NationStates Jolt Archive

(OOC: Alright, this is a continuation of another thread, which is here. http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=377624&page=1&pp=15 Basically, the Estenlanders have invaded Lavrageria, with support of the French, who I'm (Russia) engaged in with a series of spygames. The French have supported the Red Mafia, which has resulted in choas and bloodshed. I'm putting a new thread as other nations will probably want to get involved, since an outright riot in Moscow won't go unnoticed.)
The protester ranks swelled in the Red Square of Moscow, as native Russians, who were dissatisfied with the slowness of economic recovery, angered over the "Illegal Russian Imperialism", or trying to push their vision of either a fascist or Communistic state, gathered with foreign protester groups, who were mainly concerned with the "illegal" war conducted by Russia, (not believing Putin's claims of neutrality), or were simply rowdy anti-globalist protesters with little to do.
Most stuck to trade mark protester tactics, such as signs saying "PUTIN IS A MURDERER. HE SUPPORTS THE CANNIBALISTIC SATANISTS OF LAVRAGERIA!!!" or "FOOD FOR THE POOR" or the trademark of any public event with TV cameras, "HI MOM!
The chanters sung various songs, ranging from Nazi hymns to Communist anthems to English drinking songs.
Some even resorted to burning the Russian flag, or doing the same to effigies of Putin.
All in all, it was fairly peaceful, albeit chaotic.
Then all hell broke loose.
There were three causes, really.
The first was the fact that when you stick Communists and Fascists in the same crowd, and add vodka, the result isn't going to be pretty.
The second was actually an English-on-English affair, due to a dispute over a soccer (football in Euro-speak) match played by their various favorite clubs.
The third was thanks to the violent anti-globalists, who just loved to pick a fight with the "pigs." At first at was only the standard fare of "Oink, oink, I smell bacon." which eventually devolved into someone throwing a molotov cocktail.
All sides pulled out various makeshift weapons, as soccer fans, Communists, Fascists, and anti-globalists thrust the entire crowd, along with the "riot police", into an all out brawl. Mafioso waited on the sidelines, simply selling weaponry and drugs to the blood thirsty mob, as if they were hot dog salesman at a sports event. Tear gas and rubber bullets mixed with molotov cocktails and lead bullets, in a shower of blood. A large, metallic vehicle with a powerful waterhose drove in, trying to disperse the crowd, but a shot from an RPG ripped it to shreds. A young Communist, his Che Guevara shirt and Marijuana joint soaked in blood, climbed onto the wrecked vehicle, and shouted,"DEATH TO THE FASCISTS! WORKERS OF THE WORLD, UNITE!" Some random fellow in the crowd chanted back,"VIVA MANCHESTER UNITED! THEY'RE GONNA BLOODY WIN IT ALL!" The police switched to lethal force, and massive bloodshed ensued as all units poured into the Red Square amidst the chaos. The military came pouring in, with tanks and battle helicopters blasting away, killing armed protesters and protecting civilians. To add to the misery, the Mafia joined in with full force, as the people cringed at home, not knowing what to do.
________________________________________________________________

"Damn. DAMN IT!"

President Vladimir Putin's black scarfswirled as he stared out of his window in the Kremlin. The Boss, a middle aged woman with white hair and a combat uniform, who was the Secretary of Defense, and Oswald, a fat man with extremely long and thin legs, a small, blad head, glasses, and thick orange bristles for a mustache, (Secretary of the Economy) stood in the room as well. The Boss worried over Putin, never seeing him in such an angry state before. His body shivered in rage, and he turned around, glaring at the Boss and Oswald. He cut a menacing figure, in his black clothes and cloak, and his piercing eyes.

"The Mafia can't be doing this alone! They're funds could not match this chaos!"

The Boss spoke calmly,"Vlad. You now very well who it was."

"Yes. The French! Damn them! So they weaken our hand in Lavragerian aid by instigating chaos at home! But, do we have any proof?"

The Boss sadly shook her head.

"F**k. Alright, I want a status report. What's the situation in Russia?"
"Bad. Very bad. The Mafia has turned everything south of Volgograd an anarchist haven, Communists have seized St. Petersburg, and all that is north of it. Tzarists have seized the area around Bryansk and Orel, and have offered an invitation to the Tzar."
"Send forces to the Tzarists first. They're the most dangerous. If Wingert takes the opportunity...Withdraw border forces from 40,000 to 20,000 and deply those 20,000 in the Tzarist region. Shred those bastards to pieces. And...I didn't want to do this, but...Call for international aid. We can't handle this alone. Will the word answer the call? Or will Russia again fall to choas?"
Oswald spoke up,"Mr. Putin, I suggest we ask for economic aid as well?"
"Yes. Contact NATO, and the WEC. Now."
Map of Russia's Current Status: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v232/Futureworldruler/RussianMap.bmp Oh, you'll probably have to resize it. Sorry.

Bump.

Pierre and Katerina would make for Orel immediatley. With them they would bring bombs and machine guns.

The drop operation in Volgograd was a success. Convoys of Mafia went clandestinley north, to supply the Tsarist insurents in Orel. The French Agents were even now going to support them with more supplies. The secret Swiss bank account was humming...the Red Mafia was given an additional one billion to support their ongoing efforts.

Pierre went personally to organize the Tsarists, while Katerina would speed to their Mafia liasons, to help them organize profitable ventures in this blissfully chaotic time. The spies seperated with a kiss, as Katerina left by helecopter on the roadside, and Pierre continued with the convoy to Orel.

Secret French channels would inform Tsar Wingert of the full extent of the chaos. They would not reveal the source, but would give him photo/text evidence of the unraveling crisis, including rebellious areas, and basically with as much information as the Mafia had supplied to the secret agents.

Publicly, French Diplomats would mourn the crisis in Russia. King Louis' government was quick to point out they were spending alot of money on relief efforts such as "Fund for the Starving Children of the East", and encouraged other nations to send humanitarian aid.

On the private line from Versailles to Ottowa, however, M. de Vergennes would ask Hudecia to limit Western assistance to Russia. Pointing out that Hudecias posistion in the Pacific would be challenged it Russia erupted into war. "Non-intervention, on the political and military levels, is simply the best policy for now. Surely, none of us want Russia turning into a playground for ideologies. And besides, a weak Russian economy simply means stronger prices in the West."

-Ottawa-

On the private line President MacNally expressed great concern about the crisis in Russia to M. de Vergennes. A weak Russia could prove to be dangerous to Hudecia's position in Korea and in the Pacific in general. A strong Russia opposed to Hudecia would be fatal.

With the growing uncertainty in both China and Russia, it leaves two very large and potentially powerful nations up for grabs. It was considered highly likely that certain, 'undesireable' nations would become involved. Should Hudecia note that a power grab was being made, there would be little option but to become involved.

However, MacNally agreed with M. de Vergennes that they should be patient for now, and control the amount of aid that would be spent in Russia. After all, Russia is not a third world country and its security problems pose significant challenges to economic development.

-Ottawa-

After each phone call or visit MacNally changed offices and had both himself and the offices swept for bugs by an elite group of soldiers.

Still, MacNally hesitated before making the call to President Putin. He was sure that Vladimir Putin would not be overly pleased to hear from him, as Hudecia had been fairly opposed to him in the past. Still, MacNally hoped that this private phone call could help smooth things over a little bit.

MacNally tried his best to explain his overt hostility towards Russia as an attempt to maintain a delicate balance between France and the West. However, MacNally insisted, he would under no conditions abandon a democracy to the whims of organized crime.

"I offer to send a battalion of ethnic Russian troops from Hudecia to you to aid in the defense of your government. They will have to be armed with Russian weapons in order to preserve the image that Hudecia is completely neutral in this affair. In addition to this, a unit of special operation troops can be deployed to the eastern part of Russia to track and eliminate the Mafia threat."

The Hudecian special ops team would be made up of ethnic Chinese soldiers so that the Hudecian government could disavow any knowledge of them.

OOC-Braeks into applause-What an amsing idea for an RP, kudos.

IC-King Wingert watches the television reports come in as Kargat aganets report from all over Russia of the enveloping chaos.
"He called in the military against his own people, this Putin may have sac after all."

He orders Estenlandian troops to absolutely not croos the Russian border even to support the Tsarists, but makes a public proclamation of support for those elemsts within Russia, promising to support the movement soon.

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

The Kings closest Ministers had never in their dreams imagined Russia could have seemingly erupted so quickly. Overtly the Foreign Ministry would countinue to give aid. Indeed, they never stopped boasting of being the only European country to be considerate enough to give aid, even though the Putin regime had often jingoed its way through relations. Over on billion in aide had been donated to "Starving Children of The East", a not-for profot organization devoted to keeping starving Russian babies fed, and providing youth in general with medicinal supplies.

Pierre, once again Yuri, stood over a mafia gathering in a barn somewhere in Oren, in conjunction with a group of rowdy Tsarists. "Gentlemen, please, we must get this done now. You fellows" waving his hand to the Tsarists "need weapons, and my associates and I can provide them, at a price." The Mafioso men nodded.

Without delay deals were brokered. The Mafia would load the ragged groups up with small arms, before quickly departing with the mysterious agent. They had no desire to be in Orel when the shots rang out. They had simply made a deal with extreme benefit to all parties concerned.

He would meet up with lovely Katerina in a hunting lodge, deep in the Russian Steppes. They would relax for a few days now, and revel in the seeds they had sown in their oddly romantic hideaway (after all, they are aristocrats). The Mafia had all the tools it needed, the crowds were being feueled daily, and Russia was in no shape to take their problematic reform schedule over the Dnieper anytime soon.

With the Mafias assistance, groups of defecting technicians and even a few scientists (lead by the promise of quick money and an escape from the chaos) were smuggled through the pourus Southern Border by train. Once in one of the 'stan countries they were brought to chartered planes. In an atmosphere of the upmost secrecy they took off for points south. No more could be found out yet.

What was known was poor Russia, who had been loosing the democracy game for so long now, struggling on with almost child like determination, seemed to have had a stroke, or perhaps simply a mild heart attack.

The Quinntonian government asks Putin whether or not he would allow a small group of peacekeepers to be brought in to strat to distribute humanitarian aid.
WWJD
Amen.

Can we get a map of Russia we don't need a microscope to see?
BUMP
WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Don't know how...Sorry.

The Boss stood in a makeshift command center, west of Tzarist territory. She was sweating profusely in her white battle armor, despite it being extremely cold.

“I want a pincer attack. Move troops in from the south and the north. Ten thousand each. What do we have at our disposal?”

A young soldier replied to the white haired, yet still young-looking, War Secretary.

“Ma’am, our men are armed with standard Ak-47s, plus a few SA-18 anti-air missiles just in case Wingert decides to drop by. They have some old tanks, so we’ve mustered some RPGs, and a significant amount of Soviet tanks and artillery. We’ll have to rely on mainly outdated equipment, as our budget has been too low for the last years, preventing us from researching a new tank design and from buying American/Quinntonian M1-Abrams. Still, they’ll do the job required of ‘em.”

“Yes. Especially considering that the Tzarists don’t have better equipment, and the artillery will be there to help. Alright, order the troops in to postion. We attack...”

She whirled around dramatically, her cape following her.

“...at dawn.”

The soldier muttered,”Damn Americans, always showing off...”

The Boss turned around, disarmed the soldier, caught him in a headlock, and pointed a gun at his head. Then, she spoke with perfect calm.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. Ma’am. Ow...”

“Excellent. Carry on.”

The soldier saluted her, and she marched off.
_________________________________________________________________
Orlen, Tzarist Territory

“Hiiiiii...hihihihihihihihihiiiiiiiiii....”

His thin fingers trembled as they approached the keyboard. The fingers struggled to type out a sentence, but the twitching wouldn’t halt.

“Gah...I need that blasted medication..”

His hands grasped for a pouch which contained hundreds of green vials, along with needles and injectors. He jabbed it into his arm, and for a few excruciating moments, he convulsed violently. His body throbbed with sheer pain, and...it was over.

Ughhhh...

It was a strange disease for a strange man. A degenerative illness that consumed his flesh, it was only alleviated by painful injections, which in part only offered a slower death by brain degeneration, while slowly driving him mad.

Igorij was a cursed man. His entire life had been filled to the brim with monotony and despair. His parents had been slaughtered in a pogrom, leaving him in the destitute hell hole that was the Russian child care system. He eventually scraped his way out, only to become an office worker for a Chinese software company (which basically entailed illegally burning thousands of CDs). Day after day, he toiled away at his computer, losing his sanity bit by bit. He shouldn’t be working there, he thought. But why? Why did others deserve to toil, but he did not? He had to find a reason! ANY REASON!

And he found it on Geneology.com. A pop up piqued his interest, and soon, he found his reason. The reason why he was better, why he was supreme. For he was...

...a Romanov.
...a Tsar.

Soon he was drawn deeper into the Tsarist ideology, and his brilliant, yet sick and twisted mind formulated a plan. When the opportunity arose, as it did with the Mafia paying him to disrupt Russia, and with the general state of anarchy, he seized Orlen and Bayernsk. His Tsarist followers were brutal, but talented soldiers. They were to help him fulfill his destiny...He was to be the man who returned Russia to its Tsardom. Of course, he realized that he alone could not do this, and only a fellow Tsar could aid him. And of course, Wingert I, Tsar of Ukraine, would never allow Romanov to rule over the Motherland. But he did not care. All he wanted was to have power, to be BETTER than the insects, and to be remembered as the man who restored Russia’s Tsarist glory...

Ivan, a barrel chested thug who served as the head of Igorij’s “army” (really a loose assocation of boozed up killers) saluted Romanov.

“Your highness. The Mafia has sent some people; they want to sell weapons. They’re willing to provide some mercenaries as well.”
“Excellent. Loot the city, and pay the Mafiosi with the valuables. We shall need those arms to deal with the Republicans.”
Ivan’s dim eyes flitted nervously.
“Duh...Republicans? What do those American Right Wing gun nuts want with us?”
“You idiot! First of all, I’m talking about the Russian government. It is a REPUBLIC! And second, you’re calling them gun nuts when you’ve got two AKs and and RPG launcher strapped to your back! Arg, never mind. When will the enemy be here?”
“Soon, my lord. A day, at most.”
“Excellent. How much Sarin gas do we have left over? We did use a lot to quell those civilians...”
“More than enough, sire.”
“Excellent. You know what to do with that. Ah yes, and what about his Lordship, Wingert?”
“Well, he said he would help, but we have not seen anything come over.”
“Damn! Did he not claim Russia as his own? Does he not share my beautiful vision of a Russia united under a powerful Tsar?!? Tell him to get a move on. Oh, and what of...”The Unit”?”
“We are uncovering more and more clues to its location, my lord.”
“Excellent. Leave me, Ivan. You are dismissed for now.”

Ivan saluted and marched out to fulfill his duties. Romanov turned to the rain soaked window, muttering.

“Kuwabara, kuwabara, kuwabara...”
_________________________________________________________________
Moscow....

Vladimir Putin answered the phone call from the Hudecian President, a little peeved to be interrupted from his favorite hobby, target practice with cardboard cut outs of Louis XX.

“Hello. First of all, thank you for your gracious offer. The soldiers can be deployed immediately. Second, I do not know what you speak of when you reference the power balance between France and the West. As you know, we are unofficially completely uninvolved in their affairs. I hope to have a positive relationship with your nation in the future, and extend much thanks for the soldiers. May the rest of the world have the same courage to defend democracy.”
_________________________________________________________________
Volgograd....
Alexandrov, a fat Mafiosi, sat in a chair opposite of Ilona Srebrenitska, another Mafiosi kingpin. She was now in charge of on-the-ground operations in the Mafia zone, while Alexandrov handled things from a distance. They had sprung the pale, black haired (frizzy) woman from prison for reasons unknown to Alexandrov. But what the Red Leader wanted, he got. Alexandrov cared little. Business was going well, as vast shipments of drugs were coming in from LRR. Prostitution and the Mail-Order Bride operations were also incredibly successful, and a percentage of the earnings was sent to the French crown, as to encourage further investment.

Yes, he thought as he took a chug out of a cigar, life is good for a Mafia man.

The Quinntonian government, fearing the vast Russian WMD program, especially nuclear weaponry falling into unstable hands asks again if Peacekeeping troops can be brought in to secure such ares ofr Putin, freeing up valuable troops for his civil war.
WWJD
Amen.

Precious supplies for the war effort are being brought up along the Belorussian/Lavragerian border, where they are being handed over to the Tsarist troops in massive numbers, usually RPGs, AK-47 derivatives and Tokerav rip-offs. They also give medical supplies and things like food, ammunitions, gasoline, and they are taking requests, what else do you need? There is also quite a lot of money changing hands, as we are giving the troops we come in contact with money to use for the war effort, to be brought to the Tsar, even if he is a blasted Romonav. (Who knows what percentage is actually getting to him)
We are not accepting payment for the supplies we are giving, so basically we are both funding and supplying the new regime. It is thought that we could be seen as a far more effective Tsarist regime, after the Romonavs experiement with their revolution, presumably, we would be there to take over when it all comes crashing down.

OOC-PLEASE GET US ANOTHER MAP!!!!!!! FIND A COMPUTER SAVVY FRIEND, I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOUR BORDERS OR THE TSARIST HELD TERRITORIES ARE, WHAT ABOUT ST. PETERSBURG?

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

-Eastern Russia-

Hudecian special operations teams begin infiltrating the Mafia and establishing bases and contacts in the local areas. A general outline of the Mafia operations were being mapped out, and strikes were being planned.

-Moscow-

Courtesy of the Hudecian armed forces and thanks to the Hudecian special ops teams, dozens of trucks filled with 'fruit' arrived. They were transported in from Korea and were 'sealed for freshness'.

Hudecian Russian soldiers, numbering perhaps 1000 by this time, were the recipients of these 'fruits'.

In truth, the crates contained weapons from Hudecia, assault rifles, anti-armour missiles, body armour, and lots and lots of ammunition.

Tsar of the Estenlands, claimant to all the Russias, and King of Ukraine, Wingert I of The Village of Farrah, wishes to present the Tsar claimant, Igorij Romonov with a gift of all of the weaponry that has been confiscated from the Lavragerian Republicans, to go along with the supplies that are already coming.
The Holy Legaue also promises its support, and asks if there could be perhaps a treaty made out.
Insiders to the Tsarist court have claimed that Wingert is very nervous about a Romonav claimant, especially one who may be operating inside Russia, and that could concievably sit in St. Ptersburg, traditional seat of power for the Tsars. However, this is just too good an opprotunity to pass up and so, they will gleefully support anyone willing to make problems for Russia, ensuring that they will stay out of the war.
It may be, however, that King Wingert will just eventually make the same offer to this claimant that he made to Lavrageria, one of vassalage, recognising the divine right of Romonov rule, but as a King, under the Tsar.
OOC-Just FYI, everyone here knows that Tsar means Ceaser in Russian, right? Meaning Emporer. Kind of the same as Kaiser for Ceaser in German.

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

OOC-PLEASE GET US ANOTHER MAP!!!!!!! FIND A COMPUTER SAVVY FRIEND, I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOUR BORDERS OR THE TSARIST HELD TERRITORIES ARE, WHAT ABOUT ST. PETERSBURG?

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.
OOC: Don't panic. Or keine panik as my German teacher likes to say. Does this work? [img=http://img99.exs.cx/img99/45/russianmap18og.jpg]

Orel, Tsarist Territory
1. Igorij Romanov’s pale face grinned in sick delight. He bore his old lab coat, and a crude crown his engineers had fashioned from melted gold. He was indeed, a madman, but a madman with power nonetheless. His thin, wiry body rested on a metallic throne, his hands clasping the edges like a skeleton’s claws grasped its blade. A brown, wiry mustache and black glasses covered his enigmatic face.
“Ivan! What news do you bring me?”
“Duh, Wingert been sending us a lot of supplies.”
“Like?”
“Weapons, food, medicine. He has offered as a gift a vast bounty of weapons, as well.”
“Excellent. How many of these gifts have made it to us?”
“The majority, sir. Our men patrol the borders, and their loyalty is unquestioned, sir. Some of the local populace manage to trick a Ukrainian once in a while, but we usually…receive…the supplies from them.”
Igorij mulled over this thought, ecstatic at his growing power, and at the possibility of success, when Ivan spoke again.
“He also wishes to sign a treaty of some sort.”
“Tell him if he wants a treaty, he better get more than supplies. That bastard Putin’s going to send his forces any minute now…By my birthright, I should rule all of Russia, but because of circumstance, that will never happen. It is either Wingert or Putin. I for one, shall dedicate myself to the purpose of restoring the Tsardom. But I cannot do it without his men.”
“My lord, we can manage the first strike with the gas. But after that…Well, we have all the weapons in the world, but not the men to wield them.”
“We need more men! Conscript the locals! If we can push back the assault, France and the Estenlands may be willing to recognize us…Then we can, with their aid, conquer St. Petersburg, the rightful throne of the Tsar. Hmmm…Tell Wingert that if his aid leads to the capture of St. Petersburg from those blasted Communists who have taken it, and if I am allowed my proper title as a hero of the revolution, and allowed my proper place in the annals of Ukrainian history, then I shall give him the authority of my blood. I shall relinquish my title as Romanov…”
Ivan’s bulky body cringed at the thought. It had never happened before, for a Tsar to give his power to another…But then again, the reality was beyond Ivan’s dim perception. The truth of the matter was, there was no way they could manage to survive without the Tsar’s help, and it was unlikely he would allow another Tsar to exist. Besides, Romanov could feel in his bones that his life force was draining away…It was not obvious, but a subtle drain that signaled his imminent demise. No one but he knew that, of course.
“Ivan. Prepare the Sarin. Also, what of…IT?”
“The garrison has been found, sir. The enemy guards it well, and a ferocious battle is taking place as we speak. We will kill them all, and gain the codes, my lord. That I swear to you on my family name…”
Ivan knelt, and ran off to do his master’s bidding.
Moscow…
Vladimir Putin sat on the black, leather chair in his office. The floor was a hard wood design, with a large black tile star, the emblem of his administration, and a large, bullet proof window consumed the wall behind the desk. To the non-initiated, this may seem like an obvious way to allow the President to be shot in the back. Of course, they did not realize that the window was not only a sign of audacity and courage for the President, it was also the single most indestructible part of the Kremlin. Made out of sheer industrial diamond, along with a few top secret designs and materials, made sure that little short of a direct nuclear strike could shatter that window. The walls themselves would crumble more quickly.
The Red Hotline phone, a direct link between the Presidents/Prime Ministers of the United States and Russia, a relic of the Cold War, still stood on Putin’s desk. He’d considered getting rid of it, as a symbol that the relations between Russia and the US were no different than those of any nation, but had disregarded that idea when the fact that both nations still had thousands of nuclear missiles pointed at each other had hit him on the face. Direct communication was necessary, if just to prevent some random drunkard general from triggering a nuclear war. He picked up the phone, waited for the connection to finish, and spoke.
“Hello, Prime Minister? Yes. Hello, sir. I call you because of a recent request by your government to send peacekeeping troops to our nation. I ask you that these troops be deployed immediately. Also, while I understand that they are “peacekeeping” forces, and will most likely only be used to quell the chaos in Moscow, and restore order to Volgograd, it would be very helpful if you could dispatch forces to help us retake Orel. Thank you again, Mr. Pres---err, Prime Minister.”
Streets Of Moscow…
Most of the violence had died down in the capital itself, as the insurgents had established their strongholds in Volgograd, Orel, and Bryansk. However, the many troublemakers remained, and in the Red Square, the battle still raged.
Captain Olaf Nikolay held his AK-47 tightly to his chest, as he sprinted out of the armored fighting vehicle, which was similar to the American Bradley. Two rows of fighting vehicles had arrived on the northern and southern exits of the Red Square, while Hind battle copters fired missiles and unloaded chain gun rounds pushed the remaining resistors into the center. Troops poured out of the oddly geometrical fighting vehicles, and bullets were flying everywhere.

Olaf and five other men ran towards a crowd of Communists, who had their backs turned, as they were hurling molotovs at a crowd of Fascists.

“Now! FIRE!”

The Russian soldiers poured lead into the backs of the Communists, causing them to crumple to the ground. Olaf aimed his AK at a man who was about to turn around. Then he saw the man was holding a Molotov cocktail, and fired at it instead. A loud explosion filled the air as the cheaply made, yet effective weapon turned on its owner, who screamed in agony, along with five of his comrades. A crowd of Tzarists rushed forward, after the Communists that Olaf had fought had fallen, and they began firing blindly from their sidearms. The shots knocked back two Russian soldiers, and the rest fired desperately from their Aks.Olaf blasted the head of one on the right, ducked behind some rubble, and tossed a grenade. He saw a cluster of Tsarists fly into the air, and fall back down onto the stone street with a devastating crunch. He peeked out, only to see an onrushing man wielding a large Cossack sword. Olaf’s AK pumped rounds into the man’s chest, but he continued to charge on, in a blood rage. He swung downward, and the blade sliced through Olaf’s right arm, leaving it as a bloodied stump. In one last act before he departed for the land of unconsciousness, Olaf fired the AK into the crazed swordsman’s face, ripping it off of the skull, leaving behind a mess of brains, blood, and bone. And then all went to black.

Hours later, Olaf’s eyes struggled open, and his blurry vision began to clear. For a second, he did not realize who he was, but the sight–or rather, the lack of it—of his arm made him remember. It also made him pale. But he did not cower. Instead, he struggled to get out of bed. A nurse ran over to restrain him, yet he still fought.

“Give me a gun, woman! My comrades are dying!”
“Do not worry, sir. It is over. The Moscow insurgency has been slaughtered, down to the last man.”
“Thank...”

His instincts, grinded into him by an oppressive system, told him to say “Marx, Stalin, and Lenin”, for fear of arrest. But he quickly realized that those days had long passed, and finished speaking.

“...God.”
_________________________________________________________ Office of Secretary of the Economy...
Oswald’s bulbous chest rose out of the dank, dark desk. Spiders crawled over the messy papers, which were covered in dust. Various video games were sprawled all over the room, and along with economic indicators. The man’s flashy orange mustache was the only beacon of light in this hellhole, and his workers did not know what to make of him. He seemed mad, spouting nonsense, caring little for his surroundings, and always playing cheery tunes.
But he was brilliant. Oswald was a master economist, snatched out of top American investment firms. His eyes poured over the documents of “The Fund For The Starving Children Of The East”, established by the French, searching for the slightest hint of impropriety.

“AHA!”

He leaped out of his chair, filled with joy and anticipation. A female intern with brown hair and an obnoxious face, ran in chewing gum.

“Sir, what is it?”
“I have found it, Monica!”
“Found what?”
“I’ve traced the funds to purchasers, and they’re all agencies of ill-repute. Let’s just say orphans wouldn’t want to be eating them, ho?”
“Why? Are the supplies spoiled?”
“Well, I doubt that orphans enjoy the taste of hand grenades. But I might be mistaken. Lewinsky, send this to the President immediately.
_________________________________________________________________
TO: Louis XX
FROM: Vladimir Putin
Louis, the jig is up. We have uncovered evidence that you are smuggling weapons into my country. Evacuate any agents you may have immediately, or I shall leak this to the media.
_________________________________________________________________

The Boss stood out of a T-80 Russian tank, watching through her scope the city of Orel. It was a smashed, damaged town, once one of the prime military bases in the USSR. But now, it was little more than rubble. The initial wave was heading towards the southern entrance to the city, a force of one thousand men and fifty tanks. The artillery pumped shells into the city, blasting apart the buildings on the outskirts. Still, the Tsarists had not shown themselves, and her face worried as her white hair flapped in the wind. The men began approaching the outskirts of the city, when...
“THERE!”

She saw a flicker of movement, and a man dashed out from the wreckage of a building. He wore a black gas mask, and held...

“JESUS! That’s...GAS!”

The man had thrown a small bomb, which immediately flooded the area with a noxious Sarin gas. More and more men ran out, as the Russian troops fired at them. The Boss and the remaining force could only gape on the hill as the thousand men they sent out suffocated in agony.

Bump!

((Nicley done, Ill respond tonight when I get a wee bit o time. Ciao))

Pierre and Katerina remained in Volgograd. The ODSL strategists believed that tha Mafai held lands would last the longest, and prove the most fertile with their pourus southern borders.

In their secret lodge, in the forest, they presided over a Salon of sorts, a Mafiaesque one. There, Mafia kingpins planned the logistics of chaos and vice. Since the Mafia territories abutted the Black Sea, it was no great hardship to smuggle things in and out. While the Russian government concentrated on their efforts to bring the 'Tsar' to heel, and eastern Russia was being purged by the Western Powers, the Mafia ruled in the south, digging in, nigh on creating their own institutions of government.

Meanwhile, in Versailles, His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX would worry about recognizing the Tsar as legitimate. The Tsarists were fighting hard, but they were using gas, Serin. That would not be good publicity. However, Louis was committed to Tsar Wingert, and his cause. Therefore, a midpoint was agreed to, and the King released a statement through a Herald.

"His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX decries the violence in Russia. His Majesty is convinced that Putin is an inept ruler, who only engenders more violence, rather than squelching it. Therefore, HMCM Louis XX suggests that an International Peace Keeping/Civil Advisory Board ought be sent in, to restore order and arrange new elections, so as to put a coalition government into power, rather than an insipid dictator. The demililtarization and the tranquility of Russia matters to all nations. What if some terrorists get a hold of Russias nuclear arsenal? Step down, Monsieur Putin, and allow educated Westerners manage your sad, wounded land."

In private, Versailles sent the following message to the Kremlin:
"The company you describe has been closed. There was no jig, but can you dance the gavotte?"

(There was no real need for the company anymore, as weapons and drugs can simply be shipped straight into Mafia held zones)

Putin’s eyes widened in horror as he held the phone.

“They...they...used gas?”

The Boss’ saddened, yet harsh voice echoed back across the phone.

“Yes, Vlad. Sarin gas was used against our forces. Those Tsarists are clever. They know that they can’t win against us in a standard battle, so they’ll use every trick up their sleeve.”
“How many? How many of our brave heroes perished?”
“Vlad...”

Her voice drew off, both grieving at the loss of men, and the realization of what would happen to her old friend.

“How many, Boss?!? How many letters must I write?!?!”
“Hhhhh...Nine hundred, ninety seven.”
“Oh, God...”

The line went silent for a moment as The Boss tensed. Putin had seen death many times, as both a soldier in the American military, and as (oddly) a Presidential candidate. He had both seen his closest friends crumble under gunfire, and had taken the lives of others. But never before had he been responsible for the deaths of so many. He had sent all those young men, with wives and children, marching to their dooms. Their bright futures snuffed in the blink of an eye. And all of it was his fault. How could he write all those letters? How could he see the crying mothers? How could he face those left behind, who suffered from the loss of their sons, fathers, and brothers, because of him?

“Vlad?”
“Vlad?”
“VLAAAAD!”

“No...He’s lost it...My friend, has...”
“Boss.”

The Boss’ eyes lit up with renewed hope. And so Vladimir Putin’s most important test as Commander-in-Chief had passed, and he had not crumbled under the most dire of tasks that a President could face.

“Boss, I need to write a speech. We will not allow these beasts to prevail. Tell all the men to watch TV tonight, in five hours.”
“Yes, President Putin.”

Putin smiled at that. He was earning his credibility, bit by bit. Clawing his way to stability...

“Boss, the Hudecians have given us several fighter/bombers. Make good use of them.”
“Yes, President Putin.”
“Give them hell, Boss. And...call me Vlad. Don’t be so pretentious...”
“Ha...Alright, Vlad. They will know the fury of the Russian people.”
_______________________________________________________________
Moscow, Red Square, Several Hours Later...

It was a frosty night in Moscow’s Red Square. The wind howled, as the streets still bore the sight of destruction, ranging from spent shells to empty molotovs to slight splotches of blood. In a raised platform that bore the national emblem, a black star, stood a man clad only in black. His thick black trenchcoat covered the Kevlar jacket he bore. A black scarf swirled in the wind, and it partially covered the once young face, which now was incredibly hardened and determined. Smoothly combed orange-brown hair covered his head, and his eyes gazed out to the world.

Vladimir Putin was ready. For the first time in his Presidency, he was ready to fulfill his duty.

Enormous crowds stood out, strangely silent. Television crews maneuvered around the President, who stood strangely alone on the podium. They broadcast all over Russia, and all over the world.

“People of Russia...We live in a time that tests our very spirits. I will not pretend to you that our country is in easy times, and that we shall easily overcome our challenges. I am no liar. What I will tell you is this...We have lived under the Mongol yoke. We have suffered under the brutal Tsars. We have had our very life force drained by the Communists. And we have had our dreams snatched away by corrupt politicians and evil criminals. Throughout time we have suffered, and this has led many of you, and many in the world to believe that we are unfit for ruling ourselces. That we are uncapable of being more than beasts. That we cannot be free!”

He swept his arms out, as if to include the world in his accusations.

“But...can you who accuse us...see this very building behind me?”

He gestured at the grand Basilica of St. Peter.

“Behind me stands a building of great beauty, full of spires and flourishes. Despite the tyranny of the Mongols, despite the oppression of the Tsars, despite the Nazi hordes, despite the Communist beasts, this building has stood strong. When Napoleon himself came to Russia, and his soldiers attacked our beautiful city, most of it lay in waste. But not this Basilica. The invincible Napoleon could not destroy this building, and neither could he destroy Russia. My people, we as Russians in one way we surpass all others. Endurance. Our villages were razed by Genghis Khan, our peasants enslaved by Tsars, our land ravaged by the armies of Napoleon, our people butchered by Hitler’s Nazi fiends, and our souls drained by the Communists. Yet, like the Basilica, we still stand. Despite having everything in history thrown against us, we have survived. And now, I offer you more than mere survival. I offer you what has been promised, but never delivered. I offer you the reason you have endured for so long. I offer you what is not only your, but every human being’s divine birthright. I offer you your...”

The crowd uttered nothing, and the entire world tensed, knowing and yet not knowing what he would say. Their souls understood what they yearned for, but their minds did not. Would he utter some empty promise? Putin smiled, and spread his arms out wide.

“...Freedom. And no, I will not give it to you. I offer that you take it. It is your God given right to live a free life the way you want it. All that remains is that you stop merely surviving, and you fight. Fight against the Mafia, the Tsar, the Communists, and whatever other form the forces of evil may take. Take back your freedom from those who wish to oppress you, from those who want to take it away. Throughout time, you have stood by and survived. But now, now is the time to stop merely surviving, to fight against tyranny, and take back what has been given to you by our Lord Jesus Christ: Freedom.”

For a moment time froze. The fate of a nation, the fate of a people, and, quite possibly, the fate of the world itself was decided at that moment. No one knew what would be the final result, but one thing was now certain...

“YEEEEEEAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!! PUTIN! PUTIN!”
“Do not chant my name. I am irrelevant. It is you who matters! It is your country that matters. It is your FREEDOM that matters!”
“YEAH! RUSSIA! RUSSIA! RUSSIA! FREEDOM! FREEDOM!”

...Russia would fight.
_________________________________________________________________
Outside of Orel...

“You heard the man. Fight for your freedom.”

The Boss stood behind her men, her headband flapping in the wind, and her hands placed on her hips. A smug grin was planted on her face.

You did it, Vlad. Now it’s our turn.

The men crowded around several televisions, watching Fox News (The Russian division). The speech of Vladimir Putin was over, and the regular talking heads were already in force, with most praising the speech, except for a few dissatisfied liberals who decried Putin’s harsh word and called for negotiations. The soldiers however, respectfully disagreed.

“F**k yeah! Putin da man!”
“Let’s kick some Tsarist a**!”

As the crowd on television chanted, the soldiers joined in.

“RUSSIA! RUSSIA! RUSSIA!”, they yelled, while pumping their hands (which were clutching Aks) in the air. They rose up, tossing their hats and guns into the air, like high school graduates, and immediately armed themselves, and got in position.

Putin had ridden into office on a wave of dissatisfaction with the government. He had little in real support, and was captain of an unsteady boat, as the civil war had shown. The fact was, Tsarists, Communists, and Mafiosi still had power, and they were ready to do anything to hold onto it. But now, their power was draining away from them, and falling into the pocket of Vladimir. The Russian people had been inspired by the man’s dedication and determination, and now, they, and their army, were ready to fight for his cause: the cause of freedom.

“Give ‘em hell, boys.”

The Boss smiled in the way a predator does before plunging in for the final blow.

A few miles away, in an airbase, five Hudecian pilots, of Russian ethnicity, ran into their ready jets. They had just finished watching Putin’s speech (with translation, of course), and had been instructed to begin the assault at the end. The jets screamed off of the runways, leaving the blinking lights of the airbase behind, and making Russian pilot “Hawkeye” jealous in his Mig-29M. The Mig wasn’t a bad plane, but compared to Quinntonian models, it was out of date. Still, the Arab, eyepatched, fluffy mustachioed, scarred man steered his Mig on a course alongside the Hudecians. They snickered a bit, in their Canadian accents, at his outdated plane, but he wiped the sneers of their faces when he sped in front of them, turned back, dashed at full speed towards the Hudecians, and veered up in the last moment, and then dived back alongside.

The Hudecian said to “Hawkeye”, “Not bad, ey.”
“Got to have something to impress the ladies. You do it with your nice ride, American style. I do it like my Arab parents: with skill.”
“You may talk, but let’s see you play hockey, ey! You even do it in the Middle East, or Russia for that matter?”
“We do it on camels in the Middle East, and in Russia we use AKs instead of sticks.”
The Hudecians and Hawkeye had a hysteric laugh at that.
“Alright, let’s concentrate on our target, ey!”

The jets pulled above the beleaguered town of Orel. It was obviously a “weapons town”, or a city that during the Cold War, had been dedicated to weapons production. That was why the Tsarists were so well armed. Rarely did insurgents have such a selection of guns, RPGs, AA weaponry, and tanks. (Well, except for the Lavragerians, and even they didn’t have tanks.) Orel was infamous for being a developer of Sarin loaded ICBMs. The process was more complicated than simply loading ICBMs with Sarin, of course. Generals demanded a weapon of mass destruction that wouldn’t be replied with nuclear force, but was still a potent destructive weapon. While Sarin had deadly capabilities, it did not have two capabilities demanded by the upper echelons of the Russian military. It did not damage buildings, and its radius was too small. Therefore, Sarin had been twisted and modified until it was split into two substances. The reason for the split was because the Sarin needed to be corrosive to damage buildings, but if it was corrosive when it was loaded onto a missile, well, that defeated the whole point, didn’t it? So, a valve was supposed to open when the ICBM’s onboard sonar detected that the missile was within optimal detonation range. Then, the substances would combine, and the corrosive force would detonate the explosive onboard. The explosive force would spread the gas out for miles, and allow it to eat through any substance it encountered, and slaughter any person who dared breathe it in. The problem was, that before the substances mixed, they were extremely flammable, and worthless as a gas. Well, a problem depending on who you were. For the pilots, it was very beneficial. Several buildings had been marked as storage sites on their onboard GPS system. The jets screamed above the city, as their weapons were aimed. A few random shots from AA on the ground could be heard, and one lucky Tsarist even managed to nick the wing of a Hudecian fighter. However, it was all for nought, and the jets maneuvered into position. Their weapons locked onto the Sarin storage sites, and the targeting systems went red.

“Locked on target. I repeat, locked on target.”
“Initiate attack. Releasing missiles.”

The pilots guided their smart bombs downwards, and then straight into the windows of the Sarin storage building. They were immediately rewarded by a loud explosion, and the sight of large, bulbous flames shooting out of every imaginable exit. Then, the buildings simply imploded, collapsing upon themselves in a rain of dust and concrete.

“Target eliminated. All clear, returning to base.”

The Boss grinned through her binoculars.

“Men, the Sarin has been eliminated. Just in case, however, you should wear your gas masks. Now, go! Fulfill your destiny!”

The men strapped on their black gas masks, loaded their AKs, and leaped into the fighting vehicles, helicopters, and tanks. They rolled (and flew off) into the horizon. The Boss herself jumped into a gigantic Black Star tank, which was a modified Sinoese tank, with large black armor plates, depleted uranium shells, two gigantic barrels, a nuclear-powered engine, and a large black star (along with a white “B”) splotched on the middle. It was ostentatious enough to make it an obvious target, but durable enough to eliminate any one stupid enough to take the bait. The tank’s engine rumbled to life, and it rolled down the craggy hill and straight towards the city. As if on cue, the Tsarist tanks rolled out to meet the Boss’ forces. The Tsarist force consisted of a strange medley of old Soviet tanks. They couldn’t use the tanks from the previous Russian assault, as the Sarin they had wielded was (to the dismay of many who thought gas masks were enough to protect them) highly corrosive. The tanks were not in the line fashion that the French so adored. Instead, the governmental ones were scattered on the hill’s descent, while the Tsarists had come from various streets and crevices of the city. The sound of tank shells filled the air, and immediately, several tanks fell apart. The Boss’ tank was shaken by a near-by blast, and her chest shuddered in pain. Her hands steered the tank barrels towards the offending tank, and reduced him to a steaming pile of molten slag. Three tanks ran forward to rush her, and she swerved to the right to avoid their fire. The back of her tank was slammed by shrapnel. The Tsarists dashed into position behind her, but one was split in two by the fire of three government tanks. The two others chased after the Boss, trying to get in position to fire. Shells landed left and right, sending the ground flying into the air. Suddenly, The Boss slammed the breaks. The smaller tanks couldn’t stop in time, and they simply slammed into the back of the hulking “Black Star” tank, and were crunched up like accordions. With the tanks immobilized, The Boss sped forward, swerved around, and opened fire. The first tank was hit straight in the barrel, which was loaded, and set the tank ablaze. The other had his side ripped off first, so that the driver could actually be seen, and then the second round flew in and ruptured the engine, causing the remains of the tank to explode. Not hearing any more shots, The Boss opened the hatch and looked outside. The battlefield was littered with smoldering tanks, mostly Tsarist. She smiled the smile of a triumphant conqueror.

“The armored defenses are eliminated. Enter the city and initiate OPERATION: RASPUTIN.”
_________________________________________________________________
St. Petersburg...

While chaos ruled over the rest of Russia, the Communist region of St. Petersburg was oddly calm. While the Tsarists fought for their existence, and the Mafia was in a crazed spree of money and crime that could only be described as orgiastic, the third resistance group, the Communists, was busying itself with...farming.

Yes, the Communists had seized power through heavy armament, and now used the threat of violence to force upon the Russian denizens their ideal vision of the future: Communal farms. The citizens grumbled while plowing the fields with metal tools (the Communists preferred the “organic” approach) under the watchful eye of their newfound Communist masters, who were really long haired hippies with guns. The citizens hoped that the Tsarists would fall soon, so the Russian military could come and get the annoying Communists off their backs, and let them get back to their regular lives.

_________________________________________________________________
Volgograd...

Alexandrov drank the Chardonnay in the French-provided lodge, patting his fat belly. Ilona simply watched in disgust, her black hair fluttering as she studied the plan for yet another smuggling operation.

“Ilona, why are you so angry? You seem so different from when you collapsed and cried in front of Mr. Putin!”

Ilona’s face became a mask of fury, and her fist slammed into the long Salon table, sending several glasses of wine flying into the air.

“That was staged! You know very well I wouldn’t do that! Mr. Putin needed a dramatic “conversion” to encourage other Mafiosi to put down their arms. So, he had his men put a gun to head, and gave me a script.”
“Well, I must admit, you are a good actress.”
“Shut up, you fat bastard.”
“Calm down, Ilona. Things are going well, are they not? We have established this area as a total no man’s land, and made it the criminal hub of the world. The Triad, the Yakuza, the Italian Mafia, the Crips, the Bloods, and every major criminal group in the world comes to Volgograd. We have prostitutes from Romania, drugs from LRR, guns from Russia, casinos better than Vegas...Ms. Srebrenitska, we have turned Volgograd into an international mall of crime. And you and I are in charge of it all. I handle the negotiations and general planning, while you do the nitty gritty work.”
“Don’t get too cocky, Alexandrov. You know very well that the Red Leader is still in charge of it all.”
“Yes, I know. ‘Tis all thanks to the Red Leader, anyway. You know, rumors persist he is related to some one who is of a high position in the French government...Some Red Pimp Nickel, or something of the sort.”
“Red Pimp Nickel? Is he a racist pimp who pimps out Native American prostitutes for a nickel?”
“I have no idea, really. Anyway, our Red Leader has told me to announce to the French his...”exit strategy.” Ahem, ahem. Attention, please.”

He tapped his spoon to a glass, but failing to gain the attention of the rowdy, drunken, and often brawling Mafiosi, he fired an AK-47 into the roof, much to the displeasure of the French couple.

“Order, order, my friends. I bring news from the Red Leader. He has told me his plan. First of all, he is overjoyed with the profit we make from this region, and has already arranged for a large part of our profits to be sent to the French crown, as a thanks. Second, while this business venture has become very profitable, it is obvious it cannot last. The world community will not stand for a criminal no-man’s land, as foreign forces who appear to be Chinese and Russian, but bear both much better gear and Canadian accents, have already killed several of our men. After the Tsarists fall, attention will turn to us. Therefore, we will do what we are best at. Disappear. We have enough money, and enough international contacts that we no longer need a regional base. We will of course, continue to stay on as long as possible, in order to maximize profits and to keep Russian involvement in Lavrageria at a minimum. So we shall fight ferociously, but when things get to heated, we disperse, and establish a truly international network of crime. Of course, in thanks to our French allies, we shall largely stay out of their country, and the Estenlands. What do you think, my French friends? Pierre?”
_________________________________________________________________

Official Public Statement At NATO Conference By Delegate Natasha Gurlikov

“In response to the French statement, I would respectfully ask King Louis XX to “shut his fat arse up.” While we are grateful for the humanitarian aid, if the French are going to do nothing but whine, they should butt out. First of all, President Putin is no dictator. He, and the Congress were elected months ago, and it would be inefficient to hold another election so soon. Second, we don’t need “educated westerners” to rule our land. As the example of Hitler and Napoleon prove, the Russian people are not exactly fond of being ruled by “educated westerners”, and I doubt the “tranquility” you care so much about. Third, we will not demilitarize, as we need to defend our land against criminals and tyrants. And fourth, why should a popularly elected leader step down, and how would this stop terrorists from obtaining a nuclear weapon? We need a strong leader to eliminate the rebels in order to insure that, and Mr. Putin fits that bill exactly.”
______________________________________________________
Orel...
“Sire, the enemy has pierced our defenses.”
“Yes, Ivan. Have some men remain to hold back the Republicans, while our main force regroups around Bryansk. Then we’ll fortify the city, and pray that the Tsar sends some men.”
“Milord, our forces have eliminated the enemy garrison guarding “it.” When we get to Bryansk, we shall display it to you personally.”
“Excellent. It remains a trump card, powerful enough to frighten the mightiest foes. When will it be ready?”
“It is a matter of days, sire. Now, let us go.”

And so Tsar Igorij Romanov, and his loyal guard Ivan fled the city of Orel, for their final stronghold of Bryansk.

((Hrrurrm. Interesting. Ill have to digest this for a while. Look for a continuation of the adventure tonight))

((Elkazor, before you do too much here, let Hudecia, Estenlands, and Quinntonia respond.))

Tsar Wingert is not willing to move his troops into Russia, though mnay of his contacts in the mercenary world are being promised much Estenlandian gold should they move in to help fight for the Tsarists.
(Let's assume that maybe 1,000 hardened mercs are on their way)
The Tsarists are told that they must do a few things in order for troops to be sent to reinforce their positions en masse.
1. Pledge public vassalage to the true Tsar of all the Russias, King Wingert I.
2. Continue to use whatever means necessary to continue keeping Russia out of the war.
3. Win a few battles and hold your own.
If these are achieved, or if St. Petersburg is taken by a royalist army, King Wingert MAY intervene, if it suits his interests.

King Wingert also publically calls for an international team of peacekeepers to be put together to maintain order in Russia, and offers 40,000 troops, two full strength divisions, to the task.

In the meantime, 300 Estenlandian line-tanks are being prepped for shipping, as a gift for the Romanov Czar.



King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

Prime Minister Jesse Obed then asks for carte blanche to move into Mafioso, Communist, and Tasrist held territories. If agreed, Quinntonian special forces, green berets, etc. as well as paratroopers will begin t secure the known areas of nuclear production and storage, including power plants.
This will place maybe 30,000 troops all told into Russia, and another 10,000 will be brought into Moscow to act as a military police force, freeing up any troops used for that city to cat for the nations best interest elsewhere. These troops will not fire on civilians, but are among the best trained and equipped in the world. You would, however, be allowing your capitol to be occupied effectively by Quinntonian troops, though we have no interest in a long term presense, nor will we exert any political pressure on the government.
How say you?
WWJD
Amen.

(OOC: If any of those Russian Mafiosi need somewhere to disappear to, there's a certain nation in SE Asia which doesn't have extradition treaties with any nations that would want them for trial; this nation is already playing host to a fugitive Yakuza federation and a Chinese Triad, so the government's got plenty of experience dealing with criminal groups. The nation in question also has links with France and the Estenlands, and begins with the letter M.)

That is not only acceptable, I agree fully. However, if you wish to secure nuclear storage sites, you must be prepared to fight the Tsarists, Mafiosi, and Communists, who aren't likely to give them up. As for the Estenlands, our government is torn over whether to accept the peacekeeping force, seeing as how there may be a conflict of interest involved.

(OOC: If any of those Russian Mafiosi need somewhere to disappear to, there's a certain nation in SE Asia which doesn't have extradition treaties with any nations that would want them for trial; this nation is already playing host to a fugitive Yakuza federation and a Chinese Triad, so the government's got plenty of experience dealing with criminal groups. The nation in question also has links with France and the Estenlands, and begins with the letter M.)
OOC: Well, as soon as the government begins the assault on Mafia forces, you can be sure this nation that begins with the letter M will be receiving an influx of "refugees" from Volgograd.

Vladimir Putin grinned as he watched the newest poll results on Fox News (Russian Division). The successful second assault on Orel (the first had been annihilated by Sarin gas), and the rousing speech in the Red Square, his approval ratings had risen significantly. It seemed like nothing could ruin his mood.

Well, one thing.

And that one thing had to happen.

Lt. Assad, a young, Arab man who was leader of the "Black Scarves", a sort of Russian Secret Service, and personal bodyguard of Putin, ran into the office.

"Mr. President."
"What is it, Michael?"
"I was told to give you a status report. Well, the Tsarists are still holding onto Orel, although the leadership has begun consolidating in Bryansk. Our forces have experienced in total, 1,243 casualties, out of the initial twenty thousand sent. But now, the bad news..."
"You mean that wasn't the bad news?"
"No, sir. The Americans wanted to safeguard our nuclear facilities, so we assigned the KGB to compile a status report on all of them, to hand over to the Americans. All of our facilities are being guarded currently by military forces, and the Mafia and the Communists have shown little interest in the silos. But the Tsarists..."
"What?"
"In the Tsarist territory, near Bryansk, a nuclear launch site has failed to respond."
"Could it be a simple communications error?"
"No, our lines there are intact. We believe the garrison has been defeated, and the Tsarists have...seized around five thermonuclear weapons."
"Good Lord...But...Aren't I the only one who can activate them?"
"No sir. You are the only one who can give authorization, but Romanov won't care about that. The missiles were in a state of disrepair, however, and we estimate it will take them a week to get them operational. We also believe that Wingert has been informed of this development..."
________________________________________________________________
Bryansk...

Igorij Romanov, clad in his dirty lad coat, swung open the doors of the nuclear missile silos. He stared at the large weapons, and cackled maniacally.
His ever present military commander, Ivan, spoke.

"Sire, but what will we use these for?"
"A threat. Once these are operational, no one will dare fight us. Once we conquer Smolensk, and Novgorod, we can scare those Communists away from St. Petersburg. Excellent. Use the Tsar's new tanks, along with a detachment of our soldiers, and those mercenaries, to Smolensk."

Ivan bowed, and spoke.

"Yes, milord. But...shall we pledge vasselage to Wingert?"
"Yes. Release to...Hmmm...Al-Jazeera, yes, and the Estenlands media that I, Tsar Igorij Romanov pledge loyalty to the true Tsar, Wingert I. Also, let it be known that if...no, once St. Petersburg is ours, I shall personally bestow the title of Romanov to him."
_________________________________________________________________

Smolensk...
Smolensk had never been a large town, and thus had a small military. To deal with all these threats, the Russian forces could not devote many soldiers to the town, despite it's proximity to Tsarist territory. And so, as the Tsar's tanks rolled into view, and the battle hardened mercenaries, along with the loyal Tsarists, ran forth, they were met with little resistance. Herr Garretson, a German mercenary, led the charge. The tanks blasted apart the pitiful force sent by the Smolensk residents, and the infantry ran forth into the city. Garretson sprinted forward through a narrow alleyway, as two Russian soldiers leaped out from a shop. He shot one in the chest, and rolled to the side, crouching behind a car. The car was shot up with holes, but then a crowd of Tsarists poured over and slaughtered the soldier facing Garretson. Garretson shot a citizen who was trying to be a sniper, and he fell out of the window and slammed the ground with a mighty crack. Soon enough, the garrison commander of Smolensk came out, sadly bearing a white flag. And soon the cry was heard across the land.

"SMOLENSK IS WON!"
________________________________________________________________
Novogrod...

As the Council of Communist Hippies had decided, more people must be included in the glory of the revolution. Therefore, their army (composed mainly of unwilling conscripts) ran forth, and quickly established control of the large, but undefended and heavily leftist town of Novogrod.
_________________________________________________________________

The Two Quinntonian special Divisions, one a Paratrooper and one a Marine, with attached light armour (no tanks, but armoured fighting vehicles, Bradleys, etc.) and self-contained air support in the way of 500 Apache Attack helicopters, with the promise of sorties that can be flown from the Quinntonian bases in Germany. The 20,000 Paratroopers, with the choppers and full air support, if needed, will invade and take control of the pre-negotiated nuclear sites.
The 20,000 Marines, with their attached light armour, will land at the airstrips provided in and around Moscow, where they will split into two groups, one will secure the city, and enforce a complete disarmament of the city, the second will be split into four groups of 2,500.

Group A will move on the mafia held territory, but will not enter it, just to ensure that civilains on the border are being treated well, but they will enforce Russian law as to contraband, trying to stem the flow of smuggling.

Group B will move on Communist held St. Pteresburg and territories, again, to ensure that civilians are being treated well, but will not move into the territory. However, they will not allow Communist forces to move beyond the borders that they have established when the group arrives.

Group C will move to the northern Tsarist held territory, and do much the same as the other two, though they will not be engaged at all, if possible, seeing as how they have WMD at their disposal.

Group D will secure a base for operations and for the choppers near Moscow, and will act as reinforcements for the paratroopers.

This will be in conjunction with about 1,000 Green Berets that will be at Moscow, waiting for "special" assignements.

BTW, we will be supplying ourselves from Germany as well.

All this if you but say the word.

I thank you sincerely for your aid, but must warn you of two things. First, if you wish to establish yourself on the northern Tsarist border, and the southern Communist border, you will put your people in between the two hostile groups. Second, we have largely secured nuclear sites, (although extra security would always be welcome) except for those in the territories we do not control. That means you will have to deploy forces into hostile territory if you want to secure nuclear sites. A particularly worrisome site is near Bryansk, where we believe the Tsarists are in control of five thermonuclear weapons, which will be operational in a week. Finally, I must thank you again, and am very pleased that all Cold War unpleasantries are behind us.
-----President Vladimir Putin

Pierre kissed Katerina lustily, before she minced upstairs to get the noble-spies another round of cocktails.

The Lodge was having a party tonight. Mafia men, drunk with vodka and power, sprayed themselves with champagne. Obscene amounts were placed on the gambling tables, and a full string orchesta slowing turned out the cadences of a waltz. Pierre was at the center of it all, having tonight shed all of his disguises, and finally getting a chance to wear his elegant Court suit. Around the dancing and celebration, hundreds of clerks stuffed money into bags, sequencing the notes. Priceless artwork and historical artifacts were taken away by the truckload, to waiting planes on a makeshift airstrip.

Katerina, in some sexy black silk creation, snuggled back up to her lover (now fiancee) and handed him a glass of Cogniac. They toasted "Vive le Roi!" to which the room echoed. Servants showered the crowd with diamonds from the second stairs balcony. Some smart individual in the orchestra, no doubt thinking of a epic tip, had it in his mind to play the Overture to the Te Deum Mass, and his comrades dutifully turned out the bombastic piece. Pierre had the man paid with millions.

For they, Pierre and Katerina, the top agents of the French Secret Service the Ordu du Saint-Louis, were getting the hell out of Russia, their mission a success. The Mafia had been brought back to life, with the ability now to go trans-national. Russia had pretty much been pillaged for what she was worth, and the Tsarist insurrection threatened to turn dire at any moment. Not to even mention the growing Western intercessions.

The Mafia lords and French Agents now split the loot, pulled from Russian poor who could ill afford the capricious donation.

Hard core crime cells would be located throughout the Mafia held Southern lands. They would work independantly, so when the authorities eventually conquered the rebellions, they could act as terrorists, randomly, impossible to completely root out barring gargantuan efforts. Billions had been stolen in the chaos from the Russian economy, and Russia had lost a good share of her tangible heritige.

Mafia lords were evacuating en masse for destinations elsewhere. A great many would make the journey South, to the same area the Russian Scientists had mysteriously dissapeared to. A warm, lucrative life awaited them.

A few top notch operative, hard core Marifosos, were sent to central Europe by train, where they then to airliners to London. Their IDs were fake, but solid, and they would go (with huge amounts of capital) to do some work in the UK, as they had been personally asked to do by Chevalier Pierre himself.

As for the espionagical pair themselves, Pierre and his seductive alter-ego, they were going back to France, to Versailles, where a warm and glorious reception would await them. Their mission had brought France incomprehensible amounts of ill-gotten loot, and the King was going to grant them a posistion at Court for their efforts. Never in their wildest dreams had they ever thought to recieve such an award. To be granted a place next to the Sun.

So tonight they danced and toasted, drinking away. Their private jet even know was getting prepped for takeoff. First, they would made a short trip over the border to Kiev. There, a massive Airbus awaited them, prestocked with their oven private attainments. And off to France, and to glorious Versailles.

((OOC: Ah, but before they go, shall we make it more interesting? Say have a last minute assault by Hudecian special forces, with Pierre and Katrina escaping in the last minute? Maybe you should ask the Hudecians, since you know him/her better.))

The Quinntonian plan took that for granted. We are expecting to go into hostile territory. We also are not asking to be moved into areas that you already control, though.
WWJD
Amen.

OOC: That leaves me a bit confused. I thought you said you didn't want to enter Mafia/Tsarist/Communist territory. I control the other ones.
IC: The Quinntonian forces would be heartily welcomed, although some would find it a bit strange, and ironic, to see American forces marching through the Red Square. The battle for Orel continues, although it is largely won, and our forces are beginning to move towards the Tsarist stronghold of Bryansk. The forces that have been freed up from Moscow, thanks to the Quinntonians, will soon be deployed to Mafia territory, to regain control there.
OOC: I don't want to do too much here without giving the Estenlands a chance to respond. Expect the battle for Bryansk tomorrow, as well as more Communist VS Tsarist conflicts.

[OOC: Just a note on AMW geography, since you've already got a map out, and Russia's instabilities may burst forth further eastward. Due to the existance of the Lyong peninsula just north of Korea, Russia has never included a Maritime Province (Primorye & Vladivostok in RL) south of Pozharskoye.]

OOC: Do my spec ops get to blow up/kill/maime someone/something? :D

OOC: Go ahead. Actually, I wanted your forces to assault the Mafia lodge where the French agents are hobnobbing with the Mafia. Ah, and I hope you don't mind that I used your planes in an assault on Orel.

OOC-Well, the groups that I have placed in the various army groups are meant to be used to contian and protect.
The rest are being surgically dropped in and around the various sites that they are being charged with protecting. That would mean that a security grid capable of reaponding to many threats against the various sites would be in place, and each site would get a 40-200 troops to provide security.
IC- The troops are rolling off the tarmac, with the thousands of Quinntonian troops singing "omward Christian Soldier" both in english and also Russian, which they have just been taught. (the hymn, not the language)
AS troops move into Moscow, many are reminded of the Cold War, and remarks are made that the soldier assumed if they ever got here, it would be at the end of a conflict, not at the beginning of one.
All over the enemy held territory, groups of paratroopers are being dropped into strategic sites, in order to protect the nuclear weapons. At these sites, in order to assure that they are trully secure, and to ensure that corruption is limited, Quinntonian forces atke total commad, and force the Russian security teams out, assuming that they have been explained the situation, and relegate their security personel to out bound patrols and low level stuff.
Their technicians are kept on, for now, but Quinntonian teams are being put together in order to asses the viability and safety of the weapons.
In Moscow, troops are taking back the streets, forcibly if need be, very systematically. They are above all protecting civilians, and many will die to protect one child.
What wasn't expected was the arrival of 3,000 Prayer Warriors, is a special unit of the Quinntonian military that is completey unarmed, and will just take positions throughout the city of Moscow, protected by the peacekeepers, and pray for the nation of Russia, her leaders, and the salvation and safety of the people.

This was a massive show of support by the Quinntonian government for the Putin government, and it is made quite clear that the reason that the Quinntonians finally made this a priority, was at the urging of their allies such as Hudecia.

WWJD
Amen.

GAH! Jolt devoured my post!

-Communist Territory-
The Communists would largely ignore the Quinntonians, and would point them to nuclear storage sites. Some Russian citizens would quickly appeal to the Quinntonians for help, as they were being forced by armed hippies to engage in monotonous “Communal Farming” for days on end. The Communists themselves would simply try to get the Quinntonians away as fast as they could, to prevent interference in their Communistic ploys…Moscow would leave the matter up entirely to the Quinntonians, although privately President Putin has been said to have commented,”I don’t care if those damned Communists get their genitals fried off. They’ve had their chance.”

-Smolensk-
Herr Garretson, the German mercenary in charge of the Tsarist military forces at Smolensk, would lead his men to the newly established border, where his line of tanks, soldiers, and chemical weapons launchers would sneer at the Quinntonians. The Tsarists would ignore them for now, as their leader prepared the five thermonuclear weapons he had obtained. Signs were waived, taunting the Quinntonians with phrases such as “6 More Days And Boom” or “Jesse Go Home!”.
In general, the Quinntonians would be met with intense and vicious resistance as soon as they set foot on Tsarist territory, with heavy RPG, AK-47, tank, artillery, sniper fire, and yes, Sarin. The Tsarists, led by mercenaries, were a vicious and tenacious foe, and they would not give up without a brutal struggle. Most of the nuclear sites were either guarded by small divisions of Russian troops or unnoticed by Tsarists, but without Quinntonian aid, they would fall to Romanov quickly.
It was advised by Moscow that the Quinntonians do not move on the nuclear site held by the Tsarists near Bryansk, as the city is so well defended that nothing short of a full scale battle can reclaim it. I doubt they came here to wage a full-scale war, and we do not ask them to. As soon as Orel is defeated, what remains of twenty thousand Russian troops will move on Bryansk, along with Hudecian special forces, tank divisions, and airforces. The final stronghold of the Tsarists is there, along with the five thermonuclear weapons that will be active in six days.

-Orel-

The Boss’ “Black Star” battle tank rushed forward through the rugged streets of Orel, firing from its double barrels at any foe that awaited. It was flanked by several infantry units, who shot many Tsarists along the way. The Boss drove into an alley, and quickly saw that it had been a mistake. Several RPGs were fired from the windows, sending several Russians flying into the air. Their corpses smashed into the walls, and The Boss slammed a red button on her control panel. The twin barrels of the tank split off, each aiming separately. With a loud blast, the apartments on either side of them crumbled, sending dust and dead Tsarists onto the pavement. Two Ukrainian tanks rolled in from behind, and a squad of Tsarists armed with RPGs ran in from the front, effectively surrounding The Boss and her men.

“Dammit, I need an airstrike! I repeat, airstike!”

A nearby Hudecian jet screamed by, and unloaded several smart bombs. One struck the Ukrainian tank in the barrel, setting its ammo on fire and annihilating it instantly. The other was hit in the treads, and finished off by a quick grenade from some infantry.

Olaf sprinted forward, shooting one of the Tsarists in the head. He then leaped back, taking cover behind The Boss’ tank and peeking out to fire. Eventually, her shells shredded apart the Tsarist squad, and the team ran forward into the main town square.

Over time, it became clear that the battle was largely one, and so, The Boss opened the hatch of her tank, hot, sweaty, tired, but victorious. With her hair and bandanna flapping in the wind, she firmly planted the Russian flag into the center of town, and was met by a huzzah from the troops. A message was sent to Moscow: Orel is won.
-Moscow-
In Moscow, the Quinntonians were greeted with gratitude, although some embittered Communists still managed to set up a protest, soon afterwards fleeing to St. Petersburg. After witnessing the prayer forces, Putin smiled, and “encouraged” several Orthodox churches to join them. He himself knelt down in prayer with a Quinntonian commander, who was shocked that the normally isolationist Eastern Orthodox Church would turn to such a public display of Christian fraternity.

The Commander of the Quinntonian force in Russia, Gen. Rev. Rod Parker, sends a message to the Tsarist forces.

"Prime Minister Jesse Obed, Commander in Chief of the Quinntonian Armed Forces pleads with you to reconsider your nuclear position. If any nuclear weapons are detonated in Russia or its sorrounding areas a full Quinntonina counterstrike on your position will be authorised."

This may come as something of a shock to the Russians.

In the meantime, deep in Tsarist territory, an incredibly large man with a buzzcut and a crucufix tattoo on his left cheek, with cold, cold eyes, the kind that cut right though a man, drives a beat-up jeep toward the last reported location of teh Romanav Tsar. He has the blood of Communist dicactors and democratic officials on his hands, he would be happy to add the blood of a king. It is Agent Korah, top operative for the Men of Masada, he doesn't exist, they don't exist. He speaks fluent Russian, with no discernable accent, and has had many, many missions here.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC-I am not sure what you want me to repond to, so I will do this.

IC-Col. Dustin Brooks commanding the 1000 man mercenary company that was hired with Tsarist money, and strategically moved across the border through Lavragerian territory with Estenlandian help, began to move with great speed to his rendesvous point with the Romanov Tsarist Army and await further orders. They are a crack and highly mobile group, bringing with them copious amounts of Quinntonian equipment and even a few (45) pieces of heavy armour. They were picked for this operation because of their reputation for speedy deployment and their specialty in facing and dealing with opposing heavy armour and aircraft. This meant that they were armed with lots of SA-18s and other more highly sophisticated mobile surface to air missile platforms. This was included with ingenious use of anti-armour mines and what was called "anti-pilot" warfare.

As for Wingert, he is footing the bill for this one, unofficially of course, and also continueing to supply waepons and supplies. The manpower you need is your problem....for now.

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

((OOC: I just thought you might have wanted to respond to Romanov proclaiming his vasselage to you, and the official notice that he has nuclear weapons.))

(Partially lifted from a NATO thread-)

With BBC teams filming on both sides of the Russian/Lavragerian borders since before Russia erupted into the current level of chaos, and ITN crews actually embedded with foreign volunteers and mercenaries (or private security teams as they're usually being called) in the Lavragerian Republic, the BID Party has been utterly unable to dismiss the war there any longer. Normally, a conflict in eastern Europe would be a concern, and one watched closely by government and public, but it would probably not be considered a major emergency unless major powers or trade routes were threatened. The state of disorder in Russia combined with the much more stomach-churning brutality of the invading forces in Lavrageria has been compared to the worst moments of famine and civil war in parts of Africa, to Mergui in South Asia, and the dark days of war in Korea, and to memories of western forces standing by as Yugoslavia tore itself apart to the tune of countless massacres.

Reports of civilian casulaties easily in the tens of thousands and set to climb as more cities are cut-off and bombarded, and with Russia largely unable to help, Deputy PM Alice Meadows has announced Britain's intention to act. Ships were assembling in the Channel ports and Scotland as men and vehicles were sent to the coast in significant quantity.

A small number of Type 23 and Type 22 Frigates and Type 45 Air Defence Destroyers loomed off shore, protecting Royal Fleet Auxiliary Mounts Bay and RFA Lyme Bay, HMS Albion and Bulwark, and HMS Ocean. Little Hunt and Sandown Class mine countermeasure vessels were also visible as, at Plymouth, 42 Commando and, at Arbroath, 45 Commando Royal Marines hauled thier kit aboard the big LPDs and Auxiliary ships awaiting them.

NATO allies were told of Britain's intention to join already deployed assets in Russia before negotiating access to embattled Lavrageria. PM Bull hoped to secure organisaitonal support for an official peacekeeping deployment to what remained of the Republic, in order to save countless thousands of lives that were being lost simply because good men had previously stood by... the despots of the continent, he said, were little more than bullies in the devil's playground.

British diplomats in Russia were already trying to get a grip of a situation in which British intelligence was sadly lacking. St.Petersburg was, "understood to be experiencing a spot of bother", which was a shame, but British forces were still rather keen to deploy on Russia's Gulf (of Finland) coast as the ideal access point to the nation at large, and on to Lavrageria.

The British Expeditionary Force was assembling even as the very basics of a plan were still being worked-out, but the presence in British ports of scores of Warrior, Challenger 2, and other armoured vehicles more than hinted at a fairly serious intention, along with 2/3rds of the total regular strength of the famous Royal Marines.

tag

::The Kings liviried Herald gave a live announcement on French State television. After hearing of British intentions in Lavrageria, as well as the breaking spy scandal, Louis XX himself issued a statement::

"Britains actions in Russia are laudible, we support them in that effort. However, under no circumstances are any British soldiers to enter Lavragerian soil. We demand a written statement by the British Government supported by treaty that declares this. If Britain in any way attempts to interfere with the Liberation of Lavrageria, there will be dire consequences."

Versailles would place calls to Washington and Ottowa in flurries, asking the NATO allies to stop their rogue nation from interfering in a war that was already over. France was not belligerant, but Lavrageria was Estenlands territory, for Britain to enter uninvited was a declaration of war.

Also, HMCMS Louis-Auguste was stayed from its voyage to Al-Ahzad. The Admiralty had ordered work to be tripled on the Cherbourg Mark II Battleship La Reine, and the King gave orders for 2 more frigates, and an additional light cruiser.

Should Britain threaten France, press gangs and recruiters stood ready, ready to increase the numbers of French Guards instantly.

However, His Majesty Louis XX did not want war. He simply could not let PM Bull, the purported leader of a major spy scandal in France, enter a war he had no business to enter without consequences

-Ottawa-

President MacNally reinforced to his Majesty that Hudecia did not support a movement from Russia into Lavrangia.

"The Estenlands has many many nuclear weapons, and Hudecia is militarily preoccupied. We will urge our British counterparts not to cross the border and engage itself in a war with the Estenlands. However, that being said, should news break of major human rights violations perpetrated by the armed forces of Estenlands our position of neutrality in this conflict would be difficult to maintain."

More or less, the rest of the discussion would be that Hudecia would only be able to argue against TBFs intended movements as long as Elkazor and The Estenlands behaved themselves.

You will find that though the Estenlandian Imperial Armed Forces are brutal and unforgiving, they do not mercilessly fire on civilians. There has been collateral damage, of course, much like the civilians killed in the Lavragerian raid into northern Ukraine.

OOC-You are mustering a "fleet off the coast," which coast, yours?

IC-King Wingert was informed of this major development, and released a press statement to the French, so that it might find its way to England that the two nuclear platform submarines, (Russian equivelent of Las Angeles Class-don't know the name, have posted about them before) have been deployed into the Atlantic. The Imperial Navy as a whole are finally mustered in the Black Sea, and are being fitted for combat. (Not that they are very large or anything)

He does this in the same breath as he publically asks that the Tsarists in Russia do not engage in any Nuclear activity, but defends their right, as true rulers of Russia to own any and all Russian nuclear weapons. He condemns Quinntonian troops in Russia.

As for the statement of vassalage, Wingert says nothing publically. Privately, he sends an encoded missive to Tsar Romanov that he needs to have a nation in order for the Holy Luguae to recognise it, let's try that step.

King Wingert I of the Village of Farrah.

OOC:
688 equivelents would likely be Akulas (either Is or IIs) and are likely giving the british nimrod MR4s some fun tracking practice...
and i belive TBF ment off the coast of scotland.

This actually very interesting, perhaps Ukrainian naval comandos might be coming ashore and firghtening the residents of east lothian for real this time...

Tsar Romanov paced back and forth in the makeshift throne room he had forged in thye nuclear bunker. His body quivered asd it recovered from the injection of life saving, yet brutal medication. His wiry mustache was plastered across his mouth, drenched with sweat.

"Sire?"
"What is it Ivan?"
"I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I saved a lot of money on my car insurance by switching to Geiko!"
"Shut up Ivan! That's not funny!"
"Come on, milord. Even you must admit, the American dogs have a snese of humor!"
"What is the OTHER NEWS?!!??"
"Yuk, yuki, yuk...Ahem. Anyway, the Americans and the Tsar warn us aboutour use of nuclear devices."
"Can't they understand that I cannot defeat the Communists and claim St. Petersburg without them?!?!"
"Also, milord, Wingert has sent us a gift. One thousand mercenaries, and more tanks."
"Excellent."

A harried looking technician sprinted forward, bumping into Ivan. Ivan grabbed his neck, and shoved him against a wall.

"Are you messing with me, little man? I'll snap your scrawny little neck!"
"NO! Please, I have an important message for the Tsar! I beg forgiveness! Please, just let me deliver the message!"
"Let him go, Ivan."
"As you wish, sire."

Through gritted teeth, he smiled as he looked at the tsar. He glanced back at the technician, revealing for an instant dissatisfaction with the orders of his lord, and dropped the technician with a violent thud onto the steel floor. The young technician crawled back, shivering, adn stood up, brushing himself off.

"Lord, our men found a stash of five kiloton miniature nuclear warheads! Apparently, the same general who turned Bryansk into a fortress city was planning to carve out his own little warlord kingdomin this region. Anyway, these weapons are in perfect shape! We can mlaunch in three hours!"

Ivan and Romanov fell back, as if punched in the stomach.

"You mean...days, right? Days?"
"No, milord, hours."
"Yes...This is perfect! A small scale nuclear strike won't be enough to fully involve the world, but it will be enough to terrify those Communists! Load up all the other warheads, as that accursed commoner Putin will smite this silo as soon as he sees Novogrod in flames."
_________________________________________________________________
-Moscow-

"God damnit, give me one good reason, one good reason as to why we haven't blasted that nuclear silo apart?"

Vladimir Putin was in an intense fury, one that could not be even calmed by his favorite past time, shooting a portrait of King Louis XX. A maid came into the room, muttering as she replaced the shattered portrait.

"Twentieth time this day..."

A pruod, young gnereal snarled at Putin. He was a a descendant of the ancient Czarist nobles, and chafed under being commanded by a commoner. He bore brown, spiky hair, and thin black wiry glasses. His face was fairly square, and he radiated intensity. General Armand Domalewski reported to the President because the current leader of the armed forces, The Boss, was, well leading the armed forces.

"Sir, we believed we would have been there by now. The Tsarists are proving to be hardier than we could imagine. An aerial attack is dangerous for two reasons: one, heavy AA shielding. Any attack would be a suicide mission. Now, this could be avoidable by utilizing conventional cruise missiles, but the accuracy in our missiles leaves much to be desired. Two, such a strike could trigger one of the nuclear weapons there, thus annihilating the entire city, and most of its surroundings. It would be a disaster, sir."

"You idiot! They are going to laucnh within days! Are forces are bogged dwon in Bryansk's gates! They cannot reach it! We must take the risk. You know very well that attacking a warhead is like playing a game of Russian roulette. An explosive is needed to trigger a nuclear warhead, but it needs to impact just the right spot at the right angle to get it to work. The chance is all we have. general, authorize the strike. How long will it take?"

Armand stuttered, trying to convince Putin not to be so rash.

"But..."
"How long will it take?!?!"
"Three hours."
_________________________________________________________________ -Orel-
Agent Korah would find that the Tsar's last known residence was a the battered city capital of Orel, a large, spired building showered in cracks and bruises. Inside, a team of KGB agents inspected the makeshift throne room Romanov had forged. It was a battered, wrecked concrete room with bare walls. and a crude, metallic throne in the center. The table was left from the days of the city's civil administration, but the rest was gone. A young female KGB Agent, whose brown hair flowed behind her head. She was covered in grime and sweat, but beneath that a sense of professionalism and a hint of the good natured arrogance that all KGB agents carried ciould be discerned.

"You're looking for Romanov? Well, I don't know whoo the hell you are, but I fail to see the harm it could do. He was last known to be here, before the invasion of Orel, but now...I have no idea. I would bet good money he ws in that nuclear bunker now. Your best option to get him would be to head him off at St. Petersburg' throne room. The bastard has nukes, and isn't afraid to use them. The bastard is determined to get St. Petersburg, so he'll try to scare off the Commies from there by testin' one of them nukes. Mind you, that's a guess. I shouldn't have told you that, really, but hell, what harm could it do? Worst thing could happen is you become beer buddies with 'em. Just one more crony to kill, then."

She unsealed a plastic botttle of coke, took a swig, and held out another.

'You're an intelligence agent, aren't you? In this line of work, you learn to pick out guys like you real quick. Here, have a coke rip off we call "Cool Cola". Yeah, I know, the guys who make these knockoffs ain't exactly marketing specialists."
_________________________________________________________________ -Bryansk-

A disaster...

Those words flooded the mind of The Boss, as her tanks took hit after hit from enemy forces. At the gates of Bryansk, Russian forces were being deimated. The fact of the matter was that most Russian soldiers were untraind conscripts weith Aks. Sure, they had won at Orel, but that Bryansk was afortress. Also, the Russian military forces garrisoned here had joined the Tsar, and along with the mercenaries, trained the Tsarists into a capable fighting force. That, combined with the Tsarist's insane devotion and Bryansk's thick walls, fortified artillery, machine gunner posts, and bnunkers made the battle almost unwinnable. The demoralized Russian force fired repeadetly, and combat eventually devolved into a masssacre on the Russian side, as the sudden advent of Ukrainian armor from behind trapped them in. The Hudecian tank division was the only unit not to suffer severe casualties, as it was determined, skillled, and used technology far beyond that of their Russian allies.

Overhead, a lone bomber soared. It was one of the few stealth bombers in Russia's arsenal, and despite being the best, it was still in a shabby state, with paint peeling off. Still, as it dodged shots from AA guns. Hawkeye, the Arab-Russian pilot who seemed to be the closest thing Russia had to an ace, was eager to kill some Tsarists, as vengeance for the squadmates he lost over Lavrageria. Sure, they weren't Ukrainian Tsarists, but Tsarists nonetheless. He jockeyed into position over the silo, aimed, and launched the first bunker buster bomb. It was a "smart bomb:, and he guided it into position, aimiing straight into the bunker...

At the same time, the Tsarist missile was launched, and it soared out of the bunker.

The bunker buster roared nearer....

The missile climbed higher....

The missile, to avoid being struck by the bomb, needed to climb a certain distance. It had already reached out of the bunker but...

It didn't make it.

Time slowed down, as the flames of the bunker buster reached up from the silo and enveloped the nuclear weapon.

That was the good news.

The bad news was that the burst had triggered the nuclear weapon. In a matter of nanoseconds, the fission device was started. Particles bombarded plutonium molecules, destroying their nuclei. The nuclei in turn destroyed more nuclei, starting a chain reaction that is known as nucler fission.

Oh God, what have I done? I should just ide here...I started...a nuclear weapon...

Hawkeye then looked at the pcture of his family on the dashboard, and sped away from the growing mushroom cloud.

A large section of Bryansk ws sahttered, and fklames consumed the city. Thousands of Tsarists, and thousands of cvivilians died, but luckily two things prevented the casualties from climbing much higher. First, it was a five kiloton deice, which was a third of the strength of what was dropped on Hirsohima, and second, Bryansk was a town so fortified that to destroy it was a massive effort. It was hard to set steel on fire, after all. Nonetheless, the city raged in agony. The forces on the front could see the cloud, but would not be affected immediately by the blast, as it was in the deep heart of the city. As Tsar Romanov walked along the convoy headed to Novogrod, listening to the radio, he spoke to Ivan.

"Hmm...This presents an even better opprotunity...Blame the Republicans for their "aggressive attack"."

The radio crackled with noise, and a voice emerged.

"Zzzzz...This..zzz.in...St. Peter...zzzurg... zzz...dered to Tsar Romanov. Communist government has...zzz...dispersed..zzzz...emigrated in fear of nuclear attack...to.zzz...beth gellert..."

With that, the Tarist convoy whooped and hollered as the force, marching to St. Peterburg but taking caution not to disturb the Quinntonians. They smiled along, and soon arrived in Novograd, where they camped and prepared to march on St. Petersburg, to gain the throne of Tsar.
_______________________________________________________________
-Moscow-
Officially, the Russian government would argue that the Tsarists had launched a missile that needed to be destroyed, but Tsarist spokesman argued that Republican aggression was responsible for the nuclear disaster. Also, Britsh diplomats would be encouraged to present their plans in private channels, knowing that the government was desperate for a solution. (OOC: Britain, TG me with your plans.)

China has demanded the Russian government to take care of such fear inflicting events if a Conference between China and Russia will take place in Moscow. If the Russian government wishes to do so, the conferenc emay be held in the modern city of Beijing.

Following the reciept of news regarding the nuclear blast, Taiwan has offered Russia medical and financial aid via a message to Putin.

Seeing that Russia has already been armed with nucleur weapons, and can easily destroy cities with such an arsenal. The Xiannese government offers much aid, and millitary helecopters will be flying in goods from Xinjiang into Russian bases.

As the weapon was actually shot out to hit a city, it has been revealed it was no accident and the Chinese government is willing to press down hard on the fact the Russian government is not taking care of its weapons which has now caused great destruction.

The best region out there, with a population that takes everyone on. Besides, why would you want to live somewhere, when you could live in your own world, nowhere. It is right by somewhere, next to I don't know, and in the middle of north and south.


So move to Nowheres pacific and endorse Testicularfortitude for UN delegate!

Although nukes went off in Russia, Versailles was still paradise. His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX was playing the harpsicord, his wife the Queen singing an aria. Both had just had their stress medication, and were just about doped up stupid. Louis twanged away and the instrument, while Marie-Therese sang "Dulce Vita".

They were interrupted by one of the Queens ladies-in-waiting, who came rushing in, nearly fainting with excitement.

"Sire, there has been a nuclear detonation in Russia!" then Mme. de Lyon went out cold. The Queen stared angrily at the King. "My lord husband, you have stopped playing."

Louis smiled, and began the piece again. "Quite right, mon cher, from the top!"

OOC: I hate to say this, but why are most of the European rulers so careless and dumb, while the Asian rulers are more strict in their governments. I'm not saying the RP'ers as dumb, but their characters seems careless and alright weird, like Putin...And your druggie French Monarchs, lol.

((Well, for example. Louis is King of France.Officially Louis Rex Galli et Navarre, in Holy Mother Church's eyes. There are no French citizens, only subjects living within the law, or doom if you will, of the King. L'etat c'est moi- Louis XIV. Trans: The state, thats me. They are not careless, they are Gods appointed rulers in the world, and as such are by nature (implicit in the argument) better than anybody else in the world, save the Pope and fellow Royals. When you are the Sun, you can afford to be jolly. And stress medication is nessicary, when Louis performs public pomp routines nearly sixteen hours a day at Versailles. Id say Louis has refined past-times, indeed the finest in the finest in the world. I can say with absolute certainly that there has never been a contemporary (relativley speaking) government as affluent and downright glorious as the 18th Century Bourbon Monarchy, a la Louis XIV, XV poignently, and XVI via Marie Antoinette, nuff said. Nuclear bomb in Russia? Quel dommage! When do we get dressed for the ball, and issue another luminescent edict))

OOC: LOL, as long as you guys recognise other emperors, I'm good with that. Mind in having tea party between Chinese and French Royals?

((You know, the way things are going, one of these days I might do just that. Xiaguo seems to be bellidgerant, but reasonable. I could not say the same of Sino. It always pays to be cordial though. I wouldnt mind trade at all, actually, you present a lucrative market. Now that I actually think of it, tell you what---go ahead and send an ambassidor, a Chinese noble of course, to Versailles if youd like. I would be happy to set up a trade treaty, no problem.))

Just to hold up the French-Chinese cultural exchange in real life, we'll have 2 grand meetings in Versailles and Beijing.

So, if you wish to be host first, you can make the thread, unless you want to visit China first.



IC:

Xiaguo has increased its aid to Russia despite the un-credible news the government is recieving from both Xiannese and Russian sources.

-Ottawa-

The Hudecian government expressed shock at the use of a nuclear weapon in Russia. Its first course of action was to inquire whether or not Hudecian troops were involved in the 'incident'.

Tsar Wingert condemns the use of nuclear weapons, though stating that his intelligence shows that the weapon was being maintained and tested, and was detonated when Republican fighters attacked the testing site. Claims that it was meant to sway public opinion.
King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

“They what?”
“They’ve passed a peace treaty, sir.”
“With those bastards?”
“Yes, sir. We live in a democracy, after all.”

Which is your fault, he added with spite. Clad in a brown military jacket and red brimmed cap, General Armand Domalewski evoked the image of an old Soviet general, which suited his decidedly anti-democratic beliefs. What added to his bitter joy was the look on Putin’s face as the democracy he so deeply believed in failed him. Armand smirked and fixed his glasses as he leaned over to pick up a cup of coffee, and he looked back up to see Putin relieving stress in his favorite way: shooting plastic dummies created to resemble Tsar Wingert I and Louis XX.

“So, the House and Senate have agreed to recognize the sovereignty of the Tsar?”
“Yes, sir. They feel that Russia will be better off simply concentrating on its own matters, and rebuilding. They are fools to let these Tsarists get away with it”, he slurped some coffee, and moved in for the final verbal strike,”...but that’s democracy for you. You know, the will of the people.”, he said the last word with absolute spite.

Putin spun around, grabbed Armand by the neck, and shoved him against the wall.

“How dare you talk of ordinary people like that?!? They may not always be right, but goddamit, they deserve to choose their own fate. It’s their country, and their f***ing life! I can guarantee you that they will always do better than some Goddam aristocrat bastard like you!”

Armand looked at him with genuine fear, wondering if the President had completely lost it. But slowly, he dropped him to the ground, and Armand slumped to the floor. He breathed heavily, and stood up. Putin coldly spoke to him.

“Give me the treaty. I need to see it.”
“Here, sir.”

Armand handed over a thick stack of stapled papers.

“Bla, bla, bla, AHA!”

Putin ripped away 99% of the sheets of paper, for they were full of worthless diplomatic fund, reducing the stack to one sheet of paper. It read thus:

Russian Restoration Act Of 2005
1. Whereas, Fighting against Tsarist forces has only resulted in
2. the death of over 8,000 Russian soldiers and a nuclear disaster
3. Whereas, other priorities await this nation
4. Therefore, be it resolved that the Russian Federation recognize
5. The land spanning Bryansk, Smolensk, Novogrod, and St.
6. Petersburg as an independent, sovereign state ruled by Igorij
7. Romanov. This state will however allow all residents of the
8. remaining Russian federation to cross in and out of its borders 9. at will.
9. Be it resolved that the Russian government refocuses on
10. Internal battles against corruption, economic affairs,
11. And general reconstruction efforts, including joint space
12. And defense programs with the Igovian Commonwealth.
13. Be it resolved that all economic and medical assistance
14. Offered to the victims of the Bryansk blast be accepted.
15. Be it resolved that the Russian government encourage
16. Quinntonian forces to remain in order to secure nuclear
17. Facilities, until adequate Russian security forces can be
18. Trained and equipped, and that they withdraw from Moscow
19. Within six months, if the situation in the capital continues to
20. Stabilize.
21. (SECRET CLAUSE, REVEALED ONLY TO QUINNTONIAN AND
22. HUDECIAN ALLIES) Let it be Resolved that Hudecian, Russian, 23. and Quinntonian forces move onto Volgograd, to chase off the 24. remaining Mafia forces and reassert government presence
25. There.
26. Finally, let it be resolved that the people of Russia extend
27. Their gratitude for the sacrifice of our Russian soldiers,
28. And gratitude for the efforts of our allies. If allowed,
29. The Russian government will host military funerals for all
30. Soldiers who fell in the line of duty for our nation, including
31. Allied soldiers.

“No doubt about it, it is a surrender treaty. But it’s not as bad as I hoped; the Congressman at least cover up the shameful retreat with a nice excuse. We do after all, have internal issues. All right, Armand. Signal the withdrawal, and go. I have a press conference to prepare for.”
___________________________________________________________________________

The press was shocked. Never before had they seen a politician in such a bad state. Usually, no matter how gaunt or ugly or fat a politician was, his/her makeup experts would perform a miracle with only a brew of various strange and mysterious substances, in an act that was a mix of art, alchemy, and divine inspiration. This was not the case with Vladimir Putin, who lost five points of job approval the second he strode out of side door, and another two when he took the stand at a large, wooden podium, flanked by The Black Scarves, a group of men wearing trench coats, scarves, a star badge, and gloves, all in black, and a traditional Russian fur cap. They served as a Praetorian guard of sorts to Putin, and they consisted of an eclectic mix of friends and supporters. However, no matter how good th Black Scarves were, they could not shield Mr. Putin from one thing: his appearance.

The endless days of turmoil, and an existence comprised of coffee, donuts, alerts, and few snatches of sleep had turned this harsh looking, yet still vaguely good looking man into a beast. His face sagged with exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot with pain and circled with purple. A blue vein throbbed in his forehead, made even more prominent by his incredibly pale skin. All in all, the endless battle that was his Presidency had reduced him to a strange mix of Frankenstein’s monster, Dracula, and John Kerry.

“Welcome, foreign press of all nations. I am here to address some points in regards to the devastating nuclear blast that occurred a day ago. First of all, we will do everything in our power to provide aid to the people of Bryansk, if the...leader of that nation will allow us to, and we shall accept all foreign aid. Second, you must know what really happened there. Our forces received intelligence that the insurgents would launch a nuclear strike upon Novogrod, and we had to initiate action to stop this. As the missile was being launched, we had no choice but to counterstrike. If not for our action, the disaster would have been much worse. And finally, no Quinntonian troops have been reported dead, but five members of a Hudecian tank crew that was “lost” in Russia did perish while they were aiding our battle, completely of their own and not under the command of the Hudecian government. We thank all our allies for their sacrifice. And now because the contents of the treaty have already been disseminated amongst the public, all that remains is to answer your questions. So, ask away.”
__________________________________________________________________________

“Hmmm?”

Bill O’Reillyzinski, host of the number one prime time cable news show in Russia, The O’Reillyzinski Factor, sipped some of his Pepsi while sorting through his e-mail. While searching through the usual blend of death threats, snooty condescension, and full hearted approval, a fascinating letter caught his eye.

Mr. O’Reillyzinski,
If you want the story of your lifetime, and wish to propel your piddling network onto the international scale, come to 123 Fake Street, in the city of Smolensk. We guarantee you participation in a press conference and an exclusive interview with a very important individual.

Bill scratched his somewhat flabby jowls, unsure of what to do. Sure, he could play it safe and delete this bizarre mail, but...somewhere in his mind, the old, adventurous, fresh out of college journalist ready to “get the big story” stirred, and with a cocky grin he spoke to his security crew.

“Boys, pack your bags. We’re goin’ to Smolensk.”

A few hours passed, and Bill’s small red pinto drove up to what appeared to be an empty alley. A decrepit sign marked it as “123 Fake Street”, and he slowly climbed out, flanked by burly security guards.

“Boss, we should just go home. Nothin’ good can come out of this.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve gotten some of my best stories from Brazilian crackhouses, and trust me, they looked far worse. C’mon.”
“But...Fake street? Doesn’t that sound a tiny bit suspicious to you?”
“Shut up or I’ll turn your mike off.”
“What? What mike?”
“Sorry, I was bloviating. Now, move!”

Bill and his phalanx of body guards entered the alley, where to their shock, several well dressed journalists from many nations waited. Apparently, they had all gotten similiar letters, albeit without the promise of an exclusive interview. They waited for a while, erupting quickly into a brief brawl between Quinntonian and Dra-Pol journalists, but eventually they began to tire. And tire. And tire. They slowly collapsed to the floor, with one bodyguard commenting.

“Wha? Sleeping ga...Ughhh...”
___________________________________________________________________________

They awoke in a large, ancient throne room. Resplendent in flashes of crimson, and multitudes of golden treasures, yet the centerpiece of the room was neither. A large, arching throne of iron and platinum, it sparkled in its sheer power. It evoked the ominous iron fist of the Tsar, which forced order upon the earth through brute force. Before it stood a man who was completely changed, in personality and image.

Tsar Igorij Romanov had ditched his battered lab jacket for a sharp, gold hued business suit, stylish black sunglasses, a golden, jewel encrusted tie, and shiny black shoes. His moustache was trimmed neatly, and his entire face radiated a new sense of confidence that had never been seen in the semi-deranged engineer before. For the first time in his life, he was calm, at ease, and in control. He was the embodiment of the Tsar, and he liked it!

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. I, Tsar Romanov, true ruler of Russia, have secured for now a significant enclave for the restoration of the Holy Empire. While someday all of Russia must be taken back from the filthy Republicans, I am nothing but patient, and will build to it, step by step, day by day, hopefully through peaceful means. Yes... shhh...”

Slight foam bubbled from his mouth, which was instantaneously wiped off by an aide. His condition had improved, and only required a pill to relieve, but was still there, lurking to remind Igorij of who he truly was.

“Ahem. Anyway, I need to make something clear. The Republicans lie! They lie when they say we wanted to launch our missiles! They are paranoid fools who wanted to remove me from power, and rushed to an ill-judged attack on a silo that was only intentioned for deterrence! This foolishness has led to the disaster in Bryansk, which we will accept any aid to fix. Now, onto more pleasant matters. I shall be having my coronation ceremony soon, and will invite all foreign dignitaries, except for the moronic Republican forces of Quinntonia, and of their lapdog, Putin. Finally, the Holy Tsarist Empire of St. Petersburg shall formally request to join the Holy League, so that the truly enlightened form of government may prevail. Now, any questions?”

The Quinntonian reporter, still smarting from the black eye a tough looking Dra-poel had given him asked, "Are you claiming divine right to rule? And are you willing to use nuclear force to maintain this rule?"
WWJD
Amen.

The Tsarist PROVINCE of West Russia is officially recognised and the Romonavs are declared as legal nobility in the eyes of the Tsar.
An official ambassador is being sent to represent Tsarist interests in Russia and will speak to the current ruler of the region about the terms of vassalage.

In return for vassalage, large amounts of troops and equiptment can be put at the command of the current ruler.

Tsar Wingert also does a little jig once he realises that the entire Russian side of the Belarus/Lavragerian border is now Tsarist held territory and requests that the King Romonav establish the blockade of Lavrageria as Imperial edict.

Tsar Wingert is planning on raising and sending an organised military presense to that part of Russia to help with aid and stabilisation. (that development will be posted on the other thread)

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

The Council of Bishops is making an announcement as top the war in Lavrageria tomorrow in light of the British intervention into the region and the creation of a new Tsarist nation on the Russian side of the border.

Prime Minister Jesse Obed holds a quick press conference from the White Chapel in Washington D.C. (Domini Christi), where he announces that he is going to support the decision of the Council with every resource at his command.

He does however, implore all sides to begin talks immediately, inviting representatives from The British Federation, Lavrageria, Estenlands, Tsarist Russia, Russia and France to come to Washinston for peace talks, to be mediated by him personally. He also hints at huge financial aid packages to all parties involved if a truce can be reached.

At the end of the peace conference, he prays, lowering his head in his wheelchair and says, "Lord God Jesus, I just wish that you would do your will as the Prince of Peace in Europe. Father, I hope that you would just send your angels to protect and serve all of the troops we have in the field there, and that you would work in the hearts and minds of the national leaders involved, to allow them to see the reasons for peace. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen."

He announces a national holiday and day of national prayer, asking that the national church bells do not stop ringing until the announcement of the decision of the Council tommorow. He asks that all the people of Quinntonia bow their heads with prayer and fasting, showing repentence and trying to intercede on the behalf of the many sinners involved in this part of the world, especially those fallen sinful men that are wearing the Quinntonian uniforms.

WWJD
Amen.

The Igovian Soviet Commonwealth, having delt with the Russian issues mainly as adendums to larger Soviet and Senate discussions on the Madras conference, the military restructuring, and the collapse of Marimaia, finally gave reactions backed by a significant portion of the populace.

Beth Gellert did not recognise the Tsarist enclave, but did not make a point of not recognising it, prefering to dodge the issue in the short term.

The Commonwealth was to begin its significant help to the wider Russian government with regard to military refurbishment, sending teams of experts to Russia's factories and storage facilities to fill -in the short term- any skills gaps in the reduced Russian armaments sectors. This was largely made possible by the recent years of expansion in the Igovian arms sector that created a plentiful pool of experienced workers and administrators. The Commonwealth would provide retooling services, production line overhauls, and maintenance of existing material worth some tens of millions of dollars over coming months, as the People's Kosmonautical Co-operative trained a new generation of spacemen and ground crews in Beth Gellert, Russia, and Kazakhstan.

The Commonwealth's masses chattered about the benefit of arming Moscow and boosting its confidence in the face of much more regressive Tsarist expansion. The plebescitic government may have been a little quaint, but these damn monarchists were hundreds if not thousands of years the worse. Everyone hoped that Moscow wouldn't go soft on them, or worse, as the shuttles-for-shells programme (as some had rather inaccurately dubbed it) kicked into life.

And then, all across Quinntonia, Quinntonian Dra-pol and all Quinntonian protectorates, the bells stopped. It was the day after Ash Wednesday, one day into the Lenten season. So, the Prime Minister took the podium in his wheelchair wearing a dark, black suit and a purple tie, one must be Liturgically correct, after all.

He wheeled himself forward and spoke into the microphone, "My fellow Quinntonians. It is on a dark matter that I come to you now, not just as Prime Minister, but as my role as a sitting member of The Council of Bishops. However, as the sitting PM, I am retsrained by my civic role in this matter and I yield the floor to our senior Diplomatic Bishop, Dr. Robert Schultz IV, Th.D.
*some applause*

An incredibly aged and wisened old man takes the stage, with his full Clerical Robes, black with purple vestments, and begins to read a short prepared statement,"

It is the decision of The Council, in regards to the matter of Lavrageria, wherein, hostilities have been joined against the pagan, cannibalistic Lavragerian people, with the support of Russian Republicans and various smaller amounts of foriegn nations, including, according to our most recent intelligence sources, Dra-pol itself. It is noted that the aformentioned nation has been invaded by a Tsarist Orthodox Christian nation, encompassing Ukraine, known as the Estenlands, with full support and an additional invading force from France, who is nominally Catholic. Added to this, that a Tsarist enclave has now been formed, and recognised in Russia. Added to that that TBF is even now moving a fleet towards the combat zone.

It is recognised that a group of non-government sanctioned armed troops entered Estenlands and attacked a few minor villages and endangered the lives of civilians, killing many.
It is recognised that this was a response to the threatening stance of the Tsarist government, who was at that time demanding fuedal vassalage of Lavrageria.
It is recognised that Lavrageria was an internationally recognised soveriegn state that does have the right to defend itslef.
It is recognised that the loosely allied Tsarist Russian enclave has detonated a nuclear weapon and Estenlands has an active ICBM nuclear capacity.
It is recognised that the invading forces of Ukraine have acted in a manner that is brutal and borderline criminal.
It is recognised that there is a substancial French force in Lavrageria.
It is recognised that TBF is moving into the area without NATO powers at his back.
It is recognised that Royclandia has signed numerous treaties with France.
It is recognised that Russia still supports Lavragerian intervention.

With these, and more items recognised, the Council has decided to prepare for Lavragerian intervention. We choose to give the parties involved 46 days, until Easter Sunday, when we will celebrate the resurrection of Our Lord, to come to a meaningful and pervasive cease-fire, and begin talks of peace.
If this demand is not met, in the interests of international safety, ANY active troops within the borders of Lavragerian will be considered hostile to the the faith, and Quinntonian security, and steps will be taken, be the military or otherwise, to pacify the country, and place a NATO approved system of government, with Quinntonia taking a leading role. That will include French, Estenlandian, Russian, Dra-poel and Lavragerian troops. Prime Minister Jesse Obed has agreed that we are willing to take this to a TOTAL WAR status. The next 46 days will be spent preparing for war, and two phases of reserves will be called forward, with the prayerful hope that they will not have to be used. God Bless You all, Amen.

WWJD
Amen.

M. de Vergennes, Minister of State to His Most Christian Majesty Louis XX, had already been dispatched to Washington to discuss the ceaseation of violence in Lavrageria, with the proviso that The Tsar would walks away with almost all of the country, the remainder being divided into several small Republics, their leaders have to have approval of both the Holy Lauge and NATO.

Of course, this was completely dependant of the Tsars approval, but the plan was decided pro-everybody.

But His Majesties Government was firmly behind the Tsar in his claim, the great majority of Lavrageria, if not the entireity, was his by birth. Any claim against that was simply not logical.

-St. Petersburg-
Tsar Igorij Romanov, who’d delayed his official coronation ceremony (everyone is invited) to deal with the possibility of war with the British, paced the royal chambers, his thin, wiry body arching like a spider’s.

“IVAN!”

The powerful, square jawed man wandered into the Royal chambers.

“Duh, sire?”
“Mobilize the forces on full alert. We don’t know what my brother wants, (Well, they weren’t actual brothers, more like the way prisoners were “brothers” by necessity) and I don’t want my place in history to be that of the nutcase who triggers WW4.”

Igorij thought back to the press conference he had held, and the answer he had given to the Quinntonian reporter. Foolish twit, he thought. Of course I am claiming divine rule! I am Tsar Igorij Romanov, descended from the God appointed Tsars! And of course I will use nuclear weapons to maintain my rule! The damned Republican Quinntonians would do so as well if Mexico or Hudecia decided to invade them...

These thoughts terrified him, in a way. Formerly a simple office worker, now he had to deal with matters on an international scale. British armies marched near his borders, ready to tear him from his fragile reign...

“NO! I MUST NOT FALTER! No man can challenge the Tsar...”
_________________________________________________________________

Oddly enough, at this period of time, the Russian economy was on somewhat of a rebound. It was moderate as of now, but steadily growing, and with the possibility of booming with the proper influxes of cash.(OOC: Hint, hint. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) Why was this so? Well, several factors had been set in motion. First of all, the people were ready to get on with their moneymaking, after the near apocalyptic disaster that was the “Hydra Wars” (So called because of the multiple insurgent groups.) Second, the emigration of the Russian Mafia to Marimaia (The collapse of that nation was even more favorable than the previous government, as it left them a major player in the remaining nations.) and Putin’s anti-corruption efforts, combined with capitalist reforms had finally started to kick in. In fact, things looked so well on the domestic front that Vladimir was actually thinking over announcing his cabinet members to the public, as having them instantly killed seemed to be less of a possibility now. The strongest three industries were, oddly enough, the soda industry, (not so oddly) the arms industry, and the oil industry. The first two would announce new products tomorrow, and the third was reaping the benefit of the Sino-Taiwan pipeline. Crazy Ivan, major arms producer of Russia, was filthy rich, and crazy as ever. Now, as the work began on the Beth Gellert-Russian space program, and the Igovian forces worked to overhaul the Russian military, all signs seemed to point for an eventual Russian resurgence onto the global scene. If only the Lavragerian affair could be settled...

OOC- Quinntonia did ask for a diplomat from both Russia and Tsarist Russia, we will front the cost of getting him here.

WWJD
Amen.

OOC: No need. Small, rugged countries like these have their own means.

"Damnit Ivan, we need a diplomat!"
"Who are we going to use?"
"Hmm..."

The Tsar looked around his vast throne room, realizing he'd forgotten a key detail. No diplomatic corps existed for his nation. He stroked his wiry orange mustache as he glared out of the window. Then, a yellow taxi sped by, and tossed out a young, Italian man who yelled angrily in a Brooklyn/Italian accent at the Pakistani cab driver.

"Hey, punk! Nobody tosses Frankie out of his cab! Nobody! Capish?"
"Shut up, fool! You anger Allah by trying to pay me with gum! May he have mercy on your soul, infidel!"

The cab sped away, splurging dirt on the cheap suit.

"That's it! Bring that mortal in here! He shall be our representative!"

And so it came to be that low level Chinese food delivery boy Frankie Corleone became the diplomat for the Tsarist nation of Western Russia. They shoved him onto a cargo flight with stop bys in all major world hotspots, eventually having him reach the White Chapel with only a document bearing the Tsar's signature, authorizing him as diplomat of the Tsarist Province Of Western Russia, and instructions directing him to mainly stay with Wingert on positions, although informing Romanov of any developments. It would also be hinted that some of the exported Lavragerians could accidentally find their way to Tsarist mines, which were full of unexploited resources...
(OOC: Does anyone know where I can determine city populations? I don't really know the population of the Tsarist kingdom...)

(I think that St.Petersburg has a population between four and a half and five million in reality: Russia's second largest. I'm not sure about the others. A bit of Googling can probably pull up some reasonable estimates.)

OOC: I've tried, but couldn't really get that much. So, I'll just say that with the combination of deaths from war, and people fleeing, the entire Tsarist state has five million people.

Its your call, but I think the Tsarist kingdom straddles the most densly populated portion of Russia, so if it is only that amount, then you have a major refugee problem on your hands.
WWJD
Amen.

OOC: Well, the Tsar isn't really all that popular, so it would be a near impossibility to get him to be able to maintain rule there, so I'll simply do a combination of a refugee crisis and a tweak of RL. (If that's alright. I'm not adding population, just moving it.) It would help anyway, since one of Russia's biggest problems is that its citizenry is packed in already exploited areas, but resource rich lands are untouched.

[OOC: Plus, years of mafia control & factional warfare can't have been good for the most densely populated/industrialized areas... perhaps people have starved/been migrating out of West Russia for years to less contested areas in the central regions?

Perhaps helpful for future reference:
http://www.citypopulation.de/Russia.html#i3795
http://www.lib.utexas.edu/maps/commonwealth/russia.gif]

((OOC: Yeah, that's a good excuse for my mistakes...I really should consider the population levels before I do such things...I could've accidentally given Romanov an empire!))

I wasn't citisising, just commenting. If there are massive amounts of refugees, then the Quinntonian troops already on the ground are busy helping to try and feed and shelter them, especially since I think that AMW winter is fast approaching. (?)

WWJD
Amen.

Is it? What time is it AMW? How can we know? I thought we ran on normal time, weather wise...

I don't know, I am just kind of drawing out the months, not even thinking about seasons.
I think in the Lavragerian affair, we are probably about 2 1/2 months in, does that sound right?

BTW, is Tsarist Russai going to respond to the offer of the troops that Wingert is getting ready to come and help him?

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

OOC: Sorry. I assumed you already sent them!
IC: "Sire, what about those troops Wingert offered to send?"
"Didn't you already tell them to come?"
"Uhhh...You never said anything like that..."
"Crap. Damn this Metal Gear Solid 3! Japanese hedonistic pigs, with their mind controlling video games! Tell him to send them, on the double, so we can train up our own men as well! Now, I must sneak into the Fortress of Groznij Grad, and destroy the Shagohod..."
OOC: I hope this isn't part of a planned invasion, Estenlands!

OK, Tsar Wingerts government asks permission from the Russian republic to send aid workers and miliotary supplies to their brithers in Tsarsist Russia.

King Wingert I of The Village of farrah.

It shall be granted, as long as you assure us legally that they are not an invasion force. Also, what is the Estenlandian position in regards to the ceasefire and peace negotiations?
(OOC: I don't think you need Russian permission, as the Tsar does share part of his border with you, in Bryansk.)

OK,
The Five Divisions of Light Infantry that have been drawn from the Imperial Reserves (These aren't new ones, I am simply using the ones I have posted about previously) and the 15,000 experienced police officers are boading trains, and requisitioning many civilian vehicles, as the main portions of military hardware is under use in the war, so, hundreds of cars, buses, cube vans, taxis, train cars -passenger ones-, etc. are pouring into Tsarist Russia. The Five Divisions have been recieving special training for policing and they will be under the auspices of the police that they are taking with them. They will be under the command of Gen. Lord Piotre Rasputin, a large, dark haired Russian that is under orders to do three things when he leads his Army, Army Group E, into Tsarist Russia, fully equipped and armed. (Each Division is 20,000 troops)
i)Accept a formal declaration of vassalage from the Russian Tsar recognising Tsar Wingert as true Tsar, and reducing himself to the title of "King of Tsarist Russia."
ii)Declare his personal allegiance, as Commander-In-Chief of Tsarist Forces in Russia and Supreme Military Council to the King of Tsarist Russia, to the King, and promise to serve him to the best of his abilities.
iii)Integrate the Army Group E with the existing Tsarist forces, and organise a defense plan, should one be needed to fight invasion.

These are to be done in that order specifically, the next step cannot be taken without the first.

Assuming that these steps do not cause difficulty, Two Divisions will form up outsid eof St. Petersburg, and begin erecting defenses. 5,000 of the police will also enter St. Petersburg and begin enforcing the King's will.

Another Division will build a base at the next three major cities, with 10,000 other police placed around the new nation.

The numbers of Tsarist troops that already exist will then be moved in to fill up the gaps.

King Wingert I of The Village of Farrah.

(OOC: Since Ive been busy, I havent had a chance to look at this until now, I doubt UE would want anything to do with this, but would someone mind summarising the situation so far to save me reading pages and pages worth of posts. Thanks)

(OOC: Sure. Although you might want to read some anyway; I put a lot of effort into the story, as did others. Basically, French backed Russian mafiosi triggered a civil war in which three factions (Tsarists, Communists, and Mafiosi) took hold of various parts of Russia. The Mafiosi made a huge profit, and fled to Marimaia when Hudecian forces moved in. The Tsarists successfully fought back the Russian army, using Sarin gas and Ukrainian-provided arms, and Tsar Igorij Romanov took control of Orel, Smolensk, and Bryansk. He attempted to launch a five kiloton nuclear missile at Novogrod, a Communist stronghold, but a government bomber destroyed the weapon, but unleashed a nuclear blast in Bryansk. The Tsar used this event to not only blame the government, thus gaining international legitimacy as a victim, and to scare the Communists away from Russia. Posessing five thermonuclear weapons, and a stash of five kiloton small scale weapons, and Ukrainian backing, he now rules a nation spanning Orel, Bryansk, Smolensk, Novogrod, and St. Petersburg that is recognized by several states, including the Russian government, as a sovereign state.)

The Chinese refuse to acknowledge this region as a sovereign nation.


The Tsarist government has reminded the Xiannese the history book, in which the Tsars had ordered a millitary campaigne from Siberia to capture Manchuria. Much land was believed to have been stolen from the Chinese.

The Chinese government has pledge assitance to the Current Russian Government and will be backed by one of the most powerful countries of Eastern Asia.

(Darn it, AC, now you've got India and China nominally on the same side of a dispute! What is the world coming to?)

The Tsarist government has reminded the Xiannese the history book, in which the Tsars had ordered a millitary campaigne from Siberia to capture Manchuria. Much land was believed to have been stolen from the Chinese.


Urm, well thats a little misleading considering that at the time Manchuria was owned by Japan, not China.

[OOC: UE, I think you're recalling later history than Xiaguo here... the Russian Tsars were long gone by the time Japan established ownership of Manchuria.

While I'm not certain, I think he may be referring to the turn of the 20th century... Russia exerted pressure on Qing China to hand over Port Arthur, and land for the building of a Trans-Siberian railway. The Boxer Rebellion was then used as an excuse to send thousands of Tsarist Russian troops into Manchuria, occupying Chinese territory there. These troops remained in place, in spite of a final treaty which stipulated their withdrawal. China could do little to expel them at the time, but Japan, wanting control of Manchuria itself, demanded they withdraw. They refused. The Russo-Japanese War ensued, followed by years of consolidation and then the final, ahead-of schedule siezure of Manchuria by the Japanese Kwangtung Army.

Towards the end of the second world war, Russia (now Soviet) invaded Japanese-controlled Manchukuo, but thats an entirely different episode].

[OOC: UE, I think you're recalling later history than Xiaguo here... the Russian Tsars were long gone by the time Japan established ownership of Manchuria.

While I'm not certain, I think he may be referring to the turn of the 20th century... Russia exerted pressure on Qing China to hand over Port Arthur, and land for the building of a Trans-Siberian railway. The Boxer Rebellion was then used as an excuse to send thousands of Tsarist Russian troops into Manchuria, occupying Chinese territory there. These troops remained in place, in spite of a final treaty which stipulated their withdrawal. China could do little to expel them at the time, but Japan, wanting control of Manchuria itself, demanded they withdraw. They refused. The Russo-Japanese War ensued, followed by years of consolidation and then the final, ahead-of schedule siezure of Manchuria by the Japanese Kwangtung Army.

Towards the end of the second world war, Russia (now Soviet) invaded Japanese-controlled Manchukuo, but thats an entirely different episode].

OOC: No, I was thinking of the Russo-Japanese War but I thought that Manchuria was Japanese hence why they fought each other, and the White Navy having travelled half way round the globe was decimated. I didn't realise Japan only became involved after Russia invaded Manchuria. My knowledge on the war itself maybe a bit sketchier than I thought, I am clearer as to its consequences, i.e as a contributory factor to the 1905 Revolution etc. So...sorry Xiaguo, I was trying to be too clever :headbang:

LOL, its alright, its good to know that there are historians here. Japan controlled Manchuria only because they defeated the Russians during the Russo-Japanese war, and had expanded and had made an excuse the Chinese kinapped a Japanese soldier, which lead to the fall of Manchuria. Russia has lost the war with the Japanese. To this day, Russia has kept 1/5 of Manchuria. China would be a lot bigger if hadn't the Russians and Japanese invaded. BTW, Russia remained a strong ally with China. China believed all western powers seek to the oppression of the Chinese since I mean, everyone benefitted. Japanese with the resources, U.S. with free trade, Britain with concessions along with Germany, France, and Russia. Most Importantly, Opium wars, started by a British Jew, Sassoon. The foreign powers forced China's opening, and kept opening it wider, until it collapsed, and grew.

Russia was seen as a friendlier foreign power. Russia and Germany btw. The Russians first helped the Nationalists, until the Nationalists betrayed them and started persecuting their allies Communists.

Before The civil war, China was like America, 2 major parties, the Nationalists, and the Communists. Chiang had ordered the Communists to be executed, forcing the Communists to retreat and rebuild, vowing vengeance.

Russia helped develope China's armies, and had sent lots of generals, officers, weapons, and aid to the Communists. While the Germans provided uniforms, weapons, technology, engineers, generals, and a lot of aid to Nationalists. *NOTE, the Chinese forces back then wore German style looking uniforms with Chinese emblems.

ermany and Russia are still allies with China to this day.

PRS diplomats begin efforts to open discussions with their Russian counterparts over the arrangement of a Friendship and Nonaggression treaty between Russia and Lyong.

Xiaguo, the link doesn't work.

Xiaguo, now it links to "The Fall Of China", and there's another link for the Xiannese banquet there, which doesn't work.

OOC: Psst. Armandian, sorry to intrude, but are you going to reply to that invasion thread or not?

OOC: Sorry Tyrandis, I just haven't had much time to do a good, long post. I promise I shall be on it on Thursday.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=396417

Xiannese Banquet, all invited. An Imperial Sponsored Banquet. A better way to improve and rebuild trust in Asia and the world.


*Found the right link this time, problem solved.