NationStates Jolt Archive

“……and so we commend his body to the earth from which we sprung. Never was there a finer man or president. I only had the honor to know him for a few years but in that time he was more of a father to me than anyone else. Some question how a man like him, a man who was so devoted to his nation that he once gave his wife for it could support a revolution against it. I tell you, it was because he loved this nation that he did what he did. He realized what it had become, what his son had become and it hurt him deeply, more deeply than anything else. And so, he made the toughest decision of his life. He told me that part of him died every time he heard of the death toll, and I believe him. He was an honorably man, and he died for it. So, in his honor, we: his friends, family, and most importantly Kordoan’s join here in his honor. Goodbye Jack. We will miss you.” Richard Jo'ha, military leader of the Red Hand of Kordo stepped back, his eyes filled with tears.

And so Jack Kordo I’s body was lowered into the frozen ground. He had led the nation for more than forty years and been its father, its guide for a dozen more. He had led the nation through the darkness, and into the light. He was a demi-god in the eyes of his people, but one who rejected the title without hesitation. For, he never wanted recognition, but honor.

From the Hadioa Mountains, Richard watched Kordo City burn. He had spent the last three years of his life fighting for freedom, and it was finally within reach. His men had fought hard for this day, and now victory was within their grasp. But the war was not over. Jack Kordo II had fled the city long ago, escaping to one of his hidden mountain complexes with his most loyal followers. Taking the city however, would be the final blow to the rest of the opposing forces. Kordo City was the lifeblood of the nation and it was what was keeping most of the so-called ‘Loyalists’ going. Yet, an ancient Kordoan still rang in Richard’s ears: ‘You keep what you kill.’ This simple phrase symbolized Richard’s bloody struggle. Not until he killed Jack would he be able to control Kordo. Hopefully, it was done correctly his government would receive the international legitimacy his government would badly need.

Richard swore and hit the ground as another barrage of missiles and artillery fire fell on the emplacement. Why couldn’t they knock out the goddamned enemy emplacements, he wasn’t sure, but what was hitting them was much lighter that before. It seemed the rebels had knocked out the pop-up artillery pieces and anti-aircraft guns hidden in the cityscape by the Loyalist forces.

That wasn’t his main problem however. Ever since the first uprising began, the biggest obstacle in total military control was the navy. Led by ardent Loyalist Admiral Kevin Lotam, most of the fleet was fanatically loyal to the young genius Admiral, and consequently to the Loyalist cause. The navy’s official slogan: “To Hell and Back” had proved too true for the rebel’s cause. Most of the ships under the rebel cause were Marine Core ships, seized by the branch of the Kordoan Military who had been perhaps the most overlooked. So the problem stood, unless he could defeat the navy ships under the control of Admiral Lotam, he would not be able to cross the water that surrounded the capital, and some semblance of international legitimacy.

Uber-Tag

tag

The Free Republic is quite concerned about the situation in Kordo. Since the Third Foreign Guard Army (the Kordo Guard) is stationed in Kordo we would like to see a peaceful, democratic solution to the current situation. Civil war is an evil that does good for none.

Minister of Foreign Affairs, Ilek-Vaad

OOC: just a 'who is backing democracy?' post, they may get help if acceptable to your RP purposes.

Kevin Lotam surveyed the wrecked bridge around him. A missile from the rebel’s batteries managed to slip by the ships defenses and killed several crewmen. He sighed, with supplies and friendly ports almost gone, things were not looking good. Kevin turned to his aid, “How many were killed?”

“Twelve sir, along with another twenty or so injured.” The aid replied.

“Do what you can to repair the ship. I want us and the rest of the fleet to be ready to sail in twelve hours, understood?” Kevin replied.

“Sir?”

“With our satellites knocked out or hijacked, and to much anti-aircraft fire to launch our planes, the fleets just a big, sitting target range. The enemy will invade Kordo City, and they will take the island, that much is evitable. What we have to worry about is saving the fleet, because they will go through us if they have to. It will cost them, but they will sink or capture everyone of us. Hell, with any luck we can wait to the rebel’s take the city then blockade them into surrender. Now, prepare the fleet, and tell them to set a course for Port Royal. We can re-supply there. I’ll be in my quarters until then.”

“Yes sir.”

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Richard watched in surprise as the Loyalist ships moved out. He had known they would of course several hours ago from one of his agents, but he had almost dismissed it out of hand. Why the Loyalist’s would was beyond him, but he was no navel tactician. Richard radioed his navel commander. “Admiral Taft, order your scouts into the water as soon as the Loyalist fleet is out of range. Then once the coast is clear, order Operation Sea Lion to commence. I want our forces on the beaches within twenty four hours at the most.”

Not waiting for a reply, Richard switched off the radio and picked back up his binoculars. They were going to give the Loyalist forces hell to pay. Like the prodigal son in Jesus’ parable, they had returned, older and wiser, learning from their mistakes. But unlike the parable, they had not returned asking forgiveness for the grievances they had committed against the nation, but for the rest of the inheritance, which they so richly diserved.


ooc: Sorry Ilek-Vaad, I forgot about your troops. Hmm…… I’ll try to work them in some where or at least do something with them. This RP is also officially open so long as you ask before sending your massive three billion-man army/"military advisors". Oh and this might be important:

Loyalists: Supporters of President Jack Kordo II and the (at one point) elected government. (Dictatorship is a more fitting term though)

Rebels: Advocates of socialist and communist values, they currently led a rebellion in Kordo. (Some times called “The Red Hand” which is their official title)

OOC: the Vaadians don't like either of those choices. They'll stay out of it, unless someone attacks the Foreign Guard.

And , I don't have three billion soldiers...................yet ;)

Swiftly they moved in the silence of the night, for the calm had broken out before the storm. Every creak, every cough, every stumble, was silently cursed by the men. But the silence was temporary, and each man knew what was next. They were leaving to fight the enemy. Each man had said his goodbyes to his family, struggling with the burden of knowing they may never return. This was the final battle in which no man was safe. This was a battle for Kordo and its people in which everything could and would be sacrificed for the cause. They knew that they may die, but worse was the fear in their bellies that they may live, but their friends would not. They were entering the crucible, and the fire within.

Silently the boats moved across the water, nearing the objective. Each man began fight the knot of fear in his stomach that comes with an impeding battle such as this. Battles such as this were the kind every man hated. The coming battle would not be one of weak against strong, righteous against evil, friend against foe, but of brother against brother, friend against friend. It was the battle that no sane man wanted, but every sane man knew was unavoidable.

Then, the transports landed, disgorging their cargo of men onto the hostile shores, men who would never see the land and people they loved, just this hellhole of a city, battered and beating into rubble. This was no place for men to die.

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The men on the shore snapped awake as the sound of gunfire shook them from their slumber. They ran to their battlements, just as ready to die for their cause as the men they would be facing were. This coming battle would not be one of distant conflict, for the war had not been. This battle would be fought in the very heart of the nation, for the nation’s soul itself. This would not be a conflict of army against army, but of man against man. Each side was willing to sacrifice everything for the cause, to defend their way of life. This would not be a battle in which one side won and one did not, but a battle in which both sides lost.

Soldiers of the Red Hand, fanatically loyal to their cause leapt onto the battered shores. They moved as silently as, wanting to maintain their surprise as long as possible, but it was to late. Then, a lone guard, stumbling and lost in the darkness saw what he could not believe: the enemy. Running through the woods, he stumbled upon a watchtower, and sounded the alarm. As Loyalist soldiers woke with a start shaken from their deep slumber, the rebels began to charge the fortifications, secrecy forgotten.

While the Loyalist soldiers were tired, they were anything if not veterans. They began to race to their positions on autopilot, going through the routine that had been beaten into their heads since the conflict began without hesitation. These were the best of the best, having survived months of brutal conflict, and the recent bombardment. This made the fighting even more brutal.

The Loyalists fired on the landing craft and the soldiers they delivered with an unbound fury. But their positions were compromised before it began, and as the situation grew graver for the Loyalists, many began to turn, firing on their friends, in hope of proving their loyalty to the rebel invaders. By the end of the night it was over. It had been a blood bath, thousands of Loyalist troops dead, many still in their positions and bunkers. Still then, thousands more of rebel troops lay dead on the beach, many never firing their guns, many more still in their landing craft, sunk in the shallow waters by the rabid fire.

President Jack Kordo II looked at the report he had been called by General Hitchit to see. With sixty five percent of Kordo in the Red Hand’s clutches, and Kordo City now under attack, the only good thing to happen lately was Henry Rey’s escape from Kordo. Where he was going to go, even Jack wasn’t sure. All that mattered was that he was out of the country. Suddenly, Jack felt a slight tremble.

“Report!” he called out.

“Relax Mr. President,” replied Hitchit, “Just your run-of-the-mill carpet bombing. The red’s have been bombing every bunker randomly since the campaign began. Nothing to worry about.”

Jack sighed and turned his attention back to the report. In the back was a small folder marked TOP SECRET. Taking it out, Jack broke the seal and opened it. Inside was a request form for the authorization to use WMD’s on the rebels. It was the fourth such request he had gotten in the last two weeks. Jack tossed the report in the garbage. He had seen what such weapons could do. He didn’t want to see it again, or worse live with the consequences.

Jack checked his watch, calculated the time difference for western Kordo, and walked to the communications section. Reliving a soldier on duty, he dialed his son’s phone number. When no one picked up, Jack felt a moment of brief panic, wondering what could have happened to his son. He suppressed the feeling, Jack rubbed his eyes. Everything was moving to fast. Unless his son’s counter-rebellion worked, or one of Kordo’s allies came to its help, President Jack Kordo II would be president for only one more year at the most.

ooc: If someone wants to take Rey in or come to my aid feel free to!

The Commonwealth Government today has decided to assist the rebelion against the existing government of Kordo, and towards that end is transfering a carrier task force, along with 2 amphibious groups to the vicinity. They should arrive within 6 hours.

ooc: sorry for the delay, but are you willing to RP them, or would I/the rebels 'control' them?

Richard Jo’ha hit the ground hard as a barrage of machine gun fire hit his squad’s position. Though he was a prominent rebellion leader, he refused to stay in the rear like a cowered. Firing on the enemy position, he motioned for his men to begin leapfrogging towards the position.

He winced as one of his men screamed in pain. Far too many of his men’s cheeks had yet to see the blade of a razor, much less combat. Too many of his best had been killed in the landings and the brutal fighting that followed. The Loyalists were losing the city but they were making the Red Hand bleed hard. Right now Richard wasn’t sure that he would survive himself.

Jumping up, he sprinted to the nearest pile of ruble in front of his men, firing all the way. Suddenly, the building’s ground floor exploded in a fireball, as his men began cheering. Turning around Richard say a tank with a red fist painted down the side rumble towards him. With all the firing, he hadn’t even noticed it approach. In fact, he was surprised to see it at all. The Red Hand had trouble transporting tanks and other heavy machinery to the city, and the Loyalist Army, and especially the armed civilians, seemed to have a never-ending supply of anti-tank weapons, whether it be mines or RPG’s. The tank that had saved them seemed to have taken its fair share of beatings as well. Dirty and bearing several scars, it seemed to Richard that it was a miracle the thing was still running.

Without warning Richard saw something streak and hit the tank. Ducking down, Richard saw that the tank was alright, the RPG or whatever it had been had been stopped but the strong front armor of the tank. The tank’s turret turned towards the building from which it had been attacked from, and fired its cannon. Checking to make sure there was no immediate threat, Richard gathered his men and headed towards the nearest sound of fighting. The Loyalists had all most all of the ancient sewer system, a system of massive underground tunnels, under their control, and they used it to attack whenever and wherever they could. Richard shook his head. It was just one of the many things they had not thought of when attacking the island city. Kordo City was rapidly becoming a black hole for the Red Hand, draining men and material they could not afford to lose. He wondered if his decision to invade the city was as smart as he thought it was. So far, it seemed the prediction wasn’t.

President Jack Kordo II was a shadow of the man he once was. Stubble covering his chin, and his clothes disheveled, Jack looked nothing like he did even a few months ago. The enemy had struck rapidly and with precision, freeing the camps were the fighters from the last rebellion were being held. The capitalized on the unhappiness the Kordoan people felt, and used it against the government.

Now they were in Kordo City, trying desperately to defeat the Loyalists there who in turn throwing everything into the fight, who were desperately trying to save the country from the Communists who threatened it. But Jack knew Kordo City would fall. It was only a matter of time. The defending Loyalist troops were organized into a ‘battle group,’ a fancy name for a hodge-podge of men and material. In fact, if every Loyalist division in Kordo City was at full strength, the Loyalists would have ten divisions at their command; instead they had two divisions worth of men and material. Or at least they did before the Reds had invaded. With communications jammed, the only way to get information was the occasional messenger who snuck past the blockade around the island city or the occasional agent in the enemy’s forces.

An explosion shook the bunker slightly. The Red Hand’s forces were approaching the mountains in which the bunker was hidden, and soon Jack would have to spring his trap. He had several divisions’ worth of men hidden in the mountains, enough to at least stave off defeat for a while, or until help arrived, if it arrived.

(ooc: Just for reference here are the divisions guarding the mountains:
1st Mountain Division
501st Mountain Division
206th Mountain Division
101st Paratroop Division
495st Paratroop Division
304th Infantry Division


(ooc2: I’m getting tired of writing this, so if anyone wants to get involved and turn this into a real RP, it would be appreciated greatly.)

Richard Jo'ha stood in the building which had housed the Senate of Kordo for nearly three hundred years. Now the building was in ruins, much of gold covered dome that once stood for democracy in Kordo was stripped bare by looters. All around him lay the dead, killed in the fighting that beseeched this once great symbol. The Loyalists had fought hard to keep the building, ironically one that their great leader had made unnecessary with his dismissal of the Senate. But now, for better or worse it was finally over.

The building lay in Richard’s hands, even if albeit it, it was in worse condition then before the fighting. With its capture Richard could finally declare that Kordo City was his and that the Red Hand was the true government in Kordo, not the Loyalist remnants that still ruled the mountains to the east. Richard was President of Kordo, if only in his followers’ eyes. He would make sure the title had meaning again.

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President Jack Kordo II flinched as an explosion rocked the complex. “There getting a little close don’t you think?” He roared over the fighting to the sergeant next to him.

“We have to make sure they’re completely within the hallway we have rigged.” The sergeant yelled back “I suggest you and your entourage move deeper into the complex sir. If something happens we can’t afford to lose our leader.”

Standing up and turning, Jack yelled “It seems to me that we’re running out of places to fall back to sergeant.” When the sergeant didn’t respond, Jack turned and saw to his horror a small whole in the sergeant’s forehead. He was dead. Jack swore as he sprinted down the halls, the rest of his group already ahead. They should be somewhere around here….. Jack thought to himself, when a blast door down the hall exploded inwards. “Shit!” he yelled as the hallway exploded in gunfire. He had somehow made a wrong turn and ended up going towards the rebel forces in the compound. Suddenly, Jack couldn’t feel his arm, and as he looked down at it a red blotch expanded on his sleeve. Then, the world went dark, as a bullet inconveniently decided to land in Jack’s scull.

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Somewhere in Northern Kordo

Rick Kordo, son of President Jack Kordo II, and arrdent supporter of his cause was reading the reports when the news came in. His father was dead. Now, it was up to Rick to finish the job Jack had started.