NationStates Jolt Archive

Earth II

OOC: NC-17 WARNING!!! This RP will contain material of a very graphic nature. Please leave this thread immediately if you are faint of heart. Please please please please heed this warning. This thread is brutally sick. It involves torture, murder, and sex. This RP will probably be the most important in Greenmanbry's history.

Thread is now open

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IC: PART I

The sun's rays infiltrated the complex of pyramids in the Sudan's Nubian Desert as the huge fireball began to set. The cold air violently pounded at the foundations of every structure, unleashing a barrage of sandstorms that violently attacked the old buildings. More than four thousand years old, these buildings once housed treasures of unimaginable value, treasures that belonged to Kings and Queens, their slowly rotting mummies stashed into a discrete location at the center of every pyramid.

Tombs. Ravaged by looters. Raped by archeologists. The site does not attract many tourists nowadays. Those favor the magnificent pyramids of Giza over these smaller and less awesome structures.

As night conquered the weak rays of the setting sun, sending them into retreat beyond the horizon, the moonlit side of each pyramid contrasted quite eerily with the Sudan's black desert landscape and, combined with the howling of the wind and the hissing of the shifting dunes, made the site quite ghostly.

Faint chants could be heard. Accompanying them were drumbeats that originated from the center of the complex. Suddenly, the chanting stopped. A low voice began reciting verses, its sound muffled by the howling winds. As soon as the voice subsided, the drumbeats began sounding fiercely, shaking the sand off the foundations of the larger pyramid at the center of the complex.

A dim light came from within that pyramid. A small fire crackled inside, not large enough to heat the pyramid. A coffin sat in the middle, made of stone, engraved with the scriptures of a long-forgotten empire. The fire was positioned to the coffin's left. To the right, a small trapdoor on the floor lay slightly open. Beneath it, a very steep flight of stairs reached beyond the bowels of a pyramid to reveal the large complex below.

Inside that dimly-lit complex, the chants became understandable. The fierce drumbeats could also be heard vividly.

"…represents indulgence instead of abstinence! He represents vital existence instead of spiritual pipe dreams! He represents undefiled wisdom instead of hypocritical self-deceit!"

The low voice continued, its tone becoming more and more violent. The maze of corridors eventually led into the Chamber. The large hall was were the ceremonies took place.

Men, covered in black robes, held large torches in their pale hands. Their faces were white, deprived of emotion. The men moved around in circles around the large, elevated alter in the middle. On the alter, holding a trident in one hand and a skull in the other, was the source of the eerie chants.

"Believe in the power of magic! Satan is all-powerful. All power lies in Satan's palm. The whores you meet up there have had brainwashed you ever since you were born! The night is young, disciples! The night is young!"

The men continued their preparation for the rituals. As soon as they completed their turns around the alter, they dispersed throughout the Chamber, each holding a symbol in their hands. Some were holding horseshoes, others pentagrams, while some were holding the Christian cross upside-down, clutching onto it with both hands and looking at Krekar, who stood upon the alter with his red eyes piercing every follower. Head of the militant cult, Krekar was the divine messenger. He was their link to Satan, the creator of worlds, the destroyer of worlds.

"Sacrifice your flesh to the Almighty!" Krekar bellowed, shaking the very columns that prevented the Chamber from crashing down. "Sacrifice your flesh! Sacrifice your blood!" And with that, the followers went berserk. One of the men holding the upside-down cross threw the item down, unsheathed his sword, and slashed at his arm, splitting the flesh wide open. The gash was bloody indeed, and the red liquid flowed down his arm and dripped onto the sand beneath him. Several men around him rushed towards his arm, grabbed it, and began licking the flowing blood, taking pleasure in its salty flavor.

Another man brought down a dagger on his skull, leaving a gash several inches wide. Men scrambled around him to collect the blood. They took turns drinking the dark liquid, howling in pleasure. Similar scenes were taking place all around the Chamber. Soon, men were tearing each other's chests apart with broadswords.

The ground soon became soaked in the drench of blood. Krekar chuckled, revealing his brown teeth to on-lookers. In an instant, his complexion changed. "Enough!" he shouted. "Enough! You have sacrificed enough blood, disciples! Now, let us sacrifice blood that is not as precious as our own, shall we?"

His proposal was greeted with murmurs of approval. Screams were heard from one corner in the Chamber. Two young girls and one man were brought to the alter, their hands tied behind them. The men stripped all three naked, and tied one of the girls to a stake at the center of the alter.

Krekar approached the girl, her screams subdued by the roars of the audience, calling for her blood to be spilt. "An Aryan virgin… How lovely…" Krekar grabbed one breast. He chuckled as he positioned the tips of his trident below her chin. "Who is your Lord, ha?" The woman was too scared to speak. She kept crying and begging for her release. Krekar ignored her cries and addressed the crowd:

"Men! These fuckers who lead us have outlawed our religion! They have made a mockery of our Lord and of our practices! Well no more! These people will suffer. Their children will die. Their women will be raped. And I swear, by Satan, that I shall not rest until I have Byrnashty's head on this fucking trident!"

Shouts from the crowd praised Satan and agreed with Krekar's words. Krekar turned to the girl once more. "You shall die, young thing. You shall die. But not before you drink your own blood!" He lodged his trident deep into her arm. She screamed as the blood began to flow. He collected some of her blood on a sword's flat blade, then put the sword's tip near her mouth. "Drink!" he bellowed. "Drink!"

The girl reluctantly opened her mouth and Krekar shoved the tip of his sword down her throat, piercing her tongue, making her mouth a bloody mess.

He then shouted as one of his servants brought his spiked mace. Krekar threw the trident down. He grabbed his mace and positioned it near the girl's breast. She let out a final scream for mercy before Krekar's spiked mace pounded against her chest, smashing her ribcage and leaving her flesh distorted. After several more pounds, Krekar reached into her shattered ribcage and tore her faintly-pounding heart. "For Lord Almighty!" he shouted, and threw the heart towards the chanting men. They gathered around it, each one of them fighting for a taste of her heart.

The second girl was subjected to a similar punishment. The lifeless bodies were taken down from the alter and thrown to the ground. Some men rushed over to lick and suck the remaining blood. Others wanted to penetrate the dead virgin bodies. Krekar stared at them approvingly.

The man was then brought before Krekar. "Who is your God?"

"Allah," the man replied, his eyes swelled with tears after he saw the fate of the two girls.

"Brainwashed fool! You worship that thing? Let me hear you proclaim that Satan is the true Lord, and I might make your death less painful!"

"Allah.." the man replied, too devoted to his faith to say otherwise.

Krekar frowned. He kicked the man off the alter, picked up his trident, stood over him, and said, "Let me see Allah help you now.."

With that, the trident came down onto the man's skull, instantly killing him.

Tag

Tag.

[OOC -- Not to shabby.]

[OOC - Thanks.]

IC: PART II

"No! This plan of yours needs to be altered!" Krekar bellowed in his office, a discreet cave located at one end of the Chamber. He licked the blood off his trident and let out a soft moan. "Muslims do taste nice, don't you agree?" Krekar chuckled. "Not much blood has been spilt today, Ison. I fear that Satan might be angry at us."

"Perhaps we can work harder on this plan? That might appease Him?" Ison commented, obviously disturbed by the images of the ritual that still haunted him.

"Yes, yes… Perhaps. The hour of reckoning is fast approaching, is it not Ison? The day that will see a change in this vile country is upon us! The ranks have swelled. The training is complete. The government is failing. People demand change. And He shall be the change the people want." Krekar looked up into the ceiling, "Yes… Yes… He will guide us in this endeavor. He will save our disciples along this journey."

"Shall we proceed, Lord Krekar? Shall I give our people the green light?"

"The people of Greenmanbry are unsuspecting. They take their life for granted. The government has become quite incompetent, inactive, and impotent. Yes… Yes… we shall strike this afternoon, Ison. Give our people the go-ahead."

"Very well, my Lord."

Ison emerged from the office, his feet splashed in the pools of blood that covered the Chamber. He went up the flight of stairs and out of the pyramid. He walked and walked, cursing at the faint rays of sunshine that were beginning to emerge from the Eastern sky. Inside one of the smaller pyramids, he began to remove the covers from a large vehicle. As the covers slowly came off the bonnet, the embossed 'Range Rover' letterings became visible. He got into the car, started the engine, and quietly emerged from the pyramid, his headlights turned off.

The Range Rover's engine smoothly accelerated the car, as if the fine sand Ison was driving on was nothing but asphalt. Clouds of smoke trailed behind the vehicle, its headlights still off, its dashboard engulfed in darkness. After twenty miles or so, the car jerked up a small slope, and the ride became much smoother. Ison had found the road. He turned South, and floored it. When he turned the headlights on, an intense beam of Xenon light illuminated the highway ahead of him. The engine yelped as the vehicle sped to one hundred and forty kilometers per hour, and went beyond that mark, the preset speed warning blaring in the cabin.

Alex Ferdinand, son of Greenmanbry's current Minister of Defense, was a wealthy young lad. He was not a practicing Jew like his father was. Alex was an atheist, until he met Emers that is. Emers had introduced him to the Cult and to the workings of the Society. Alex stood in awe at the first site of the Chamber, and he was initiated into the Cult soon afterwards. He became a loyal subject of Krekar, until the latter chose him as his personal messenger. Alex brought power to the Cult, for he was a very influential person in Greenmanbry's government. Krekar denounced Alex's family, and renamed him Ison. Among the luxuries that Ison's father could afford was the Java Black Range Rover that was storming towards Greenmanbry's capital of Al-Salaam.

As Ison reached the outskirts of Al-Salaam, he gazed at the large skyscrapers in the distance. He neared a supermarket, parked his car in an alley, and headed immediately for a payphone outside that supermarket. A drunk man came by, cursing and tugging at Ison's cloak.

"Let me be, you old fuck!" Ison shouted, shoving the man to the ground. The man stayed there, too drunk to do anything else. Ison picked up the phone, dialed a number and, as soon as the other end was connected, said, "Em, this is Eye. The demons must wake up by noon. I repeat, the demons must wake up by noon." With that, Ison put the receiver back on its handle and ran off to his car. He got in and headed for a motel that was situated well away from the city center. His job was complete, for now.

Whoa...
TAG

Tag, man.


Jesus, damn good my friend. Damn good.

IC: PART III

Edgar stirred in his motel room. "Glory be to Satan, the Lord of humankind, the creator of galaxies, the destroyer of worlds!" He slowly rose from his bed to see Emerson behind him, wearing the Cult's cloak, reciting his morning prayers. Edgar bowed in respect for Lord Satan, waiting for Emerson to finish his prayer, "…the evil brought about by the brainwashed. Fight them and destroy…"

Edgar remained in his position, until Emerson finished, at which point he moved straight to the bathroom. He looked at his face in the bathroom's mirror, and spit in the sink. He watched as his saliva moved into the sink's drain. Unzipping his pants, Edgar positioned himself with his genitals toward the shower. He then let out a heavy moan as he urinated in the shower. He then got into the shower, his feet mixing with his urine, before turning the "HOT" valve clockwise. As the hot water flowed down his body, he called Emerson loudly through the open bathroom door, "Em! Why are you up so early? It's only six in the morning!" Emerson, now wearing his oversized boots, said in a placid tone, "The demons must wake up by noon." Edgar froze in the shower, disregarding the scorching hot water that was hitting his body. He stopped the water's flow, stepped out of the shower and into the room, naked, and stared into Em's eyes, "I see." he replied flatly before heading to the wardrobe. He started wearing his protective gear before positioning his cloak over it. He looked into the mirror as he straightened his necklace, bearing an image of a ram's head engraved into a pentagram. He then grasped the necklace and put it under his garments, and he shivered as it made contact with his chest.

He then looked at Emerson in the mirror, and realized that Em was staring at him the whole time. He turned around, the stakes involved in this operation slowly becoming clear. He was a leader, not a normal disciple, and he must not review the plan with Emerson any more, else the latter may change his position on it. Edgar slowly edged to the open wardrobe, pulling out a bag. He slowly took out a wide belt from the bag. The belt was lined with dynamite sticks, all wired and prepped. He then slowly moved to Em, looking him straight in the eyes. "For the Lord.." he said quite calmly, removing Em's cloak and tying the belt around Em's waist. Edgar looked at Emerson's face. The eighteen-year-old boy was teary-eyed, obviously horrified by what was going to happen to him. "For the Lord.." Edgar said more sternly, putting Emerson's cloak back on. "For the Lord.." Emerson managed to reply in-between gulps.

The large garbage truck moved towards the center of Al-Salaam, its engine making a lot of noise in the narrow streets of the poor neighborhood it was traveling in. Edgar, gripping the rear railings of the truck, saw the signal. He motioned for Emerson to stop. He then moved to the cabin, kissed Emerson on the forehead and said, "May Satan be with you." Edgar got out of the cabin and headed for the small door on the street's corner. He closed his eyes as he heard the garbage truck roaring past. He climbed the flight of stairs, heading for the command quarters.

As he opened the door with his key, Edgar noticed two men sitting behind a table. "Ison! Oh thank the Lord!" He then continued, "I saw a covered SUV outside, I thought it had to be you!" he chuckled as he hugged Ison, who was thrilled as well. "Are they all set, Ison?" Ison looked at the computer monitor, sighed and nodded. "All twenty-four of them?"

"Yes." came the reply, "Three more trucks are taking their positions, one of which is Em's."

Edgar immediately had a flashback to their conversation the night before. He had told Emerson how important his sacrifice was. He had told him that the Lord himself would be waiting for the disciples at heaven's door, eager to summon them into heaven, for a life or eternal bliss. "Good.. good.. Let's recap.. where are the trucks again? And what do we do after twelve o'clock?"

"Two at the Grand Mosque, five in the diplomatic district, three around the presidential palace and Ministry complex. That would destroy Foreign Affairs, Defense, Interior, and Immigration."

"Wait.. wait.. Lord Krekar told me that only three will be at the diplomatic district."

"He changed the plan. We need to take out as many embassies as we can."

"Which embassies will be destroyed?"

"We can never be certain, but in the blast radius are most embassies currently in Greenmanbry."

"Good.. good.. continue.."

"Five in Port Blessed, eight in bases around the country, and one at the airport. Then it's a simple matter of subduing the police stations with smaller bombs and with our disciples, before marching onto the palace and taking over."

"And these.. smaller bombs.. are they ready?"

"Yes, they are. Aboard ships, in planes, on the roads between the major cities and the bases of the mechanized divisions.. everything is set."

"I see."

But will it work? Edgar pondered… That's the key question.. will it work?

IC: PART IV


"Allaho akbar, Allaho akbar!" The four hundred minarets at Al-Salaam boomed in unison as the Imaams called the faithful to the Friday prayer. It was a sunny Friday morning; the Muslim shopkeepers stopped their work, heading to their places of worship in response to the athaan. The Green Mosque, only minutes away from the city center, accepted the thousands of worshippers that removed their shoes at its entrance, and quietly moved within to form lines, their heads bowed, their mouths uttering proclamations of faith.

The yellow dump truck entered the Islamic Square, driving carefully. Two men exited from its rear and walked over to the nearest disposal bin. They gave the large truck directions as it carefully manoeuvred to lift the bin and dump its contents into its hold.

A man carrying a black briefcase got in their way. He dumped a collection of papers into the bin, looked at the two men, and smiled. They smiled back. The man readjusted his suit with his now-free hand and moved along the sidewalk, crossed the street and went past the Green Mosque.

The gentleman was a Jew. Andrew Williams, Greenmanbry's Minister of the Interior, was making his way, on foot, to a supermarket two blocks from the Square. He, like the rest of the country's work force, was on the official prayer break. He noted how the streets and pavements around the Square emptied after the call to prayer. Well, except for the dump truck he just encountered. He was now at the other side of the Islamic Square. Only several feet before him was a second dump truck, identical to the first. Two men were standing behind it, and they stared at him as he made his way to their position. Once more, he smiled and went right past them.

Williams was obviously disturbed. And they talk about government waste! Two damn trucks cleaning up two garbage cans that are just a hundred meters apart? He groaned, and turned right, heading for the supermarket. This supermarket was not run by Muslims. Although its Hindu owners had a prayer break as well, they always preferred to attend to Al-Salaam's non-Muslim population during times of prayer.

After he finished his grocery-shopping, he exited the supermarket and started his long trek back to the Ministry. The prayer was far from over, but the two dump trucks were still there, and the sanitary workers were still standing behind them, motionless.

IC: PART V

"Two minutes to go," an anxious Emerson told his companion. "How strong is it?" his comrade said, as he looked at the covered hold of the dump truck with suspicion.

"Strong enough," Emerson replied, as his saw the seconds hand on his wristwatch tick slowly, "Alright, get in the truck.. now."

The two men climbed into the forward cabin. Emerson looked at Daniel, now sitting by his side, his eyes closed. He nudged Daniel, then inched closer to him.

"We'll be fine. Remember our cause." Daniel opened his eyes, looked at Emerson, and extended his arms around the latter's body.

"We'll be fine, we'll be just fine. Now say your prayers." Emerson looked at his wristwatch behind Daniel's body. It read 11:59:38.

Andrew Williams was still walking along the sidewalk, unwrapping a pack of chewing gum he had just purchased at the supermarket. He looked at the dump truck, and saw the two men hugging each other. Still very confused, he came closer and closer to the cabin. Emerson caught him approaching, and tightened his arms around Daniel. His eyes locked onto Andrew's. He then looked at his wristwatch.

11:59:59

Emerson brought Daniel closer, digging his nails into the man's back. He closed his eyes tightly... Emerson's wristwatch alarm went off, and his whole life flashed in front of him in microseconds.

He felt a gargantuan shock and a massive release of energy, and then nothing…

IC: PART VI

Edgar and Ison were watching the screens in front of them:

11:59:59

Dozens of alarms went off and red dots appeared on the display in front of them as the bombs detonated at approximately the same times.

The ground shook beneath them, and the sounds were deafening. Windows started to shatter everywhere. Their flat was not spared. The windows suddenly disintegrated, and immediately, there were but a million shards of glass littering the room. Both men were knocked onto the floor in a shockwave of incomprehensible magnitude.

=====

Four minutes passed as they lay on the ground, breathing heavily, too scared to move a muscle. Ison started to spread his legs, the sound of glass crunching under his legs' weight was loud indeed. He stood up slowly and looked at Edgar, lying on the floor with his eyelids shut.

Ison coughed and got rid of the myriad shards of small glass covering his cloak, shining like insignificant stars against a black universe. He moved towards the now-scarred opening that was once a majestic window. He surveyed the scene: the debris was everywhere. Tons and tons of dirt and rubble transformed the landscape of the once-bustling capital into one reminiscent of an abandoned wasteland.

Tens of corpses littered the street. Impossible.. the closest bomb was a kilometer away! Thoughts filled Ison's mind. They were all disturbing, unbearable, even painful. Edgar was on his feet as well by now. The two slowly gathered their belongings and departed the flat, for this was not the end. This was just the beginning.

It is one of the great injustices of the world that irrevocable and terrible change can occur in just the space of a second. Life, precious as the sun and a holy as the Lord, destroyed and all that came before comes to dust.

Of course, no such thourghts were in the mind of Thomas Walshingham. Ambassador, Hero of the State second class, he was a man who had accomplished things in his life and now was reaping the benefits. He signed an executive order and watching as curving hips of his secretary as she took it for processing. Life, he thourght to himself, was good. He would later come to marvel at the tranquility of the moment, 11:59 by his desk clock, the true calm before the storm.

When the wall buckled under the stregnth of the blast and the windows shattered he never had time to scream. The blast was of an intensity so strong that he felt the heat wave as he was knocked from his chair and he oaken desk was raised from the floor. He stopped still as time slowed to a crawl, the desk still hovering in the air, like the sword of demaclees, waiting. It was over, the desk would bludgeon him for sure. As it turned and it's broken legs fell away his mouth offered a silent prayer and his dusk caked eyes shut in terrible anticipation. It fell, and though he expected darkness and then that voyage to the undiscovered country, he felt a searing pain in his leg, tangable, real. His eyes flickered open, the desk had fallen straight across his torso, and crimson blood was blosoming down his punctured right leg. He was alive, and though the pain was of an intensity that no experience in the army had prepared him for, he thanked God and all the minor deitys of Momanguise in an exhausted breath.

ooc: Will finish this later.

~“The Dome has collapsed…. The Dome has collapsed….”~

Deep underground, the automatic repeater sent a tightbeam message – incredible power, a repeating theme – to the BACKTALK satellite high above.

~ “…The Dome has collapsed… The Dome has collapsed…”~

OVERSIGHT passively watched the flashes, the ripples of destruction now littering what had been Al-Salaam. Mechanically, it noted damage, potential casualties, analyzed wavelengths for telltales of nuclear blasts.

~ “…The Dome has collapsed… The Dome has collapsed…”~

Two green robed figures stood among the wreckage, both clutching their FNPAS submachine guns with certainty; facemasks and facecloths gave them the appearance of robots.

Or dervishes.

Without word or signal, both slung the snubby deaths and began to move about the wreckage, ignoring fires, bodies, vehicular wreckages, torn and brutalized walls.

~ “… The Dome has collapsed… The Dome has collapsed…”~

…searching…

Ambassador Talesford was not among the survivors - his body had been cleanly shorn in half by the blast, rammed through his desktop. Neither did the two searchers have any luck in most of the compound - barracks, kitchen, the main house, the guest house were all in pieces, mostly aflame.

What had not been roasted had been crushed when pieces of the dome ceiling had crashed downward, propelled by the force of the blasts.

Determined, they continued, slow progress and counts. One hundred and fifty-four staff to account for, the first hundred were the hardest.

"....ohhhhhh...."

The greenhouse had been reduced to bent and spindled wreckage - yet the aluminex constructed walls did not break, but remained bubbled and bent, froth on an uneasy sea.

The two greenrobes did not pay homage or attention to the charred bodies of an assistant chef, or the groundskeepers head, or the hand of an unnamed victim, beyond what was necessary to move the parts aside.

Fortune had smiled here, albeit briefly. Tons of compressed compost had been stacked against one wall, besides the few pieces of farm equipment and machinery currently unused.

Blocks had tumbled, machine frames had groaned - but held against the storm.

Beneath this ersatz bunker, someone moaned.

They found shovels.

They began to dig.

In the final count, there were eight survivors.

Eight, out of the full embassy compliment of one hundred and fifty-five.

Five of them wore green robes. One of them was torn up badly enough to be slung and bandaged. The rest wore their robes comfortably, noting everything, saying nothing.

An assistant cook had been gathering fresh herbs; she survived by being buried under bales of fertilizer. She lay under blankets, sleeping, medicated.

The ambassador's driver had taken the car out to be cleaned in the city proper. At the blasts, he had returned swiftly - the car had been destroyed by falling buildings.

The last survivor, still shaken, warmed hobo's coffee over a hexamine stove. Shock had rendered her speechless for the time being, but she would survive, she would recover.

Marika Talesford stirred the coffee. Almost ready, almost done.

IC: PART VII


<The Palace Roundabout, Al-Salaam>


President Byrnashty was having a snack in his third floor office as he read through the afternoon's agenda. When the Prayer sounded, he put the agenda back into its folder and turned towards the window in his chair, then he got up and went over to see his people flock to the city's many mosques. Ah.. he sighed, as he turned to his desk. The elegant clock hanging over his oak door was graced by beautifully-crafted hands. The two hands were nearly overlapping each other. 11:59

He sat in his chair and threw away the wrappers of the granola bar he had just finished. He picked up the manila folder that contained the day's agenda. As he slowly opened it, the city's main clock, just meters from the Palace, struck 12:00. A loud beep was heard from the cabin of a dump truck that was located on the premises of the palace, directly below Byrnashty's office ----



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<The Diplomatic District, Al-Salaam>

Huge explosions rocked the district. People screamed and ran in all directions, but their sounds were quickly subdued by that of the deafening explosions, as well as the rubble that covered the district afterwards.

Huge buildings came falling down like lego structures. Hummers and armoured vehicles exploded. Those closest to the blast almost evaporated. Many lay overturned on the district's streets as a result of the massive shockwaves. Walls were damaged. The Ottoman embassy was decimated. It was turned into an unrecognizable heap of rubble, victimized by a dump truck that detonated just outside its outer perimeter. The Ottoman national flag was buried in the rubble. Other flags suffered similar fates. Huge, reinforced walls buckled under the force of the explosion.



=============

<Port Blessed, Red Sea>

Admiral Frank Estral was on the bridge of the DBS Judgement II, one of Greenmanbry's highly-prized Calypso-class dreadnaughts. These one kilometer behemoths were Greenmanbry's pride and joy. He called for a subordinate officer to come to his side. "Roger, come here right now. What the hell is happening over there?"

Estral was watching the large dump trucks move rapidly into the relatively undefended port. Humvees were trailing the trucks. Soldiers were scurrying out of their way. "Roger? Roger?"

Estral heard the sound of a pistol's magazine slip into place. He turned around. Roger was standing behind him, with his gun aimed at Estral's head. "What the fuck, boy?"

"I'm sorry, Admiral. This system ends now. Since you're Greenmanbry's best officer, I've been asked to give you the chance of joining us in our… crusade… against Byrnashty." His eyes were fixed onto Estral's.

"What is this? A fucking joke?" Estral was very angry by now. "No," replied Roger, "this is no fucking joke, Admiral."

Suddenly, two huge explosions shook the port. They were strong enough to rock many of the ships in port as well. One targeted the Naval bunkers, the other targeted two Calypso's sitting side by side at port, the DBS Calypso II and the DBS Granzi. Both ships suffered major structural damage. Thankfully, they were not sunk, a testament to Hybalt's superior engineering.

"Holy mother of God." Estral, now bent over his desk, screamed at the top of his lungs. "See, Estral, this is no joke. Are you with us… or are you foolish enough to stand against us?"

"You must be kidding me," Estral quickly opened his desk to retrieve his personal pistol. Roger lunged forward and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through Estral's head. Frank Estral, Greenmanbry's highest-ranking serviceman, liberator of both the Sudan and Chad, arguably the most important man in Greenmanbry's history, fell onto the ground of his very own command ship. He slowly blinked as his life flashed in front of him quickly before his eternal sleep. He groaned as he slid into unconsciousness, muttering a single phrase softly, "Byrnashty, God be with you…"

The bombing left the Ottoman Embassy in ruins,killing all of the staff of 100. The Ottoman Government didn't take it to lightly, one they just lost a major embassy in one of the Ottomans close ally. Yet the only upside this attack, was the very last Young Turk party member, who was the enovy was killed in the attack,therefore riding the Ottomans of old rival to the system...Ottomans decide to take the best step, we remain quiet and watch the events as they happen.

The Abbasid satellites monitored the events unfolding in Greenmanbry. Yet the Abbasid Government already had a few meetings with Lord Krekar, before the civil war happened.They had agreed to hand over Lebanon to Lord Krekar's Government inturn for some funds. Now, Lebanon's coastal defences stood down, waiting for Greenmanbry's fleets. The police force will remain intact, but the Abbasid military will be slowly extracted from Lebanon back into proper Abbasid lands

<The Mediterranean Sea>


Admiral George Easton was commanding Greenmanbry's Thirty-first Battle group, deployed to the Mediterranean. Lord Easton patiently waited for a message from Naval HQ at Port Blessed.

His nuclear carrier was battling the light waves. Easton watched as a fighter landed on the ship's deck, returning from regular patrol over the battle group's location. He sighed and picked up his coffee mug. It was 12:40. Something was not right, he thought.

Suddenly, a marine came up to him. "Admiral, personal phone call for you, from Port Blessed Authorities"

"Thank you," came the reply. Easton sprinted to his office, taking special care to shut and lock the door behind him.

"Yes?"

He heard a slow hissing voice on the other end, then he heard the deep voice. Although it was frightening, it also comforted him. "Eeeaaston. Easton. It is done. The Lord's work is done. The deal has been struck with the Abbasids. Lebanon is ours."

A shiver ran down Easton's spine. It was Krekar. His revolution had gone underway as planned. Easton was one of Krekar's disciples. Although he broke of contact with the Cult ever since his promotion to Admiral, he stayed true to the Cult's ideologies, and he had remained loyal to Krekar.

He spoke into the telephone, "Yes, my Lord."

He put the receiver in its place. After a series of heavy sighs, Admiral Easton exited his office and headed to the bridge.

"Modify battle group heading. Follow bearing 090, head to Beirut."

"Beirut, sir?"

"Yes, you heard me. This is an executive order from the …. leader…. of your nation. Beirut."

With puzzled looks on their faces, the servicemen had no choice but to comply.

"Oh, and get the marines ready for deployment to Lebanon. While you're at it, get the air wing prepared to establish air superiority over the country, and stay on the look-out for hostiles on the sea.. or under it, for that matter."

"Aye, aye, Admiral. Admiral, sir, what about IDF presence in the area?"

"They're still our allies. Ignore them."

"Aye, aye, Admiral."

Five minutes later, an F-35 sped down the deck, leaving the carrier's deck and scouting ahead of the battle group for possible hostile forces. The submarines broke off from the group, advancing on Lebanon before the surface combatants, their systems on, their weapons on stand-by.

<Off The Coast Of Lebanon, The Mediterranean Sea>


An entire squadron of F-35s was in the air, heading to Beirut. Although armed, they were not expected to engage any enemies, and were therefore not fully prepared for combat. As they reached the coast, they swung ninety degrees to the left to align themselves with the coast. Their mission was to provide cover for the approaching amphibious landing crafts.

==

The LCACs had departed the various vessels, and were now approaching the beach at a comfortable pace. The Marines were there to secure administrative and legislative buildings in the city, not to fight any entities. So far, there was no sign of a civilian uprising as a result of this transfer of power from the Abbasids, but first impressions can be deceiving.

Only Abbasid Goverment Member was who left, was Minister Aziz. He was there to watch the handover of Lebanon.

He await for the Greenmanbry Officer to come and get things over with...

<Beirut, Lebanon>

Admiral Easton got off his naval transport and walked over to Minister Aziz, who was waiting by his armoured vehicle.

"Hello, Minister Aziz. A pleasure to finally meet you. I reckon the Abbasid government has taken care of everything?"

"Of course, Admiral Easton. The police force has been left intact, but the Abbasid army has been shipped off to Abbasid territory."

"Very well. Once again, thank you for agreeing to this deal. I don't know the politics behind it and, quite frankly, I don't care, but Lebanon is a great country and Greenmanbry will invest a lot in keeping it as great as you have made it."

"You are quite correct," came the reply from Minister Aziz, "this is a great country. I enjoyed governing this beautiful nation but, alas, now I will return to the Empire."

"You do realize, Minister Aziz, that you are welcome here as a valued guest of Greenmanbry any time you want. Stay with us for the celebrations."

"I am sorry, Admiral, but my superiors have ordered me back to the Abbasid Empire immediately."

"Very well, sir. It was a pleasure meeting you."


==

<Downtown Beirut, Lebanon>

Armoured Range Rovers, the backbone of Greenmanbry's rapid-response forces, were patrolling downtown Beirut. The city was vibrant, energetic, beautiful, just as Minister Aziz described it.

The diversity in culture, religion, and ethnicity gave Beirut a very unique atmosphere that anyone would have felt welcome in, even Greenmanbry's Marines in full combat gear.

Admiral Easton took residence in Beirut's Administrative house. His battle group was still on alert off the coast, and several contractors have been brought in to start expanding Beirut's ports and establish a naval headquarters for Greenmanbry. Finally... Easton thought, Greenmanbry has a fortress overlooking the Mediterranean...

With that, he lay down in bed for a nap before returning to his command ship.

Before he slipped into the realm of dreams, he firmly shut his eyes and prayed that beautiful Al-Salaam was not completely crippled by Krekar's revolution.

He prayed for his family, for his friends, and for the future of his people.

<Port Blessed, Al-Salaam>

Roger exited Estral's chambers. He thought of the heirarchial system Greenmanbry's Navy followed. With Estral, hero of the State, dead, the person in command is Neitsvy he thought. Admiral Neitsvy's excellent tactics as commander of a wolfpack made him shine among Greenmanbry's sailors. He gradually rose through the ranks of the Navy to become Admiral. But he faced severe opposition, mainly from Byrnashty himself.

Byrnashty detested Neitsvy, the latter never knew why, or when Byrnashty's hate towards him actually started, but it was always there. Byrnashty always entrusted Estral with the important jobs, never Neitsvy.

One of the people who noticed this was Lord Krekar, through his many contacts. He immediately befriended the Admiral, and Neitsvy was very happy to join the Cult given Krekar's promises to Neitsvy. Krekar promised the Admiral that he'll be the Minister of Defense in his government. Whether that promise would be fulfilled is yet to be known but, as a member of the Cult, Neitsvy was in no position - actually, he had no right - to doubt Krekar's words. And so he followed Krekar's orders blindly.

Roger stormed into Neitsvy's office. "Done!" he shouted. The Admiral finished adjusting his suit, turned around, and walked past Roger, out the door, and down the hall of the Judgment II. Roger followed.

"Get the officers and enlisted into their ships, even the Granzi and Claypso II. I want everyone to assume battle stations. The ships must set sail immediately. Let the separate fleets gather at scattered points of assembly throughout the Red Sea. Do not attack anything, anywhere, anytime, without my explicit permission. Got it?"

"Yes, Admiral. But what about the fifty-eight ships undergoing upgrades in the dry-docks?"

"Leave them where they are. They are all small corvettes and destroyers. Try to cram their crews in the dozen Calypsos and the Freedoms. I want all our sailors in the Red Sea."

"How the hell do you expect me to explain what's going on to these guys?"

"Don't lie, just be selective. Greenmanby is under attack, yes. Due to Byrnashty's failure as a president. This Navy is one of the largest in the region. It is up to us to maintain order, at least in coastal cities, and to rule Greenmanbry's waters. And I, Mr. Roger, am in supreme command of this Navy until we get word from Krekar, capeesch?.

"Yes, Admiral."

Neitsvy looked at Roger, who sprinted to the nearest exit. He slowly turned left, heading for Estral's office. "Have you started to rot, old man?" he muttered under his breath.

<Fort Sudan, Sahara>

The camp's sirens blared as an urgent message was broadcast over the speakers, "Attention, all personnel. Immediate mobilization. Immediate mobilization. Destination, Al-Salaam. Entire division must deploy to Al-Salaam."

"What the hell?" the confused soldiers looked around the camp.

A Major responded swiftly to the call, shouting, "You heard them, Hammerhead. Move, move, move!"

Immediately, the soldiers of the 3rd "Hammerhead" Division, Greenmanbry's most elite and experienced Army units, rushed to thier tanks and APCs. General Mohammed Arraf ran to his M4 C&C vehicle.

"Start moving. Rapid deployment, urban warfare. You know the formation." he told the people in charge of communication.

"Yes, sir." came the reply.

The M1A2 tanks, considered the most expendable tanks in the Army's inventory, jolted forward, heading out of Fort Sudan and into the dunes of the Sahara. Following them were the D-11 Apocalypse tanks with their dual tanks poised to eliminate all armoured threats. Behind those were the really heavy-duty tanks, the D-71 Sabre's. These monsters lumbered noisely and slowly over the dunes, nearly sinking in the pits of moving sand, barely making it out of ditches thanks to their powerful engines.

The Bradley fighting vehicles quickly took the lead, creating a gap in the ranks of the armoured column that was quickly filled by military Range Rovers and Humvees.

The GMB Army was wrapped up in various missions worldwide. Only the Hammerhead was available to the Army as a means of countering this rebellion. Although Lord Krekar had plans to eliminate the threats posed by the Airforce and the Navy, even he was not very comfortable with the huge obstacle the Hammerhead posed. And so he initiated Plan: Destiny, for it was his only hope of countering the 3rd Division.

.:Bump:.

tag

Destroying all the sensitive data in the Embassy was a much easier job then they'd first thought.

The initial blast had done a good part of the work - the crystal matrices weren't designed to handle such force, for the simple fact they were designed not to handle such force. Three well-placed charges reduced the rest of the computer network to garbage and scrap metal.

A small fire handled the rest. What couldn't be carried comfortably, became heating elements.

In the end, there was nothing heroic about their actions - a van was stolen, driven to the harbor (or what was left of it), and a boat was rented on... very reasonable terms.

Within two days, the small greek fishing boat had made its way along the coast as far as the IDF held Suez Canal...

And part of the Vastivan navy.

Destroying all the sensitive data in the Embassy was a much easier job then they'd first thought.

The initial blast had done a good part of the work - the crystal matrices weren't designed to handle such force, for the simple fact they were designed not to handle such force. Three well-placed charges reduced the rest of the computer network to garbage and scrap metal.

A small fire handled the rest. What couldn't be carried comfortably, became heating elements.

In the end, there was nothing heroic about their actions - a van was stolen, driven to the harbor (or what was left of it), and a boat was rented on... very reasonable terms.

Within two days, the small greek fishing boat had made its way along the coast as far as the IDF held Suez Canal...

And part of the Vastivan navy.

ooc: Sorry, but I own the Suez in Earth II...

Krekar listened to Ison's briefing in the penthouse of one of the city's finest hotels.

"My Lord, Greenmanbry's Navy is under our control now. Temporary bases, as well as a permanent Naval headquarters in Lebanon are being built. Communication to Greenmanbry's Seventh and Nineteenth Armies, as well as the Strikers and Turpitude have been severed completely. The outside world knows about what's going on through satellites and foreign tourists or businessmen residing in Al-Salaam. Port Blessed is empty, Neitsvy has supreme control over the port. The Hammerhead, over one hundred thousand strong, know about the revolution. A small force, part of the Hammerheads, has been dispatched from Fort Sudan to Al-Salaam by an unknown source in the destroyed Ministry of Defense. . It should reach the city in a few hou -- "

Lord Krekar interrupted Ison, "Give me, Ison, a review of the carnage that resulted from the bombs."

"Well, my Lord," Ison replied, "The President, his Cabinet, and Parliament have been annihilated. The Civil Defense Headquarters was also destroyed. The attack on Navy HQ was a success. Several army outposts in Chad have been taken care of. There are two major threats remaining: The Hammerhead, and the Air Force."

"You naive little thing," Lord Krekar's voice came out as a violent hiss, "Did you really expect me to blindly undertake this act of cleansing without considering the Air Force and the threat it poses?"

"N.. N.. No, of course not," Ison shakily muttered.

"My dear Ison, Langley is but another pawn in this game of chess. He is under my control. If he was not, the Air Force would have jumped into action as soon as they sensed something was wrong. Langley could have embarked on a series of precision strikes on this city that would have hampered our efforts. But, no, Langley has not briefed his advisors, or indeed his pilots, of the events unfolding in Greenmanbry. He is waiting for my orders, Ison."

"What about our allies, Lord? How will you make them feel more comfortable with the new system?"

"This culture is rotten. It is rotten to the bones, Ison. They follow a chain of command. They have no tactical initiative. Cut off the snake's head, and you leave the body to die a slow and painful death. There is no law. There is no order. The head of civil defense is gone, the heads of government are gone, the representatives of the people are gone, the men in uniform loyal to Byrnashty are gone. Only Arraf remains. And we'll soon kill him too. Then, the Hammerhead will falter, and a series of raids on the division will force it to surrender and retreat to Fort Sudan. Then we lay siege to them. We tell them how horrible their former society was, and we try to make them see the light. We try to show them that there is hope for them - and their families - and their people - in the future."

"And if they don't see that?"

"A carpet-bombing campaign on Fort Sudan will silence the infidels forever."

"Lord, our allies?"

"We'll explain the corruption of the former regime to them. We'll call on them to help us in our time of need. We will have them send troops to Greenmanbry in an effort to help us stabilize - and rebuild - our nation. Until we get back on our feet and restore order. When the people come to terms with the change in government, we ask them to leave. They will surely comply. They are our allies, after all. Now, do not concern yourself with our allies. Get me Langley. In two hours, begin the first part of Destiny. The Hammerhead will not complete its mission."

<Freedom AFB, Darfur, Sudan>

Major Bradley received clearance to take off. He quietly idled his Savage on the runway, concentrating on the switches in front of him. Chief Air Marshall Langley's voice came clearly over his radio system, "Major, this training exercise is of the utmost importance. It will be conducted using live ordnance, as always. Your aircraft has been equipped with three projectiles: Alpha, Beta, and Gamma. You must seriously cripple an armoured column with these three weapons. Obviously, the main priority is to disable the division's commanding officer's vehicle. The vehicles are all expendable, being operated via remote control. The training exercise commences now. Maintain complete radio silence and follow the waypoints on your system. Do not violate civilian airspace." With his massive, 44,000 thrust engine ready, Major Bradley slowly increased the throttle to maximum, sending the F/A-91A speeding down Freedom's massive runway 32. As he took off, he corrected his attitude sightly for the light headwind he was experiencing.

This exercise was very unusual, he thought, I was given abnormally short notice. Oh well.. The Savage suddenly jolted to the right violently as Bradley applied the thrust vectoring system to correct his heading. He looked at the open expanse of the Sudan. Very hot day, he thought, before turning his attention back to the screens in front of him.

As per orders, Bradley maintained strict radio silence, before quickly changing course and starting a supersonic climb. He shrugged as his systems were continually updated to reflect the environment. Minutes later, as he got nearer to the training grounds, Bradley armed his first missile and descended to look carefully at the division he was ordered to disable.

Ahead of him was an armoured column, moving quickly in the desert. Hundreds of vehicles could be seen in front of him, ranging from light assault vehicles to medical evacuation units to the Army's best tanks.

Holy hell.. he thought, talk about a large-scale exercise. Bradley remained calm, using his plane's sensors to detect the M4 Command vehicle, moving in the midst of a plethora of tanks and Humvees. As he got nearer and nearer at low altitude, Bradley made sure the missile was armed one final time. His steel-gray eyes mentally visualized the strike pattern that his first missile will follow. He removed the protective sheathe of the trigger, then released the missile, which accelerated phenomenally towards the M4. Bradley swerved to the left, but he could not avoid the armoured column. He ended up going right over them.

He was mentally overwhelmed when he heard gunshots hitting his plane's airframe. What the bloody hell? Who was manning those guns? He wanted to contact HQ, but he remembered his orders. He slowly turned around and lined himself up with the armoured column which had come to a halt by now. Cripes. Bradley quickly armed Beta and sent it hurtling towards a large group of D-71 Sabres. The massive missile struck a couple of tanks, putting them out of comission. The same thing could be said for the M4, which was still burning in the midst of the line.

Bradley zoomed off, leaving the disabled tank's crews to their fate. He armed Gamma and returned to the column, once again at very low altitude. The Humvees and Range Rovers, though not the backbone of the division, were instrumental in the mobility of the column. Thoughts raced through his head. The dozen or so Humvees and Range Rovers that were close to each other were too enticing a target. He sent Gamma towards them. A massive explosion seconds later confirmed that he had hit his target. Instead of veering off and heading back to base, Bradley decided to fly overhead. He saw tens of people surrounding the wreckage. He let out a gasp, 'What the fu*k?" His eyes widened as he removed his visor. Soldiers wearing Army uniforms! Thoughts raced through his head. Ignoring his orders, he switched on his communication equipment. "HQ, HQ, what the hell is this exercise all about? This column was not remotely controlled, Army personnel are in those vehicles!" But a reply from HQ never came. The anti-aircraft guns on the myriad tanks caught up with his jet, now flying slowly over the armoured column. "I'm hit!" he shouted, as his aircraft went down in flames, crashing into a large group of M1A2 tanks. The flames that erupted from his aircraft were almost as hot as the Sudan's weather that day.

SID-8 Daily Report: Diplomatic Channel Analysis

URGENT WARNING: SEVERE DIPLOMATIC INCIDENT

At precisely 12:00 Schultarian standard time, communication was instantaneously severed between the State Department and our diplomatic representation in Greenmanbry. The State Department, considering all options, requested activation of SID operatives to analyze and assess the situation at the Schultarian embassy. At approximately 12:07 Schultarian standard time, the first Schultarian nationals and covert operatives arrived at the embassy grounds to survey the damage.

Damages to the embassy were total; while the majority of the embassy above ground has retained its structural integrity, the indication of minimal localized threats in Greenmanbry had not made preparations for an attack a priority for the State Department. As a result, the physical structure was not sufficiently designed to withstand the compressive forces of a significant explosion. Over 94% of the structure has suffered directly due to the force of the coordinated assault or indirectly due to intense heat from rather extensive fire damage.

Of the one hundred and seventy five members currently listed on the embassy's manifest, our teams have recovered the remains of forty citizens. Extensive analysis of the wreckage for any available life signs on all available sensor equipment has turned up nothing. Analysis will continue until such time as we have concluded the source of the attack and probable methods of counteracting such events in the future.

EMBASSY LOST: RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE ASSEMBLY OF ALL GREENMANBRY DIPLOMATS AND CONSULS FROM SCHULTARIA PRIME, EDGEN, AND TARANNU FOR CENTRAL DIRECTORATE QUESTIONING AND EXTENSIVE SID DEBRIEFING

*MESSAGE TERMINATE*

<Residential District, Al-Salaam>

The people of Al-Salaam quietly started to absorb the events that had unfolded that afternoon. Many ran to the nearest televesion set, but both television and radio stations had been destroyed by the blasts. Foreign networks did not broadcast anything related to the dilemma Greenmanbry was facing.

The government had finally collapsed, people were told by fellow citizens. Rumours of a revolution were rapidly spreading, but the population realized that such rumours were myths. No opposition parties had the means for such a huge attack on Greenmanbry's government. Surely these attacks were not masterminded by the military, the protectors of the people?

No. If it had been the military, the generals could have easily submitted a proposal demanding Byrnashty stand down. After all, they had Greenmanbry's military might behind them. Few laymen knew of the Cult and its plans. Hooded men were seen moving in Al-Salaam. Their presence was noted by the populace. People started to fear these hooded men. Indeed, people became increasingly alarmed when the number of hooded men started to increase. Citizens were not able to do anything but hide in their homes and pray for the safety of their families. Al-Salaam became deserted. Greenmanbry's population was begging for a savior.

The hooded men were everywhere. They were given a nickname, the Guardians. The name spread like wildfire, its originator unknown.

No newspapers. No broadcasts. No communication networks. No airports. No contact with the outside word. No contact with neighbors and relatives, even. The Guardians were not there to protect or serve the people, they were there to ensure that no violence erupted.

===

<Administrative District, Al-Salaam>

Lord Krekar looked at the Guardians patrolling the streets of the Administrative District. Many more were tearing down the rubble of the once-grand Palace at the heart of Greenmanbry's capitol. "Edgar! Edgar" Lord Krekar shouted. Edgar came running to Lord Krekar's side. He bowed, "Yes, my Lord?"

"Now, we start contacting the people. Get the networks up and running. Get the government's newspaper up and running. Tell the people that they will be safe. Do not have them go to work or anything like that. Just tell them to remain where they are. That a new, powerful government is emerging from the ruins of the Palace, minus the corruption and weakness of Byrnashty's. Also, use my contacts to start rebuilding the Palace and Ministry of Defense."

"My Lord, I will get to work right away, but what are we going to do about the Hammerhead? They are advancing onto the city."

"I have ordered Ison to initiate Destiny. Langley will get some of our people into helicopters. Hopefully, that will slow them down while we rebuild this city."

"I see." Edgar quickly ran to his car. He had a lot of work to do, and a very short amount of time to do it.

ooc: Sorry, but I own the Suez in Earth II...

OOC: I really don't care. Transdimensional physics have been part of Vastiva since inception, so I'll land where I like, thank you.

<Greenmanbry Broadcasting Corporation's Building, Al-Salaam>


The halls were filled with the man's voice, speaking into the microphone, spreading his message to those in the vicinity of the building via the loudspeakers installed over the building's rooftop, and to the entire nation through both television and radio stations. "Oh, people of Greenmanbry! The horrors you saw under Byrnashty's reign are a thing of the past! His corruption you had come to know very well! His negligence... his disloyalty... his ignorance to the wishes of his people... you were forced to come to terms with. Well, no more, dear citizens! No more! Byrnashty and his filthy friends are gone! They shall occupy but a single dark page in the grand history of our nation! Now, we concentrate on the future! Calm down, try to settle down in your houses and your apartments! Do not flood the streets yet, for the Guardians have not yet conquered the demons that roam in our streets. The Guardians are your friends: immortal, forgiving, helpful, but also stern, fearless, and merciless. Be at peace, citizens of Greenmanbry! Already, the reconstruction has begun! Already, Greenmanbry's future is looking ever so bright! Be at peace. Be at peace."

Hours after the broadcast first started, an encryted message was wired to two of Greenmanbry's allies by the country's newly-appointed Minister of Defense, Edgar the Invincible.

==

TO: Ministry of Defense, The Federation of IDF.
FR: Edgar the Invincible, Minister of Defense, Greenmanbry.
RE: The security situation in the Demonic Dominion.

You are, by now, perfectly aware of the change in government in Greenmanbry. Although the Navy and Air Force are under the government's control, and the hope that Lord Krekar brings is slowly dawning on members of the Armed Forces, the security situation remains less than optimal. This is mostly due to rogue units operating out of the Sudan's deserts. We ask the Federation of IDF to help us in routing out opposition and restoring the unity and solidarity of Greenmanbry's population. We would welcome IDF's presence in both the Sudan and Chad.

http://home.graffiti.net/greenmanbry:graffiti.net/Satan/Edgar.jpg
Edgar the Invincible
Minister of Defense
The Infernal Demonic Dominion of Greenmanbry

==

TO: Ministry of Defense, The Democratic Empire of Teh ninjas
FR: Edgar the Invincible, Minister of Defense, Greenmanbry.
RE: The security situation in the Demonic Dominion.

You are, by now, perfectly aware of the change in government in Greenmanbry. Although the Navy and Air Force are under the government's control, and the hope that Lord Krekar brings is slowly dawning on members of the Armed Forces, the security situation remains less than optimal. This is mostly due to rogue units operating out of the Sudan's deserts. We ask the Democratic Empire of Teh ninjas to help us in routing out opposition and restoring the unity and solidarity of Greenmanbry's population. We would welcome Teh nijas's presence in both the Sudan and Chad.

http://home.graffiti.net/greenmanbry:graffiti.net/Satan/Edgar.jpg
Edgar the Invincible
Minister of Defense
The Infernal Demonic Dominion of Greenmanbry

TO: Edgar the Invincible, Minister of Defense, Greenmanbry.
FR:Emperor Alec Takenski, Emperor of Teh Ninjas
RE: The security situation in the Demonic Dominion

"Our government has been watching the situation very carefully and have agreed to lend support to your nation. At the moment around 1 million soldiers from Ethiopa and Western Niger are moving into Sudan and Chad to assist you in your operation. I request that my generals keep their command over their soldiers, but we will require several GMB officers to assist us in the navigation of your nation and knowledge of the enemy."

((OOC: There a way I can join in?))

OOC: Sure, role-play what happened to your embassy and its staff. You can also bring troops to Greenmanbry if you like.