NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: A continuation of the BREAKING NEWS: New government installed in Automagfreek, chaos imminent (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=391482) thread, and of course Abomination! (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=385455). This is the first 'tribute' thread I've done in awhile, so enjoy.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Domination"

-Pantera-

****************************************


Agony is the price that you'll pay in the end. Domination consumes you then calls you a friend, it's a twisted fall. Binds are like steel and manipulates the will to be. And it's hard to see how soon we forget when there's nothing else left to destroy, it's a useless ploy.

Exiled in his own country and hunted like a common dog, the once proud Warlord of Automagfreek sat in his new quarters....a refurnished military jail cell. His own son Azrael had turned on him, taking a large portion of Damien's Sentinel contingent with him. Some of the smaller clans and tribes throughout the country had sworn fealty to him, making Dreadfire all the more angry. Damien had not heard from his two Warchiefs of the former Black Staff in several months, suggesting the war in Crimmond had been abandoned. Logically that would only leave Zander to assist Delta in ridding the country of the Black Staff, of which the odds were now not looking good.

The Warchiefs that were activated for the now finished Operation: Brimstone were still at sea, waiting for their orders to return home. Damien knew this and sent word for this Warchiefs to change course and head to Pantera. The Evenstar would know what to do, for Damien could not contact him directly. Rayne could easily detect and international transmission and use it to locate Damien, a risk he was not yet ready to take. Yet....

Your eyes will see the dawn of the day, and the writing on the wall. Those words that stare into your soul, and to yourself you will befall.

Never had he thought that something like this would happen again, and the more he thought about it the more it pained him: he would have to forcibly take back his own lands. The thought of civil war left a foul taste in his mouth, for he knew if word spread throughout the world (as it usually did) that civil war was erupting, then enemies of AMF would certainly sieze the opportunity. Fighting Rayne and fighting Azrael would be the easy part, but the only thing that racked Damien's mind was how to do it without drawing foes of the Empire to it's beaches.

Stockpiles of HOUND V2's would certainly be a useful deterrent, but the only problem would be getting to them. Rayne's Strikers had siezed control of every major silo and stockpile in the days since her rise to power. The only logical way to get to them would be to summon forth the tribal militias to assist Damien's Sentinels and Death Dealers in the task. There was also the issue of the vast shipyards that Dreadfire had ordered to be built. Many of them were siezed by Azrael and Rayne collectively, but the large shipyard at the northermost point of Freeksburg Island had remained untouched. That shipyard housed something the world had yet to see.....something that would be a vital tool in the fight against Rayne.

Hartman entered his private quarters, bowing his head respectfully to his Lord. Hartman, I have a plan.

It's domination, pushed into living hell. Domination!

A now blacked heart is reaching out in divinity.Bodies suspended by chains over razors and nails, it's a penalty. Each razor a vice and each nail marks the demise of your life. Grim construction grows. Has life played a trick sealed you in brick by brick 'till your end, forcing you to bend.

As Hartman and Damien began to go over the newly devised plan, the former Minister of International Affairs began to grow uneasy....Dreadfire was still not fully informed of everything that had happened. While pointing at a map and telling Hartman each of his specific plans, Damien sensed something was wrong as he uttered the words. ...and I want The One and his legions to move in here, here and here......what is it? Hartman looked down and paused for a few seconds. M'Lord, The One has fallen. 65% of our Death Dealers have been lost.

Dreadfire slumped back into his chair with a look of disbelief upon his face. Impossible... he said in a near whisper. I am afraid not M'Lord, Rayne managed to wipe most of them out when she stormed the Great Hall. The One was captured by her Strikers....who knows what they have done it him, or if he's even still alive.

It takes 6 months for a Death Dealer to complete the cycle between the Realms and exit the Tomb of the Mutilated. If most of our Death Dealers are gone, we will set the date of our invasion on the same day they exit the Tomb. This way we will have a large contingent of my Death Dealers dangerously close to Rayne. In the meantime, I want our Sentinel Stalkers to be upgraded. I am tired of sending in squads of these guys and having them wiped out by one Striker. I want them upgraded in any way possible: ocular implants, joint enhancements, computer assistance, you name it. This is one of the last facilities still under my control, and I want it done now. I don't care what the cost. We have 6 months to get it done, so I suggest we get moving.


Your eyes will see the dawn of the day, and the writing on the wall. Those words that stare into your soul, and to yourself you will befall.


As Rayne began her press conference on the recent movement to imprison Dreadfire supporters in death camps, the electrical equipment began to act funny. Static appeared on the monitors then vanished, and the lights in the room began to flicker violently. A second later darkness engulfed the room, leaving Rayne in a state of confusion. What the fuck is going on? I want this fixed NOW! She continued to scream her orders to the technicians who were now working frantically to restore power before she became even more irate. After a few minutes of darkness, only the monitors in the room came back to life.

The gong of a large church bell could be heard over the speakers, followed by a raspy and demonic voice. When the bell tolls three, he will come.....

A ghastly image flickered on the screen for but a second before power was fully restored to the room.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p984672.jpg

Everyone in the press conference room was in a state of bewilderment as they tried to soak in what just happened. Nevermind that shit, let's get this conference underway. I don't have all fucking day you know.

+++++++++++++++++

<International Transmission>

This is Rayne, Potentate Striker of Automagfreek. As of today I have ordered large death camps to be constructed across my country. We are rounding up supporters of Damien the Deceiver and placing them in there. I herby demand to all nations that any AMF citizen in their country be deported back here where they will be questioned as to the....

<static>

<GONG......>

...and from there they will be dealt with accordingly. If my demands here are not met, then...

<Static, followed by darkness.>

<GONG......followed by thousands of screams. For a literal split second an image disrupts the feed.>

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg

If any of you have any questions, I will have my new Minister of International Affairs answer them for you.

http://img197.exs.cx/img197/4862/raynenew7ok.jpg
Rayne
Potentate Striker of Automagfreek

Rayne stepped down from the podium and exited the room, and for the first time in her existance the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.

+tag+

Screw you Rayne, you can demand all you want but you will get nothing out of us, even if we had a single Freekian citizen here.

The Empire remembers well the days of Brimestone and its effects, we also know who caused it, Damnien. However, due to the fact that we've never seen a bigger bitch then yourself we're siding with Dreadfire on this, atleast he had the....balls to govern.

Don't worry about Damnien Rayne, he's coming and he's coming for you...

Erik Solar,
Imperial Councillor,
Colonial Commander.

Rayne slammed her hands down on her desk after reading the first response to her press conference. She was so infuriated that she decided to send a private transmission back to it's source, Dumpsterdam.

Need I remind you, insolant cretin, that I have the balls of your leader in a vice as we speak. I would think someone from a country in the position that yours is in would be a little less disrespectful to one such as myself. No matter however, you are but a small buzzing insect to me, nothing more.

Should this blatent disrespect of yours continue, I will see to it that your leader 'enjoys' his stay in Automagfreek even more. I hope you, being as low on the intelligence scale as you are, can understand that.

http://img197.exs.cx/img197/4862/raynenew7ok.jpg
Rayne
Potentate Striker of Automagfreek

Ah, I've seen you've met my brother, quite the big fellow isn't he?

We are not intimidated by threats, not from Damnien, not from my mother-in-law and certainly not from you. Your a scared little kitty in a big, big world Rayne...

Erik Solar,
Imperial Councillor,
Colonial Commander.

The SuperHappy Funtime Empire of Dontgonearthere could care less for your 'threats'.
Any AMF citizens in the SuperHappy Funtime Empire of Dontgonearthere have been assured that they need not fear, and have been granted the full protection of the Empire, as well as temporary citizenship if they request it.
Our nation was quite young at the time of AMFs greatest conquests. We remember, as does the world, those days. This is why we say, Rayne: You arrogant fool, you are nothing. Ashes and dust. And if we know Damiens usual methods, you will be quite glad once that end comes.
That aside, those AMF citizens will be monitored quite closely, after all, there may be some patriots amoung them, for whatever reason.
-Mr 47
No pompus titles attached.

-The depths of SID-8: Schultaria Prime, Schultaria Prime

Central Director Schultz sat at the end of a long and simply made wooden table listening to a half dozen intelligence "experts" prattle about the most recent events in Automagfreek. His mind had been ill at ease following this sudden change in leadership; the coup had happened under the noses of the intelligence establishment and now the nation was running with its tail between its legs. Succumbing to the pressures from both the National Assembly and his military advisors, Schultaria Prime's defensive forces withdrew from Automagfreek almost as soon as the fall of Damien hit live television.

Elliot was disgusted with himself, and in his mind he felt rightfully so; while a few straggling members of the local population had been granted asylum by the garrisoned forces, once the military had left the poor civilians were consigned to their fate at the hands of the FNP and its lackeys. Even with years of political experience and hundreds of years of practical history stored within his mind, the Central Director felt he was abandoning a friend and worthwhile ally. While the rest of the people in the room were still debating the reasons as to why Damien had been ousted, the scowling head of state slunk back into his seat and brooded over his situation. Pulling out his datapad, Elliot scrawled his boiling temperament across the crystalline screen.

"How spineless can we be, leaving those whom we had helped to defend without any help? The general staff of the SKC will have hell to pay once this farce is over with. This shall not be our Saigon, and as God as my witness let me have the fury to see this world restored. NATO shall live whole!"

"... and so you see Mr. Director this is why we feel that Damien was ousted and why we had to take such measures. Director Schultz, were you listening to our conclusions?" asked one of the officers, with a slight nervous twitch.

Elliot stood up and approached his advisors, with a cane in his hand, "To be honest... no. You are talking about things that have already happened, and that was my job before I was elected. The Schultarian people pay you and your little organization to do one task, to preserve the order of Schultarian foreign relations through clandestine intelligence services." Approaching the large screen in the front of the room, veins pulsating in his temple, Elliot continued on, "Specifically, they pay you to tell me about events like this BEFORE they happen so we can plan accordingly, not to give me history lectures on what I can assume by watching the 10 o'clock news. I want to know what's going on right now, and what we can do to save this administration from going straight down the tubes."

One of the officers approached the incenses head of state, confidently asserting, "Sir, we've done everything we could, given the situational formulas..."

Elliot's lips puckered while his face turned red as a brick, "FORMULAS? FORMULAS! I don't want to hear about any mathematical region analysis bullshit when the evidence is right here in your faces. And to say that you've used all your resources, then give me something more god damn it! I have had it up to here with your 'educated precursors'. I want answers and I want data now! I want to know everything about everyone in this new government, right down to how many olives are in the Defense Minister's salad. Only when you have data, and not speculation, will you be worth my time. Good day to you!"

-----

-Office of the Central Directorate: Schultaria Prime, Schultaria Prime

Still fuming over his recent outburst, the Central Director secluded himself in his sunlight office while the rest of the world went on about their daily business. Staring at the grand avenues of streets the Director sighed as he imagined the alternatives without Damien, none of them were pleasant but they were all he could think of. A knock and a lone intelligence officer standing in the grand doorway door broke his dour mood. "You have some news for me?"

"Yes sir," she said in an optimistic tone, "wonderful news"

Playing the video feed, Elliot felt reassured as the image of Rayne flickered, "I'm sure you've already done the image analysis, yes?"

"Of course Mr. Director, the image is genuine as well as the signal. Our top communications experts are working out where the signal could have been piggybacked; hopefully if we find out where that signal stems from we might have a better idea of who we might be dealing with. It could just be a small rebel group..."

"Or Damien himself... Until then, keep up the work on that analysis; it's the first real work this agency's done since Tanzania. Right now, I think I should respond to Rayne's message, just to keep up appearances. Oh, if at all possible, prepare the 'short list' for possible activation if our assumptions are true."

-----

-A Message from the Central Directorate of Schultaria Prime

"While we would like to honor your wishes as current sovereign of Automagfreek, we would like to point out that deportation in Schultaria Prime can only be conveyed if the citizens of Freek origin have committed a legal offense where such actions can be substituted for general rehabilitation classes. As of now there are an estimated eight thousand citizens of Freek origin who are either here on business, recreation, or possess some form of naturalized or dual-citizenship status, and none of them as we can tell have violated any aspect of Schultarian law. To this effect, we shall continue normal passage of any civilian air or sea liner bearing proper credentials from Automagfreek and allow abbreviated dual-citizenship status to any Freek citizen that sets foot on Schultarian soil.

If you feel this is in error, than we advise your nation to send a representative to negotiate terms with our nation.

We await your reply,"

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v352/emschultz/Elliotsmall.jpg http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v352/emschultz/Coveysmall.jpg http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v352/emschultz/haarvekordsmall.jpg

-Central Director Elliot Schultz, Director Joan Covey, and Director Sarnow Haarvekord.

-The Triumvirate Leaders of Schultaria Prime.

OOC: The "short list" is a collection of various black ops projects and military equipment caches that aren't officially on the government's books and is used to circumvent Schultarian scientific and export laws prohibiting the proliferation of offensive weapons in limited circumstances.

Official Statement from The Grand Imperial Empire of The Island of Rose:

I am afraid that is out of our hands, Ms. Rayne. Any Freekian citizen within the Empire itself cannot be deported unless they commit a crime that is in Rosian law. And there is no law against supporting Damien. Thus legally there is nothing the Empire can do. Now unless you want to personally enter the mainland and its Protectorates (which is illegal and plain wrong) you're not getting your citizens back. Sorry.
Sergei Ilyanov
Counciller of Foreign Affairs (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Byeltsin.jpg)
http://img175.exs.cx/img175/213/tior25vg.gif
Protector of the Seven Stars

Sergei smirked. "Let's see how the 'Potente Striker' takes this, I'm sure it won't be pretty."

((OOC: AMF, do you think you and I can arrange an RP with my Spec Ops helping Damien?))

"Azrael." The name was a curse on the Evenstar's tongue, and he muttered it angrily and often. The ingrateful little wretch would burn before it was finished, Dayne knew. Dreadfire was a terrible enemy, and would react to Azrael's betrayal with brutal vengeance. Especially since he was of Damien's own blood. Yes, Dayne shuddered at the thought of the wretched bastard's end.

The messages from the inbound AMF ships made Dayne's mouth twist in irritation. Was Dreadfire mad? He hadn't committed himself to the conflict, nor would he until the time was right. And it was not yet that.

The silence from Pantera had to have been ominous for Rayne. While the hunt for the Dreadfire had begun, the Evenstar himself said nothing. Reports of a brewing war in Europe had diverted much of the Panteran presses attention from the AMF coup, but everyone in both countries knew it would only be a matter of time before the Evenstar spoke on the matter.

Yet, now that the time was at hand, he refrained once more. He would not alienate Rayne, at least, not yet. Dreadfire was alive. That much was certain. Dayne felt that Rayne would have a hard time killing such a man, and the Crone had come to him a few days past, assuring him that the warlord was very much alive.

With the Hound in Britain, the Evenstar would be forced to lead a campaign against the rebels himself, and that was all but unacceptable. With Panteran affairs shaky from the Summer Storms Rebellion, he was loathe to put himself in danger. Against a normal foe, he would have taken his sword and his Reavers and swept across AMF.

But these were no normal enemies. These were Freeks, forged in the fires of war into something terrible and wielded by a psychotic bitch with the taste of blood on her tongue. She would be ripe to flex her muscles, Dayne knew. He just hoped she was smart enough, or stupid enough, to leave Pantera alone for the time being.

He was very current on the events in AMF. Rayne may have acted swiftly, but AMF and Pantera had been as one for far too long for the Lord Reaver not to have many loyal to the Blood Pact, and to the bond between Damien and the fallen Bastien. His agents in AMF were skittish about the situation, but their information seemed reliable... He would wait to comment, and allow the inbound fleets to anchor in a southron harbor. He would let the silence loom, for awhile. Let Rayne wonder on that.

Still, the matter would not be put off much longer, he knew. She undoubtedly had agents in Pantera, and satellites could not be fooled. The order to mobilize would come soon, quietly, but there would be no hiding it.

"Damn the boy and damn that whore Rayne as well." Slamming his fist onto the table, Dayne wished for the thousandth time that Bastien was here instead of him. He would have slapped Rayne down and had his brutal way with her before burning her alive. Then he and Dayne would have had a drink together to celebrate the bitches fall.

Instead, it was up to the Evenstar to go it alone. Pantera was fresh from a bloody rebellion and on the verge of war in Europe, and now this. Grim days were ahead, Dayne knew. Grim days of blood and retribution.

"Damn them both to the fires of hell!"

Being the ever controlling bitch that she was, Rayne was infuriated when various nations began to chime in and deny her her request. Not being one who takes kindly to the word 'no', Rayne soon went on the warpath, ordering the AFMG (Automagfreek Gestapo) to begin executing Damien supporters that had only that day arrived at the makeshift death camps. 10,000 people were dead within an hour, and states of emergency had been declared in certain areas of the nation. Militias and tribal armies took to the streets, sometimes closing off entire cities from the rest of the country.

Tanks and troops took to the streets as elements of Azrael's forces began forcibly breaking the tribal blockades and swarming into urban areas, rounding up noted Dreadfire supporters and executing them right in the streets. The first moves had been made by Rayne and her mindles puppet Azrael, and Damien was not ignorant as to what was happening. However, there was no way for him to get out of the country. The Mouth for War was heavily guarded by dozens of Strikers and a regiment of Sentinels, so that option was tossed out. There was only one feasible way to get out......

In the dead of night, Damien, Hartman, and a fist of Sentinels took to the choppy seas in small rubber rafts. Their destination was the northernmost point of Freeksburg Island, to the secret ship yard located inside a mountain. For years a top secret project had been underway, and even though it might not be finished, there was no other option at this point.

Several miles away from the yard the rafts were spotted moving quickly towards their location.Sentinel guards on site activated their search lights and deployed almost a dozen attack helicopters to intercept the rafts, for they were ordered to never take a chance. Upon visual confirmation of Dreadfire on the rafts, they were allowed to enter the base.

Back on the mainland, small scale firefights broke out in communities across the country as The Advocate's forces continued to smash the defenses of those who resisted Rayne's authority. Azrael's naval forces began blockading the entire country, cutting off the Freeks on the mainland from freedom. Soon the empire that took Damien years to build would come crashing down if the Freek Nazi Party was allowed to continue their unholy rampage.

"Sir, the Freeks have gone freaky, sir."
The Octangular office had finally been restored from its term as a throne room during the brief reigns of Robert the CCVXI, Aziz the Desert Prince, Cathy the III, Fluffy the Cat (Cathy was fond of her animals, but sadly Fluffys reign ended after only two hours, his famous last order was inscribed in stone outside the castle, it reads thus: "Meow"), Brian the Stupid, and Ivan the Bloody Stupid.
Mr 47 now occupied the leather chair which had not left the Office for several hundred years now, and yet inexplicably, nobody ever seemed to clean it. The same with the desk, which had served a brief term as the royal scribes post.
Now both were back in front of the window overlooking G'oaway, which had been restored as well.
Mr 47 spun the chair around, no trace of squeaking, to face the aide who had entered.
"And at what point were the denizens of AutoMagFreek NOT 'freaky'?"
"Well, they have gone especialy freaky sir. Rayne has mobilized in-country, and were getting lots of reports on massacres, some on the CLP report being able to see the blood from space."
"I doubt it. In any case, why does this concern us?"
"Several hours ago a number of rafts departed the prison where we believe Damien Dreadfire to be held. One of them contained a rather large and bald male."
"Any other ID?"
"We can only look down, sir."
"Drat. Where did they go?"
"An island, in the northern area of the country, there seems to be a little activity around it, but not anything really big."
"Hmmm...wait a few days. If we get a transmission from them, first confirm that its Dreadfire. If it is, get me a direct comlink ASAP, and we shall discuss what we can do together.
Another thing, tell the military to go on high alert. Once Rayne finishes her own people off, she may still need to work out her anger. Also, get DNSP on the line, tell them we may have a recovery mission."

SECRET transmission to Pro-Damien (Or at least, Anti-Rayne) countries:
Greetings, this is the President of Dontgonearthere, Mr 47.
It has come to our attention, and no doubt yours, that Rayne, the 'potente stryker' has begun purges of pro-Damien citizens of AutoMagFreek. While not generaly of international concern, this does cause some worry, since DGNT DOES host some few Freekians. And no doubt this will fail to sate Rayns anger.
Therefore, we suggest that the countries involved band together, for our own sake.
WE ourselves are considering a preemptive strike on Freekian lands while the chaos caused by the massacres is still in force, and the rebel forces continue to draw AMF Military forces. If possible we would restore Damien to his leadership role, we doubt he could be kept out. If not, well...that has yet to be decided.
We have one other request. If any nation has information on the whereabouts of Damien Dreadfire, please share this information. If we can confirm Damien has been released, we can begin to apply aid.

OOC:
Just curious, AMF. Whats your stance toward FutureTech?
If you dont like it, I can use modern forces, or just provide logistical aid.

OOC: Nice use of Pantera lyrics. Very apt.

Can I join in? I'll stick to diplomatic interaction unless you want war. Tech wise IM post modern too, I have crude powered armour and a few other items of tech. However they are meerly modern tech with a feew years and a big budget. (see the link in my profile, power armour is little more than that idea with a one trillion dollar budget and some research time), that is, assuming I use it...

As for the post that follows, even if this is little more than a tag in the end, I thought I better give the same response I give any other genocidal country.

IC:

The president herself was also red haired, though hers was died a deep crimson. She sat in front of the camera and made herself comfy in the green leather chair, a blue background was placed behind her. She, like Rayne was very attractive, with intellegence almost projected from her eyes. However her blue eyes didn't show malevolance or hate, or vengance, because she didn't feel these. Perhaps slight nerves were showing.

"Normally we say this to smaller nations who aren't led by unstable bitches, quite litterally from hell."
Her foreign minister Tom was standing near by. He smiled and in his usual carefree manner laughed, then reassured her.
"We aren't declaring war, we are just condemning them. Afterall if they attack, the whole world will be up in arms. Rayne is not popular at all and there are millions of people here, alone that are pushing for action, in other countries, closer to the Freek peoples, that will be billions."
"Thanks Tom, I guess so."

The camera was turned on and recording began. The message was fairly standard. The tone and delivery, also, were normal.

"Notquiteaplace is appalled by this act of genocide, and condemns it. We offer instead to take the Freek people you do not want. We will not be allowing the few Freek immigrants that have come here to be taken. They may be very few in numbers, but like any other visitor, they work hard and stay ordered, respecting others. They are not only welcomed, but prized.

We would say this of any immigrants we have, do not think we are making an exception here. We have large numbers of immigrants from everywhere here, so we without a doubt have at least one family of Freeks here. Here they will stay."

The transmission was recorded and sent to the Freek foreign minister.

To: Potente Rayne
From: Empress Lien I Larsen
Subject: Deportation

I think not, my dear Rayne. Any Automagfreek citizens that requests assylum in the Imperium will be allowed to stay and any AMF citizen that wishes to return home may do so, but the decision will be theirs and not yours.

Do not think to test the Imperium on this, we both know the AMF military is divided and weakened from casualties, and what's more that any number of nations are looking for an excuse to restore Damien to his throne. You are hereby warned; play nice and you can count on the Imperium pretending to be complacent, step out of line and you are finished.


[That should get her blood boiling.]

OOC: DGNT, up to you if you believe I can get the message. ICly, relations between Vrak and AMF are a bit frosty.

IC:

The VIS, or Vrak Intelligence Service was quite busy lately. With the Neo Tyr occupation entering a new, and far more brutal phase along with a mysterious explosion on the Gonnad, the Intelligence Director didn't really feel like putting out another fire. He sighed as he read the latest intercept.


**********
Intel intercept
**********

Source: query...DGNT (FKC state)
Contents: decoding...


Greetings, this is the President of Dontgonearthere, Mr 47.
It has come to our attention, and no doubt yours, that Rayne, the 'potente stryker' has begun purges of pro-Damien citizens of AutoMagFreek. While not generaly of international concern, this does cause some worry, since DGNT DOES host some few Freekians. And no doubt this will fail to sate Rayns anger.
Therefore, we suggest that the countries involved band together, for our own sake.
WE ourselves are considering a preemptive strike on Freekian lands while the chaos caused by the massacres is still in force, and the rebel forces continue to draw AMF Military forces. If possible we would restore Damien to his leadership role, we doubt he could be kept out. If not, well...that has yet to be decided.
We have one other request. If any nation has information on the whereabouts of Damien Dreadfire, please share this information. If we can confirm Damien has been released, we can begin to apply aid.


Analysis: Possible increased threat level to FKC security if DGNT pursues current preemptive strike.
Recommendations: Investigate DGNT stance on matter. Results to Privy Council and FKC Parliament if necessary.
Full analysis: one hour

====

**********
Encryption - MAX- VDC protocols 90879872 - FKC route: DGNT - route: complete
**********

To: Mr. 47
From: Vrak Diplomatic Corps

We would like to inquire further into the nature of this coalition. Specifically, we would like to know why you believe a pre-emptive strike upon the nation of AMF is necessary.

SECRET IC
<Vrak>
DGNT Diplomatic Corps:
Dontgonearthere beleives that the current AMF leader is unstable, even as Freekians go, and poses a significant threat to our security, the lives of those Freekians sheltering in DGNT, as well as anywhich may be in other FKC states.

The Intelligence Director sighed again and shook his head...

**********
Encryption - MAX- VDC protocols 90879872 - FKC route: DGNT - route: complete
**********

To: DGNT Diplomatic Corps
From: Vrak Diplomatic Corps

Sheltering Freeks in your lands may pose a significant threat to your state and possibly the FKC in general. But, we don't think it is wise to launch a pre-emptive strike, or even offering aid, in an already volatile situation. In fact, we strongly discourage it, since it would needlessly increase the threat level.

As far as AMF under the leadership of Rayne ever attacking the FKC, we can assure you that the FKC is far from helpless, should such an event actually occur.

P.S.
Personally though, I find Rayne a bit too skinny but each to his own.

http://img48.exs.cx/img48/7293/rayne0cg.png

Palpatine read this new Lord of AMF's message, he laughed in his cold frosty way and smiled at his brother who was sitting accross the table.

"So, this new Lord of Austomagfreek wants us to help her. I don't help the bastards, especcially not her. I had respect for Dreadfire, hate too, but I respected him, but this whore and her new son, I have no word that is base enough for her."

"indeed sire."

"Let's send her our thoughts shall we."

[encrypted channel Z9Alpha]
To: Rayne
From: His Highness Emporer Palpatine the 4th of Aust

So you come to Aust with demands, demands that we give you any of Automagfreeks citizens inside our boarders.

I think not, I shall not have people who have placed themselves under my care, who I said on my honour that i would defend, killed by anyone. Especcially not a fool like you.

Dreadfire's coming Rayne, you havn't caught him, have you. You see him with his armys and his allies and know your doom approches, I was not freinds with Dreadfire, but I had respect for him, he was a strong man.

but I have no respect for you, I shall never have respect for you or Damians son. You have lost all streads of honour and respect in my eyes, and will never regain them.

You shall burn, in the fire's of Dreadfires making, and i shall be there and laugh.

The stones have spoken, they where casted last night, and I saw in them fire.

Emporer Palpatine the 4th

The Emporer smiled as the message was sent off, and then he turned to William and smiled, "That will have got her suitably angry, now lets get all oour intellagence opratives looking for Dreadfire, and when you find him, send this messgae.

[Encryption: Higher Beta 129 Red]
To: Damien Dreadfire, Rightful lord of Automagfreek
From: Emporer Palpatine the 4th of Aust

Damien, I know that Aust and you have never been on good terms but now is the time to lay down the sword between us. I have always had respect for you, and your nation but I have none for this Rayne and your trator son.

They cast away all versages of honour when they took Austomagfreek and betrayed you, and I shall avenge that honour for you.

I ask nothing for this favor, just that there be peace between our nations and mayb freindship. Should you need aid, just ask and every power I have, Air, sea or land will be put at your desposal.

Emporer Palpatine the 4th.

General television broadcast across Automagfreek, from an Ineffable starship passing overhead.

The Great Ineffable Bob was visible, sitting behind his ornately carved wooden desk. A model of a Fury class battlecarrier was visible on the desk. The rest was veiled in shadows.
Rayne, my dear. I do believe we have never had a chance to chat. I don't recall your previous rule lasting very long I'm afraid, and I've noticed history does have a tendency to repeat itself.
But I stray from my point. I regret to inform you that we shan't be transferring any supporters of Damien to your jurisdiction. While The Ineffable Empire of course remains allied to your nation during the current, ahem, leadership, I myself always rather liked Damien and indeed look forward to his return. In fact, I would go so far as to repeatedly insult you, but I do not think it worthy of my time. Instead, kindly imagine I did and know that Damien has my full support.
One last thing, before I finish this broadcast. There's one thing I've always found about Rain; it falls.

OOC: Hope you weren't planning on having Damien say the same pun...Bob just wanted to annoy her.

Koda the Dread stood, leaning against the parapets of a balcony. Behind lay his chamber, in front stood the stars, the endless canopy of perfection. A solitary creature cried out, and he strained his ears to catch the tail end of the animal's vigil to the night. Calymath, the Chair of the privy council placed a single hand on his shoulder, and slowly he turned to her, his deep eyes surveying her. "Was it the lark or the owl the cried?" he asked. "What matters it wether it was the night or morn that called?" she replied, answering his stare. He stood, as still as an animal caught in a headlight, as his deep and resonant voice answered. "It matters because the lark is the sigh of life, wheras the owl is the cry of the dusk, when men fade into dust." He turned away, and for a minute they stood in silence. The creature cried again, and Koda's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch, before he turned back to Calymath, and with a strange look of triumph on his face he informed her, "It was the owl."

He stalked back into the darkness. Calymath, remained standing in the air, the silent city sleeping, whilst she could never rest. "Why did you call me my Lord?" she called, as she no longer could see Koda in the darkness of his chamber. His voice returned, preocupied and dreamlike over the tones of darkness. "As you know, Dreadfire has fallen. In Automagfreek, the elites have pulled the state down and raised up a whore. Now she calls for blood. This cannot be done." He paused, as by a mirror he stared into his own black reflection, exploring the labrynth of his own Pysche. "Inform the harlot Rayne that Koda the Dread Lord of the Mountain Hall stands by Dreadfire, and that Momanguise will never accept a government built upon a foundation of sand. As far as we are concerened, Damien Dreadfire is still the leader of Automagfreek."

Calymath raised no questions. No objections. Koda rarely passed a resolution so bold, and when he did, his mind was always clear. She bowed to him and left, thourghts of NATO and duties towards Automagfreek pushed into the secret rooms of her mind.


Declaration for support for the Government of Damien Dreadfire,
Passed by the Privy Council,
Signed by Madam Chair Gillian Calymath,
Counter signed by Koda, the Dread Lord of the Mountain Hall.

Rayne, thou art a traitor. A traitor to your soveriegn lord, a traitor to honour, and a traitor to yourself. Momanguise will never recognise your government or any that follows it, lest Dreadfire be at the helm. Any Freek inside of our borders is safe from your talons, so they need fear not when they sleep at night. As for you, beware the price of treachery. Your time will come.

Resolution passed by the Privy Council,
Guardians of the peace,
Wardens of the Grand Ideocracy of Momanguise.

A hand reached down and lifted up the telephone receiver. Numbers were punched in, and the caller's request was completed; and Hansien was connected to Rayne [or whoever it would be convient to reach.]

"No, Rayne. You have no power over anyone living here, Freek or not. Nothing like yours succeeds, and though you might try to deny it, to others, to yourself, you know that Lord Dreadfire will return. And his wrath will not be pretty." He didn't wait for a response, and put the receiver down again.

The order had come down from the Lord Reaver himself and the slow mobilisation had begun. The southern Panteran port of Red Storm was already bulging at the seams from the rogue AMF fleets, and the Lord Reaver opened it's sister city, Storm East, to accomodate the inflow of the mobilizing Panterans.

While there was no resounding call to arms, as of yet, Dayne was sure that the bitch would be well aware of his actions. Foolish she may have been, but stupid or blind she was not. That went doubly so for Azrael. Dayne himself had helped to craft the boy, had fought and killed beside him. He would be the more dangerous of the two.

Word from the Hound was that he was that the situation in Europe was tense, and to remove him from Britain would be folly. The Evenstar had expected as much, but it still grated to know that during what could turn out to be Pantera's greatest struggle, her fabled general, her talisman of a thousand battles, would not be present.

While the Evenstar was not afraid, he was hesitant. This wench was a pretender to the right to rule AMF, but she, nor Azrael, were cowards. Indeed, they had killed The One, his agents said, and that was quite an accomplishment. The spectre of that had always unsettled Dayne, and the thought of him falling even moreso.

No, the campaign into AMF would be drenched in gore. That much was certain. The mobilization would continue, as would the silence from the Evenstar. He was certain that Dreadfire would get him word of the timing for the assault, and then as the combined force of Reavers and Sentinal's made ready to storm a landing, Dreadfire and that wily old general Hartman would rise from within.

The Evenstar had even decided to take Rayne as a prize. She would not last long under Dreadfire's torture, but before she passed in agony, the Evenstar would exact his toll from her soul. Yes, he would take the price of Every fallen Reaver, every dead Sentinal, and the price of the souls of those she had confined to death in her 'camps'. The thought of it sickened him, yet at the same time, the thought of her sobbing pleas made him smile and, shockingly, look forward to the prospect of battling her 'strykers'.

You expect us to simply hand over the people of our nation Are you mad? Probably so; after all you can't even spell Rain properly. Leave us alone, you pathetic Adolf Hitler Goth-wannabe, and do us all a favor by crawling back into the hole you came from.
---Holy Emperor Of Armandian Cheese, Armand Domalewski I

Tag

Although, if you pay us the measly fee of $1,000,000 USD in gold bullion per person, a few planes full of Freek citizens may accidentally be forced to crash land in your country...
-----Holy Emperor Armand Domalewski I

The Intelligence Director sighed again and shook his head...

**********
Encryption - MAX- VDC protocols 90879872 - FKC route: DGNT - route: complete
**********

To: DGNT Diplomatic Corps
From: Vrak Diplomatic Corps

Sheltering Freeks in your lands may pose a significant threat to your state and possibly the FKC in general. But, we don't think it is wise to launch a pre-emptive strike, or even offering aid, in an already volatile situation. In fact, we strongly discourage it, since it would needlessly increase the threat level.

As far as AMF under the leadership of Rayne ever attacking the FKC, we can assure you that the FKC is far from helpless, should such an event actually occur.

P.S.
Personally though, I find Rayne a bit too skinny but each to his own.

http://img48.exs.cx/img48/7293/rayne0cg.png

SECRET IC:
Vrak:
Very well. We will not dispatch a strike. However, we will also not be turning over AMF citizens to certain death, regardless of even our honoured fellow Klatchians.
We are aware that the FKC can defend itself, but how much would we lose? We trust you are aware of the Freekians usual tactics.
As it is, we will be covertly supporting any pro-Damien forces in the area. We assure you that there is no risk to the FKC. We are well practiced in covert support.
As to Rayne...Mr 47 kindly informs you that he is over three hundred years old. She is a bit out of his age group.

SECRET IC:
Vrak:
Very well. We will not dispatch a strike. However, we will also not be turning over AMF citizens to certain death, regardless of even our honoured fellow Klatchians.
We are aware that the FKC can defend itself, but how much would we lose? We trust you are aware of the Freekians usual tactics.
As it is, we will be covertly supporting any pro-Damien forces in the area. We assure you that there is no risk to the FKC. We are well practiced in covert support.
As to Rayne...Mr 47 kindly informs you that he is over three hundred years old. She is a bit out of his age group.

**********
Encryption - MAX- VDC protocols 90879872 - FKC route: DGNT - route: complete
**********

To: DGNT Diplomatic Corps
From: Vrak Diplomatic Corps

We suggest that instead of replying to Rayne's ultimatum that it is best to ignore it. For as many nations seem to forget, it is best not to attract unwanted attention so why bait them? Remember that they belong to Arda, and we don't need that on our hands.

====

**********
Encryption - MAX- VDC protocols 90479872 - FKC route: Aust - route: complete
**********


To: Aust Diplomats
From: Vrak Diplomatic Corps

We suggest that the best policy is to ignore Rayne's ultimatum regarding Freek citizens. It does no good to bait them into an unnecessary conflict. Many nations forget that although AMF may be weakened, their forces are still considerable. Remember that they belong to Arda, and we don't need that on our hands.

I just want to make a quick buck by selling off AMF citizens to him. the Royal Coffers are becoming quite empty, you know.
------Holy Emperor Armand Domalewski I

The seas outside of Freeksburg Island were calm up until midnight, at which time the waters began to ripple and thrash about. A large jamming signal was broadcast for as far as the signal would reach, and the large mountain cove opened it's large doors yet again. Cutting into the now choppy waters was a terrifying vessel the likes of which the world had not seen in some time. Almost as large as the mountain itself, the roughly 700 meter vessel stood dominant before the numerous other destroyers and support craft that had been waiting patiently inside the mountain dry docks. (OOC: This thread I started some time ago now comes into play in this RP. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=377382) )

Although not fully completed but totally seaworthy, Damien decided it was time to move his newest project before it fell into the hands of Rayne and her cronies. The construction of the first Sentinel class Super Dreadnought would have to be completed in Pantera, and he secretly wired a secure message to Dayne, letting him know that use of his naval yards would be needed.

The small convoy containing Hartman and Damien set sail under protection of their jamming signal, until they reached international waters. From there, the Sentinel paused momentarily, and a message was broadcast to the AMF mainland, as well as any who could intercept it.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

~From the mouth of Lord Damien the Destroyer, the rightful Supreme Warlord of the Excessively Armed Empire of Automagfreek~

With the coming of the new dawn comes the rising of embers. What once was dormant has been awakened in a sea of hellfire.....and a backdraft has been unleased. Endless rains of brimstone and ash will engulf all that was once green and good, for a great rage has been born. Many thousands of years ago, in texts long forgotten to history, tales were told of the fabled one known as The Destroyer. A great and terrible man he was, for many millions were slaughtered under his brutal rule. His death was violent and tragic, and in a flurry of hatred he placed a great curse upon the world.....to never sleep until the one who betrayed him lay dead at his feet.

Those who have felt my wrath know me as The Destroyer.....for his soul merged with mine many moons ago in the most vile place on Earth, the Halls of the Dead. Those who have died know of my terrible might and the fear I inspire. Those who have witnessed my destruction shiver and tremble when they hear my name, for there is no creature on this Earth save for Morgoth himself who is as terrible and merciless as I. For far too long the Dread Fires have been supressed. For far too long my hand has been stayed. You have awoken something unspeakable that should have been left sleeping, Rayne. Mark my face, vile wench, for it will be the last thing you see on this Earth.

To the people of Automagfreek, do not dispair. The end of this infestation is at hand, and soon your suffering will be eased. Those who still rally to my banner, I pray you strength, for my coming will not be on this night.....or the next. I will return to you when the time is right...when the Gods are ready. Do not resist, do not place yourself in danger just yet, for you will be needed when the coming storm sweeps across our lands.

Doom and prophecy, hellfire and brimstone. Rayne, your days are numbered.

Sleep Now In The Fire.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p3403.jpg
---Damien the Destroyer---

++++++++++++++++++

Another message was sent ahead to the lands of Pantera, more specifically to the Lord Reaver himself. It's contents were breif and to the point.

Lord Reaver, the Dread Fires come. Prepare for my arrival, for you are now the only one I can fully trust. There are many agents of Rayne among me....and my son being one of them caught me off guard. Whatever vile curse she has placed against him has tainted his mind, and I do not know what I should do. I ask to speak with the Crone upon my arrival.

His message was cut short by Hartman, who was visibly sweating and very nervous. He pointed frantically at the various screens inside the command tower, and he shouted loud enough for Damien to hear him. M'Lord, ships approaching fast! The Advocate gives chase!

To: Rayne,temporary leader of Automagfreek
From: Ellison Chaknov, Sigma Octavus

"I have heard stories of you since before my beloved nation and Lord Dreadfire's were allied. History has a way of repeating itself, as proven time and again, and you shall fall from your ill gotten seat of power yet again. While we have a very minimal number of Freeks living within our borders, we would never send them back to their country while it is being led by an insane genocidal maniac.

I, personally, have never fully agreed with most of Lord Dreadfire's decisions, but I shall still stand by him. You are far worse than he has ever been and most likely will ever be. I welcome your coming defeat, and the return of Lord Dreadfire to his former position of power.

This time, stay down.



Encrypted message
To: Damien Dreadfire, Automagfreek
From: Ellison Chaknov, Sigma Octavus

"We shall stand by you in your time of need. If you need anything, just ask. You are a valuable ally of my nation, and I do not wish that any harm comes to you or your government.

As for Rayne's request, we have declined. Any Freek that follows you and your government will always be welcomed within our nation. We shall never force them to leave."

Rayne threw various items on her desk up against the wall in a fit of anger. God dammit, what the fuck is this? Is this entire world filled with bootlicking swine who mindlessly tug at Damien's jock all day long? Is there no-one in this world who will support me? Peter and Mr. Bach stood at the head of Rayne's desk as she went on with her temper tantrum for several minutes before making an attempt to cool her down.

Worry not, I am positive that there are those in the world who despise Dreadfire and see your ascention as a great thing. We just need to put the word out that you are in this for the long haul and you are trying to tear down the brutal regime of Damien's that has plagued the Earth long enough. Fear not, I will handle this for you.

Bach exited the room with a look of assurance on his face, and he removed a series of papers from his jacket pocket. He made his way towards the conference room where the press still waited following the ending of Rayne's speech. Peter turned to Rayne inside her office and looked her in the eye, assuring her that her actions were just and that others would come to heed her call.

Do not dispair Rayne, I have great faith in you and your.... He was cut off by a loud screech from Rayne, and she stood up after slamming her hands down on her desk violently. Silence, I will not hear it. I did not choose you because I wanted a 'yes' man. I am pefectly fucking aware that this coup has been totally successful so far, and I know that as of now I hold all the trump cards. Get on the fucking horn now and get me some political assistance here before I am made a fool of. NOBODY makes a fool of me Peter, nobody!!!!


++++++++++++++

<At the conference room>

It has come to my attention that many nations throughout the world have voiced a great deal of concern about Rayne and the situation involving Damien the Deceiver. I can assure you that Rayne is nowhere near the type of vile monster that Dreadfire is, and our campaign to rid Automagfreek of his murderous ilk is totally just in my eyes. It is no secret that Damien is a feared and despised man, and it boggles my mind how so many flock to his banner now that he has shown his true colors. He has tucked tail and ran off into the shadows, like the true 'warrior' he is.

Damien is nothing more than a weak insect who will be crushed under the boots of righteousness. I can assure you that no innocent people will be harmed by the Automagfreek Gestapo, only those criminals who remain loyal to Dreadfire. The great Azrael the Advocate has done an excellent job in bringing a great many citizens of ours to the light and showing them the true nature of Damien. He is nothing more than a paper tiger, he is....nothing.

Therefore, by orders of the great Rayne herself, I am herby opening up relations with any nation who would like to allign itself with the new Automagfreek administration. You can contact me or Rayne directly, as we'd both be overjoyed to hear from you.

http://img7.exs.cx/img7/7023/33zu.png
Minister Bach
-Minister of International Affairs-

Sinjin considered the list in his hands, not looking up at the HSI attache courier assigned to carry it.

"Are you quite sure this is all of them?"
"Yes, my Sultan. Twelve hundred and sixteen citizens of Automagfreek have been processed through customs and have not outprocessed. Another ninety two evaded customs but have been kept under watch. And there are the seventy two military advisors attached to our training groups."
"And this includes colonial presence?"
"Yes, my Sultan." The man paused, somewhat uncomfortable. "My Sultan, should we forward this list to Rayne?"

Sinjin leafed through the listing again - the HSI had performed their usual thorough job, noting not only current locations but possible alternate locations to each and every one of the Freeks in country.

With a practiced toss, the pile of paper frisbeed into the fireplace. The magnesium oxides imbedded in the official report made short work of the paper.

"What list? Oh, and have all other copies purged... except at HSI HQ."
"Yes, my Sultan. Namaste."
"Namaste."

***

To Minister Bach, Minister of International Affairs, AMF
Fr Grand Vizier Raahmid Javani, Grand Vizier, Vastiva

Ab-shalom and greetings;

Our sincere apologies. Our intellegence and customs officials have been able to locate no current presence of Automagfreek citizenry in our country nor our colonies.

If our office can be of any further assistance, please contact us.

Namaste,
Raahmid Javani
Grand Vizier,
Humble Servant of His Magnificence, the Sultan of Vastiva

Transmission to Rayne of Automagfreek

"Your 'promises' of true purpose in seizing power in Automagfreek is quite obvious, my dear. We are aware of your intent upon your plans of killing Damien Dreadfire, and let me advice you that it won't be as easy as you would expect it to be. The execution of such a successful leader will cause a shockwave of anger across the globe, thus, leading to the destruction of your own 'leadership'. If this crime is committed, do not expect Euroslavia, or the rest of the world, for that matter, to sit back and just let you lead Automagfreek and its' people down the wrong pathway. I would watch your steps if I were you, Rayne.....my dear."

Sinjin considered the list in his hands, not looking up at the HSI attache courier assigned to carry it.

"Are you quite sure this is all of them?"
"Yes, my Sultan. Twelve hundred and sixteen citizens of Automagfreek have been processed through customs and have not outprocessed. Another ninety two evaded customs but have been kept under watch. And there are the seventy two military advisors attached to the Operation: Northern Strike scenarios."
"And this includes colonial presence?"
"Yes, my Sultan." The man paused, somewhat uncomfortable. "My Sultan, should we forward this list to Rayne?"

Sinjin leafed through the listing again - the HSI had performed their usual thorough job, noting not only current locations but possible alternate locations to each and every one of the Freeks in country.

With a practiced toss, the pile of paper frisbeed into the fireplace. The magnesium oxides imbedded in the official report made short work of the paper.

"What list? Oh, and have all other copies purged... except at HSI HQ."
"Yes, my Sultan. Namaste."
"Namaste."

***

To Minister Bach, Minister of International Affairs, AMF
Fr Grand Vizier Raahmid Javani, Grand Vizier, Vastiva

Ab-shalom and greetings;

Our sincere apologies. Our intellegence and customs officials have been able to locate no current presence of Automagfreek citizenry in our country nor our colonies.

If our office can be of any further assistance, please contact us.

Namaste,
Raahmid Javani
Grand Vizier,
Humble Servant of His Magnificence, the Sultan of Vastiva
o.o.c. Vast! Who gave you security clearance for O:NS. Your not supposed to know about it!

sorry Auto, I.C. post will be later

OOC: What region is AMF in? I mean in real world terms? If you are anywhere close to the carribean, my ships can lend a hand, Im confident the Notquiteaplace navy could be of use in aiding damien's escape.

It's part of Notquiteaplace international policy: if they aren't completely psychotic, befriend it. And while Dreadfire isn't exactly nice, he doesn't attack for no reason. Better the evil you know and all that...

The Emporer looked at Prince MAtt who was head of his intellagence services. "Any luck on Damien."

"no. But we have news of a new ultra-dreadnaught has been stolen. It's heading towards Pantera.2

"In that case forward our message to the Evenstar, make sure that Dmaien knows he has my support."

"And the new message from Automagfreek?"

"Tell them to piss off."

-Office of the Central Directorate: Schultaria Prime, Schultaria Prime

Elliot, in unusually good spirits, cracked a smile as a group of three SID agents assembled themselves for a small presentation following the Director's most insistent instructions. "I take it that SID-8 isn't too happy with my requests," he said in faux conciliation, "Well tough luck. Now that your agency proved to me that you fail to protect Schultarian interests, I'll make sure that SID either performs or dies at my hand." Despite the caustic sarcasm, the attendants continued with the preparation of their findings in typical Schultarian stoicism. The Central Director made mental notes about their lack of response, "They hold their emotions well... very good."

Lights dimming, Elliot took a seat behind his desk as the automated holographic presentation enveloped the room. A voice, slightly metallic, wafted from the holopads embedded in the middle of the floor.

"The current political situation of Automagfreek has been analyzed by our chief experts in foreign power structures, paying close attention to the parallels of the government headed by Rayne (Codename: Qur'waarjeti) and similar governments throughout recorded history. In the time since the fall of Damien's power structure, Schultarian residents naturalized with Freek citizenship have reported extensive curtailing of civil rights and massive military repression in major urban centers."

As the projection continued with it's narration, home videos produced buy Schultarian dual citizens documented the brutality of the regime: organized militias clashing with AMFG regulars, women and children crying in the streets next to their executed fathers and husbands, and innocent Schultarian nationals, whose only crime was belonging to a nation generally supportive of Damien and NATO, kicked and beaten in the streets. Incensed at the violence inflicted on both Freek and Schultarian civilians Elliot pounded the desk with clenched fists, nearly shattering several pieces of office equipment in the process. His baritone shot straight into the three agents of the SID as they watched the remainder of the presentation.

"You tell your superiors I want the short list prepared and sent via courier for direct contact with Damien. Once our representative is in position and we've confirmed Damien's intentions, I want you to prepare a full scale reconnaissance sweep of the nation of Automagfreek, paying special attention to their military forces."

"What about the citizens still in Automagfreek, Director? In order to stop these atrocities..."

The Central Director devilishly smiled, "I'll issue the orders, don't worry. Now I do believe that I have to keep up appearances and play the role of diplomat for the time being. If Damien has his revenge, than we Schultarians shall shoulder the burdens beside him. Tah'kiea'leiah sempti Raynea."

-----

-A Message from the Central Directorate of Schultaria Prime


"Your offer of opening up relations is interesting, but we still stipulate that if you wish to have relations with Schultaria Prime than we would prefer to meet in a location either on our mainland or in the greater Schultarian regional authority. In addition, we hope that we can inquire about several hundred Schultarian citizens within Automagfreek, all of whom have either traveled to your nation on extended Visas or hold some form of dual citizenship / naturalization. Since the ascendancy of your government, it has been weeks since our government has heard from them, and we are worried about their well being during such tumultuous times. If you would be most expedient in helping us track these individuals our government would be most appreciative."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v352/emschultz/Elliotsmall.jpg http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v352/emschultz/Coveysmall.jpg http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v352/emschultz/haarvekordsmall.jpg

-Central Director Elliot Schultz, Director Joan Covey, and Director Sarnow Haarvekord.

-The Triumvirate Leaders of Schultaria Prime.

OOC: If any post I made concerning the nature of either Freek or Schultarian citizens in your country was in error AMF, please feel free to notify me either via TG or AIM (Avatar: Schultaria). I will make the necessary edits if requested.

“How come we always gotta’ get the crappy missions?” one of the men sitting around the table said during a pause in the briefing. They sat around a few cheap tables, all facing a large monitor on the opposite wall. The Commanding Officer, giving the briefing, stopped dead in his tracks and looked at the soldier who blurted out.

“Greg, you’re a medic for the Bayou Boys. What do you do that’s important?” the officer said, standing upright, now showing his rank as a Colonel. The others in the room laughed to themselves, glancing over to the other soldier, who sat, smiling to himself. “That hurts, man. Not so much here,” he said, directing toward his head, “but here,” pointing to his heart.

“Yeah, yeah, heard that one before,” said the Colonel. “Anyway, back to the briefing. As a few of you may know by now, Automagfreek has fallen into a bit of, eh, let’s say, disarray. This Rayne woman has pretty much overthrown Damien with a bunch of freaky monster things, and, yeah… You get the idea. However, it seems that pretty much every nation in the known universe is devoting their resources and such to getting Damien back in power. Now, we’ve had a pretty isolationist standpoint for, well, a long time. But this is an opportunity too good to pass up. Our plans are to insert the Bayou Boys, that is, you, into Automagfreek.” A look of bewilderment and anxiousness scurried throughout the room. “Now, we’ve brought in Roy Daves, an old IMF Operator who spent quite a while penetrating Automagfreek. He’s getting on up in age, but he’s here to give you guys as much information as possible before you go in. Take notes. From what we’re hearing, you’re going to need it. When Roy’s done, I’ll be back to finish the briefing.” The Colonel left the small room, and another man, looking to be between 60 and 70 years old, stepped in. As he entered, it seemed as if the light-hearted, joking mood of the room simply vanished. The man, obviously Roy Daves, began to speak, his first words were, “If you haven’t found religion yet, now would be a good time to do it.”

Roughly an hour later, Roy said his final words, leaving the room, allowing the Colonel to step back in. “Great, now I’m depressed,” said another of the soldiers, finishing writing on a piece of paper. “Good,” replied the Colonel. “Now listen. Make no mistake about it: Our involvement in this matter is unknown to everyone outside this unit and a few others. You will be going in Black. There are rumors that this Rayne person has telekinetic powers, but that’s unconfirmed. However, if any of your team begins to become a liability to the mission, no matter who it is, action is at your discretion. We have a small destroyer, the NNS Hannah Walt, which you link up with after leaving here by Blackhawk. From the Walt, you will travel by one of the newer model Skiffs to this inlet,” he said, pointing to a location on the monitor. “Once at the mouth of this inlet, you’ll don your scuba equipment, and set out for land on your own. The Skiff will be programmed to return to the Walt on its own after you leave. Once you arrive on land, you are to immediately secure the area, set up a communications link, and report. Once you report in, it’ll be a Black Bag Job. No communications, no tracking, nothing. You’ll wear no identification. Now, on to your objectives. Intelligence suspects that there are a few foreign SpecOps teams on the ground already in Automagfreek, but that’s unconfirmed. If you do happen to stumble upon any of these troops, approach with caution. Again, we have little intelligence on what exactly is going on over there. Do your best to avoid direct contact with any foreign operators. If you encounter any Automagfreek troops, proceed with extreme caution. It is unlikely you’ll be able to discern whether they are pro-Rayne or pro-Damien at this point. If, by some chance, you may decide any forces in the area are pro-Damien, approach with caution, and lend your support. They’ll know more about what’s going on than you will. We’re not sure how far into the nation Rayne’s power has progressed, so you’ll start on the outskirts. Find small towns, villages, or anywhere else you believe there may be Rayne’ Forces. Once you find a location, raise all kinds a’ hell. Find any pro-Damien forces in the area and use them. Once you’ve pissed Rayne off enough in one location, move and do it somewhere else. This is basically like any other mission you’d be sent on, just a little more dangerous. And secret. And death-inviting. And…” “We got it already!” The Colonel was cut off by one of the soldiers in the room. “Anyway, get to the armory, load up, and get to the chopper. You have three hours before liftoff. And guys, remember. You’re the Bayou Boys. Sixteen of the best troops Nuptse has to offer. The best two machine-gunners, best two demolitions-experts, best four snipers, best six assaultsmen, best surveillance and communications expert, and yeah, the best medic in the nation. This is unlike anything you’ve ever encountered before. This isn’t hunting terrorists in the tundra, or smoking druglords in the jungles. This is stopping Automagfreek from destroying the world…again.” The room grew silent. “Yeah, so, uh, pack up your bags with as much as you can handle. Weapons, ammo, ordinance, everything. Pack it to the brim. Dismissed.”

“Alright boys,” the head of the team, Lieutenant Mason Betha, started, “let’s make like a fetus and head out.” The men stood, gathered their papers and folders, and made their way outside. This one’s going to suck.

OOC: Welcome back Sniper Country! ;)

+++++++++++++++++++++

The Sentinel steamed into the southern Panteran ports amid a flurry of military escort, both Freek and Reaver alike. The ships that gave chase to Damien had halted their movement at international waters, and after a few hours of waiting were ordered to return to the mainland. With the uncompleted Sentinel now docked and being prepped for final construction, Lord Dreadfire decided to make his presense known to the Reavers that awaited his arrival. He stepped slowly off the decks and walked with a bit of caution down the ramp towards the ground. Damien was unsure how the Reavers would greet him after being exiled from his own country.

A coward they will think me.... He thought as he scanned their faces. With a long throat clear and with as much honor as he could muster, the fiery Lord spoke to his Reaver host. Reavers of Pantera, I have returned. The manner of my return is most taxing on my soul, and I pray that your respect for me endures. He looked about the Reavers yet again, looking for the Lord Reaver himself. At first he found himself scanning for Bastien's face, but he quickly came to and realized that the face he searched for was not there. Nor was Dayne's.

A sudden chill went down Dreadfire's spine, and in his mind he saw the image of the old crone, old and worn. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and it was in that moment that he knew he must go to her. My Reaver kin, take me to the Seastone Palace. There is an old woman who demands my company.

The flight from the South took a little over three hours, and when Damien's chopper touched down on the helipad outside the Seastone Palace, it was without fanfare. A few attendants stood by, their faces blank as they made ready to attend to the Warlord.

Half an hour later, Dreadfire was led into the darkened chamber that the old woman claimed as her own. The fire had died down to embers, and their glow cast a reddish haze over the chamber and it's contents.

For a long moment, as Damien stood in the doorway, there was only silence. When her voice sounded it was a dry rasp,"Put some wood on the fire, Destroyer. You chill my bones."

As he moved to do so, the old woman leaned forward, her face half-emerging from a darkened corner. Wrinkled and worn, hers was a face that seemed beyond time. While seemingly frail and old, the icy blue of her eyes burned fiercely, and her face showed strength and determination. No common crone, this.

As the flames danced along the fresh logs, the old woman beckoned to Damien,"Come then, Destroyer. Sit, and listen to the words of an old woman. Should you seek to interrupt, our audience will be at an end. You are here to -listen-, not to speak. Remember, you are an outlaw... No better than a common brigand.

"Your fortune depends on the grace of my Evenstar. That much you know. You are in his hands, now. You come as a beggar, trying to reap the promises that Bastien commited Pantera to."

The name brought a sad smile to the old woman's wrinkled lips, but she continued quickly,"I know your soul, Dreadfire. I know the darkness that swirls about you, and the fire that runs in your veins. You want your nation back, no? But at what price?'

"What if I told you, Dreadfire, that should the Evenstar deign to help you, that millions would die? What if I told you that together, you and he would plunge the world into darkness? Bastien was the ice to cool your flame. Together, the two of you would have ruled the earth... But now, that is dust and ash. No more..."

Leaning forward her frail, dry voice began to gain strength,"Are you willing to pay that price, Destroyer? Though the Evenstar wishes it was not so, he is a creature of the Dawn. His heart thumps to the tune of all that is good and bright, but beneath all of that, there is only the shadow. He knows it.'

"Do not think I hold you ill, Damien. Bastien was the best of Man. His hands should have sheltered the Earth and brought prosperity to all peoples. That eternity is gone now, never to be seen again. Ahead lies only ash and flame. And you are the cause of it, Warlord. Destroyer. The Dreadfire. You are the scourge of the earth, but alone you are as nothing..."

Levelling a gnarled finger at the massive warrior, the Crone continued to rail at him,"Yes, alone you are nothing. Should you return to your shores without my Evenstar, you will fail. The rubble of your homeland will smoke for years, and the Betrayor Queen will rule alongside the one you call Advocate. Your people will live under their heels. They will exist in bondage, yet they will continue to thrive and to prosper. I have seen this, and know it for truth..."

The strength draining from her voice, the Crone was suddenly what she was once more: a frail, old woman. Only her eyes remaind fierce as she spoke,"But should my Evenstar choose to topple the Usurpers and place you back on your throne, there is only the Shadow. Your destiny is to reign in fire, Destroyer. You are one to shake the earth, and leave your echoes in eternity. The screams of millions will be your song, and the flame your champion. You will rule your land, but the cost will be too great."

Flicking her wrist, the Crone rose from her seat and turned from Damien,"And there you have it, Destroyer. Ruiner of men. Breaker of Nations. Scourge of the Earth. There is your destiny, laid out before you. Two paths, one of prosperity and opression for your folk, the other of ruin and freedom. The pyres will burn bright at the ends of either path, but you know that much, yourself.'

"Bronze and Iron, Ice and Fire. Pantera and Automagfreek are but two sides of the same coin. Bastien has gone, and without him you cannot hope to reign in glory, he was the Ice to balance your Flame. My Evenstar is a different sort of beast. He cannot temper you, nor you him. You are both creatures of the Dawn, but it is a Dawn of smoky darkness and scorched flesh."

As she recedes into the shadows, her voice lingers,"Go now, Dreadfire. Leave me. Your presence stains my soul. Perhaps Dayne will put an end to you, as I have urged. For if he does not, the Darkness will continue to thrive and spread.'

"Go now, before I end your hellish existance myself."

A bit shaken and left dumbfounded, The Destroyer touched his mighty hand to his lips before waving it through the air towards the crone. Although she could not see him, a tear and a bow were his parting gifts before closing the doors behind himself. There had been no fanfare upon his exit either, for Damien was not the shining Warlord he once was. A rogue and a bandit was he, a broken shell of the creature that made men tremble and women weep. No more.... He said to himself. I will not owe my existance to one such as Dayne, a man who by all rights should not be in power. Bastien should still be here, Bastien should be storming the beaches with me right this second.

Damien looked into the beautiful Panteran sky and sat on a grassy knoll, exhaling deeply. His eyes glanced across the skies and the horizon, and in a loud whisper he called out to his friend long departed. Bastien, my brother. It is an hour of wolves and darkness now, and I stand upon the edge of a blade. The Crone in all her wisdom tells me it cannot be done, that the Evenstar will be my saving grace. We both know Bastien that the lad will experience things in Automagfreek that he has never seen before. Upon it's beaches he will break and ultimatly fail....but the old woman says the same for me. Great tales of destruction and raging flames she did sing to me Bastien, tales of my doom.

Damien listened to the wind as it rose up momentarily then faded away, leaving only the faint sounds of the tall grass as it swayed gently before pausing. If I go it alone and fail, the name Damien will be looked at as nothing more than a paper tiger, a failure, a coward. If I do this alongside Dayne, I will be living the rest of my life on my knees to him, and that is something I just will not do for any man. Guide me Bastien, let your wisdom cross over the boundaries of this life and the next and illuminate me, for the hour grows late.

He stood slowly and drew in a deep breathe of fresh Panteran air before starting off back towards the chopper. Dayne was still nowhere to be found, apparently not interesting in Damien's arrival. If it were Bastien, there would be pomp and parade, rains of flower petals and the laughing of children. But from Dayne, all he had gotten was a few faceless onlookers and a few words of doom...but pehaps that was all he needed.

As the team stepped off the chopper and set foot onto the NNS Hannah Walt, the mood was as serious as if half the team had already been killed. The sixteen men were led quietly to their quarters, a relatively large space considering the size of the ship, where they set down their packs and laid down. It would be about twelve hours before they were within distance of the Skiff, and another four before they would get to the launch point. Most of the men went to grab some food before they got some rest, but three stayed behind.

"So, whadda' you guys think of this?" one, Sergeant Matt Gresset asked the other two. "You think we'll make it out alive?"

Jonathan McNeer, another Sergeant, replied. "Sure, why not? We've made it through all kinds of crap before."

"Yeah, but not like this," replied Gresset.

"That's what they always say. Yeah, I know this time it's probably a balance between coming home safely and... well, the entire world burning in eternal hellfire and damnation, but hey, that's what we're trained for."

"You guys don't understand," spoke up the other, First Sergeant David Walt. "Think about how bad Damien was. Mom used to tell me stories about how back in Sniper Country, before the Attrition, everybody started getting ill feelings toward Damien and Automagfreek because they jipped out on the Omzian War. Just up and flew. Sal Masekela, the Speaker back then, started to get in his face about stuff. And then, well, Sniper Country was wiped off the map. Only a few survided from places around the world and settled down to create Nuptse."

"Uh, great history lesson there, Dave. Now, where is the part about how bad Damien is?" asked Gresset.

"Damien used to invade small countries, burn them, and kill anything that he found along the way. I mean everything. You know that. Now just think, if this chick could exile him... holy crap."

And eerie silence fell over the three men. They continued silently, thinking to themselves, as they adjusted their packs and made their way into their cots. Soon, they would all head out into Automagfreek. Into the unknown.

What would you do Bastien? What would you do if your lands bled and the ravens began to feast upon your people? Would you stand around waiting on the words of others, or would you plunge headfirst into the flames? Politicians we are not Bastien, warriors we are.

A feeling of warmth spread over Damien, and he stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at the Seastone Palace. His mind was made up, and now there would be no turning back. He changed course and headed back towards the docks where his fleets had rallied. It had been many days since his landing in Pantera, and the Sentinel was not completed as much as he had hoped for. Nearly 85% completed, it would be a great risk to take it into combat.....but nonetheless it was a risk he had to take, for without the massive and awesome firepower the Sentinel could throw down his invasion would be hurt greatly.

With Zander still fighting on in Crimmond and with Brinks on special assignment, Damien knew he would be in trouble. His two Warchiefs of former Black Staff origin were missing, and Azrael had turned on him. The only Warchiefs he still had under his belt were Vidimir Breathstealer, Shagrath, Count Anderton, and The Vile. He could immediatly count The Vile out, for being of Death Dealer origin, his numbers were next to nothing thanks to Rayne and her Strikers. A most troubling situation indeed, for the only Warchiefs able to fight had not seen large scale combat, only tribal skirmishes. Azrael's forces were battle hardened and numerically superior, and who knows just how many Strikers Rayne had under her command.

His mind was made up, and he ordered his ships out of Pantera's ports. Blowing a kiss towards the Free Lands that he might never see again, Damien tended to his ships and issued them their orders. Sink any ship that imposes on our course, be it Freek in origin or anything else for that matter. The Sentinel is not fully armored, and any damage to it at this point would do serious harm. I want the Sentinel to remain in the cneter of the convoy, and I want massed air and sub support. We must defend this ship at all costs until the ground war starts.

He then switched the coms over to the transports and spoke directly to his Sentinels. My children, our numbers and small and we are still weary from combat. Upon our own shores we will rain down like a great thunderstorm, consuming anything that dares to rise against me, the rightful Warlord of Automagfreek. This war will not be a conventional war, for it will be fought in my streets and in my cities. My people will be in your line of fire, and I order you to take whatever actions possible to ensure that those still loyal to my banner are not killed. I will rally the clans and the tribal armies to the fight, and together we will forcibly remove this cancer that has plagued my lands for too long already. Take great care not to pillage and destroy as you usually do, for anything that is captured has great value, both to the war effort and to our lives after the war.

The great storm that had been brewing in the night has come to light, and instead of weathering it as we always have, we must plow right through it with unrelenting aggression and steadfast determination. Come now my children of the night, let us take back what is rightfully ours, not Rayne's! Let us take back Automagfreek!

The cheers and roars of the Sentinels were all the approval Damien needed. Despite being battered and in need of rest, Dreadfire's forces geared up for another round of gore and destruction. The fleets tore out of Panteran waters, and left on the docks of Pantera's mainland was a single note:

Dust in the wind....

-Lord Damien Dreadfire-

OOC: Bump

OOC: I don't think a bump is needed. There is little we can do ICly to respond to your last post, and OOCly, this thread is tagged to fuck, so everyone can see it when you post anyway. :)

Packed and ready to move out, the sixteen men of Bayou Boys, one of the most prestigious Special Forces teams in the Nuptse Armed Forces, awaited orders to load onto the Skiff. The Skiff was a sort of small, stealth submersible, With enough room for twenty-four men and their equipment. With just sixteen men, there would be good room for the men to work, sleep, or whatever they may find to do on the twelve hour ride to their landing point on the outskirts of a small bay, or inlet as it was described during the briefing, in Automagfreek.

Suddenly, a blue light began flickering above the small compartment they were crammed in, signalling them to ready for their entrance into the Skiff. As the door opened, they quickly scrambled across the damp, tight, enclosed bridge to the Skiff. Upon arrival on the submersible, each of the men let down his pack. Lt. Bretha voiced the team's departure time and asked permission to set sail. After receiving permission, a small gate opened from the bow of the Destroyer and the small craft began its trek to Automagfreek.

The sixteen men got comfortable, and a few even went so far as to pull out their sleeping bags and lie down. Others pulled out their random weapons, going over them once and again. A few analyzed maps and up-to-the-minute intel concerning Automagfreek. For the most part, it was silent on the ship.

The black submersible traveled roughly thirty feet under the ocean waves. Though coated with RAM, and being so very small, the Skiff could still be picked up radar. Although the chances had been calculated at one in a million, but it wasn't quite a statistical impossibility. It was a chance that was always taken.

The VSS Sabrakar came first to periscope depth; a single rod, no thicker then a fishing pole, broke the waters surface.

High above, a SHARD drone watched a series of lights, invisible to the naked eye, invisible to anything not looking for the pulses in just that spot at just that time.

Mission completed, the Sabrakar slid back into the murky depths, still outside the Freek's sonar envelope.

The SHARD flew higher, invisible to RADAR and LADAR, now looking for something....

Dreadfire's ships crossed from international waters into AMF territorial waters, and it was not long before they had company. The Advocate had dispatched a small portion of his fleet to intercept, while sending a larger force to the east in an attempt to back door Damien. The Destroyer was aware of this tactic, as it was one Azrael had learned from him. From the command deck on board the Sentinel class Super Dreadnought, Damien watched the live satellite feed of the advancing fleets. Hmmm....they have a battleship, 2 carriers, and a fist of destroyers and missile frigates. Aircraft in the skies is minimal...possible large submarine force. Damien then leaned over to the captain of the ship.

Upload schematics of the Intruder class battleship. Locate the ammo dump and lock the guns on it. You may fire when ready. The captain complied and with great haste did as he was told. Within 30 seconds the massive rail drivers on the ship sprang to life and began shifting themselves into position. With a positive lock on the enemy battleship's ammo hold, a single 15" tungsten round was fired.

<Meanwhile>

The intercepting ships had notified the mainland of the intrusion as well as the flanking vessels. The satellite imagery was disturbing.....a very large and ominous looking ship was at the center of the advancing convoy. They could tell it was not a Doujin, for it was noticeably smaller and of different design. What in the high hell is that thing? Said the captain of the intercepting battleship.

Those were the last words he ever uttered.

The tungsten round pierced the outer hull of the battleship and plowed clean through the ammo hold, causing a massive explosion that literally tore the bow off the battleship and send large fragments of it into the air. The crews on the neighboring ships looked on in awe and in horror as the battleship was quickly sent to the bottom of the sea. But the carnage did not stop there, for another tungsten round was fired through the ammo hold of a Ticonderoga class guided missile frigate, it too going up into ten thousand flaming pieces. The other ships quickly turned about and attempted to flee at maximum speed, but the 25" guns on the Sentinel put a quick stop to that. Round after round collided with the hulls of the retreating vessels, a single one either mortally wounding the craft or sending it to the bottom with great haste.

<A few minutes later>

The flanking column had lost all contact with the engaging fleet sent by Azrael. Assorted radio chatter and bone chilling screams was all that could be heard, but even those sounds faded away quickly. Dammit...run a scan of the area, up to a 2 mile radius from their last reported position. The satellite imagry made the captain on board the Vengeance class battleship turn a pale white.

Flaming fragments of ships were strewn all about the area along with hundreds of bodies, most of them motionless. Not a single intact ship could be found, and upon seeing this word came in from the mainland with very explicit orders: retreat. Rayne was not pleased when she was informed of the situation, and she then ordered every single ship to pull away from the area and prepare for an ambush.

Damien is going to take this fight to the land, and we all know that once he is there he will not sit still. We will allow him to touch down, then send every ship you have to engage him from behind. He will be trapped on all sides, and shell by shell we will break him. Azrael bowed contently and smiled at her. As you wish, M'Lady.

The chilled brandy was like cool fire. Half a bottle gone, and still Dayne brooded. The chatter of the AMF frequency played over his speakers, and he sat listening to the grim reports as Dreadfire's new machine unleashed its hellish payloads.

Gods above... He's going to go it alone... Dayne shook his head. He had never doubted Damien's lust for war, and his iron determination to hold power at all costs. This, however, was sheer madness. As terrible as the firepower of this new warship was, the chances of it being stout enough to contend with all of the recently acquired might of Rayne and her lapdog, Azrael, were slim.

But the man is a demon fighter, and then there is Hartman. They might do it... He thought, but it was a faint hope. Remnants of Damien's Sentinels were being routed out, and the smallfolk still loyal to him put to death. The flock of fools who had turned out to offer Damien their undying support were like gnats, and would be swatted by Rayne as such.

No. The Destroyer was doomed, and the world would be a kinder, brighter place without him. The Crone said it was so, and she knew such things.

"Then why do you continue to brood over it, Evenstar?" Startled, Dayne snarled a curse at the old woman. She moved quietly to sit across from him, ignoring the profanity. She cocked an ear at the crackle of the battle frequency, but said nothing.

Grumbling, Dayne waved a hand at her,"Begone, old woman. You have caused me nothing but grief these past days. Get from my sight before I kill you."

She ignored the threat as well, instead addressing him casually, her voice raspy,"I asked you why, if the decision is made, do you continue to brood? You know the cost of the Destroyer returning to power, just as you knew the cost of yourself assuming it. He is a blot on the pages of history. A bloody blot."

The comment irritated him, but Dayne could find no reply. It was the truth. Damien was a bad man. He killed at will and exterminated races. Lord Reavers of the past had done the same, but not with Dreadfire's lust for it.

No, he decided for the thousandth time. The Reavers would not sail. Instead, he would enjoy some more of the brandy, and maybe order the old woman torn apart for her insolence. That thought made him smile, but he knew he never would.

The VSS Sabrakar surfaced amid the carnage, and began retrieval operations of what was left of the crews.

Which, to be sure, wasn't much. The shells had left next to nothing floating, and the concussion waves had killed many of the ships crews long before explosions, fire, suffocation, or sharks could do any further work.

Captain Zimael transmitted openly his ships operations to mainland Automagfreek, making no attempt to hide the location of his submarine, or the ongoing operations.

Very openly, Vastiva was supporting her ally.

High above, the SHARD drone began its mission. First, a tightbeam transmission was lasered towards the megalithic flagship Damien no doubt flagged - a quick identify was followed by "permission to land".

The drone itself then began a fast drop towards the ship, attempting a near-crash landing. Once down, the materials inside would be fully available to Damien and his invaders - seven months of surveillance data from the submarines, the SHARD drones, and the OVERSIGHT satellites still peering down.

Vastiva was indeed supporting her ally.

Captain Henry Golgov sat in the command chair on the tiny bridge of the ANS Shard, the fingers of his left hand stroking the soft rubberised rest on which he leaned, wearing a smooth patch that unconsciously brought him comfort when he sat o 'his' bridge. The small Stormjack Patrol Sub (http://www.geocities.com/bishoplotus/anamecha5stormjack) had been on station for barely a week, sent there at the behest of Fleet Command Central that had decided that the current unrest in AMF needed watching, some of the big wigs were worried that the volatile situation might spill over and caused far reaching consequences, possibly touching ANA borders. This did not bring any comfort to Captain Golgov though, his small sub was perched on the edge of International waters, after having followed in what his sensor operator could only call 'a sizeable reading' from the Magnetic Anomaly Detectors, possibly a tightly packed formation of smaller ships they had surmised, but now he was looking at long distance readings from sonar, excessive scale weapons fire had been picked up, and this was beginning to paint a different picture of the oversized MAD reading.

"Sensors, I need confirmation that mass is a single vessel can you give it to me?"
Henry intoned in a level voice.

"No Sir, its distance makes it almost impossible to get a tighter reading..

It was also his mission to report on any HCDs he might come across, he gave a wry grin, 'History Changing Devices' what a catch all, but still, it made his course plain, and he needed confirmation.

"Helm, take us slow and deep, rig for silent running.. ,Quartermaster, you know the drill, remove ID plates and National tags."

Gently the small sub nosed over the border...

Damien, they are retreating! Chirped Hartman in a content tone. Dreadfire dismissed his words with a scoff and a shake of his mighty head. One of the many standard naval tactics we employ my old friend. Expect an ambush as we near the land. The large convoy of ships ground to a halt per Damien's orders, for they were nearing the northern shores of Automagfreek. Damien surveyed his maps and looked over the satellite feeds. Hartman again threw in his two cents as he watched the Warlord decide which course to take. M'Lord, the northern and western shores are still in friendly hands. We can land there and set up shop....you know, rally the tribal armies and make a push towards ULE City.

Damien did not reply to Hartman, but instead studied his maps more intensively. Um...Damien? But still he did not reply. He then looked up from his papers and starred out the window before glancing at Hartman with a stone cold face. We sail eastward.

The crew on board the Sentinel class suddenly grew silent. The eastern shores were home to several very large military bases, many of which had fallen into control of Azrael. I did not stammer nor make myself unclear. Turn the fleets eastward....we wil sail into the lion's den. Let them never forget that on this day The Destroyer rose up in great fury and laid down his judgement on those who had wronged him. Let the entire world see the measure of my anger and the resolve of my wrath. Let mankind remember this day as a day of infamy.

Dreadfire could see that Hartman and the crew were visibly worried. Do not fear them, for they are the ones who should be afraid. If the world thought I was brutal before, then they truely have seen nothing yet. We will break them. He then turned on the loudspeakers connected to his many transport ships. My Sentinels, my children! Do you fear the coming darkness? The speakers were not needed for the response that followed. We fear nothing! Damien let loose a bellowing laugh, and then spoke in the words of his long departed friend Bastien. My children, are you ready for the crows feast? The roar was deafening. Then let the Gods drink their fill!

Damien's confidence began to rub off, and soon the convoy began sailing towards the eastern military bases. The Freeks at St Freeksburg port had received word of the movments of Dreadfire's fleet. Their position: coming right towards them.

Sirens rang out across the base, and the Freeks there panicked. Never had they thought that Lord Dreadfire's wrath would be unleashed upon them, and seemingly without hesitation the ranking officers ordered their men ferried across to the mainland and the base abandoned. The Freeks knew that their Sentinels were an even match against Damien's, but the thought of a death at the hands of The Destroyer himself was enough to change their minds. General, are you sure Lady Rayne will approve? Shouted a ranking officer to the traitorous Freek General who once served Damien. Kid, it's plain madness to stay here. We all know that Damien will turn this place into silt and kill every last one of us. On this island we stand no chance, we'd be better off on the mainland with Azrael's forces behind us. I will accept responsibility for this decision, but I cannot let 4 divisions of Lady Rayne's Sentinels be killed. No way.

The sirens continued to wail loudly without ceasing as hundreds of transports and pontoon boats shuttled from the Freeksburg Island to the mainland of Automagfreek. On board were over 4 divisions of Sentinels, a very large portion of the eastern defenses. They brought anything they could ferry over, including weapons and ammunition. Within an hour almost the entire base was cleaned out leaving practically no trace of anything.

<Meanwhile, in ULE City>

Rayne was enraged when she heard the news. God fuckin' dammit Azrael! He's your father! KILL HIM! She then noticed that she had hoisted him several feet off the ground with one hand, and after a deadly glare she released him. Yes my love, I will handle it personally. I will send in 5 of my divisions to support our eastern forces. I will NOT let the man I once called 'father' touch down on our.....your soil.

The large bell that once hung in Dawn's Cathedral had been only recently placed on top of the Westwind Citadel (OOC: Azrael's fortress that he build on it's ruins), but it had yet to make a noise. The breeze that blew down from the ULE Mountains was silent for the past few days, and without so much as a slight gust the mighty bell swung back and forth, an ominous GONG sound echoing through the streets of ULE City. The hairs on the back of Rayne's neck stood on end and her skin began to crawl as the words of The One rang out in her mind.

When the bell tolls three......he will come.

Sir, we have a submarine closing in on our fleets. It's movements do not match that of the enemy fleets. What shall we do sir? Squawked Damien's first mate quickly. He knew he had to act fast, so Dreadfire issued his orders with little to no thought. Make radio contact, and if there is no response in 45 seconds from the first transmission....bring the sub up. A nod and an 'aye aye' from the first mate followed. Dreadfire was far too focused on the situation going on near Freeksburg Port. He knew that stationary defenses on the mainland were much more troublesome, for they were well hidden beneath the soil, and he would only have a few seconds to get a visual on it's location after the gun fired. But, he thought, would destroying the guns be the best move? Certainly they would be more valuable if captured.

No more than 5 miles out from the range of the mainland guns, Damien's fleet sat parked and it's transports prepped. While Hartman handled the affairs of this foreign sub he would handle this situation: how best to invade the mainland of his own country. It will be risky, but our best bet is to go balls to the wall and throw everyhing we have at them right away. The Sentinels that we will be facing will not back down for anything, but perhaps we can sway the Freeks that Rayne and Azrael have left in charge. You see, this is why I do not use common folk for officers.....far too fragile.

Damien's staff nodded in agreement. Freeksburg Island has been basically deserted by any major military force for fear of destruction. Therefore I do not see any use in storming the island. Send the ships into St. Freeksburg on the mainland itself. Prepare my forces for landing immediatly.

Knowing that this would be the deciding moment in his life, Damien stepped out onto the decks of the Sentinel class and took in a deep breath of salty air. Whispering a prayer to the Gods and a few private words for Bastien, Lord Dreadfire then retired to his private quarters where he would then prepare for combat. I will be the first man off the first transport Bastien, I pray you watch over me on the battlefield.....my brother.

The VSS Tashavir had joined the rescue operation, the count too high for one submarine to handle.

As soon as it was on station, the Pierpont class submarine repeated her sisters actions - general broadcast of position and intent.

She then launched rescue craft and began hauling in survivors, slowly.

Meanwhile, both submarines kept their RADAR and LADAR systems going at full howl, ostensibly to keep the combatants aware of where the noncombatants were.

But wasn't it just terrible that any surprise attack attempt at Damian's rear would have to pass through the wave-flooded area? And it was certainly coincidental some of the wavelengths used would be easily piggybacked by Damian's watchers...

Captain Golgov stared out of the Enhanced Data View Screen, The view out int othe cold water was overlayed with digitaly enhanced view of the sea bottom, picked out by the subs own millimeter wave LIDAR, hanging suspended where the sea surface was, were the glowing pinpoints of ships with their designation tags. In the centre was one big fat red one, designated HCD 13, their target, still it had not given up its secrets, they were to get a clear reading, and Golgov didn't want to give his position away by pinging them. Suddenly an orange halo blinked twice around HCD 13..

"Eh?" The Captain looked up, squinting, then across at his sensor operator

"I'm picking up a transmission Sir, radio, asking us to surface..."

"Are you sure its us they are communicating with? could it be any one of those?"

Golgov's finger stabbed at the pinpoints glowing blue, other subs in the water.

"I dont think so sir, all I'm getting from them is a constant transmission stating humanitarian intentions"

"Damn.." The Captain, rubbed his hand on the arm rest again, he needed time to think.

"Helm, start us towards the surface, but take it SLOWELY, buy us some time..."

"Aye aye sir"

"Hey Lieutenant, we're getting a radio hail from a ship in that big convoy about a mile away," Sergeant McNeer shouted toward the rear of the sub, at Lieutenant Betha, who was slowly rousing out of his slumber.

"Who are they?" he shouted, throwing down his sleeping bag and grabbing his pistol from inside his pack, quickly holstering it in his hip holster.

"It's encrypted, but they're asking us to identify ourselves and surface."

"To crap with that. Can you break the sender encryption?"

"It'll take a few minutes; we'd have to buy time."

"How far away is the convoy?"

"Um, roughly two miles, I'd say."

"Turn course for 'em, slow down to ten knots."

"Aight, I'm on it. So do we reply?"

"Find out who the sender is first, then let me know. Otherwise stay silent."

"Howard that."

The Skiff turned its course toward the large convoy, with unknown consequences. However, the mood in the was relatively easy. Most of them men were just waking up, others adjusting sights, eating, praying, or simply talking. They were ready. Oh so ready.

Hartman was ferried over towards one of Damien's smaller battleships to deal with the not one, but two strange submarines closing in on the fleet. A few destroyers and subs were left behind to safeguard Hartman in case the foreign subs decided to turn hostile. Meanwhile, Dreadfire had far more pressing issues to deal with. His fleet had slowly begun creeping towards the mainland, and within mere moments of crossing into firing range Damien soon found himself amidst a flurry of artillery shells. Even he was impressed at the range and accuracy of the land guns, for even the 25" guns on his new Sentinel would have a hard time hitting it's targets at this range. Full speed ahead, standard attack formation.

Damien's ships plowed forward at maximum speed, steering evasively as best they could to avoid the incoming rounds. Several vessels were lightly wounded but none had been seriously damaged, much to Damien's delight. He ordered his planes to stand down for the time being, as he knew that the anti-air defenses across the AMF coast were some of the best around, and putting planes in the air was most certainly suicidal. No matter He thought. On this day they will see what happens when The Destroyer is wronged.

The ships then shifted their course slighty and made a break for a small town to the north of St. Freeksburg port that was one of the first to voice it's support for Rayne. The town was home to nearly a hundred thousand and defenses were still being funneled into the area, so resistance would be stiff at best. Several regiments, nothing more. Mostly militia with assorted Sentinel support, possibly Strikers. Again his mind raced as he played his plans out in his head time and time again. As the Sentinel came into firing range of the mainland, a call came over the radio that made even the most battle hardened Freek sailor swallow hard.

Raze it to the ground, leave none alive.

The 25" guns on the Sentinel opened up in unison and rained high explosive death into the outer limits of the city. Bridges and roads were targeted specifically in order to force the inhabitants to move either south towards the military installation at St. Freeksburg, or move west towards ULE City. Dreadfire hoped that stories of what he was about to do would spread like wildfire, showing those who had doubted him the measure of his resolve. A transmission was sent out moments before Damien ordered a massive artillery and missile barrage of the city at key locations, and the message began playing across the country as the cannon fire was walked back towards the shore.

The Destroyer has come.......come for the souls of those who defied their master and sided with a whore. You will witness what happens here today, and you will tell of it later. Behold as my great and destructive wrath is unleashed upon those who kneel to the unholy bitch, and let it be a message to those who think they can survive the Dread Fires.

To those who still flock to my banner, I say to you this: rise, my children. The hour has come and the day begins anew. We live no longer in the dusky evening, even evil mixed itself with good and befuddled the world. This is a day of blood and fire, this is a day of retribution.

Sleep Now In The Fire.

http://67.18.37.14/40/9/upload/p984672.jpg
---Damien the Destroyer---

+++++++++++++++++++++

As Damien's message was carried throughout the country, the large bell on the Westwind Citadel rang out loudly again, it's deafening BONG willing the entire ULE valley. Rayne threw her hands in the air and screamed NOOOO!!! as loud as she could, either in anger or in fear. That is IT! Order all Striker legions to move eastward towards Dreadfire's position. If it's war he wants, it's war he'll get! As Rayne finished barking her orders at Azrael, she felt another chill go down her spine. The bell has rung twice.... she thought to herself.

++++++++

<AMF News Update>

Lady Rayne is ordering all Freeks to remain in their homes at this time. The rebel known as Dreadfire is attempting to bring destruction into our communities, but the great and powerful Rayne will protect you. Our armed forces are fully mobilized and ready to apprehend Damien the Deceiver and bring him to justice.

As a result of this action, martial law is now in effect throughout the nation. Curfews will be instated and home inspections will be performed. Any who resist will be captured and branded a traitor to Lady Rayne and a supporter of the criminal Dreadfire.

http://img7.exs.cx/img7/3986/10et.png
Christof Schroeder
-Minister of Military Action-

Golgov quickly descended into the wet deck of the submarine, a level half flooded, with walk ways to rooms, designed to accommodate the two dolphin crew members, he new they onboard, resting after their long arduous scouting trips in international waters.

Pressing the intercom at the entrance to the small wet deck, Golgov spoke,

"Sensors, download all the current data we collected on sea currents and subsurface anomalies, download it to a dolphin data pack.."

"Aye aye sir."

"Then severely cut down the data we have onboard, purge the rest and clean up after you"

"What sir??"

"I want Tiki to be carrying the only data n the subject we have."

"O..Okay Sir."

The Captain walked along a short gangway to where two grey bodies rested peacfully, the two uplifted dolphin crew members.

"Tiki Thrik Natrill, Friki Skee Quic, I need to talk to you both."

The first dolphin, Tiki, rolled and regarded the Captain with a baleful eye, he was a rarity amongst the almost insanely cheerful dolphin community, he was what some people dubbed as being a bit 'Ornery'

"What want Captain?

The other dolphin, Friki, tossed her head and squeaked a greeting at Golgov

"Many sounds, big bans thunder up top?"

"No Friki, its not weather, there’s some sort of battle going on."

As usual, Tiki hit it on the head.

"Captain want us, be playful swim up, jump look, stay away, warm home here?"

Golgov sighed,

"Yes Tiki, I’m afraid I’m sending you out into the water again, I need you to swim long and deep.."

It only took a few minutes to explain the plan to the dolphins, and before long Golgov was back on the bridge, while the dolphins were fitted with their Osmatic Lungs, allowing them indefinite water time.

"Right, Sensors, as soon as we hit another thermal layer, inform me, I want those dolphins to leave unseen.."

About thirty meters from the surface two small organic shapes darted into the baffles created by the AMS Shard's wake, then dropped back then invisible and without a sound, they sped off, hugging the sea floor, nothing more than two large fish.

When the sub broke the surface, Golgov gave several orders before cracking the hatch.

"Weapons, make sure the SC turret remains in lock down, and keep our tubes dry.. I don't want to spook our hosts."

BREAKING NEWS IN PANTERA!

We apologize for breaking into regularly scheduled programming, but the Panteran News Channel has recently obtained proof that the Lord Reaver has been secretly mobilizing the homeland fleet, better known as Valhalla's Fleet. No announcements have been made by the Evenstar, and given the silence of the past weeks, none will be forthcoming.

As the flames of the Freekian nation continue to lighten the skies of Southron Pantera, the Lord Reaver has remained silent. However, it is now clear that his lack of comment only prolongs the announcement of war. With the European continent quiet, the only -logical- point of assault would be Automagfreek, the rebel Queen Rayne and his former pupil, the traitorous dog, Azrael.

The brief, unheralded visit to Pantera by the outlaw warlord, Damien Dreadfire, could have been a hint of a weakening of the legendary Blood Pact. Yet, while most Panterans agree that Damien's cause is doomed, the Evenstar's silence on the matter has worried the populace.

Could this new fleet represent a drastic change in AMF/Panteran relations and herald the Evenstar's endorsement of the new AMF government? Will the Evenstar topple the usurpers alongside his brother's greatest friend? Will Pantera's policy of uninvolvement continue?

FIND OUT AT NINE!

We now return you to 'Blood and Guts: A Tale of Cheese', already in progress...

High above, SHARD drones flew, taking in the scene from one angle.

Even higher above, OVERSIGHT took in the view, neutrally, transmitting the gathered data in encrypted bursts down to HSI HQ.

At sea, the Tashavir and Sabrakar wrapped up rescue operations. The recovered crews were informed they were being detained for the time being, as there "seemed to be a shooting war going on" and Vastiva was not going to endanger its vessels needlessly.

A call went out for a transport to pick up the recovered crews; that would take nearly two days, during which time the two subs would be riding the surface, festooned with refugees.

"Yo Lieutenant! That encryption..."

"Yeah?"

"It's from Automagfreek."

"...Do what?! We have to dive. How far are we from land?"

"Six miles."

"Crap... Automagfreek's under Rayne control, and they know we're here. But they don't know who we are. Dive to a hundred feet," Lieutenant Betha said to Sergeant McNeer as he turned around to the others, who were simply sitting around listening. "We're gonna' have company real soon. If diving doesn't mask our location, which it probably won't since they have a lock and're only two miles away, they'll probably send a chase team onto the Skiff. Lock and cock. Cover the main entrance. The only other entrance is through the bottom dive tank, but they'd need an underwater welder to get in from there. Still, two of you cover it. Use your packs for cover if you need to. McNeer," he said, turning back to the Sergeant, "keep an eye on that fleet. I'll bring your crap over to you. Get your pistol ready," he turned back to the rest of the men. "Lock and cock, boys."

The men picked up their 100lb+ packs and made their way to seek out positions at which to defend. Lieutenant Betha grabbed McNeer's pack and slung it over to him, and proceeded to sit with him, watching the computer screens for activity. If Rayne did send in the Sentinels, it'd be a rough fight. There was little doubt in Betha's mind that they could defend the Skiff and make it to land, if even by LAR-V. However, there were multiple scenario's running through his head...

M'Lord, the Evenstar sets sail!

The words echoed in Damien's head as the bellow of cannon fire continued. He glanced down momentarily and swallowed hard, not knowing what to make of the situation. Numerous Panteran ships had silently slipped away from port, and their destination was painfully clear to all those on board the Sentinel. Continue on as planned. We do not wait for the Evenstar.

This took the crew by surprise, as Damien would always wait for Reaver support whenever a particularly perilous campaign emerged. But not on this day, for an uneasy feeling washed over Dreadfire. Will the welp side with me, or stab be in my back? I pray you Bastien, watch over me.

The convoy continued to slug it out near the AMF mainland while Rayne's forces continued to abandon Freeksburg Island. The Sentinel's guns continued to punish those who attempted to flee, as well as those in the small town that was now nothing more than rubble. A fist of Sentinels were deployed in small boats to survey the damage and collect any bodies they could find.

Meanwhile, the Freeks and Sentinels that had fallen back to their defensive positions on the mainland readied the coastal batteries. Soon the former Warlord would be in firing range, and then the flames of war would truely be lit.

Agony is the price that you'll pay in the end. Domination consumes you then calls you a friend, it's a twisted fall. Binds are like steel and manipulates the will to be. And it's hard to see how soon we forget when there's nothing else left to destroy, it's a useless ploy.

Your eyes will see the dawn of the day, and the writing on the wall. Those words that stare into your soul, and to yourself you will befall.

The coastal defenses were not even fully ready when the shells began raining in. The Sentinel's massive 25" guns were far too powerful, and with the aid of rocket assisted artillery, even the very formidable coastal guns firing their own RAA could not reach them. The high explosive rounds met their target with chilling accuracy, sending large balls fo fire high into the sky. The sun was still rising into the morning air, but soon it was blacked out.

Continue firing, I want any gun emplacement that could fire on my fleet destroyed. Sustain for as long as possible, but save enough to support our infantry. Damien's orders were interrupted by the wail of the Sentinel's rail drivers as they fired large tungsten rounds into the retreating enemy ships. Lord Dreadfire was literally carving a path of destruction on the high seas, and with the enemy transports dropping like flies and the hostile forces on the ground taking a pounding, he ordered his own transports forward.

Large smoke canisters were launched towards the beaches as the transports soared forth under extremely massive fire support from the Sentinel, various battleships, destroyers, and missie frigates. All hell had broken loose as the transports came within firing range of the land, and 60mm high explosive mortar rounds were sent forth in large vollies. Large craters had now formed on the beach as the enemy prepared for the first wave, locking their machineguns down and preparing to send a hot lead shower towards Damien's Sentinels.

The first gates dropped and the enemy began to spray madly into the transports, but surging forth from the belly of the ships was not Sentinel.....but armor. With cannons and machineguns firing rapidly, Damien's armor plowed up the beach with no concern for their own safety. This caused the enemy ranks to break and scatter, as they anticipated a massed Sentinel rush and not armor. The second wave of transports opened their doors mere moments after the armor steamed up the beach, and that is when total carnage took place. The enemy's ranks were failing due to the Freeks in charge of the units placed there. The Sentinels under their command fought bravely as they always did, but it was the fear in their commanders that was their downfall.

It's domination, pushed into living hell. Domination!

More shells rained in, but this time towards the rear of the enemy lines. Thousands of Sentinels and dozens of heavy MBT's pushed up the beach in a seemingly suicidal blitzkrieg, but with the continued support of naval gun fire, the resistance soon found itself trapped. Unable to fall back and reform, they were gunned down mercilessly and left for dead as the convoy of death continued it's drive forward. By this time Dreadfire had taken to the helm of his own transport alongside 5,000 of his Sentinel children. Watching contentfully as the first few waves smashed the enemy defenses, Damien stood up on the decks of the transport and swung the Relic's Sword furiously above his head, screaming and roaring his approval. As the gate on ship flew down, he charged headlong into the fray as fast as his legs could carry him, firing his rifle like made and throwing himself right into the middle of the enemy ranks.

Soon the call sounded that brought a smile to his face. Retreat! Rayne's forces on the beach had taken devastating casualties, and sensing an imminent and crushing defeat, the Sentinels there were ordered to fall back and regroup. They ran away through the exploding shells very suddenly, but it was not time to celebrate. Word came in to Damien that a vey large force consisting of Azrael's Sentinels and several legions of Strikers were approaching. He looked back towards the coast in the direction of Pantera, and whispered a prayer to hiself.

Bastien....guide your brother's hand. Let your vengeance be his...let the Blood Pact endure......

<OOC: The first part is a reply to the original part.>

Official Message from Tiburon to Occupied Automagfreek, February 15, NCE 198, Classification Zero:

The United Republics of Tiburon is outraged on this clear attack by Occupied Automagfreek on the people of Tiburon, and we will not stand for it. We have prevented you ambitions in the past, and should you choose to invade Tiburon, we shall prevent you again. Tiburon remains warily neutral, but shall not stand for an attack on its soil.

Nova Starfighter, President, United Republics of Tiburon

<And now, the response.>

Operation Requiem. Years ago, it had seemed to be a different world. As old nations fell and new nations rose, it had seemed that the world would continue its inexorable march towards totalitarian dictatorship. And then AMF had fallen.

AMF had fallen.

That long ago, AMF was a Tiburonese ally. The Fifth World War was finally over, and it had seemed that peace and democracy would flower across the Earth. A part of this prosperity was the alliance between these two nations. But when AMF had fallen to dictatorship, the bonds had been broken. Hartman, a respected and supported figure, had joined this dictatorship, and the United Republics had rose against him. AMF was no longer a loved nation in Tiburon.

And then came the revolution. Rayne, a leader that had made Dreadfire seem like Mahatma Gandhi, had taken centerstage. The former dictatorship was now gone, and a new, even darker one had taken its place. The old structure was dying, and had called for help.

Operation Requiem. In the hopes that a Tiburonese military presence would foster support for democracy and a reminder to the leaders of AMF of the old alliance, Tiburonese forces struck back with the Sentinels. The operation was a huge success, and the civil war had been won. But nothing had changed. Even after the war, AMF continued its death march under dictatorship. Tiburonese hopes for a free AMF had been crushed.

Operation Requiem Reborn. Rayne had returned. Some in the military had proposed striking against her again- but the program had been shattered. It was a hopeless case- for now. For Tiburonese forces, in space and air, on land and sea, would ceaselessly be watching, waiting, hoping- for freedom to return. The problem was now timing- but Tiburon could wait. Tiburonese forces would wait.

As the first of the vanguard of the Reaver fleet slipped into the waters of Northern Automagfreek, the Evenstar himself broke his silence, and addressed the two nations, and any others whomight have been listening. The cameras bounced the feed from satellites high overhead, and the picture was crystal clear.

Dayne stood on the deck of his behemoth, Plunder Class, warship, Silence. His braids blew wildly in the stiff breeze created as the ship's hull parted the waves ahead of him, and his battle-dress was drenched in seawater. Before him was a large, silver-runed broadsword, its point resting on the deck, his hands curled around its ornate hilt. Choreographed, surely, but effective nonetheless.

When he spoke, the whipping, cracking sounds of the wind seemed to quiet, and there was only the sound of his voice,"Old ways die hard. I know this better than any other man. When my brother pledged Pantera to the Blood Pact, he created a weapon, terrible and unstoppable. As he said,'what was once seperate, has now been forged anew'

"Briefly, I allowed his fervor for the Alliance to be forgotten. But now, I remember."

Raising the great sword, one handed, he pointed the blade at the cameras,"The reign of betrayor Queens and craven traitors is at an end. To the Usurpers, Rayne and Azrael, I say that your time is short. I would allow you the option of Honorable Surrender, but what would those such as you know of Honor?'

"Instead, I will issue a call of No Quarter. The atrocities that you have comited against those loyal to Dreadfire will be repaid upon you tenfold. That I promise.'

"So steel yourselves, traitors. Usurpers. Steel yourselves, and prepare for the Long Night. Because it comes at my heels."

And so it was done. Bastien's Blood Pact would be maintained, Dreadfire would resume his mantle of power, Dayne himself would live with the darkness that the Crone had promised, and the fates of millions were sealed in blood and fire.

The transport Vadne had been scrambled from Sisu Arshu; making good time, and with favorable currents, it had arrived at rendezvous in a mere twelve hours.

It had taken a further two to load all the survivors from the decks of the submarines and the floating inflatables into her belly. While there, they were shown the devestation being dropped on the ports by Damian's fleet.

A very careful watch was kept, not on the carnage, but on those viewing it. Those who favored Rayne would have a sudden outbreak of Norwalk flu. Those who favored Damian would not.

And there might be a few who... vanished to other places.

A good sailor is a horrible thing to waste unnecessarily.

With Dreadfire making his initial assault into the AMF mainland, chaos began to break out. Entire cities were vacated as Azrael's forces raced towards the coast where his Sentinels had touched down. Rayne was growing more uncomfortable by the minute as she plotted out her next moves over and over again for hours on end. Knowing that the threat to her very existance was growing, she sent a private message to her Strikers that were still underground. Release him.

The One had been subdued for several days, laying in a comatose state as nano serum was pumped through his body. Slowly his wits began to turn, and the devices that Rayne ordered attached to his head began to filter the wavelengths of his brain activity. Upon receiving Rayne's orders, the Strikers in the underground lab boxed up The One and sent him to the surface, where a large transport helecopter waited. He was placed in the back and airlifted several miles inland, but far enough away from the ensuing battle that Damien had started.

The chopper hovered breifly over a grassy clearing before opening the back hatch and dropping the crate. It fell nearly a hundred feet before shattering into splinters on the ground, and through the dust and debris The One awakened. His purple eyes had turned to a deep crimson, and his body jerked about violently as he mutated and transformed into a large and horridly unstable beast. Foam and spit ran from his gaping maw like a river, over his jagged and razor sharp teeth. A hideous shriek he unleashed as he raised his head high into the air, his skin blackened and as rough as dragon scales.

The chopper took off immediatly as The One bolted off into the forest, heading directly for the landing zone where The Destroyer was. Through the scerams and gore, an uneasy feeling washed over Dreadfire. Something is amiss....

Captain Henry Golgov gave a low whistle of admiration, the Shard had surfaced, and was trying very hard to appear quite insegnificant, but on the surface the sensors gave a full picture of a HCD in action, and that was something you didn't see that often.

"Sensors, any further communique from our.. 'hosts'?"

"Negative Sir.."

"Ok, send a Geopulse ping, recall the dolphins, and when nightfalls, we'll head bottomward, and sneak the hell away, I think we got enough HCD evidence here.."

"Aye Sir.."

Through the intense sting of combat, an unusually panicked feeling rushed over him. He knew that it had to be The One, for spiritually and telekinetically they were linked together. As the battle deepened and as Damien's forces surged forth and began routing the enemy, a loud booming sound could be heard. Everyone on the battlefield gradually began turning their attentions towards the source of this noise, and soon the tops of the trees began to shake. Sentinel and Freek alike, on both sides, began to prepare themselves for what was about to come out of the forest, but nobody expected what was about to happen next.

The trees near the entrance of the forest exploded into the air as The One crashed through them and into the clearing. Standing some 60 feet tall and mutating by the second, The One roared madly at the specks standing before him, and his eyes scanned the thousands of men and searched for his target. It did not take him long to lock onto Dreadfire, and with another deafening howl he charged forth through the crowd of people, trampling anything and anyone in his path.

Dreadfire's Sentinels began firing like mad at The One, as well as the Sentinels from the various units under Azrael's authority. The bullets did not even cause The One to flinch, and he continued his charge at great speeds until he was nearly upon Damien. But The Destroyer did not budge nor show weakness, he continued firing his rifle vainly in an attempt to slay the beast that had once been his friend. A sharp pain went through Damien's brain, and in that moment he could sense that another being that had been sworn to serve him was now among the crowd.

An overpowering stench of decay filled the air, and the ground began to tremble as The One was no more than 50 yards out from Damien. As The Destroyer prepared for his inevitable death, the ground fell through and with it The One. As the Freeks and Sentinels on both sides looked down into the black hole that the creature had fallen into, Dreadfire seized the moment and resumed his attack and caught a large majority of the enemy forces their by surprise.

+++++++++++++++++


The One hit the ground after nearly a 15 minute fall, landing in a heap inside an ancient and darkened cave. His eyes burned in the darkness and lit his path through the cave, until he stumbled upon a very large and deserted temple. Undoubtedly one of the few temples from the days before the name Automagfreek was ever heard, The One looked at it for several minutes before starting towards it. A small hint of white light caught his attention, as well as the horrid stench of death and rot. A large swarm of flies filled the air as the light led The One inside the temple. Cautiously he entered the temple, and a large stone slap that hung above the entrance fell to the ground.

The old torches that lined the main hall exploded into 10 foot flames, and the entire structure began to rumble. Slowly, a ghastly figure began to rise up up of the stone floor, as and it did the stench and swarm of flies intensified. The Butcher had been stalking Damien for days, prepared to fulfill his oath that he took so many years ago: to serve the Dread Fires.

The Butcher looked at the abomination that stood before him and smiled. As he opened his mouth, a sea of maggots and worms fell from his mouth and landed on the ground with a squishy thud. He swung his hooked chains above his head furiously before letting loose a watery shreik. The One answered back with a roar of his own, and although The Butcher was the height of a mere man, he exhaled in delight and charged headlong at The One.

Mile after mile fell under the feet of The Destroyer, and the smaller detachments sent by Azrael had either been slaughtered or were on the retreat. Rayne's main Striker force was nearly upon Dreadfire, and Azrael himself was also leading his main body of Sentinels towards the same spot. Upon hearing this, a sick feeling washed over Damien....a feeling no father wants to experience. Regardless, his Sentinels moves onwards towards their inevitable doom, but there was one thing that drove Damien onward....the ULE Mountains were nearly in sight.

After a few more miles the resistance started to become more stiff. Intel from the Sentinl confirmed a large contingent of troops no more than a shell's lob away from Damien, and intel also confirmed that The Advocate was among them. As word spread through the ranks about Azrael's presense, an unseen rage swept over Dreadfire's Sentinels, which was highly due to the emotionless state they were always in. Onward they marched until they were finally within firing range of the rapidly approaching enemy forces.

The air was filled with the booming of artillery and the shriek of rockets mere minutes later as Damien's forces began engaging their foes. Knowing that Azrael could not stand up to his father in a straight up slugfest, Dreadfire ordered his men to fix bayonets and prepare for a massed charge. Using a massed armor assault under heavy artillery support, the Sentinels surged forth and soon found themselves within rifle range of Azrael's forces. The Advocate returned his father's greeting with a barrage of his own artillery, concentrating most of the shells near the center of the advancing hoard. Several shells hit their targets successfully, turning some of Damien's tanks into nothing more than flaming scrap metal, but due to the great speed of the advancing units, the long range artillery was rendered ineffective.

As they moved closer and closer, the Damien's APC's began unloading dozens of Sentinels and Sentinel Stalkers while the main column was no more than a few minutes behind. The units that exited the APC's were forced to dig in quickly, but many of the were gunned down by Azrael's Sentinels. The Advocate began massing his own forces for a charge, thinking that his father would never expect him to do such a thing.

The Destroyer grinned in delight as he came ever so closer to the front of the line. Ah, the day has finally come when I pit blades against my own flesh. May the Gods show you mercy, son of mine....for the Dread Fires will show you none.

Night had finally fallen over Automagfreek, but still The Destroyer pushed onwards, although his pace was considerably slower. Just past the large Blackwood Forest was the ULE Mountains, and in it the capital of Automagfreek....the final destination of Lord Dreadfire. After a nearly half hour drive down the long abandonded roads of the countryside, the large convoy of troops and vehicles began entering the Blackwood Forest. Thing were quiet until they passed several miles into the woods, then Damien started to notice some of his Sentinels being sucked up into the high canopies of the trees and pulled brutally underground.

My children, we are not alone! Rayne has come!

Immediatly the Sentinels began firing blindly into the dark forest, sending dozens of trees in shards and creating a makeshift clearing around the now parked convoy. The attacks by the Strikers continued as the trees around Damien began to diminish, and gradually as the cover faded the Strikers began attacking more aggressively. They began taking more chances and started working their way through the Sentinels ranks. The damage was starting to take it's toll on Dreadfire's forces, but still they fought on and managed to clear a nearly half mile opening around their convoy.

M'Lord, we need to move out of here now! We will not see ULE City at this rate!

Damien whirled around and glared viciously at the offending officer, his red eyes burning brightly in the night air. Nonsense! We shall defeat these vile creatures right here, right now. There will be no running away!

Another half hour later, the attacks began to be more pressing, with alrge fists of Strikers countinuing to pound the fortified lines of The Destroyer. Just when hope was beginning to vanish, Dreadfire heard the humming of aircraft. A noise came over the radio, a pale and scratchy voice that could not be mistaken, for it was a Death Dealer.

On wings of lead, we come to serve the Dread Fires! Let our foes sleep in them now!

Dozens of transport planes flew over the clearing and opened their rear hatches, dropping hundreds of white parachutes out. The Death Dealers that remained alive had massed and finally met up with Damien, and as they fell to the ground they started firing their .50 cal machine guns into the forest madly. Dreadfire knew that Automagfreek's air defenses were top of the line, and it was only a minute or two before the sounds of anti-aircraft fire could be heard. Fireballs filled the star filled sky as plane after plane was hit adn downed, and the radio chatter intensified. Artillery crews, redirect and silence those AA batteries! I want them destroyed immediatly!

The Death Dealers continued to parachute towards the ground as Damien's artillery crews began firing at the Striker controlled anti aircraft sites in hopes to spare the planes that were still left in the sky. Dreadfire was beginning to sense a turn in the battle, for now the attacks were growing further apart in duration and intensity, and now the Death Dealers had entered the battle.

The stars were blacked out by the hail of flak and AA fire, and plane after plane dropped from the sky and fell to the ground in a blaze of fire. The Death Dealers landed on the scorched earth and with great vengeance they met the Strikers head on, either filling them with .50 cal fire or fighting hand to hand with them directly. A surge of confidence washed over Dreadfire as a half dozen attack helecopters rose from over the tree tops and began engaging the enemy forces. Damien's artillery managed to silence a majority of the anti-aircraft fire, but still the skies were filled with a hail of lead.

The choppers flew over Damien's forces who were now mobile and charging directly at the enemy Striker and Sentinel forces, dropping waves of 30mm fire and rockets as they made their attack runs. Damien's Sentinels ran over the broken bodies of those who had been mowed down, and from the air the Death Dealers in the choppers watched as a literal wave of men swarmed through the clearing and into the trees. The enemy was being routed, but not without inflicting damage of their own. The Strikers did not cease their 'snatch and run' tactics, and they continued to pick at Dreadfire's line as they fell back to ULE City.

After a several mile charge the convoy had cleared the forest, and the ULE Mountains now sat before them. From their position at the foot of the mountains, the banners of Green, Grey, and Gold were clearly visible. Azrael himself was now present on the battlefield, and he stood high atop a watch tower and looked on as his fathers soldiers began pressing closer. With a casual wave of his hand The Advocate's artillery batteries roared to life, one gun after another breaking the silence and showering the air with munitions. Upon hearing the guns open up, Dreadfire ordered a full on charge with all guns blazing, and as the shells began exploding among them the Sentinels did swarm the mountains as bugs would swarm a sweet fruit that had fallen to the ground.

The Destroyer's main battle tanks began firing the dreaded depleted uranium rounds at Azrael's gun batteries and tanks that were parked at the top of the first large mountain. Azrael looked on in bewilderment as his guns exploded in a sea of white hot fire, and with all the radioactive particles that were now in the air, he knew it was only a matter of time before radiation poisoning set in. Azrael drew his Panteran sword and waved it high above his head, signaling his Sentinels to make ready for a charge. As Damien drew closer, the return fire by The Advocate's forces intensified and forced him to slow his assault. With a few words uttered over the radio, the Death Dealers in their attack choppers decended from the morning clouds and began a near suicide run towards the ground, throwing everything they had at Azrael's forces.

What the fuck is this? The Advocate said in surprise. Crafty old bastard my father is. He looked on as the choppers tore through his ranks with cluster munitions and 30mm depleted uranium rounds, mostly concentrated on the artillery pieces, tanks, and anti-air defenses. Upon seeing the devastation of his own forces, Azrael then sounded the charge over his trumpet. Within seconds, a wave of his Sentinels rose from their fortified positions and began running down the hill with their rifles blazing.

This had been the moment Dreadfire had waited for, and a sick grin crossed his face as he saw Azrael himself leading the charge. Knowing the Sentinels deceding the mountain had the advantage of momentum, Damien ordered his troops to increase fire and begin backing off the mountain and back onto the valley below. Sensing weakness, The Advocate pressed on down the hill, but as always the cunning of The Destroyer caught him off guard. Large scores of land mines had been left behind in a scattered formation, and as the rushing Sentinels made their way down the mountain they inevitably began setting them off. Unable to stop in time, hundreds of Sentinels were hurled in the air amidst rock, dirt, and debris.

Azrael's eyes grew big as he watched his shredded forces stumble down the hill, and as he looked over his shoulder to survey the damage, a sound filled his ears that chilled him to his very bones.

The trumpet of The Destroyer....for he was now in full charge.

Deep beneath the surface, the battle between two other titans was raging on. The One and The Butcher fought on for hours with neither candidate dominating, until finally The Butcher landed a large striking blow to the neck of The One. He reared back and howled madly before swiping and sending the decaying demon into the walls. Moments before impact The Butcher disappeared in a green haze, leaving The One alone in the stone chamber. After a few minutes, the ground began shaking again....but this time the stone floor began to crack and break away. Hundreds of impaled skeletal corpses rose from the floor in a cloud of stink and rot, causing The One to recoil himself and attempt to flee, but he could not. The large stones that hung above the open doorways fell to the ground, trapping the mutant beast inside. The torches slowly faded away, leaving only darkness and thousands of flies and hundreds of dead bodies.

That was until an errie light came from the wall that The Butcher disappeared through, and slowly the demon materialized back into the main hall. But he was not alone, for the corpses that had risen from the floor slowly came back to life, coughing and gasping as life filled their rotten bodies yet again. All at once they turned and looked at The One, and as The Butcher set foot back into the main room the corpses freed themselves from their pikes and began moving towards The One.....and as they did the ceiling began to fall.

An evil grin crossed the face of The Butcher as they closed in on their prey, and in one final roar of defiance The One charged one last time, his arms flailing and his screams filling the cold stone room.

Meanwhile, Rayne had readied the remaining forces under her control and held ULE City literally hostage. Nobody was allowed to leave their homes, and thousands of Sentinels and Strikers patrolled the streets. The sounds of battle barely made it's way down into the ULE Valley, and suddenly Rayne's satellite feed of the battle cut out. God dammit....this is all wrong.

For the first time she had been contemplating retreating, but no.....she would make her stand here and show the world who was truely the stronger and more fearsome leader. Though she could care less about Azrael, she whispered a silent prayer that his forces could hold out long enough to slay Dreadfire, and at the very least cripple him to the point where he could no longer make war. Knowing that The Evenstar was still at the coast, Rayne began trying to make contact with any force inside or outside the country that could assist her.

Hours passed, and still there was silence. There would be no escape.

OOC: One last bump for those who want to still be involved.