water, echoed on walls.


The sound of nearby Zerbian shouts distorted from echo.


...


November 5th, Zagreb, The Republic of Zerbia. Invading Generian Empire Forces have entered the city of Zagreb.


...

....


Initially after days of fighting, it appears Generian Forces have taken the city.


....


...


However, Zerbian forces, by order of The Supreme Zerbian Over Lord Chancellor, are ordered to retake the city by the means of a surprise counterattack, and 'cleanse and purify Zagreb of the invading subhuman filthy scum hordes.'

....


....


THE BATTLE OF ZAGREB

...


....


Darkness fades.


SPLISHSPLOSHSPLISHSPLOSHSPLISHSPLOSHSPLISH!

Commander Zentarvich and 399 other Zerbian soldiers ran through the dank and dark Sewer tunnels underneath Zagreb. They had entered via one of many entrances 5 miles outside the city, sewer exits that spewed into a river. Now the armed Zerbians were pouring into the sewers, thousands of them, and were making their way to Zagreb.

It was dark, and Zentarvich could hardly see the bobbing running figure of the Zerbians in front of him as they ran in front of him.


Those bastard subhumans will not take Zagreb. They will not take Zerbia! Zentavich thought with rage.


CRUM! An explosion above ground shook the walls and ceiling of the tunnel, sending lumps of plaster onto Zentavich's Black Pith Helmet with a taptaptap!

There had been around 2,000 soldiers who had ran along this particular tunnel, but the numbers had dwindled as groups of 200 had dissapeared down other tunnels branching right and left that came up time to time as the Zerbians ran down the sewer tunnel, and news had been relayed before they entered the tunnel, that more would arrive, thousands of Zerbians entering Zagreb from the complex sewer tunnels.

We shall crush the filth, Zentavich thought with calm reasoning, we shall punish them.


Zentavich had a map of his exit point from the sewers, but he did not look at it now, he had looked at it often enough before entering the tunnel.

Radio crackle noise came from behind him as he ran.

Medic Zotavich's radio, Zentavich remembered.

"THE INVADI ****Tiiiiiiiiiiish**** SUBHUMANS ****Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiish********* A INFERIOR SPECIES!!!! IT IS THE DESTINY OF **Tiiiiiiiish**** SUPERIOR ZERBIAN RACE TO DEFEAT SUCH A SUBHUMAN, SUBSP- ***Tiiiiiish*** ENEMY, AND CLEANSE ZERBIA OF ****Tiiiiish**** FILTH! ZERBIA SHALL CRUSH THEM! FOR ********Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissssssssssssssshhhh*******"

The voice of The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor broadcasting to his nation over Zerbian Radio was cut off by radio interference from the thick sewer ceiling. After a while, the radio went quiet as it was turned off.

Zentavich's nose wrinkled up slightly as he ran. The smell of the sewers wafted up his nose as he ran.

It may be shit, Zentavich thought of the smell, but it is Zerbian shit!

He smiled at that.

The 200 Zerbians jogging in front of Zentavich turned left down a tunnel to the left.

Zentavich watched the last of the Zerbians in front jog down the left tunnel and saw the Commander of them, Commander Zoltavich standing by the entrance, urging them on. He turned his head in Zoltavich's direction, who was running by, straight on.

"For The Republic, For Zerbia, For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor, Commander Zentavich! May the will of Zerbia and The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor be with you!" Zoltavich said brightly.

Zentavich had now passed Zoltavich, but he and his 200 soldiers still chanted back "For The Republic, For Zerbia, For The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor!"

"May the will of Zerbia and The Supreme Over Lord Chancellor be with you too, Commander Zoltavich!" Zentavich added, shouting back even though Zoltavich was now behind behind him and heading down the left tunnel.

Now there was no one in front of Zentavich as he ran down the tunnel leading straight on with the 199 men under his command behind him, just pitch black.

He pulled out his flashlight torch from his trouser pocket and flicked it on.

By Zerbia, Now I can see. Zentavich thought.


ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A Tank passed by overhead, the weight and movement sending plaster and pieces of cement crumbling down the walls and off the ceiling.


It was 10 minutes later before Zentavich found what he was looking for. It was just to the left, revealed by the beam of the flashlight.

It was a rung ladder. Zentavich stopped before it and shone the torch upwards. It was a manhole cover, leading to the ground above.

End of Secret IC


OOC: Generia, I will continue this tommorow, at the moment I am leaving it so that the counter attack has not started yet, and your forces are unaware of anything wrong if that's ok. Then the counter attack can happen. I'll RP it tommorow. No more time today. Sorry.

It's going to be great, hopefully.

OOC: Pretty cool

((OOC: Sure, fine with me Zerbia. Good post as usual. I was entertained.))

bump

OOC: Thanks, both of you.


IC:


Commander Zentarvich had lifted himself up through the manhole and had found himself on street level, between two dark buildings, a wide street in front of him, with a large dark red three storey building opposite. Behind him was a brick wall.

Zentarvich had been alarmed at first, that he was exposed, but he realised that he was in the shadows, and he could not be seen.

thirty of his soldiers, 10 with RPG-7's, 15 with AK-47's, 3 with flamethrowers, and two with Dragunov Sniper rifles, came up through the manhole from the sewers below before he called down for the rest to stay down below in the sewers for the time being.

Zentarvich looked at the three storey building opposite and then back to his soldiers.

"10 with AK-47, 3 with flamethrowers come with me across the road," He Hissed, "10 with RPG-7, suppress enemy fire from windows and-"


CLUMP CLUMP CLUMP CLUMP CLUMP


Zentarvich stopped. He could hear multiple footsteps coming down the street towards him. Zentarvich crouched patted his right hand down towards the ground, a hand signal for his men to crouch also.

9, maybe 10 subhumen, he thought. He knew they did not belong to Zerbians, for a Zerbian wore Jackboots, and sounded different.

Think, Zentarvich told himself.


Yes. He formulated a new plan, and turned to his soldiers, whispering urgently.

"15 with AK-47, 2 with Dragunov Sniper rifles, 3 with flamethrowers, hold position and ambush the subhumans. 10 with RPG-7, fire at the windows of building opposite."

The Zerbian soldiers nodded their heads in agreement, stony hard expressions on their faces. Zentarvich held his own AK-47 more tightly in his cold hands, and raised it to his right eye.

The boots moved closer.

Zerbian fingers on triggers.

10 Generians came into view, in staggered formation, down the road. They had the confidence of soldiers who thought they had taken a city, which was at present silent, the wind blowing through the streets with an occasional whistle.

"Fire" Zentarvich whispered softly.

...

DOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFF! The sound of 15 AK-47's firing at once.


DUF-F-F-F DUF-F-F-F-F-F-F DUF-F-F-F-F-F- The sound of 2 Dragunov Sniper Rifles firing, the echoes of their shots resounding across the city.

Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz!
Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz! Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz!

The 10 RPG-7's left white trails as they slammed into the windows of the building opposite, causing orange fireballs to burst through the windowframes.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The ground shook beneath Zentavich's feet, but he and his soldiers continued firing.

The ambushed Generian soldiers jerked, falling to the ground as lumps of flesh and cloth flew away from their bodies, blood spraying as the multiple bullets hit them.

Thwwwm! thhhhhwiiiiiip! thhhwmmmmp! thhhhwwwwwwmp thhhhwaaaap! thhhhhhwwwwmpli! Thhhwiiiiip thhhhllllllip! Thhhmm thhhhhm thwaaap!

5 Burning figures, bodies aflame in a an orange rippling glow, jumped from the windows of the 3 storey building opposite to the ground.

"DON'T SHOOT THEM!! LET THE FILTH BURN!!" Zentarvich screamed acidly, frothy white spit spewing from his mouth as he watched with satisfaction the human torches, screaming, impact into the ground with a spliiiit!

Zentarvich looked over his shoulder toward the manhole where 169 Zerbians still waited in the Sewer tunnel below.

"FINE, BRAVE ZERBIAN SOLDIERS BELOW!" He bellowed loudly, "COME UP AND JOIN THE BATTLE! YOU WILL COME BETWEEN TWO BUILDINGS! TAKE THEM AND CRUSH THE SUBHUMANS! RPGs! COVER BY SUPPRESSING FIRE FROM EITHER SIDE OF BUILDING STRAIGHT AHEAD!"

Zentarvich lowered his voice to address 5 Zerbians with AK-47's, and the 2 Zerbians with Dragunov Sniper rifles.

"come with me" He told them.

Zentarvich sprang to his feet and ran across the road at full speed towards the three storey house, 7 Zerbians right behind him.

Thhhwwwwwm! Thhhhmmmm thhhhhhmmm thhmm thmmm!

DUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFF!

Zentarvich felt the bullets impact on the road by his feet, puffs of dirt rising up, as he reached the front door, the sound of falling bodies coming from behind-

BOOOM! BOOOM! BOOM!

Zentarvich almost stumbled as the RPG-7's slammed into the buildings either side of the building he had reached. He tried to open the front door, it was unlocked. There was no choice for him. He had to charge in without caution or risk being shot outside.

He charged through the front door 4 of the 7 Zerbians with him. 3 had not made it across the road. They moved room by room, moving up the stairs down hallways, and was now on the top floor. Only scattered furniture and dead Generians from the RPG hits had greeted them thus far, their bodies in various degrees of mutilation or burnt.

Just the last room to go. Zentarvich acknowledged.

It was a room on the left of the hallway, which ended in a dead end.

Gunfire came from outside of the building, along with the whiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzz! of RPG-7's and the resulting explosions that slightly shook the building Zentarvich was in.

A shuffling sound came from the room to the left.

Subhuman filth, Zentarvich thought with disdain, I can smell it.

A round object suddenly flew from the room, bounced against the wall opposite and rebounded towards Zentarvich. He caught it with both hands, dropping his AK-47, and without thinking threw the grenade with his right arm, his body and head to the side of the doorway and out of sight, through the open entrance to the room, before shielding his face.

A short scream from someone inside then-

BOOOOF! The grenade exploded in the room, sending debris of metal and lumps of dark red flesh through the open doorway, onto the wall opposite.

Zentarvich charged into the room firing his AK-47, the 4 other Zerbians right behind him.

He found a Generian, sitting and leaning on the far wall, facing the doorway, dead.

His head was nearly blown off, hanging by a lump of flesh, off the neck, and dangling to the right, the eyes pierced and bleeding from grenade shrapnel.

Zentarvich saw that the Generian's Right leg was also blown off.

"The building is cleansed." He said in an emotionless tone, looking at the dead body with with disdain.



CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP Jackboots coming swiftly up the stairs.

"Zaltovich! Zenovich! See who it is!" Zentarvich demanded.

Two Zerbians dissapeared out of the doorway, to return seconds later, with another Zerbian soldier called Zolokovich.

"Commander Zentarvich!" Zolokovich said urgently but confidentally, "Our Forces are in the process of purifying the two buildings opposite, and the buildings either side of this one!"


"Good," Zentarvich said calmly, puffing his chest out and clasping his black leather gloved hands behind his back, listening to the heavy gunfire and explosions outside, DUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFF DOFFDOFFDOFFDOFF! DUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDUFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFFDOFF! BOOF! and the random screams and shouting. "Prepare defences when complete, expect subhuman reinforcements."

Zentarvich turned his head and cautiously peered out of the broken window, Rapid Orange flashes from gunfire and grenades came from the buildings opposite.

DUFFDUFFDUFF! DOFFDOFFDOFF! BOOF!





...

....


To the North of Zagreb, Commander Zizlovich had emerged from a manhole that was in the corner of the Zagreb Zerbia Automobile Manufacturing plant, quickly followed by 30 other Zerbians.

Conveyer tracks holding partially made vehicles lay quiet and still on the floor, and it had obscured Zizlovich's vision, but he could see around 20 Generians standing around at the other end of the huge factory floor.

The 30 Zerbian soldiers had opened fire with everything they had, AK-47's, Dragunov Sniper rifles, and the Generians had opened fire with their weapons in reply. Both sides were taking heavy casualties as Zerbian reinforcements popped up through the manhole, and Generian reinforcements arrived from the upper levels of the vehicle factory.

Both sides used the hulls of partially made vehicles as cover, but as one side would advance, the other side would push them back, and vice versa.

Zerbian RPG-7's did give the advantage to the Zerbians for awhile, inflicting hideous casualties upon the Generians, who in return targeted the RPG-7 carriers, thus cancelling the advantage out. Both sides were suffering huge casualties, bodies falling amongst the exchange of verbal abuse, bullets, grenades, and blood.

Outside the factory, the city of Zagreb was shaken to its foundations by explosions, gunfire and screams and shouts that resounded around city streets and off walls, and plumes of black smoke rose into the sky from various areas of the city.

Rooms were being taken and retaken by either side, along with streets and whole buildings.

End of IC

OOC: Your turn Generia. Hope that was ok.

OOC: Your turn Generia. Hope that was ok.

If by "ok" you mean absolutely, brilliant, ingeniously excellent and nothing short of subliminal perfection, then yes, it was ok.

If by "ok" you mean absolutely, brilliant, ingeniously excellent and nothing short of subliminal perfection, then yes, it was ok.


Wow...erm...that has left me speechless....thankyou Roach-Busters, that is very kind of you.

Thankyou!

OOC: A little something from Roach-Busters

AAA: Awesome As Always

OOC: Thankyou! What seems an age ago now, I decided to RP for the first time, on this thread, because of the high quality and excellency of RPing I had seen, I'm so glad I did, as it's a brilliant RP.

bump

bump

bump

OOC: Generia, if you're too busy to RP, that's cool, but could you declare a ceasefire and withdrawl and end the war? The mutual respect agreement?
Sooner the war is over, sooner Zerbia will be an ally out of mutaul respect.