NationStates Jolt Archive

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IC:



~hisssss….

....ssssssssshhhhhhhh….

....zzzzschssh.......shsshhshshhhhh.....




*click*






A quiet evening in a shore town. The surf laps gently against the beach; several fishing vessels bob rhythmically among the waves; moonlight caresses the sleepy town…

Far in the distance, small shapes appear on the horizon, slowing beginning to take shape…

High above – higher then the eye can see – dozens of satellites take on new courses, fall into new orbits. Long projecting tubes swivel into place, locking onto the luckless towns, unblinking eyes prepared to witness…

~patter-patters of gunfire tear up a plain tan wall – seconds before it is obliterated by an artillery shell~

~tanks climb over a ditchworks, their guns firing, shells screaming past, trees blasted to toothpicks and fire; a huge crash, and a tank rolls onwards, half the building carried on its turtlish back~

~far aseaward, the fleet's guns bark fire and fear, smoke obscuring the vessel's flag - but not it's intentions. Targeted buildings shatter, replaced by flumes of smoke and debris~



Is it an invasion?

...A coup?


......A military engagement?



Is it the flexing of iron muscles?

...the disintegration of Diplomacy?


........the Politics of Brimstone and Firepower?

Is it a dogpile on a small nation?

... Is it the beginning of the end of a longstanding feud?

An impossible invasion? A Contest of Titans?


NO faithful viewers!

It’s something the world has never seen before!


It’s …

***

NATO WARLYMPICS!



***




“That’s right folks – here we are at the opening of the First NATO WARLYMPICS! I’m Tom Tucker…”
“And I’m his co-host, Dianne Simmons.”
“And what a lovely day it is for a Warlympics, Dianne!”
“It certainly is, Tom! Arrayed outside this very broadcasting booth are eighteen of the most dangerous fleets on all of NSEarth….”
“Outside?”
“Figure of speech, Tom.”
“Oh.”
“… arrayed here for two weeks of military competition! Just to wet your whistles, we have here actual footage of the mock towns destroyed during the opening landings…”

<multiple camera angles and views of the naval bombardments, troop deployments, tank attacks, artillery barrages… all set to music>

~pause~
“Holy crap Dianne!”
“Just so, Tom!”
“Wow. That’s a lot of firepower being used!”
“Yes, it is, Tom, all in the name of good military competition. It’s not like we’re declaring war on anyone.”

*snicker snicker laugh laugh*

“No, I suppose not, Dianne. After all, NATO is comprised of some of the most experienced nations on NSEarth - and if NATO were declaring war on someone, they’d bring out the really big stuff.”
“But what you have here is big enough, Tom. Here’s some early footage of the NATO forces assembling in their bivouacs near the seven stadiums to be used for this Warlympics - Roska Stadium, Red Stadium, Ilyanovastein Stadium, Rosktai Stadium, Eltengrad Stadium, Rosingrad Stadium, and our main interest, Rose Stadium, where as you can see the competitors are assembling their best and brightest in Class-A uniforms…”
“Class-A plus, I’d say, Dianne!”

*snicker snicker laugh laugh* as the camera closes in on several chests...

“Yes, Tom, many NATO nations do indeed have women in their militaries – we’re told not only is the General of Armies of Vastiva female, but they’ve sent their winningest Admiral – Sif Mesfin al-Din – to be team captain for these events!”
“Wow, look at the bazooms on her…”
“(Tom!) We’ll also be getting live field interviews from Asian Field Reporter Tricia Takanawa between official broadcasts…”
“Official broadcasts? You mean we’re not official?”
“Of course not, Tom. The rights for the official news broadcasts were secured by the Warlympics host nation – The Island of Rose – and our favorite satanic NATO ally, Greenmanbry!”
“Well then what the hell are we doing here, Dianne?”
“Fulfilling our contracts, Tom! And now over to the Opening Ceremonies, taking place in Rose Stadium! It’s standing room only, but our cameras should give you a front row seat view...”
“… if they let them in, lousy jerks and their official broadcast… ”
“Yes, and they can still hear you, Tom!”
“Ah… ur… uhm…”



***

OOC: If you're not in NATO - Don't Post.

OOC: OOC Thread is HERE for all interested. Thank you for not cluttering this thread. (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=420240)

"Hello, welcome to the first NATO Warlympics, being held in the majestic Island of Rose. My name is Michael Bradley, and I will commentate on the entire Warlympics as it goes along."

He chuckled. "Up first is the Excessively Armed Empire of Automagfreek. As we know, they are known for raping houses and burning women." A pause. "Oh wait... other way around. Anyway. The Sentinals will be very interesting, as we know, they have imposing black armor which all evil nations must have as a pre-requisite. All in all, it should be a very interesting Manual of Arms, we just hope it's not too bloody."

He sighed. "It will culminate to the Imperial Union, us, participating last. But at least it should be interesting."

A pause. "Wait, I have something new coming in. Automagfreek will be unable to attend for unspecified reasons. Instead, it will be the nation of Celack... who uses Ninja Bunnies, of doom. This should be fun eh?"

"Aww, that's too bad, Michael! I was really looking forward to the Sentinels showing up, this was definately going to be one of the mightiest marches in Rose Stadium.. Oh well, Celack are amazing too! And I can't wait to see what the Rosians have in store for us! I mean, you guys are last, but you're definately not least. And hey, you have the crowd on your side. Viewers, my name is Ra-ool Sa-ool, and I'm from the Greenmanbry. On behalf of the Infernal Demonic Dominion of Greenmanbry, I convery to you our warmest regards.. Heh, you like puns, Michael? I like puns.

"As you know, Michael, not every country has told us what exactly it's bringing. Heck, I don't even know everything my country is bringing here. So there will be surprises in every march, I guess. Oh, here they come! I can feel the excitement growing, and the ground shaking!"

A Celackian Leuitenant stood outside the stadium smoking a cigarette and staring behind him at the assembled armies of NATO. He smiled because he knew his country had been one of two nations who had founded both versions of NATO. It was, in fact, the only one still in NATO. It was therefore, a Celackian alliance. He turned around and looked forward and saw the AMF sentinals and the smile dropped from his lips and a scowl took its place. Those damn AMF bastards. Taking all the glory from his nation. By all rights NATO should have been called an alliance of Celackian lackeys, not Automagfreekian lackeys. Celack was stronger and better at war. They founded NATO, TWICE. Well these Warlympics would show the world who was on top. Celack! That's who.

Hell even Celackian genetically altered soldiers were better. AMF had sentinals, but Celack had Ninja Bunny teams. They would so kick ass.

He looked at his watch and noted that AMF was supposed to enter the stadium a while ago.

He sighed.

~~~~~~~~

A few feet away from the constantlu PO-ed leuitenant, the Celackian flag bearer was combing his fur. He was a Celackian Psycho rabbit, a fourth generation by birth. He was actually happy to be here is TIOR. It smelled nice. He fit in his regulation blue uniform well, and fit even better in his black combat fatigues. He was just waiting for the AMF people to do their parade and then his army would march in, it's blue flag unfurled in the wind, flapping majestically, and showing all that Celack was one of the greatest nations on earth.

The Admiral swept a non-existant tuft of dust from her uniform. "You are certain they are going to be here?"
"Yes, Admiral. We are assured they will arrive by special transport following clean up in Lothander. Ghost Wind is many things, but punctual is one of them."
"So it thorough. Best to be both. Are we on yet?"
"No, Admiral. We're near the end. A few more need to hit the field first."
"Are we completely ready?"
"Yes, Admiral. Flag, pennants, all of it."
"Yes, good." She straightened her cuffs again, oblivious to the effect tightening the fit of her Class-A jacket had on her... presence. "And we know Automagfreek will be removing most of their people?"
"Yes, Admiral. Also Scandavian States will be minimizing their presence, because of WhiteChapel..."
She glared him to silence. "This is a public place. Don't mention names like that here. Particularly when the press may be watching. We don't want that name made... public, not just yet."
"Yes, Admiral," the man all but whispered.

As the other national militaries were sitting around and commenting on the slow progress of the parade, Bashar Admiral Tholan took the lull in activity as a needed rest break. After the vigorous mental exercises provided by the beachfront landings he, as well as the rest of the Schultarian forces, were in such a rush to arrive to Rose Stadium that none of them had the time to grab a proper meal. While the Otkron and Grovon drill brigades were placing the last touches to their black kimono-esque dress robes, the middle aged naval commander called the forces together. Of course the drill team did not obey the order, but the remaining soldiers and officers didn't mind; their job was to look good without distraction, and to interfere with their preparations could land any enlisted soldier in trouble.

Tholan's face, illuminated by the glint of the brigades silver plated presentation rifles, relaxed as the crowd of Schultarians swelled in their urban combat garb. "Fellow officers and soldiers, I just want to say that what you did on the beach was some of the damned best combined tactics we could have ever hoped for. To you, a toast to our ability to work as a team!" Taking a small shot from a flask neatly hidden in his pocket, he responded with a hearty huzzah.

The crowd of solders cheered and applauded, waving their company and national banners in the light breeze. They represented the diversity and blindness of the Schultarian civil culture with every unit a vibrant celebration of ethnicity and gender equality; to them, this celebration of NATO solidarity was a chance to prove the Schultarian idea that physical and mental originality knows no discrimination, not to mention a wonderful chance to prove the Schultarian Defense Forces were a military as capable and as competent as any other in the world. Of course, such ideas were put by the wayside as more immediate concerns were made apparent. All of the soldiers had been under strict combat rationing to simulate the warlike conditions; some soldiers were now into their thirty sixth hour without food and, with their time in the spotlight fast approaching, many of the normal members of the Army and Special Forces were beginning to feel the effects.

None of this was lost on the vigilant admiral who had made sure to take good care of "Schultaria's pride" while present for the Warlympics. Grinning, he pulled out a crowbar and marched up to the nearest Frecavos, "As a sign of thanks and gratitude from Central Command, the National Government, and the well natured people of our dear country... Let's eat!" As boxes of redi-rations and dry meals were pulled out of the massive freight trucks, the soldiers maintained a quiet, but very festive, sense of order. "Just remember, you have less than ten minutes to consume and dispose of your meal in an orderly manner. Any littering or messes must be cleaned up by the end of time or you will be fined with no exceptions."

"It's nice to see them so happy," Tholan confided within himself as he made a hearty bacon biscuit sandwich, constantly dusting off his dress robe for errant crumbs.

"We got that feed hooked up yet?"

"Nope. Video is streaming, but no mics. Shift output back to that last level."

"There we go. We are live, people!"

The frenzied broadcasting van quieted down as the video broadcast began coming together. Images of various nations, their armed forces, and their soldier marching in parade flashed across the screen, as the announcers intoned their voice-overs for the introduction.

And almost as soon as that intro was over, a quick camera cut and the Samtonian announcers were in full view in one of the broadcast booths overlooking the stadium. They were an ecletic team, with multiple races, creeds, and ethnicities reporting. And as for the celebrety announcers, well, they were the pinnacle of restorative medical technology.

To one side of the table sat a man renowned throughout the world for his pacifistic views, that stalwart Indian of whom the country's freedom was attributed to, Mahatma Ghandi. Next to him sat a staunch conservative, Wisconsonite, and leader of the wave of anti-Communist scares in the United States. Joeseph McCarty was placed in between Ghandi and the last panelist, a singer whose hair was as synonomous with her as her singing.

They were the terrible threesome of celebrety commentators- McCarty, Ghandi, Cher. How they had been booked, or in two cases, brought back to life was anyone's guess. But with the actual reporting being done by network anchors, the three were used by the less established news channels and the celebrity watch shows.


NATO Warlympics, Celebrity Panel Reporting, Live Audio Transcript
Ghandi: Hello and welcome to all, for this very first NATO Warlympics! There's quite a lineup here and I hope the show of mock force is enough to convince everyone that war is most certainly not the answer.

McCarty: But for all you not swayed by that commie-pinko whitewashing, I certainly hope you enjoy the show! This show of force is sure to cause even the most hardened Red to tremble and come running back home to his mother!

Cher: It looks to be an interesting event. Too bad they declined my offer to sing the opening program.

McCarty: Probably because all you Holly-wood types are in with the Reds!

Ghandi: My fellow panelists, could we please just exist peacefully?

McCarty:That's what all you pinkos want, isn't it? "Peaceful existance" crap, so you can re-arm and spy even more on all free people! Well I'll tell you, you Lenin-loving, freedom-opressing, borscht-swilling commie that I won't tolerate this crap! I'll beat you-

Ghandi: Thoguh I am sworn to non-violence, your actions are certainly making me take a second glance at those vows! I can see why some might condone warfare, so the likes of you are killed in the first seconds.

McCarty: Why you emaciated little-

Cher: Look! They're starting!

Ghandi: Let us put aside our differences and mutually co-exist for the benefit of our viewing audience. Ah look! The first country begins their march out!

McCarty: Fine. We'll be back as soon as the next interesting thing happens or the Samtonians get out, whichever comes first.

Cher: Do you two believe in life after love? I still haven't figured out if I do.

TRANSCRIPT ENDS

"Ladies and Gentlemen, our coverage of the Warlympics continues! The excitement is still in the air and the teams are making final preparations for the display, we are being told. The Rosians have activated massive television screens throughout the stadium. The flags of NATO members are fading in and out in the order they'll come out.

"We have some VERY special coverage for our faithful viewers. Greenmanbry's best reporter is currently sneaking about in the stadium. Our very own "Desert Fox", Jaja Garang, is trying to get live video feed of the teams preparing for the opening ceremonies. We will go live to Jaja now. Jaja..

Jaja??.. You there?"

~ Static ~

"Ra-ool, I am casually walking down one of Rose Stadium's many corridors, trying to get a glimpse of the very important persons that have come to the Warlympics from different nations. I haven't had any luck so far, mostly because of the lousy directions in this stadium. Wait... this place look very familiar... oh for Rose's sake! That's because I've been here before!.. I've been going around in circles, dammit!"

"Jaja... Jaja... your report?"

"Oh.. yes.. Well, Ra-ool, I have been to the preparation zone.. It is extremely intimidating.. a very creepy place indeed.. some soldiers are practicing, a few are laughing with others soldiers from other NATO nations, while others are playing ball and other weird games. There is a huge amount of cultural diversity in the preparation area..

Here's the door, let's go in. Careful, cameramen. We don't want them to kick the living daylights out of us."

~ Jaja and cameraman enter the huge preparation area through a narrow doorway ~

~ Loud noises are heard. Machinery, vehicles, conversations, shouts, cheers, etc ~

"Well, I'll shout now, because you won't hear me otherwise. You wanted the commotion, you've got it. Every nation has some of its soldiers here. That's right, every NATO nation.

To my left are some soldiers from the Sultanate of Vastiva. These guys look dang sharp in their white and silver dresses. They look as majestic as polar bears. But don't tell them that, Ra-ool, because these Antarcticans don't fancy polar bears that much.

~ Ball coming from other side of arena smacks Jaja's face, knocking him down ~

Aww! Damn, that hurt. God..

As you can see, on the right, oowww, we have the host nation! TIOR and The Rosktai! Badass spec ops they are! As you can see, they're playing Rosian soccer and, like their training, they're doing it naked. We're pixelating this because we have younger viewers, but they're really enjoying themselves.. Damn, perhaps a tad too much.

On the right also, we have some other elite Rosian divisions. You can see the fabulous humvees and the sparkling missiles being used for the demonstration. Amazing stuff.

Now we're walking down the middle of the aisle separating left and right. Right next to Rose, we have units from The Freethinkers. Once again, looking extremely sharp. But they don't have a lot of equipment here. My guess is that they're hiding the equipment for the show.

Across from The Freethinkers, next to the Rosians, are Samtonian forces. These guys scare me, Ra-ool. Word has it they are some of the fiercest soldiers of Gholgoth. And a huge budget is devoted to them and... hoooollllleeeeeyyy crap! Look at that MASSIVE cannon. These guys rock when it comes to artillery. At least that's what soldiers here tell me. I guess we'll see what they can do in the actual competition.

Next to them are soldiers from Tyrandis. These guys are really enjoying their conversations with the Samtonians, being their Gholgothan neighbors. A lot of fancy equipment. Actually, I have no idea what the hell any of these things are.

Across from Tyrandis are the bunnies. But don't aggravate them. These are ninja bunnies. Yes, viewers, these are the founders of NATO. Celackians! Look at those uniforms! Amazing. Simply amazing. Thank God Greenmanbry is not in competition with Celack in any of the events! Phew..

Next to Celack, holy hell. Shhhhh.. There's commotion everywhere, people, except here. This area is dead quiet. This is the Schultarian corner. Look at the Schultarian soldiers. Dressed in fine black, and damn, what wonderful tanks they have. These tanks are pure Schultarian technology, people! They don't leave Schultaria. They are never exported to other nations, even allies! But they are smelling the fresh Rosian air today! The soldiers are weilding scary, long rifles, and they're all wearing black! If any of the soldiers will withstand the excitement and walk in a straight line down Rose Stadium, it'll be these guys. The discipline! The discipline!

Across from them, sheesh. We have Tiburon here. I won't even bother with their equipment. Flashy thingies that make a lot of noise, they are. Look at them. With their fancy robots! Nice toys. God knows how their competitors will fare against them!

Next to Tiburon, DontPissUsOff. Look at those tanks. There must be dozens and dozens of them! Awesome. These soldiers are very disciplined. We have not talked to a single soldier of theirs ever since we saw them setting up their equipment here. Something tells me they'll have a jolly good show in store for us. It's worth noting that Greenmanbry is involved in not one, but TWO competitions with DontPissUsOff. These guys are extremely patriotic, Ra-ool. They've been singing their national anthem ever since they set foot on The Island of Rose.

Across from them, next to Schultaria, our very own Greenmanbry has brought a few D-series tanks and Soviet Blocan equipment. We'll get back to our kinsmen later, Ra-ool. We'll have a long talk with them, to prep them up and ease the tension.

Next to our troops are those of teh Ninjas. These guys are very cordial, it seems. They're talking to soldiers from Greenmanbry and to those from Hamptonshire next to them. And, across from them, we have Scandavian States. These guys scare me. Once again, sharp uniforms, following protocol, amazing equipment. They're one of NATO's bigger nations. God help their competition.

Back to Hamptonshire, we have amazing equipment. Once again, shiny missiles. They want to enter the arena with a bang, it seems. Across from them, NATO's other founder. Automagfreek. Yes, a rumour was spread about them not attending. Well, viewers, it was a deliberate rumour! Yes, here they are, Automagfreek's soldiers. The genetically-improved Sentinels are dominating Automagfreek's arsenal. Artillery and tanks in the rear. Already forming ranks, the Sentinels are absolutely ready for one grand entrance. No, we won't focus on them a lot. You see them for yourselves when they do come out!

Finally, at the end of the massive hanger-like arena, we have the four remaining powers of NATO getting ready for the Warlympics. The United Kingdom of Azazia, Inkana, Momanguise, and Sarctic. The soldiers of Azazia are displaying their national pride, with their flags perched proudly on top of their vehicles. A few massive artillery pieces are being checked and rechecked by Sarctic's units. We have two artillery-freaks, Ra-ool! This should be good. Inkana's units, like every other nation's, seem to be in a good mood, definately suspicious of their grins. Perhaps a surprise is in store for us? Hmm... And, last but not least, the soldiers of Momanguise, standing proud and tall, with massive banners spelling out their national motto hanging from two of their armoured units.

Oh well, Ra-ool. This has really worn me out! What a massive congregation of might we have here. And this is nothing, Ra-ool! Nothing! Not even a fraction of NATO's power is here. All the goodies are being kept secret by the respective nations. I'm heading back to have that conversation with Greenmanbry..

Oh, I hear an anthem!!

Could it be??

YES! A group of soldiers are mobilizing! DontPissUsOff is first!!! It has begun!!

Both DPUO's soldiers and the crowd are cheering as fellow NATO soldiers look on and wave their hands to their fellow allies encouragingly!

I'm running back to the booth, Ra-ool! The ceremony has begun!"

“Well,” muttered Major Adam Hart, “that’ll be a hard show to follow, eh lads?” Chuckles ran round the group of men who could hear the sotto voce remark; it was a point of pride in the army that they didn’t do parades particularly well. As one general had put it, “we’re not bloody ballerinas.” Still and all, they had to parade now, and they were going to make it a parade to remember, even if their fellow-servicemen weren’t. The Navy men had all huddled around very large, heavily-shrouded something, and the Air Forces were nowhere in sight, which was a little odd. He knew what the object beneath the tarpaulins was, but the Air Forces were meant to be here, if only to make sure it all worked.

He felt like a poor relation here. The bloody Navy and Air Forces had priority of funding, and the Ground Forces had been woefully neglected, as he saw it, by successive administrations. All around were the armed forces of various NATO nations, arrogantly strutting their stuff, proud of their oh-so-snazzy equipment. He had caught sight of the distance muzzle of a Sharinan Colossus unit earlier, and despite the lack of military utility fort such a system it still rankled. He wanted the best, and damn the utility of it, just once in a while. He sighed; maybe this would teach the government that the GF could not just be thrown the bones their counterparts on sea and air had not consumed. He hummed “My glorious, beloved homeland” as he awaited the starting order, eyeing the elevated artillery pieces’ tubes apprehensively. Another ten minutes, by his watch, before they entered. He ordered his crews to mount their tanks, and waited as the Navy men busied themselves unwrapping their surprise, listening to a distant, energetic rumble that could barely be heard above the noise from the stadium. It was drowned out, to his annoyance, as the Navy’s bands launched into their final practise of the Song of the Volga Boatmen.

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

It was time. The stadium was silent, the people expectant. Time to set things off.

From the east, a faint chattering whine sounded on the wind, flitting about as though to deceive the waiting ears. The crowd looked around; those who could see across the rolling terrain outside the stadium wondered speculatively what was in the offing as minutes elapsed. The chattering noise closed on the stadium, still shrouded behind the hills.

And then, as though to the cue of an unseen prompter, they appeared: an entire regiment, twenty-four Mi-24Ks, their ugly, bulky fuselages and long stub-wings heavy with rockets and missiles, nose FLIR and LADAR balls training left and right angrily as they swarmed overhead, clattering metal wasps that zoomed above the trees in a long pair of superimposed zigzags. The audience looked up, alarmed, as the helicopters roared over the stadium, fanning out, their armaments trained on the packed stands, and descended like overweight stones to the floor. When they lifted off thirty seconds later, 100 men and women stood in a wide, thin circle around the edge of the stadium. The circle moved inwards, facing outwards, and silence descended again as the helicopters left. The DPUO citizens in the stadium grinned, smiled, smirked, and waited.

The silence was shattered by a deafeningly loud brass chord from the PA system. Through the entrance, the massed bands of the Ground, Air and Naval forces marched, setting the air dancing with sound, as the Hymn of the Island Republic blared, expansive and proud, from the speakers.

Unbreakable union of peoples in freedom
A mighty republic that ever will stand!
Created through toil and the will of the people
United and mighty, DontPissUsOff stands!…

Our glorious motherland, mighty and free!
Brotherhood strong that will fight to the last!
Thou great and mighty union, it is to thee
That glory is now and for all time past!…

The Ground Forces entered first, with infantry marching in tight columns through the wide entrance, the ground shaking with the clash of 2,000 boots marching in near-perfect unison. As the last row entered, the troops, without hesitation, turned to the distant commentary box. Cheers ran around the stadium, from citizens and foreigners alike, as a second-perfect salute ran down the long chains of men; the more patriotic members of the audience, many of whom had gathered at the north end of the building, were by now in tears, standing and shouting with delight and pride. The anthem, meanwhile, rolled into its second verse, with flaring trumpets dazzling the air:

Though distant, the vastness of ocean between us,
Our people, together, found strength to unite,
To stand as a beacon, of strength and of freedom
To cast back the shadows with courage's light!

Our glorious motherland, mighty and free!
Brotherhood strong that will fight to the last!
Thou great and mighty union, it is to thee
That glory is now and for all time past!…

And still the ground shook, as a hundred T-115 tanks and twenty BMP-R IFVs rolled into the stadium, long columns of olive-green, topped with the proudly-saluting black uniforms of the tankers, that halted in its centre and drew apart, facing north and south, guns elevated, waiting.

Our homeland shall stand strong, whatever befall her
And we her great people will fight to the end!
For this is our country, our blood flows within her
And thus it will be, whatever fate send!

Our glorious motherland, mighty and free!
Brotherhood strong that will fight to the last!
Thou great and mighty union, it is to thee
That glory is now and for all time past!…

The finale approached. The tanks, cued precisely by the nation’s best choreographer, waited until the final, swelling chorus began. Then, as the bands played their lungs and hearts out and strove to deafen the entire stadium, their great main guns roared out over the crowd, punctuating the percussion with unmatched pleasure, shouting the Republic’s defiance and might and pride for all to see. For here was their country, their homeland, born from and borne through all that history could throw at her, and nothing, nothing could take that away.

Our glorious motherland, mighty and free!
Brotherhood strong that will fight to the last!
Thou great and mighty union, it is to thee
That glory is now and for all time past!

The final chorus, scarcely lost even beneath the cacophony of the hundred or more tank guns, screamed into the blue skies, reverberating into the heavens, shaking with nationalistic fervour; indefatigable, invincible, and wholly theirs. This was Don’tPissUsOff, and they meant it.

The loud, brash brassiness of the anthem faded away, replaced by a soaring crescendo of cheers. But the cheers were quickly silenced as another tune began. The tanks and men quietly moved away from the centre of the stadium, the bands and choir together, forming a giant croquet hoop for an as-yet unseen ball. And again, the stadium began to shudder, as a deep and powerful voice, from many hearts but of one volition, echoed around the quiet ring. Ears strained to distinguish what was being said; the more acute ones heard, and wondered.

Ey ukhnyem! Ey ukhnyem! Yeshtsho radzik, yeshtsho da ras…
Ey ukhnyem! Ey ukhnyem! Yeshtsho radzik, yeshtsho da ras…
Razovyom mui byeryozu; razovyom mui kudryavu…
Aida da aida, aida da aida, razovyom mui byeryozu…

The entrance darkened, covered by a precisely-controlled rabble of dark blue uniforms, holding low towlines in their hundreds. The crowd entered slowly as the Song of the Volga Boatmen pealed louder, the towlines stretched out behind them, and slowly crept towards the centre-stage as the song’s volume built around them.

Mui po byereshku idyom,
Pyesnyu solnyshku payom!
Aida da aida, aida da aida,
Pyesnyu solnyshku payom!

The crowd watched, and wondered what was to enter through the shadowed doors.

What was to enter, whatever it was, had a pointed, jutting forepart, like a ship’s prow. The crowd stretched in their seats, leaned forward – and gawped in awe.

For the jutting, wedge-like object was a ship’s prow. Riding on a giant, wheeled metal cradle, the thousand tonnes of the Grisha-V corvette Artillerist rolled slowly into the stadium, pulled and pushed by the sweating, breaking backs of 1,200 crew from the Republic’s ships. The song’s third verse commenced, and they, despite their fatigue, joined in, setting the stadium dancing slightly with their voices, singing of their pain and toil, and giving the audience a sense of their colossal labour:

Ekh, ti Volga, mat'-ryeka,
Shiroka i gluboka!
Aida da aida, aida da aida,
shiroka i gluboka!

As she neared the centre, the stadium shook once more, the chorus giving their all for the last time as the corvette reached her destination. The crewmen, sweating, aching, tired beyond endurance, stood stock-still, turned to the admiral atop the corvette, and saluted, their foreheads dripping, while around them the roar of song bounced. With a final, deafening chant of Ey, ukhnyem! the choirs quietened, their song dying away on the wind.

Over the singing, the thunder of the guns outside the stadium had barely been audible. But the thunder’s product was sensible, and was quickly spotted as it descended through the calm winds. As through manna from heaven, thousands of flags descended slowly to the grass, the banners of the three armed forces and the national flag, printed on cards. The last vestiges of the song died away, as the 15-minute performance concluded.

The stadium fell silent, again, and the troops waited for the reaction. Waited, panted, sweated – and stood straight, and smiled, and let their chests swell with pride. They had earned it.

"My! That was was an amazing performance by the Offian Army!" Michael Bradley exclaimed. "Simply amazing, of course they're going to get drunk later... but that's for the uncut edition of the NATO Warlympics. But now, we'll have the Rosians doing their stint, as the Offian Army Force is escorted out of the main stadium stage. Rumors say that it'll be... exciting. But I don't think it'll beat that performance. Wait, it's starting... now."

The crowds cheer, the first ever Warlympics in their country, in their state. And their Army, the Rosian Army, was going to lead the Manual of Arms for NATO. The Rosian Army, the most underestimated Army in the world, was going to show its grandiose in front of millions, no, billions of people around the World.

And it would do it in style.

The Rosian soldiers, in their proud military uniforms, marched inside Rose Stadium to the crowd of hundreds of thousands of Rosians. Old men shedding a tear from long lost memories, their sons comforting them, their sons' sons amazed at the strength of them. The hundreds of soldier marched in perfect precision. Then there were two lines. From the same entrance, marched Rosians in military camoflauge, but they were wearing the trademark red berets of the Rosktai.

The beared the Rosian flag, and behind the Rosktai were a band, one each on side.

Then they began to play, their drums I mean.

Digga da, bum digga da. Bum, digga, digga da da. Digga da, bum digga da, bum digga digga digga digga digga da, BUM BUM!

As the digga das and diggas played on the drums, the soldiers would spin their assualt rifles around, throwing it to the other line and back again. They would do it so fast that it would just look like a blur of black going between the two lines. Then in the BUM BUM! part, they would fire their rifles twice, don't worry they're blanks.

BUM! BUM! BUM! BUM! Digga digga digga digga da, BUM! BUM!

One, two, three, four shots fired. They did the fancy spins and not, and another two shots. This continued for five minutes, with some variations to the routine. Then after it was over the two lines went to the edge of the stadium, backwards of course. All of a sudden two Rosian Humvee appeared from two of the entrances of the stadiums, they started to fire their 15mm machine guns at each other, they were blanks. It looked spectacular, then the two Humvees joined the two lines of men at the edge of the stadium.

Then, two Ninha Mobile SAM Systems entered the stadium. They launched their missles into the sky, but they were coordinate that both missles launched at the same time, causing them to crash into each other. Making in effect, an improvised fireworks show. The Rosians cheered extra loudly for this, though some bits and pieces of the rockets hit the audience.

It wasn't over though. All of a sudden half of the Rosian Air Defense Corps, about one hundred R/F-91s, flew over the stadium in groups of three with five second intervals. Then... it played.

When the Island first at Heav'n's command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang the strain;
Rule Rossiana! Rossiana, rule the waves:
Rosians never will be slaves.

The Rosian masses scram into a frenzy. Some even fainted, the old men involved in the Communist Revolution of the 1930s started to sob, old stoic soldiers, that never even talked about their experiences, started to sob on their son's shoulders or on their wives. Crippled soldiers that were in more recent conflicts such as the invasion of Dumpsterdam or the interventions in Psov, sighed, stoically putting their hands on their hearts.

The nations not so blest as thee,
Shall in their turns to tyrants fall;
While thou shalt flourish great and free,
The dread and envy of them all.
Rule Rossiana! Rossiana, rule the waves:
Rosians never will be slaves

Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies,
Serves but to root thy native oak.
Rule Rossiana! Rossiana, rule the waves:
Rosians never will be slaves.

Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame,
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame;
But work their woe, and thy renown.
Rule Rossiana! Rossiana, rule the waves:
Rosians never will be slaves.

To thee belongs the rural reign;
Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine.
Rule Rossiana! Rossiana, rule the waves:
Rosians never will be slaves.

As the anthem played, the Rosians went into even more of a frenzy. So frenzy that it looked like a Soccer match between the Irish and Manchester United, and the Irish were losing in their hometown. Of course, they didn't kill anybody, but eh. And as the anthem played, Imperial Mk. II MBTs entered the stadium, firing their cannons (which were blanks), each time Rule Rossiana! Rossiana, rule the waves: Rosians never will be slaves came up, matching to the beat of the song.

Then when the anthem was over, and the tanks passed, and the stadium was empty (though the audience was still there, duh) missles came out of nowhere, probably from the St. Peter's Fist Mobile MLRS Systems outside the stadium. They flew towards the Ports, where there were Frigates and Destroyers waiting. As soon as the missles flew over them, their CIWS systems activated, but on their chain guns. This made for quite a nice fireworks show where thousands of Rosians saw it live from the big t.v. screen on the stadium, and those hundreds of thousands that saw it on the Port. And there was the whole T.V. broadcast all over he world, and as this happened, fireworks inside the stadium went off, and a giant Rosian flag appeared over the stadium, a dance of lights.

But then, it was over. And the Rosians were proud of their Army, and it God saw it was good.

Rosians will never be slaves....
Rosians will never.... be.... slaves......!

"Wow!" Said Michael. "What an amazing performance by the Rosian Army! That performance was so patriotic that it would kill a liberal!"

And then, the Vice-Leader of the Socialist Party, Orcha Yultanov, had a heart attack. He lived, though.

“Did we get all that?”
“Wait…. “
“Did we get it or not!?!”
Simeone waited an extra moment just to torture her producer. “Yep, We got it Fred.”
“YEEEE-HAAAAWWW! Thirty billion in overseas sales, guaranteed!” V-SPAN’s command RV rocked as Fred LeBlanc did a victory dance inside its crowded and cluttered interior.
“Fred! FRED! FRED!… you wreck this equipment, we got jack.” She didn’t remind him of the satellite feed Anything to stop that idiot…
“Whose next?”
“I think we are.”
“Alright… cue camera nine on a tight angle, ten on a wide shot… are Tom and Dianne ready? And…”

***

“My, but wasn’t that lovely!”
“They shot missiles Dianne!”
“Yes, they did, Tom.”
“Indoors!”
“Yes, they did, Tom.”
“And… planes?”
“Yes, Tom, those were planes…. Well, let’s hear from Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa, who is down on the performance floor and give Tom a chance to roll in his tongue.”

*click*

“I’m Tricia Takanawa reporting for V-SPAN here at the NATO Warlympics, and it promises to be one hell of a Warlympic games if these displays are any in-dication. Already the first reports are in… but wait, we have a team assembled to enter the arena…”

One after another, the immense stadium lights flicker…

…one by one…

…they go…


…out…


~Darkness~


*BOOM*

a kettle drum rammed through the darkness


*BOOM*

*BOOM*

*BOOMBOOM*

*BOOMBOOM*

*BOOMBOOM*

*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!*

A single light flares, centers its beam on the entryway – where, balanced between two T-95 heavy tanks, a platform carries several belly-dancers into the stadium, the tinny music of their finger zils rhythmically patterning to their undulations. Turrets rotate outward as the lights come back slowly, perpendicular to the motion of the two tanks to the center of the arena – and on their turrets, and then their barrels, two women make their skills at dance well known as another pair carrying yet more dancing girls rises over the slight incline to enter the stadium.


Sah Vah, ah Vas Te Vah
Sah Vah, ah Vas Te Vah
Vive, meu país, através da neve e do gelo
Vive, meu país, com para sempre a noite
Wij overleven.
Wij bloeien namelijk
Nella nostra terra
Vastiva

Sixty tanks make their way into the stadium, in double column, supporting these dancers; forty SP-90V IFVs flank them, twenty to a side; they rush in to turn, noses outward, guns at the ready – and standing atop each, a green robed eunuch of Sinbadian costume, wielding a gold scimitar.

Sisu Noaave!
Sisu Fajilis!
Sisu Daakar!
Sisu Omnes!

Swiftly, the girls execute an amazing series of acrobatics, tossing back and forth silvered batons with great skill as they move to mount each of the IFV’s – once there, they climb the immobile eunuchs, there to twirl and spin on uneasy balances.

Sah Vah, ah Vas Te Vah
Sah Vah, ah Vas Te Vah
Vive, meu país, através da neve e do gelo
Vive, meu país, com para sempre a noite
Wij overleven.
Wij bloeien namelijk
Nella nostra terra
Vastiva

The Eunuchs roar “Sah Vah?” to which the ladies reply “Ah Vas Te Vah!”, over and over as the white-and-silver uniformed Vastivan Drill Team takes the field, FNR-AS rifles over their shoulders.

Among the calls and singing finger cymbals, the team arranges itself in four neat rows, pairs, and begins their routine.


“We have early observations from the crowd, Dianne. While the Vastivan entrance was certainly musical, it was shadowed by DPUO’s naval vessel – I believe that was a Grisha V – and TIOR’s use of pyrotechnic explosives…”

“Those were live missiles!” Tom’s voice is still harried.

“… in their display! As you can see on the monitor, Vastiva’s troops are technically correct, but at this time, their presentation show is probably not good enough for a medal. Dianne?”

“Thank you Asian Reporter Tricia Takanawa. This is Dianne Simmons for V-SPAN Channel 3009; Up next on our coverage of the NATO Warlympics…”


***

OOC: Translation for the truly curious:

It is so, our land is vast
It is so, our land is vast
Lives, our nation, through the ice and snow
Live, our nation, through the forever night
We survive
Indeed, we thrive
In our land
Vastiva

We resist those who would oppress!
We resist the rude!
We resist the Darkness!
We out-endure all!

It is so, our land is vast
It is so, our land is vast
Lives, our nation, through the ice and snow
Live, our nation, through the forever night
We survive
Indeed, we thrive
In our land
Vastiva

==

"Yesterday was amazing, Jaja, simply amazing. The patriotism was oozing out of Offian pores there. The sheer determination to move that Grisha is something I have never seen before. Wow. Definately one of the most spectacular parades I have ever seen, and I wonder who will top that!

And the host nation, the Rosians, we saw how spectacular their underestimated Army performed. Those humvees and missiles really added a flare to the whole show, and the flowing emotions, coupled with the anthem, made it a very moving experience. Perhaps it would have been better if the rockets didn't fall on the audience, but hey! Maybe they wanted to leave some souvenirs to their Rosian kin.

And I finally realized how true your comment about cultural diversity was, Jaja. Man, did you see those belly dancers? Amazing choreography. Wonderful, clockwork precision. I don't care what the judges say, the Vastivans take the prize for sexiest entrance. Sorry Rosians, their girls were just exotic. Who's up first today, Jaja?"

"Well, Ra-ool.. A few of my friends near the entrance said they heard a 1650HP V16 motor start up.. Actually, a number of them."

"Dear Lord! Can it be?"

"Yes, my friend, yes..."

==

The massive doors gave way, revealing the best equipment ever to grace the dunes of the Sahara. Greenmanbry's divisions, spear-headed by three Commanders of the Army, wearing their full uniforms with too many embroidered, gold-plated medals and decorations to count, made their way down the long path.

Behind them, Greenmanbry's military band played the national anthem defiantly. Behind the instruments were members of the IDDG Army chorus, loudly singing, in Arabic, tales of their nation's ancient history, of the wars that took place between the powerful empires of Egypt and Nubia and of the valiant royal blood that was shed during these wars. Expressing their love for their nation and their devotion to their flag, their voices increased in pitch and resonated loudly throughout the stadium.

Lines upon lines of Greenmanbry's SpecOp soldiers started to materialize. Wearing full-length black overcoats and silver helmets, advanced technology was embedded within their uniforms. On the back of every overcoat was the nation's seal, the pentagram, displayed prominently. The devil's horns were coloured red, his eyes were fiery, and underneath his chin were golden cross-hairs. They moved in sync as the sound of hundreds of footsteps beating down on the stadium's grounds became increasingly louder.

There was a break in the line and, behind the SepcOps, masses of regular Army soldiers came out of the door. Their desert camouflage and dark skins were a testament to the harsh environment they trained and lived in. In the middle of the formation, ten massive D-100 Leviathans raised their main guns and fired into the air. The 100 ton mammoths lumbered forward, their ten man crews concentrating on the task at hand. Many feet in length, with two thick main guns, the Levianthans were truly a sight to behold.

The national anthem reached its climax, and the sound of the footsteps beating on the ground grew louder, until the national anthem abruptly came to an end.

The sounds in the stadium were drowned out by the massive buzz of engines that came from outside the perimeter. Slowly climbing above the tree-line, one hundred SAH-24 Next Generation attack helicopters accelerated forcefully towards the stadium. In two lines of fifty helicopters each, the deafening roar of one hundred powerful engines made everyone in the crowd exclaim. The soldiers stood still, not bothering to look at the helicopters. The SAH-24s swept down, and, one by one, their pilots yanked on the control sticks and turned their helicopters sideways. The left column turned right, and the right column turned left, as the one hundred helicopters began a lateral run down the flanks of Greenmanbry's parade which had just come to a halt.

When they finished the lateral run at the head of the parade, they swung one hundred and eighty degrees, facing opposite sides, and started their ascent and journey back to base.

The line started moving, and more units came out of the massive doors. The units at the two extremes carried Greenmanbry's flag, pointing forward. D-91 Samsons, the backbone of the IDDG Army, revved their engines and accelerated towards the rest of Greenmanbry's units. They were followed by a few dozen of the most elegant, yet deadly vehicles ever to enter a battlefield: Range Rovers. The military equivalent of a Humvee, these Range Rovers carried technologies, both offensive and defensive, that would put Humvees to shame. Each Range Rover was of a sand color, and each had a massive flag of Greenmanbry perched on top. The army units continued pouring out of the doors, when the column slowed down once more, and the crowd's attention was diverted to the skies once again.

A company of Tu-22 Backfires, modified heavily by indigenous firms, swept their wings back and accelerated at low altitude, sending shockwaves and gusts of wind to those below, before their noses pitched up and their pilots started a hard ascent.

The soldiers began to sing the national anthem and, this time, everyone participated, even the tank crews standing tall on top of their metal beasts. Two "Horriya" SAM launchers, at the center of the column, started raising thier hydraulically-operated ramps, and the missiles were moved towards the near-vertical launch position.

The Army soldiers raised their rifles to the sky as the anthem reached its moving climax. When they uttered the final word, each and every one of them fired a shot into the air. Then, with a deafening roar and an earth-shaking rattle, the two SAMs lifted off the ramps of their Horriyas.

The soldiers stood motionless, their hands extended vertically, reaching out to the sky, as they watched the missiles make their way to the heavens.

A long period of silence ensued. The second day of NATO's Warlympics has begun.

==

Michael Bradley agreed with his Greenmanbry comrade. "Indeed. Plus I bet they don't have herpes either, something rare in this Island... err... you didn't hear that. Now, the Greenmanbrian Parade was wonderful. A lot of use of air power involved. Alot of dollars are being wasted to make the grandest parade, and I think the Offian Army wasted the most."

He cleared his throat. "And welcome to the second day of the NATO Warlympics. As it proves, this is going to be one long event, with not even half of the NATO members doing their parades. But even though I don't have a copy of the program, rumors abound that multiple events will begin today. But it doesn't matter, because I put all my bets on the Rosians. And if they lose, I'm going to be a poor poor man."

He chuckled. "Now, let's see what's going to happen now."

The people in the Rosian stadium were probably still gaping after the parades of DontPissUsOff, Greenmanbry, Vastiva, and their own Rosians. Upon the exit of the Greenmanbry'ians and their parade, the announcer of the Rosian stadium began calling out for the Sharinans.

Several murmurs ran throughout the assembled Arena crowds, as they had probably never heard of Sharina, for Sharina was one of the obscure nations in NATO, little known to even the mainstream NATO nations. The display on the arena's large television screen began displaying the Sharina flag, a white bird on a black background, with a red core inside the bird. The Sharina anthem began playing, as the arena entry door opened. The crowds geq quiet and curious, wanting to know what an obscure NATO nation had in store for a parade.

For a couple of minutes, there was silence and no sign of movement in the massive arena entry doors. Abruptly, several hundred Sharina infantry troops began marching out of the doors, all dressed in Sharina's jade green, concrete grey, and mulch brown infantry uniforms. The infantry troops marched not in the traditional square or rectangle formations of standard militaries, but in Sharina's unique wedge formation. Each formation marched forth in a triangle, with each row staggered inside the triangle formation.

Thirty seconds after the third triangle formation exited the entry doors, there was silence. The crowds began muttering amongst themselves, asking each other a simple question.

"Is that it? Is that all?"

Almost as in a direct response to that very question, the front formation of Sharina's Paragon Main Battle Tanks presented themselves within the entryway. The Paragons followed a similiar triangle formation as the infantry formations ahead of it. However, there was something quite unsettling about the Paragon tanks. Most of the crowds took a minute or two before realizing the strange thing about Sharina's Paragons.

They made little to no sound. The ground did not vibrate or shake. There were no roaring or rumbling.

The tanks seemed futuristic in appearance, with a prong-like shape, along with two turrets. The Paragon had a curved sloping surface, and appeared to glide across the parade-grounds. The treads moved along as one, as each tread band were synchronized with each other. Two rocket launchers rose up slowly from the rear half of the hulls of the Paragons. The launchers shot out the rockets in perfectly synchronized volleys, and shortly thereafter, fireworks began erupting over the arena. A brilliant display of colors washed over the landscape, as the Paragons used up the last of their firework rockets.

As the third formation of Paragons left the mid-point of the parade-ground, the crowd began whispering among themselves once again, but asking a different question.

"What's next?"

Once again, the question was answered in short order, as enormous trucks exited the arena doors, easily forty feet tall and double the length of a standard 18-wheeler truck. The trucks rolled across the parade grounds, on wheels easily double the height of the tallest man, with a diameter of fifteen feet. The trucks repeated the similiar unsettling silence as the Paragons, as their engines barely emitted any rumbling or roaring sounds, as the other conventional engines of the various other militaries were prone to do.

An enormous shell began rising out of the rearmost truck, in a preview of the finale of Sharina's parade. The shell was easily fifteen feet long and had a three foot wide diameter, and weighing in at approximately ten tons, a truly colossal piece of ordiance. The crowd gaped, as they had never seen a bullet, cannon round, or solid ammunition of such size before.

Shortly thereafter, a small rumbling could be heard emanating from the arena entry doorway. The first thing that emerged was an unbelievably monstrous barrel, with its open armature hole easily three feet in diameter. Then the true beast emerged, a machine even larger than the massive trucks that preceded it. The cannon grew and grew, until it joined into the main chassis, as the beast continued emerging from the doorway. The full size was realized, as the beast of a machine measured out at over 50 feet tall, 150 feet long, and 40 feet wide.

The rumbling continued, not from the engines driving the monstrousity, but from its sheer weight in excess of 700 tons. The tank treads of the beast, aptly named Colossus, were larger than the entirety of most conventional battle tank ever made by mankind, as the tank treads stood at twelve feet tall, ten feet wide, and running for 120 feet alongside the Colossus's chassis.

The cannon rose up at an incline, until it reached 60 degrees perpendicular to the ground, and then a thunderous roar exploded throughout the arena as the cannon fired. The sky above the arena erupted into a dazzling firework display, creating the Sharina flag and logo in mid-air.

Once the Colossus passed past the mid-point of the parade ground, the arena entry doors closed, to prepare for the next NATO member. Sharina had finally made its mark and presence known in the NATO Warlympics, but Sharina's actual performance has yet to be seen.

*Cue The Imperial March*

As the Sharinans finished their triumphant, spectacular round around the stadium, the Inkanan's began theirs.

Inkana was the baby of NATO. Probably it's smallest member. It's goverment was also new. It's old, corrupt Imperial Empire was overthrown in one of the bloodiest civil wars mankind has witnessed. Trieste, the Imperial Capital was reduced to, and a good chunk of it still is, smouldering rubble. The Emperor's death was even worse than his reign.

But out from the ashes of war arose a new Inkana. One that had tasted war. Tasted it and learned to like it. Nationalism filled the heart of every Inkanan Citizen, and espically the hearts of every Inkanan Soldier.

The Weer, or Army, since Inkanan military terms are in German, had been reformed dramatically since the end of the war. The Canpaigns in the Ragmen Mountains and River Valleys of Central and Eastern Inkana had showed that Infantry could not win anything. It took two men, Field Marshalls Forrest and Lommer to get the word out that the age of manouver warfare was here. Most nations had learned that lesson dozens of decades ago. Inkana hadn't. Now it was time to show the world what Inkana had learned.

SturmTruppen, the elite troops of Inkana, filed out into the stadium in Phalanx formation. They were in full dress uniform. Enlisted men in Jet Black uniforms and Kepis, Officers in Jet Black capes, with swords in scabbards. They wore full battle armour.

The SturmTruppen were taken from their homes at age 12, and trained for 8 years until they were 20. At this point they became Privates. They were trained in every kind of warfare imaginable. From Urban to Arctic.

As they marched along, Panzer V Cougars crawled along the Left and Right Flanks. They were the newest MBT in the Inkanan arsenal. It has a truly fearsome look. It seems like a tank from a 1950's Science Fiction comic.

Next rumbled in the Self-Propelled Artillery. These were the brainchild of Field Marshall Lommer. They were fast, meneuverable, stealthy, and most of all--deadly. They provided the mobile support the ground-pounding infantry needed.

Suddenly, Airplanes roared overhead. They were C-87 Transports, gliders in tow. The gliders then detached. As they gently glided down into the stadium, all eyes were directed onto them. Only one word could convey what the crowd was thinking:

Whoa.

As the Gliders touched down perfectly inside the stadium, Futuristic-looking troops poured out. These were the LuftTruppen. Think of them as Airborne Shock Troops. Their job was to sieze strongpoints such as fortresses, airbases, etc. Soon enough, 2,000 Heavily armed paratroopers had joined the ranks of the SturmTruppen.

Finally, to show the might of the Inkanan Knights of the Air, it was the Luftwaffe's turn to show off. Above the stadium, a squadron of F-78s and F-99s did mock battle. The F-78 was a Soviet Bloc/Doomingsland design, whhile the F-99 was an Inkanan design. The F-99 'Dragoon' seemed to be able to climb and dive faster, but the F-78 was more meneuverable. As they finished off their "dogfight" they did a bombing run over the stadium, dropping smoke in the shape of the Inkanan flag. It was an amazing sight.

Rosian Stadium, Samtonian Offiers entry-point
"Christ almighty...." groaned General West, as he watched the entrances of the various armies into the stadium. He shook his head. Who the hell had time and money for parade entrances? Not Samtonia, that was for sure.

He turned to Field Marshal Sanders, standing next to him in the preparation area. "Fritz, question. When's the last time we paraded anything military?"

The highly decorated commander shrugged his soldiers. "You think we have time? With the number of wars we've got going on? Hell, I've even had to pull off the Ceremonial Guard from the Capitol. They've been replaced by paramilitaries in fancy uniforms."

West snickered. "Isn't that what they are anyways?"

"Well, yes, but still....James, we don't have anything special for this. Not enough importance for the budget. So what the hell do we do?"

"Send in the third. May as well throw them into something important."

Stadium Floor
Intensely cheoreograped, massively planned, and heavily practiced. Three things that did not describe the Samtonian entrance. While other militaries whiled away their hours doing parade drills, Samtonian accountants found that those actions just weren't worth the trouble. Patriotic parades could be done by ceremonial guards and National Guard troops and soldiers could do better work fighting or keeping peace overseas. And so, the etrance was to be made by a combat division ready for the military competitions in the coming days.

The 3rd Infantry(Light) was one of the first Samtonian divisions created. Steeped in tradition and long-fought battles, they were one of the most cumulatively decorated units in the Samtonian military. And their entrance reflected that.

It wasn't staged and no displays of might foreshadowed their entrance. It was the most simple of all entrances. A single standard bearer moved in front, carrying the Samtonian flag. He was followed by the divisionnal commander and staff, along with the divisional flag bearer, the regimental and brigade standard bearers, and the 2nd brigade, selected as the honor guard.

Backs ramrod straight, rifles shouldered, the infantry marched in full battle gear around the stadium, moving as one entity. As the Samtonian anthem played full blast over the loudspeakers, every Samtonian in the arena and watching gave the full military salute that was due to the flag as it passed.

If the entire performance was to be summed up as the soldiers marched out the exit-way, elegant yet deadly simplicity would be the best description. Not that it mattered. After all, Samtonian High Command didn't much care for parades anyways. At least the accountants didn't.

In the wake of so many excellent performances, the Tyrandisan parade into the stadium would seem bare and spartan in comparison. Military doctrine for the relatively large nation focused almost completely on battlefield utility, and as a result, her armed services had little experience with this sort of affairs. Nevertheless, Tyrandis was determined to make a good showing in the Rosian stadium for the pride of her people and country.

As the applause for the Samtonians died away into the evening breeze, the earth began to tremble. The enormous screen that once had the white bird of Sharina on its cathode-ray tube displays was now emblazoned with the bronze hawk of Tyrandis. Suddenly, the excellent audio system installed in the arena blared out the Tyrandisan national anthem as the first of the country's military forces entered the grounds.

(OOC: http://www.hymnsite.com/midifiles/umh110.mid)

"A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal."

Two BDU-clad soldiers, marching in lock-step unison, bore two flags into the stadium. One was the national flag, a far smaller one than the digital version which graced the stadium's television screen, and the other was the ceremonial banner of the 22nd Air Assault Division, the unit which would be performing like an organ grinder's monkey for the assembled crowds. A sudden gust fanned open the twin flags as the anthem continued.

"Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right God on our side, of the People's own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Lord God, it is He;
Lord Jehovah, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle."

Rows upon rows of soldiers outfitted in SICS Mark V armor, the latest in Tyrandisan infantry technology, milled into the stadium, bearing their TAR-21A2 Tavor-III rifles. The fading sunlight of the afternoon bounced off the troopers' equipment, as their commanding officers shouted out various orders. In an almost eerie uniformity, the Tyrandisan soldiers skillfully spun their rifles round, knowing that failure would mean dishonor to the nation, the unit, and themselves.

"And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him."

Following the soldiers of the 22nd Air Assault came fifteen MVT-6 Acolyte Main Battle Tanks, their 125mm Electro-Thermal-Cannons polished to a shine. The relatively small Acolytes weighed in at sixty-eight tons, and their treads gently rolling over the massive indentations left by Greenmanbry's equally massive tanks. But, as the great philosopher once said, it's not the size, it's how you use it, and the crews of the Acolytes felt only pride as the armored vehicles rolled into the gaps between the infantry ranks.

"The Word they still shall let remain nor any thanks have for it;
He’s by our side upon the plain with His good gifts and Spirit.
And take they our life, goods, fame, child and wife,
Let these all be gone, they yet have nothing won;
The Kingdom ours remaineth."

As the ground display halted in the middle of the arena, the Tyrandis Imperial Air Force made their voices heard. The choreographers made sure to keep the best of the show for last, and indeed the aircraft would be the highlight of the display. Two VTA-68 Lancet Multirole Attack Helicopters silently hovered unseen and unheard above the stadium, thanks to the advanced optical camoflague and rotor silencing techniques Kotoko Aircraft Corporation spent into the design. With a flash, the AVLO polymimetic skins on the Lancets became visible, making the transparent whirlybirds opaque again. They zoomed along the skies in a figure eight track, while constantly morphing in color. The two helicopters then abruptly disappeared from view, just as a dozen of the new TSF-616 Eidolon Air Superiority Fighters ripped across the sky.

The Eidolons were the latest product from Kotoko Aircraft Corporation, and their pilots were the best hope for Tyrandis to win a medal at the Warlympics. In this show, twelve of them would make the most dangerous flight of their lives. As they hit the skies above the Rosian stadium, their weapons bays opened up and the fighters began trailing gray smoke from specially modified TSM-1 Falcon missiles. Flying dangerously close to one another at frightening speeds, the pilots disappeared into the cloud, trusting their instruments to keep them from harm. Their faith was not misplaced, and on a preset path, all of the fighters leaped into the heavens at a sixty degree angle of attack.

As the curious crowd below wondered where the fighters had gone, the twelve Eidolons smashed through the smoke like a thunderbolt thrown by Zeus himself, in perfect unison. Right before they hit the ground, the squadron's TC-250-PW-60 engines vectored them up again, as they disappeared in the horizon.

As the Scandavian armed forces made their awe-inspiring tour de force, Bashar Admiral Hergan Tholan and Bashar General Otomo Vin'ta'eliah surveyed the competition with an approving eye. Without any grudge or sign of animosity, they smiled and watched the demonstrations with delighted eyes; for these two veteran commanders of the Schultarian Defense Forces, this show was more about a pact of togetherness than any personal vendetta.

"Well, I hope our people will do just as well," said the Admiral as he was thinking out loud, "we sure did spend a lot of time working out the logistics of this show."

"I, for one, will be happy when this is over," noted Vin'ta'eliah, "It's not that I don't like doing such drills in front of happy crowds, but don't you think we might be over doing it?"

"Nah. With the world as our stage, we have to be as prominent and 'out there' as possible to even be spotted nowadays!"

Both officers let out a small chuckle before turning back to their men.

-----

While the Scandavian forces were making the final gestures to the crowd, group of one hundred and fifty robed and fully confident members of the Otkron made their way from the staging ground to the uppermost peaks of the Stadium roof. Silently and stealthily, each one lugged a small brown case slung over their shoulders like so many rucksacks, their contents a mystery to everyone save for the members of the Schultarian drill brigades, the senior SKC commanders, and the appropriate Rosian security authorities. As the cheers from the Scandavian show reached their peak, the go signal flooded the earpieces of the scattered special operations units; cases unlocked, they assembled the contents without incident or detection. When the cheers finally died down and the crowd began to grow restless a lone, deep, voice bellowed from the stadium roof.

"Otkrena, solan na thoi!"

From the shadows of the stadium roof, the Otkron special operatives stepped out from their covert locations. The light breeze fluttering their dress robes, they pulled up their protected cargo for public display: an armada of trumpets, trombones, and other assorted brass instruments. Putting them to their lips, the collective fullness and triumph of the instrumental choir reverberated though the stadium's sound system and in the hearts of the waiting Schultarians below.

Soon the trumpets were met by the thump of orchestral percussion, but not from the drums of anyone in the stadium. Materializing out of thin air, a high definition hologram of the Schultarian National Symphony joined the Otkron brass chorus in real time, despite the several thousand kilometer difference; utilizing the absolute state of the art in communications was all a part of demonstrating the Schultarian engineering drive to herald the soldiers waiting patiently, silently, in the staging area. Though almost as soon as the orchestra appeared on the parade grounds, they faded into the numerous video monitors surrounding the vast open area.

In their stead, a holographic mockup of the city of Myrle filled the parade grounds. At the edges of the scene, the robed drill teams held their banners up high while a crowd of artificially created aggressors held a garrison in the ground's center. Charging, the drill team conducted a gymnastic version of a chaotic cavalry fight; pairs of four would approach the digital mob, wielding silver plated broadswords and long rifles, flipping and tumbling in precise choreography to the frenetic music. Meanwhile pyrotechnics placed in the ground simulated the shelling of the street as the digital crowd dispersed. As the city scene faded to black, the same deep voice returned to greet the audience.

"One hundred and fifteen years ago a nation came back from the throes of revolution, recovering from a war that pitted brother against brother."

The drill team, accompanied by four bright spotlights, merged from two giant square blocks into one, vast, circle. In the middle a blue light illuminated nothing but empty ground.

"From our struggle, one man came to represent the fight for freedom. His name... was Merle Schultz"

In the center of the drill circle, the larger than life visage of the founding father of Schultaria Prime dwarfed the stout and proud soldiers. Extending his massive hand, the soldiers delivered a snappy full handed salute, and paced away in single file. With the soldiers fading into the darkened outer reaches of the stadium, the five meter tall visage of Schultaria's founding father replied, "Behold... the future."

The trumpeters replied with gusto and pride in their hearts as two thousand of their comrades marched on the field fully decked out in pristine black urban uniforms and their polished, sparkling, battle rifles. Snapping into unflinching and perfectly timed lockstep, the members of the Otkron and Grovon held a full palmed salute behind the two standard bearers holding the black and silver banner of Schultaria for the entire world to see. Holding their salute for a customary thirty one seconds, the infantry parted into two equal blocks as the orchestra began to liven up the arena with another valiant fanfare.

Following the infantry were the Lubrai Battle Tanks and Golomal Combat Vehicles, each adorned with the symbolic name of Schultaria along with their commanders proudly waving the banners of the SKC's most elite armor divisions. As the music swelled the vehicles paraded in pairs as if boarding some invisible Ark and split evenly as they passed the end of the blocks of infantry. Meanwhile transport helicopters performed their delicate ballet above the stadium walls, showering the crowd with little Schultarian flags and pieces of confetti as they formed a ring in the bright blue sky.

Swelling into yet another trumpet fanfare, the vehicles parted ways while the Drill team took center stage yet again. Performing their complex array of firearm tricks and skills, the brilliant light from their showpiece arms glittered in the sun as the weapons were flipped, rotated, manipulated, and presented with such ease and dexterity. Almost seamlessly, the team performed their formation marching in time to the undercurrents of the orchestra; while their firearms were dancing gracefully around their arms and in the air, the team assembled into a perfect copy of the first three symbols of the Schultarian Nation and then into a perfect map of the nation proper.

Above the crowds four large "vee" formations of Omzian close support bombers, each with seven aircraft, crisscrossed each other from the four cardinal directions in a low, slow, pass over the arena. Out of all the trained airmen brought to The Island of Rose these twenty eight had been considered the best pilots to participate in the upcoming combat competitions, but they were more concerned with pleasing the spectators through tight formations and precisely engineered wing rolls and turns which they did with seemingly effortless execution.

Meanwhile, the orchestra once again fell silent to the patter of snares and low trombones. With a steady cadence from the rooftop troubadours providing the beat, never members of the Schultarian Armored Fleet made their triumphant debut to the crowd. The two Devas Artillery Platforms and three Bieorn Anti Aircraft Tanks formed a large x formation behind the infantry, their treads leaving few indentations in the ground. Making an abrupt about face, the soldiers departed to the edges of the stadium while the tanks, the first time their treads had ever tasted foreign soil, seemed to glide across the parade grounds with an almost ethereal grace. At the same time, the skies above the stadium were filled with Schultarian aircraft as three Komomerenketsan space planes blotted out the daytime sky with their massive frames and impressive displays of combat maneuvering. Deploying their massive cargo holds, another shower of confetti and small slivers of electronic paper toting basic info about the nation filled the stands.

As the song approached its boisterous ending, the five tanks were joined with the prides of the Schultarian Army and Air corps. Fully adorned in black, save for the seal of their home nation emblazoned on the sides and front, three Masalan tanks slowly approached the center with their cannons pointed upward. Opening the commander's hatches, Admiral Tholan and General Vin'ta'eliah saluted their men and bowed to the crowd while the hatch in the center tank stood empty until the final note. At the very last second, the live projection of Central Director Schultz sprung from the lead tank to the cheers and praise of the troops.

For the Defense Forces, it was a wonderful way to begin the competition.

(Close of Day One)

o.o.c. I know it's over but I have to post it. I will not let my hard work be in vain. Anyways this is mearly part one.

I.C.

Outside the stadium, 20 minutes before Celackian entrance

Several Celackian spec-ops soldiers put on stadium worker clothes, grabbed black duffel bags, and headed for the doors. There were a total of 14 of them, 10 NJB's and four humans. They snuck through the door and took up positions all along the stadium. Only two remained close to each other. One NJB and one human. Few in the crowd saw them and those who did assumed that they were workers setting up.


~~~~~~~~~~

Seconds before celackian entrace.

"Hey george, we got a new memo from the boss about snacks in the breakroom back in Celack. It's nuts man. He got rid of coffee, instead we're supposed to drink our own urine because it's cheaper. Wait no, hes changed it to his own urine becuase that's even cheaper"

"Bloody shitcakes!'

"Actually, that is what he is replaced the chips with in there."

"What a f**king mor- wait is this mic on? Oh! Um this is Celackian state television coverage of the NATO warlympics, comming to you live from The Island of Rose. Today is the oppening ceremonies and the Celackian forces will be parading in soon. Let's watch shall we.

When the loudspeakers announce that the Celackian army will start now, announced in English, the native language of TIOR and ancient Celackian, the men who had arrived first unzipped their duffel bags and took out what was in them. In them were several poles and a flag. The poles were screwed together to make a large flagpole, to which one a flag was lashed. Each of the Celackian also stepped out of their disguises and underneath them they had on the full dress uniform of the Celackian military. Deep blue with a gold trim.

"Would you look at that George, they all have flags yet none of them are the Celackian flag. I see one that looks like it but not by much."

"That's because it is the Celackian flag. Not the current one mind you, it's the one from the age of strife. The other three humans are holding flags from the other three tribes as well. There's the Nimurabi flag, the Salamakian flag and the Alquniquois flag. Now the Psycho rabbits appear to be holding flags which display their family crests. I believe that they are showing the original nine Psycho rabbit families."


The men with the flags march until the reach the doors where the rest of the army would enter from. The lined up in two lines flanking the door, and out came the Celackian forces. The current Flag of Celack was first through the door, and all other flagbearers joined in behind him but in front of the infantry. The infantry moved in. It was a small squad who followed the flag bearers but it was enough. They began singing the Celackian national anthem

Celack, we stand
as we have for millienium
We stand to any threat
and we will survive

Through the long years
we have had many enemies
who have tried to destroy us
yet we have prevaled

Celack, Hail

We are a beautiful nation
we are a proud nation
we an ancient nation
we are a great nation

We are a brave people
we are a noble people
we are a warrior people
we are a strong people

Celack, Hail

We will fight for
our freedom and
hold our heads
high

We will run free
from opression
Or Die!!!!!

Celack, Hail.

"Well George, that was beautiful, wouldnt you say?"
"Yes, however it's even better in ancient Celackian because it rhymes and sounds more melodic"

The Squad marching in the stadium had not finished singing. They had moved on to the Celackian Military anthem. They split into two groups, psycho rabbit and human. The psycho rabbits started singing first, their voices, high pitched yet seemingling quiet, almost as if a chorus of Phantoms was singing which was perfect for the song.

We are the dead
who have fallen for
our country, and it's
people

We were soldiers
defending our land
from enemies either
near or far.

We are old or new
Ancient or recent
yet our purpose
remained the same

Celack will never fall
We gave our lives
to ensure this and
create peace.

So now to you
the still living
we look to you
to carry on.

We pass the torch
to you and hope
that you will
continue to fight

Fight for your family
fight for your friends
fight for land
fight for that which matters

Do us proud,
avenge our deaths
make sure we did not
die in vain

Vanquish our enemies
keep us safe
and finally keep us
free of opression.

Elah
Elohim
Equin
Elasno


We are the living
we are fighting
for Celack
and it's people

We are soldiers
defending our land
from enemies either
near or far

We are many defenders
Defending our land
yet we are few against
who wish to despoil it

So we will fight bravely
will will fight strongly
we will fight wisely
will will fight great

Our ancestors
watch us
and guide us
to victory

We take the torch
from the fallen and
we shall continiue
their fight

We will fight for our families
we will fight for our friends
we will for our land
we will fight for that which matters

We shall make
our families proud
and we will avenge
those who have died


We shall Vanquish our enemies
we shall keep them safe
we shall keep us
free of opression.


Elah
Elohim
Equin
Elasno


Then the two groups, Humans and Psycho rabbits, sang their respective verse together at the same time.

OOC: Be vewwy vewwy quiet, wewr watching wabbits... eheheheheheheh. :D

“And as Day one of competition winds to a close, Tom…”
“That’s it?”
“Tom?”
“I mean, they come into the arena, and that’s it?”
“Tom, these are the opening ceremonies…”
“Just walk around a bit in their uniforms? That’s it? Well, yeah, bringing a whole ship into the stadium, that was interesting…”
“Thank you, Tom. We now go to Asian Reporter Tricia Takanawa with the judges reaction to today’s opening ceremonies.”

“Thank you Dianne. We are here on the arena floor waiting for the judges scores on the original performances. As you might know, every nation has been allowed to send official judges to the games, with the nation of Vastiva given several additional slots to referee individual bouts.”
“Someone let them referee?”
“Yes, that’s right Tom.”
“So, we know who is getting all the gold medals…”
~SLAP~
“…Sorry, Diane….”
“That’s alright, Tom.”
“… good gravy that hurt…”
“Tricia, have we got word from the judges yet?”
“Dianne, the judges inform us they will be scoring up to 20 points on each of three areas – originality, difficulty, and technical accuracy. A maximum score of sixty can therefore be achieved from the judges. Points are removed for things such as not following the precepts of the challenge, for missing required maneuvers, or for failing to excite the audience. An additional score of up to twenty points will be awarded from the audience themselves, with their votes entered from their seats. We are waiting for the final tallys…”

The camera swivels upwards to the results board…


Official Results – FINAL


DPUO 79.8
Schultaria Prime 78.3
Greenmanbry 77.4
Inkana 77.4
Sharina 76.8
TIOR 76.2
Celack 75.8
Tyrandis 75.7
Samtonia 75.3
Vastiva 75.0
Azazia 74.3
Freethinker 74.1
Momanguise 73.8
Teh Ninjas 73.7
Hamptonshire 72.9
Tiburon 72.6
Automagfreek 71.9
Scandavian States 71.3



“And there you have it, Dianne. It appears Greenmanbry and Inkana have tied solidly for the Bronze medal, edged out by the holographic display by Schultaria Prime – and we have confirmation, they will get the Silver.

“The Gold medal, however, has been absolutely claimed by DPUO. We can say from the applause you hear behind me, the audience and the judges have gone wild for the military precision and shipboard handling of DPUO – not surprising given the level of professionalism DPUO has shown, and continues to show. Back to you, Dianne.”

o.o.c. Even though it's iver here's part two.

I.C.

"Just moving, wouldn't you say?"
"Ah yes. Now about the coffee ban, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Creating an illict coffee house in our studio and charge exorbanent prices to the caffeine addicts and then become rich enough to quit?"
"Actually, I was thinking of killing the boss, but your idea sounds even better."


The group marched into their designated section, and the squad leader stepped forward with a portable microphone

"Hello, people from the NATO countries around the world. I am Leftenant Kevin Aburdan. I have had the great honour of being selected the one to present Celack's military to you. We have decided to give you a historical presentation of our army and it's tactics throughout hsitory."

Eight men walk through the doors. Two of them are dressed only in loinclothes and blue warpaint while the others are dressed in frocks, smocks and other peasent clothes. Of the men in the warpaint, one is much older and holds two broadswords, while the younger one has two Fillaris*. The peasents are armed with either rustred, nicked swords or farm implements imporvised as weapons.

"This is the Great Celack himself, his son Thadsa and the backbone of the first Celackian army, the peasents who desired freedom enough to sacrifice their lives and all they had to fight the evil CapApian empire. They were sucessful for several reasons, which can be boiled down to cause,tactics, and skill. Their cause was enough to inspire every man of the army to heroic feats, while Celack's keen mind devised many tactics to destroy the superior numbers of the superiorly armed CapApian army. Finally skill. Each man who had a weapon was taught in one of two fighting styles with them. Either Celack-Kari, the art of using broadswords, or Thadsa-Kari, the art of using Fillaris was taught to troops and they learned it and mastered it. Here Celack and Thadsa will display it."

The soldiers playing the ancinet heroes start using their swords against imaginary enemies. They used it at a blinding speed and yet it seems like a dance, beautiful, powerful yet deadly. After a few minutes, displaying the finest moves of their techniques the two men turned and faced each other, they bowed and then began a duel. Thadsa thrust with one sword and when the expected block came he swung the other sword, only to hit air as Celack ducked, who began a sweep at Thadsa's legs. Thadsa gracefully lept over the blow and on landing struck his swords out backwards into the waiting block of Celack. Thadsa jerk his Fillari upwards and managed to knock one of the broadswords out of Celack's hand. Celack went on the offensive and his many blow focred Thadsa back on the defensive, until a might blow managed to knock both the Filaris out of Thadsa's hands. Thadsa however was not disuaded. Instead of surrendering, he adopted a fighting mantis stance and delivered a kick to Celack's solar plexus and followed through with a strike on Celack's wrist causing him to drop his broadsword. Celack countered by punching Thadsa in the face, knocking him back. They began a battle of hand and foot, each trying to get an advantage but neither managing to aquire it. Finally Celack winded back and threw a punch at Thadsa head while simultaniously Thadsa thrust out his hand, in knife shape, towards Celack's neck. Both stopped their blows a mere centimetre from it's intended target.

"That was our demonstration of Celack-kari and Thadsa-kari. Our combatents here are right now paused in the final stages of killing blows. Celack's blow would have crushed poor Thadsa's skull, while Thadsa's blow would have crushed Celack's windpipe. This is why Celack stood against CapAp for many, many years. We could always beat them armed, and even unarmed. Thank you gentlemen."

Celack and Thadsa lower their arms, bow to each other, grab their weapons and go stand next to the other soldiers. Out of the doors walk four men, one is dressed in a full chainmail shirt and carries a broadsword, while another carries two Curiandas' and has his head and most of his face swadeled in cloth, while another is dressed in all black, with his face covered as well. He carries a single Fillari. The final one is wearing a simple loincloth and warpaint like Celack and Thadsa but instead of a sword he has a small axe on his belt, a bow in his hand and over his shoulder rests a quiver filled with arrows.


"These four men are representative of the four tribes of Celack from 4000 years ago.Each tribe took at least one of the teachings of Celack and his allies.The Celacks" The man in the chainmail stands forwards "they took some elements of one sword Celack-kari, and combined it with their own approach to armour from the CapAp's at that time"

The Celack begins mirroring or doing something similar to some of the moves that Celack did
( O.o.c. Confusing syntax eh? This is going to be the only O.O.C. interuption for now. The first Celack is the one in the chainmail, the second is the one wtih two broadswords. Assume from now on I'm speaking of the second one)
He takes his sword and walks back.

"The Nimurabi" The man swadled in black cloth stood forward "however took many of Thadsa styles to heart. They took his Thadsa-kari fighting style to heart with one one Filari and his..martial arts. They also took the teachings of his stealth, in the famous myth of him bringing down the Kabalu, a group of powerful warlocks, and most importantly the infiltration of their leader's fortress. This is why they were often called the children of Thadsa"
The man in black walks up, past the crew, to the wall of the stadium. He throws up a graplling hook which snags on the railing, and he climbs up the rope into the crowd. He moves out of the crowd and runs up the stairs, past the stares of many confused/scared/apathetic Rosians. He goes to the door of the broadcast booth, kicks the door in, and walks over the the two Celackian broadcasters.

"Where did the guy go? All I saw was a black blur hop up into the stand and it ran past the broadcast booth."
"Actually, I'm right behind you."
"Jesus! You scared the hell outta me."
"Sorry, here enjoy this on behalf of the Celackian military."
"What the hell is is?"
"A coffee packet George."
"Hey where did that guy go, and why do I see a black blur on the stairs again?"


The Nimurabi ran down the stair, jumped over the edge, drew his Filari in mid-air, landed ran forward, not hitting anyone, and when he reached the centre of the stadium he began doing combat moves with his Filari. After a few minutes He resheathed his sword, and then began his martial arts movements. Five minutes later he finished and rejoined the group.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the part where he enter the stands was unexpected to us, but it still illustrates the speed and agility the Nimurabi warriors had. Now for the Salamakian." The man wrapped in cloth walks forward. "They used the two sword methods found in both Celack-kari and Thadsa-kari. Their loose clothes had a dual purpose. They meant to protect the wearer from the harsh sun of Celack's southern desert and they were meant to snag enemies weapons and disarm them. They also defeated their enemies in battle by the use of a substance that induced a rage so fierce that it drove them into a berserker fury. For the demonstration we could not actually give our man some of this substance, because it is illegial and the fact that he would start attacking people."

The Salamakian ,began swinging his swords in a flurry, bellowing a war cry, spining, almost a storm of blades surrounding him, rendering him almost invisible behind the flashing blades. The wind generated from his fast moving blades began making his robes billowed out making what could be seen of him ,between the blades, seem larger than life thereby making it harder for an enemy to hit his body and instilling a sense of terror in some troops. He finished his blade storm and went back to the group.

"Finally we have the Aquinquois. These people kept the tradional dress of Celack and Thadsa, took some of the skills of stealth from Thadsa and also used the bow like Celack's great general, Grishnia. As a demostration of their prowess with the bow, I will throw this ball in the air" The Leftenant pulled a tennis ball from his pocket. " He will then fire at it and will hit it. On the count of 3. One...Two ....Three"
The Leftenant threw the ball in the air and the Alquinquois' arms moved incredibally fast When the ball finally landed in had five arrows sticking out of it.
"That is the prowess with their bows. Their prowess with their throwing axes is incredbile as well. For another demonstration I will throw this wooden ball in the air."

He threw in the air and the Aquinquois moved as fast if not faster then when he was shooting arrows. The axe landed in the middle ground of the stadium followed by two halves of the wooden ball.

"That concludes our section on the four tribes."

Out of the doors come six men, five with large shields and long spears, and one, more ornatly dressed than the others, carried only a gold-plated, jewel encrusted staff and two knifes on his belt.

"This is King Travina and his entourage. He is often seen as Celack's last warrior king. He died fighting to save the Etteradi valley from the CapApian army. however he did not die in vain. He as legend goes, was able to kill close to a hundred CapApian soldiers on his own, including their leader, and held off on his own, long enough for the remains of his army to regroup and counter-attack, destroying the enemy, recapturing their defenses and using them to destory much of the attackian CapApian fleet. He did it with the weapons you see him with now. His daggers and the staff of kings. The staff of kings was said to be forged by Thadsa's son, King Messuia, as a symbol of the office of the King of Celack. Travina was the only king after Messuia who knew it's secret It was designed as a weapon. What our Travina holds is not the real Staff of Kings, for that lies in the Celackian royal musuem. It is instead a replica which functions just in the same way as the real one. Of course the reason Travina defeated all those CapApians was that they came to him piecemeal. If they had all rushed him, he would have been killed. Now as a demonstration of how he used the Staff of Kings to defend himself."

The peasents that came out with Celack charge at Travina. Travina swung the staff around and knocked the front two down. He then ducked low and swept the staff into two others legs knocking them down. The final one came at him with his sword raised high. He swing in down but Travina blocked with the middle of his staff and the twisted the staff and disarmed the peasent. He brought the staff down of the peasents head, knocking him out. Travina quickly drew the daggars from his belt and stuck the hilts in holes on the bottom and top of the staff, which locked them in place. The Celack in chainmail started to charge him but stopped short when he found one of the blades milimetres from his throat. He put down his weapon and walked to the sidelines. The Nimurabi was the next to charge, and he managed to reach Travina. They battled for a great deal until finally the Nimurabi raised his Fillari high and tried to bring it down on Travina's staff. Travina was ready and he twisted one end of the staff and pulled, splinting the staff into two sections, both with a blade on top and a blade on bottom. The Nimurabi's sword hit the earth and Travina knocked him on the sides of the head with the staffs. The Nimurabi walked off dazed. The Salamakian charge next, preforming a bladestorm, disguising himself and his body. Travina jabbed the two sections into the balde storm, and each piece managed to catch a sword, holding them still. Travina headbutted the Salamakian who joined the others on the sidelines. The Alquinquios warrior maintained his distance, circling Travina. Travina stuck the two sections back together and twisted, reforming them into a single staff. The Alquinquios warrior fired an arrow at Travina, but quicker than the eye could see, Travina swung up his staff, intercepting the arrow midflight. Travina then charged the Alquinquois warrior and twisted his staff upwards, knocking the man down. The Alquinquois warrior rejoined the group. Thadsa was next. He charged Travina and travina met his sword with his staff. They battles masterfully and beautifully, each movement quicker than the eye could follow, yet it was obvious that neither side had an advantage. The battle conitnued for close to ten minutes. Thadsa then did something unexpected. He sheated his sword and took up a fighting stance facing Travina. Travina swung his staff and Thadsa, yet Thadsa caught it. He twisted it and disarmed Travina and then proceeded to defeat him in hand to hand combat.

"That is how Travina fell. While he was strong with his staff, he know only very basic Celack-kari and therefore was weak without it. Some treacherous Celackians managed to disarm and kill him using their Thadsa-kari. It is interesting to note that he killed most of them before going down himself. Now for the past 2000 years Celack's strategy has changed from a dug in, stronghold defense, to a quick response, more agressive style. 2000 years ago was when the Celackian army made first widespread use of Calvary. WE have evolved with the times and now we use more modern calvary. We currently use jeeps companies."

Several jeeps race out of the gates and slide into the centre of the stadium. Men jump out of the jeeps and form up into four squads, more jeeps arrive until there are close to thirty sqauds on the field,and then the jeeps leave. The total time it took for 150 men to be assembled on the field with decent armor support was under thirty seconds.

"This is what we do now. If an attack comes on any part of the Celackian border, a company of fifty jeeps can be there in little under 15 minutes. But now let's look to the future. How shall Celack keep mobile and fast with outdated jeeps. The answer is the revolutionary TSJVTOLA. For those who are confused by that, it's an acronym.It stand for Twin ScramJet Vertical Take-Off and Landing Aircraft. These are revolutionary new aircraft that has been designed by Celack arms LTD. These are so new that only five exist at this precise moment. One of them is at Celack Arms LTD headquaters in Celack, but the other four are with out fleet right now. Our fleet is somewhere around 200 km away right now, if my math is correct. I'm sorry if I don't much about you country."

He pulls out a radio and a stop watch.

"When I press this red button on this radio, it will transmit a message to the fleet, telling the TSJVTOLA to take off. With this stopwatch I will time how long it takes them to arrive here, land and then disembark 120 soldiers. On the count of three....One...Two...Three."
He hit the red button on the radio and the start button on the stopwatch.
"Now, the TSJVTOLA is crewed by two men. The first is the pilot, who has to remain focused on flying on the fast, deadly craft, so the co-pilot, located behind him in the cockpit deals with the gunnery.However, some of the weapons systems can be transferred to the pilot. For example if the craft is hovering of a target area, the pilot can control one system and deal with one target while the co-pilot can engage another target. The weapons systems in the TSJVTOLA are modular, much like the AAM2. There is a couple weapons that remain standard on the-."

He was cut off by the screech of high-power engines and a sonic boom, as the four TSJVTOLA slowed down on their approached to the stadium. They came to a stop directly over the stadium, hoving in the air. Their side engines turned so that they were no long horizontal but vertical. The craft began their descent, it was a quick descent. One craft landed while the others formed a protective patrol. The landed did not actually touch ground but hovered a few feet above it. Out of the side doors, disembarked close to thirty men, who formed up into a unit. The craft flew up and joined the patrol while another left the patrol and "landed". This was repeated until the four craft were empty and the men formed up on the field. The leftenant clicked his stop watch.

"That took minute and fifteen seconds, 45 seconds of that was the landing and disembarkation of the troops. That is the speed of the TSJVTOLA. That concludes our presentation and I thank you for the honour of presenting Celack's military from the begining to now to you."

o.o.c. I think I have to most random commentators. BTW this is probably their only appearance. Also for visual reference Celack and Thadsa are Celtic, The Celack tribe are medival europeans, the Salamakians are Arabic people from the crusades, the Ninumrabi are ninja's and samurai, only that there are no samurai here, and the Aquinquois are native Americans before the Europeans showed up and f**ked them over, King Travina and his people are Greeks, namely spartans. The fight between Thadsa and Travina is like the fight between nameless and sky in Hero. The mental part of it anyways. Also I will possibly have some DOGA pics done of the TSJVTOLA soon.
*AKA a katana.
'AKA a smitar