NationStates Jolt Archive

Flames pierced the night as the soldier staggered, his entire body alight. His combat suit was not meant to withstand being drenched with gasoline and set aflame. A short burst from a flamethrower, or perhaps a leap through some fire, but nothing more. A second glass bottle full of lighter fluid smashed into him, this one without a flaming rag- there was enough ignition on the man already.

He screamed loudly as assault rifles blared around him and the speakers roared: "Cease resistance. You are under arrest." But the people knew being under arrest meant an informal execution behind the prison by guards. They were going to take a few of their enemies with them.

OFW 119 felt his suit go rigid again to deflect six shots from a man with a revolver. The man looked in awe as the hard armor relaxed and became like fabric again, as the Objective Force Warrior- Lictoria's chief infantry unit for the past decade- squeezed the trigger of his Pancor Jackhammer shotgun, opening up the rioter's stomach in the blast.

XM8 combat rifles fired in harmonious order, mowing the rioters down like grass. As the anarchists began to flee madly, the OFWs continued marching forward, almost like machines. This was the new picture of perfection. Soon they would replace town guards, the monks trained at the governmental temple- even the clerics. Their efficiency knew no bounds.

A rioter, wielding a knife, charged screaming wildly, suicidally, into the advancing human wall. He raised the knife into the air, but as he brought it down, a soldier's black hand darted out with lightning quickness, twisted deftly to the side, and snapped the rioter's wrist. Shooting a quick blow to the outer edge of the canthus of the eye, the soldier struck the orbicularis muscle. The nerves in the rioter's face lit up with pain. He fell. The strike on its own would at least blind him for life, but gave most subjects nausea and amnesia, even with light strikes. The OFW had used as much power as he could, amplified by thirty-five percent with the aid of the simulated nanomuscles in his suit. The rioter was stone dead before he hit the ground.

OOC: Ooh, very good opening. TAG for sure. I'll wait to see this develop a little more before I decide if I want to get involved.

(OOC: If you feel like joining in, you may, as just about anyone you want- the leader of your own nation, with a mind to intervene, a cleric in the Holy Order that governs Lictoria being replaced, an OFW with a conscious for the people he's killing, a rebel, whatever. Really, anything goes except godmodding, I can just rebuild the nation.)

IC: "This is history in the making. A grand achievement. The Tournament Riot, the Ninth Gate Incident, rebels in the tunnels and sewers- this is but a taste of what is to come. Do you remember, pray tell- the convicts that escaped from the Arena? They killed the guards with their own weapons, unleashed a rhino and two elephants to kill the survivors. Most of them were gunned down in the square that the entrance opened up into, but those that made it to us- have become great assets."

The OFW had been scorched by two Molotov cocktails, then his armor was removed and he was electroshocked, beaten, stabbed, nursed back to health, then shot nearly to death before given another hypo. He sat now, chained to the bare rock, a destroyed man.

"My name is Marcus Amberando. I have two children, a wife-" he began, but was slapped on the side of his face by the tall, young, white-haired rebel that paced before him. Behind the white-haired man, a rebel guard stood, staring blankly at the soldier, Marcus. The rebel. The soldier. And the white-haired man- in this tiny, bare cement room, three was a crowd.

"And a job that inolves killing innocent civilians with families of their own. Is that what you were going to say?"

"I only kill... threats to the Holy Nation of Lictoria," the soldier said, getting another smack to the cheek.

"Those people were protesting governmental policy peacefully, until-"

"Until they shot a guard that was just on a routine patrol and began lighting buildings on fire."

"Until the guard shot Travis Grissam between the eyes and called for backup. You intervened. The deaths are on your hands."

"Of course they are! We killed you on purpose, didn't we? I saw- you could do nothing to the soldiers."

"What about the buildings set alight? With women and children inside?"

"We didn't light those fires. You did. And the only person that died was a sixty-seven-year-old man- someone of no use to our society. The nation has enough old men."

The rebel brushed a finger along an x-shaped scar on his cheek. "How did you know that?"

The soldier turned to the rebel behind the white-haired man. "Funny how big the network is." The rebel shot the white-haired man through the back of his skull. OFW 198 was trained to infiltrate enemy organizations. He lifted a combat knife, with odd serrations on the edge. He squeezed the handle, and with a hum, the serrations became a blur. A chainblade combat knife. Useful for all sorts of things. Sparks flew as the chains were severed and the two ran through the tunnel.

OOC: Ooh, very good opening. TAG for sure. I'll wait to see this develop a little more before I decide if I want to get involved.

OOC: Understood.

OOC: Quick question: OFW=? Objective Force Warrior?

{OOC: MT or FT?}

Let me get this right.

This is a conflict between a religious dicatorial government and anarchist rebels?

Do you intend for the anarchists to win or are you going to let the conclusion of this conflict be open ended and let the course of this war decide who is going to be in power?

If I do join, Im with the government side.

Let me get this right.

This is a conflict between a religious dicatorial government and anarchist rebels?

Do you intend for the anarchists to win or are you going to let the conclusion of this conflict be open ended and let the course of this war decide who is going to be in power?

If I do join, Im with the government side.

OOC: Should have explained it better. For centuries, the High Council of Prophets has ruled Lictoria. The state religion of the nation worships them. They have ranks and systems for the government. Their personal bodyguards first train as Monks, then as Clerics, elite religious warriors. Then there are the city guards- average guys with guns, the equivalent of police officers. Clerics tend to blow the crap out of anything that moves when they go out looking for a fugitive or something, which eventually got to the guards. Guards got pissed and retaliated. Half of the guards formed a rebellion, and even assassinated some prophets. That was about twenty years ago.

A few months ago, the prophets instated the OFWs (Objective Force Warriors), Lictoria's military unit, to become the new city guards, even taking over some Cleric's jobs as bodyguards to important governmental or temple figures. Lictoria began as a flawless unison between church and state, but tensions are rising between the two. While the Clerics side with the Temple and the OFWs with the government, the Prophets are trying to keep the empire together.

And now, the rebellion has resurfaced- bigger, stronger, and with heightened manpower. What happened in the sewers was a single OFW and his undercover friend, who kept him posted on current events regarding the riots (that's why he knew so much). When the white-haired man came in for the execution, he was as good as dead. OFWs are elite, as are Clerics. The Clerics haven't shown up yet in this RP- but they will.

As for which side wins- well, we'll see, I guess.

{OOC: MT or FT?}

OOC: Lictoria's not quite modern but not quite futuristic. We're using things that today's militaries are developing (like electrochromic cloaking panels, cold plasma stealth fields, and OFW combat suits), but are still fairly experimental. So everything is real, but we haven't quite seen it on the forefront yet.

As for the Clerics, they have really powerful weapons, like silver pistols simply called "Cleric pistols" that send bullets that punch through thick steel doors and concrete. And also, their weapons and armor are very elaborate and ornate, whereas OFW weaponry and armor is pretty much all for the sake of efficiency- out with the temple craftsmen, in with the assembly line is pretty much what's going on.

OOC: Quick question: OFW=? Objective Force Warrior?

OOC: Yep.

IC: Prophet Jihuntae looked questioningly at the Cleric before him. The Cleric's white armor gleamed in the light streaming in through stained-glass windows in the cathedral. He was clad in the mail from head to toe, revealing nothing.

"We only lost one soldier," he began in a deep and smooth voice.
"Is that true? Reports came in of multiple casualties..."
"Yes. A soldier was set alight."
"Hmm... the country has enough soldiers... When you saw the mob of people- you must have panicked."
"Panicked?"
"Become paralyzed with fear, perhaps?"
"No- no, I did no such thing."
"Why did you not intervene? You could have aided- swept the anarchists up with one swift stroke, ended the riot then and there without civilian deaths."
"Surely, you understand that the flaming buildings- the- the people inside, I had to-"
"Silence. You made the right decision to rescue those in the buildings. But what of your men?"
"By the time the rest of my squadron had arrived- the battle had ended!"
The Prophet turned his snowy-pale face away, his crimson eyes burning with contempt, and at the same time, a desire for forgiveness. The father figure to a nation- loving but firm.
"You have been one of the Council's greatest assets. Many times have you stopped the assassin's bullet, saved us from the toxin in our drink."
"Thank you-"
"-However," the Prophet continued, his voice echoing through the palace chamber, "your incompetence in aiding your brothers will cost you dearly. As of now, you are being demoted."
"Permanently or temporarily?"
"That is entirely up to you. If you wish to go through the training again, you may. Soon, a revolution will come. But when the guns of war are loaded- the weight of your failure will burden you. And you shall have to only watch it unfold."
Other armored clerics came, taking their shamed brother by the arms, and escorted him out.

"Gods be with us all..." the Prophet muttered, and rose from his throne, straightened his regal robes, and allowed the throne platform to rise into his private quarters as he clasped his wrists behind his back.

OOC: So, regarding the two sides in the rebellion: I'm assuming that the Prophets/Clerics wish to maintain their current theocratic style of government, and the Guards wish to...what? Establish a secular government of some kind?

OOC: So, regarding the two sides in the rebellion: I'm assuming that the Prophets/Clerics wish to maintain their current theocratic style of government, and the Guards wish to...what? Establish a secular government of some kind?

OOC: Okay, here's the situation: The guards that split off and formed the rebellion know that the Prophets, Clerics, and anyone else affiliated, including the OFWs, are pretty much immoral. Prophets rule with an iron fist. The soldiers and Clerics are their instruments. The guards want to make Lictoria a free country. Now, the Clerics and OFWs both work for the Prophets.

Clerics think they run the show in Lictoria. OFWs think that's about to change. They believe that they deserve to be the Prophet's bodyguards. The soldiers, not the clerics, will be the new overseers of Lictoria.

I built this whole thing up over a long time, which is pretty much why I'm doing this thread- scrap my nation, build it new and fresh. I need an aspirin to keep my nation's history straight.

They sat in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Behind them, electroshocks flared as they were warmed up for the prisoners who would come soon. The two men simply puffed their cigarettes as the electricity sparked and sizzled.
"The riot, then-"
"Was a success."
"What about the men we lost?"
"They were of little use to us. That can be seen in how easily they were killed. Those that survived and were captured are simply casualties of war- nothing more."
"The actual assault-"
"Begins now."

Another night, another fire. The massive, gleaming skyscrapers of Lictoria- miles high and standing above the ground like thin rapier blades, were witness to the explosion. The web of elevated mag-lev trains that ran between the buildings was disrupted. The force of the blast shook the night, the heat and light was felt even inside the buildings' walls. Concrete, steel, and glass fell from the hole that the explosion tore. With so little support left, parts of the elevated platform began to fall as well. The remains of the train followed them. But inside the train you would not find screaming civilians, but the "secure cars" of soldiers, returning home from their duties. Not a single innocent casualty occured.

Five minutes earlier, a man strolled through one of the skyscrapers, passing convenience stores and malls. He idly walked past the movie theater and came to rest at a leather couch, tucked into a depression in the wall. These buildings were big- the solution to Lictoria's low space, high population problem- and thus had malls, restaurants, theaters, sometimes even amusement parks. And there were the long halls meant for "recreational walking," with these little rest stops in between. Most citizens simply viewed them as uncomfortably long stretches of distance to the elevator.

The man watched as a soldier patrolled down the hall, scanning it for signs of trouble. As soon as the soldier had his back turned, he was doomed. The walker sprang up from his couch, pulled out a small, silent-running chainblade and inserted it into the back end of the helmet, to a soft spot just between the ear and the rest of the skull, nicknamed "Death's Door." It was standard procedure for taking out Clerics in the Ninth Gate Incident, and twenty years later was being put to good use on the soldiers.

Three minutes had passed when a soldier dashed onto the eleven o'clock train, almost not making it, and fell onto a seat in the train as the doors closed and the magnets warmed up. Turning his head, no one saw the mark where the blade had been inserted.

Two minutes later, the train had reached golden distance- no buildings close enough for the blast to damage, no other trains nearby- the soldier ripped off his vest, revealing a mass of explosives strapped to his chest. A single OFW turned in time to reach for his pistol, but that was all. The rebel in the soldier suit whispered a goodbye to his family and his body, the soldiers, the train, and the bridge it was on were all consumed.

"Alaric, we have a report of rebellion in Lictoria."
The Emperor cocked open his eye. He hated being disturbed when meditating. " Rebellion, captain Jackson?"
" Aye, sir. It seems the little guy is fed up with the big guy and there's all kind of shit going down."
Lictoria...Lictoria. Alaric seemed to recall a Lictoria that was somehow connected to Tremalkier. And as he recalled, Tremalkier was not a nation to take lightly.
" Keep an eye on the situation, captain. Advise Gen. Strickland of the particulars, and have a CBG and an AirWing on scramble-alert. There may be Xeraphian citizens there, and we may have to get them out in a hurry."
"Aye, sir........."

"What we're witnessing is the little man..." the advisor said, flicking up an image of a boy in a baseball cap and glove, carrying a bat, "getting oppressed by the big man," he said as the holographic image zoomed out and revealed a plump bald man in a suit pointing a finger at the boy. "The little man gets angry and fights back," the advisor said, and the boy punched the bald man in the groin. "And an according, much larger and more powerful, retaliation," the advisor said as Baldie picked up the boy and smashed him down against the floor. "And the war escalates." The boy jumped in the air cartoonishly and brought the bat down on Baldie's nose. Baldie whipped out a can of mace and sprayed the boy in the eyes. The boy took out a taser and again went for the groun. Baldie began smashing the boy with a club, the boy whipped out a six-shooter, Baldie whipped out an assault rifle, the boy hopped into a tank, Baldie marched up a ramp onto an aircraft carrier, the boy pointed a missile at Baldie, Baldie pointed a missile at the boy, they both launched, and there was an explosion.

Prophet Jihuntae glared at the advisor.

"So," the advisor said with a smile and a lisp, "that's our situation. Mutually assured destruction."

Prophet Jihuntae continued staring in a confused manner and lifted an ivory and gold pistol and fired once into the advisor's forehead, muttered "Jackass," and strolled away towards the addressing tower.

The teeming crowd outside roared as Jihuntae strolled onto the balcony, several stories above them. He raised a hand and they subsided.

"People of Lictoria," he began, "I have heard, as you have, the horrible stories of riots. Of bombings. Of the death of innocent people- soldiers, civilians, and others... And I tell you now," he continued, his voice growing firmer, "that this nation, and this massive city that bears its name, will not be torn apart by the petty bombings of radical terrorists, no more than the fly that annoys the tiger will tear it apart. The leaders of this treasonous endeavor, and those that follow them, will be brought to justice!" The crowd roared and applauded. The Prophet's face returned to calmness.

"Shall we allow Lictoria to be overrun by terrorists?" He said, calmly. A resounding "No!" was heard from the crowd.

"Shall we allow its government to be overthrown by anarchy?" He raised his voice.
"No!"

"Shall we allow these heathens to burn the temples, lay waste to the altars?" Now he exclaimed his words.
"No!"

"Shall we allow them take power from the hands of the balanced and wise High Council?" Louder still.
"No!"

"And will we fight- all of us, from the lowliest peasant to the highest Prophet, fight to our dying breath to stop them?" The crowd answered back, now amazingly excited: "Yes!"
"And we shall continue onwards to eternal salvation!"
Cheers began the day as dawn broke. Another day- another attack?

OOC: Yep.

IC: Prophet Jihuntae looked questioningly at the Cleric before him. The Cleric's white armor gleamed in the light streaming in through stained-glass windows in the cathedral. He was clad in the mail from head to toe, revealing nothing.

"There was only one death," he began in a deep and smooth voice.
"One? Are you sure?"
"Yes. A soldier was set alight."
"Hmm... the country has enough soldiers... When you saw the mob of people- did you panic?"
"Panic?"
"Lose control? Become paralyzed?"
"No."
"Why did you not intervene? You could have aided- swept the anarchists up with one swift stroke, ended the riot then and there without civilian deaths."
"Surely, you understand that once I saw the buildings-"
"Silence. You made the right decision to focus your attention on the buildings. But what of your men?"
"By the time the rest of my squadron had arrived- the battle had ended!"
The Prophet turned his snowy-pale face away, his crimson eyes burning with contempt, and at the same time, a desire for forgiveness. The father figure to a nation- loving but firm.
"You have been one of the Council's greatest assets. Many times have you stopped the assassin's bullet, saved us from the toxin in our drink."
"Thank you-"
"-However," the Prophet continued, his voice echoing through the palace chamber, "your incompetence in aiding your brothers will cost you dearly. As of now, you are being demoted."
"Permanently or temporarily?"
"That is entirely up to you. If you wish to go through the training again, you may. Soon, a revolution will come. But when the guns of war are loaded- the weight of your failure will burden you. And you shall have to only watch it unfold."
Other armored clerics came, taking their shamed brother by the arms, and escorted him out.

"Gods be with us all..." the Prophet muttered, and rose from his throne, straightened his regal robes, and allowed the throne platform to rise into his private quarters as he clasped his wrists behind his back.


OOC: Methinks a hint of Halo2?

"There was only one ship."
"Only one, are you sure?"
"Yes, the demon."
"When you saw Halo, were blinded by its magesty?"
"Blinded?"
"Paralyzed? Awe-struck?"
"No."
"And yet you somehow managed to let the Humans escape onto the surface of the Holy Ring and destroy it."
"Surely, you understand that I couldn't fire near the ring-"
"Silence. You made the right decision to focus your attention on the Holy Ring."

More or less like that. You didn't have to completely copy the Halo2 script.

" General, we have some info about Lictoria. Actually, the info is about two other nations in Lictoria's region. Tremalkier and Bonstock have a number of Xeraphian nationals within it's borders. Just a dozen or so in each country. Shall we get them out of there?"
Strickland sure as hell DID want them out of there, but Xeraph can't just barge into sovreign borders and push people around.
" Seargent, inform the Emperor that we have citizens in Tremalkier and Bonstock, and that the situation in Lictoria is escalating. If we have an embassy in either nation, contact the ambassadors an apprise them of the situation. They'll need to beef up security. Send a couple of Comanche HCGS's out to help them."
" Aye sir. Anything else?"
That old, uneasy felling crept into the pit of Strickland's stomach. There's gonna be trouble, he thought. I just don't know when or where.
" Yeah...........put the 11th, 44th, and 61st AirWings on high alert. We may have to move fast."
" Aye sir."

Federal Republic High Command

Harald Gustavsson, President of the Federal Republic, had finished responding to Xerpath about the Lictorian situation. Indeed, the rebellion had caught the Federal Republic slightly off guard. Never had there been a contingency within their own region that wasn't an internal matter within Bonstock. Of course, barely any forces would need to be deployed; Lictoria was safe within fighter range, even though it shared no border with Bonstock.

Harald picked up the phone, and dialed. "Colonel Lin, what is the status update?"

"Sir," the female officer began, "Lictoria's troubles pose no serious threat to Bonstock. However, if you would like, our Air Force could patrol overhead a bit."

"Put Homeland Security on alert, and give aid to the government. I don't want this becoming a major issue."

"Yes, sir."

Gustavsson looked at the maps. Lictoria shouldn't be too much of a threat, he thought. No one will need to evacuate from Bonstock. But what about Bonstocknians in Lictoria?

OCC: Very nice thread, you have skills better than me. Good job!!

Strickland re-read the message from Bonstock. President Gustavsson had generously allowed Xeraphian forces to be temporarily based within Bonstockian borders. This would greatly help the should it become necessary to evacuate Xeraphian citizens from Lictopia.
" Colonel, advise the Emperor that we have received confirmation from Bonstock as to the deployment of air, ground, and naval forces into their country. Let him know that I have therefore ordered the 88th and 64th CBG to their naval base, the 12th and 99th AirWings to their air base, and will be air-dropping 20,000 Black Katanas into a temporary tent-city. I am going to send a message to President Gustavsson informing him that we will be happy to include any Bonstockian citizens needing to leave Lictoria. Have OSS-2 scan and feed any pertinent information regarding the rebellion."
"Aye, sir."

Brad Snyder was concerned. He had read the official newspaper reports about the rebels who were threatening the legal government of Lictoria. As a Xeraphian citizen, he should have no fear of Lictopia harming him or his family. They were on a 30-day assignment from the government to photograph the splendid topography in Lictoria, and had only a few days left before they would be back in Xeraph.
But still he was uneasy. There was no Xeraphian embassy in Lictoria....indeed they were thousands of miles from any Xeraphian military presence, and should the situation worsen, they would need to get out of Lictoria quickly.
" Honey, don't worry. The Emperor knows we're here. I'm sure he's aware of what's going on. He won't let anyhting happen to us." Brad's wife, Marjorie, was a strong woman. And she was right. Alaric wouldn't let anything happen to them. If anything DID happen......well, only God could then help Lictoria......

OOC: Methinks a hint of Halo2?

"There was only one ship."
"Only one, are you sure?"
"Yes, the demon."
"When you saw Halo, were blinded by its magesty?"
"Blinded?"
"Paralyzed? Awe-struck?"
"No."
"And yet you somehow managed to let the Humans escape onto the surface of the Holy Ring and destroy it."
"Surely, you understand that I couldn't fire near the ring-"
"Silence. You made the right decision to focus your attention on the Holy Ring."

More or less like that. You didn't have to completely copy the Halo2 script.

OOC: Only played original Halo, and the last level of Halo 2 at my brother's dorm. My brother gave me some pointers on the writing and helped me revise it, but I haven't seen that part in the game. I'll edit the post, though.

OCC: Very nice thread, you have skills better than me. Good job!!

OOC: Oh, I know, it's true! *pretends to be overwhelmed* I really am amazing, no doubting it...

Seriously, sparing my tremendous humility, many thanks to you, and I'm sure your skills can at least equal my own.

"Other nations in the region are becoming worried. Our inability to control this situation is becoming disturbingly well-known," Prophet Miackar II said before the High Council.
Jihuntae scanned the faces of the other Prophets at the circular table. "Their only concern is for their own people. We have little to worry about- we have been ready for this for a long time. There are very few foreigners in our nation, as we keep primarily to ourselves. We erected the Deathtrap Forest to ensure of no illegal immigrations. Our airports only travel elsewhere within the country walls. There is no need to be alarmed."
"What of the citizens here?" Miackar II asked.
Jihuntae shrugged, "Let their homelands have them. It's all the better for us."
"I do not know, Jihuntae... these people- they could mean valuable leverage. We may have a weapon to stop this rebellion before it is a war."
"What you propose," Jihuntae said, his eyes becoming grave, "could very well cause one."

Jihuntae's crimson eyes became glassy as the blood poured. The deep gash in his throat- carved by a golden ceremonial dagger, apart of Prophet regalia- was the source of this scarlet river. Death masked his face, which began to lose color- nearly impossible for his pale cheeks, but happening nonetheless. Prophet Miackar II looked down upon his dying body with a frown.

"Now, the Prophets are a council again- not your puppets," he snarled, and turned to the awestruck council gathered around the table. "Find these foreigners. When their nations inquire where they are- they will only find that the revolution has taken them. We will find allies in this battle. Meeting ajourned.

***

Bullets bounced off the Cleric's armor. The armored car sped by, automatics rattling off rounds. Looking down at his scarred armor, the Cleric found he had no wounds- no bullets had penetrated. These people would be punished, nonetheless. Leaping onto a parked motorcycle, he took out a laser tube and flicked it on. Sparks flew up from the lock and the ignition roared to life. Gunning the engine, the Cleric sped forward, snowy white cloak blowing out behind him as he wove through the traffic of the Undercity.

This was the part of the nation where the sun hardly shone- blocked by the fog of pollution and web of monorails and maglevs above. The Cleric sped ahead, pulling a silver pistol from his belt. The car came into view- a gray, plated limousine. The Cleric fired, and the bullets dented the plating, but didn't quite pierce it. Weaving between the onslaught of traffic, he saw the RIW-18 emerge from the car's window. A swarm of the small bullets impacted his armor at once, but did nothing to it. He lifted his pistol and sent a bullet smashing through the side mirror. This chase was far from over.

Bonstocknian Department of Foreign Affairs Travel Advisory #903,225

"As a measure of precaution, all Bonstocknian nationals within the borders of Lictoria are to be immidiately evacuated to the confines of the Bonstocknian embassy in the capital, or regional consulates thereof. That is an order. The government of the Federal Republic strongly advises compliance."

Bonstocknian Embassy, Lictoria

The evacuation of Bonstocknian citizens to the embassy was conducted swiftly and efficiently. All Bonstocknian citizens were tuned into the radios, and quickly picked up the advisory. Cell phones and pagers also went off, and e-mail notifications went out instantly. Within a few hours, all but a handful of the two hundred-odd Bonstocknian citizens within Lictoria were safely within the confines of the embassy. Evacuation plans were finalized. Offshore, two Amphibious Ready Groups stood waiting, just in case an immediate evactuation was made necessary. Marine guards stood ready with automatic weapons at the embassy, just in case there may be a security breach.

Still, most of the Bonstocknians were confident that this would be over shortly. Most of them figured that it was just a regular disturbance and soon things would be back to normal. Even the Marine guards had decided to loosen up a bit. After all, they were safe in a government controlled city. Meanwhile, busses were chartered to take all the citizens to the airport if necessary.

Garbed in black, they stood ready. The Objective Force Warrior- pinnacle of human perfection, best of the best, trained to be compatible with the finest equipment the government could supply them with. And now- it was time to use it. Miackar II had new orders for them.

OFW 393 loaded up a hollow point shell into his rifle. Bonstock was going to fight the rebellion, too, if all went well. This outdated weapon was standard rebel issue- nothing new, just the basics. Though garbed as rebels, these warriors still wore their armor beneath the rags. It was a believable disguise.

The plan was simple: Kill marines. Take Bonstockians. Frame the rebellion. The business of fighting wars was a good one. Bonstock had already made it clear that they had no intention of aiding Lictoria. They just wanted their citizens back. And it would take a lot of rebel-killing to get to those citizens. It wouldn't be hard- plant a few monks in a fake rebel base and tell them that the Prophets needed them to die. Have them fight Bonstockian forces, lose, and the citizens, kept in the dark about the whole thing, are reunited unharmed with their government. As for Bonstockian military casualties- they weren't Lictoria's soldiers, were they?

393 climbed up a fire escape ladder. He wasn't going for the top of the building- that broke the cloud cover by about a mile or so. No, he was going for the first elevated train tube on the way. As he climbed up closer to it, he prepared for the moment of truth, lifting his pistol and firing a piton dart, connected to a steel cable. The dart sank into the metal, and the soldier felt the brief sensation of flight as his feet left the ladder's rungs. And then, the line was pulled taut, and he swung under the tube, then flipped over on top of it. No trains were coming onto here yet... 393 lifted his rifle and aimed at his designated marine target. Other soldiers like him were aiming at their own right now from secretive areas of their own.

(OOC: I hope you don't object to me doing this, if you do I'll delete the post. I have no winner or loser in mind, I don't even care if you decide to find out that this was a conspiracy or not. But if you don't like this idea, then I'll just blow my nation up some other way ;)

OOC: Bump

OOC: Bonstock, I need a post.

ooc: sorry i havn't been around

ic:

Bonstocknian Embassy, Lictoria

Shots were heard in the distance. Marine Pfc Roger Li grabbed his M-4. "What the..." he said. Suddenly, a bullet from nowhere went through his skull, sending him to the great beyond.

One of his buddies grabbed the radio. "We're under attack! We're taking casualties! We got 6 KIAs and plenty of wounded! We need evac!" Suddenly, a loud explosion was heard. "Oh my god!" A bullet destroyed the radio. All that the communications staff aboard the FRBS Pelican heard was static.

The Pelican, an LHA off the coast of Lictoria, was home of the 3rd Battalion Landing Team, 2nd Brigade, 6th Marine Division. "All right men," the Colonel in charge said, "We got a whole buncha buddies and civies in an embassy there, and they need evac. You guys are gonna pilot your SH-53s through Lictoria in order to reach the embassy and get our boys out. Do you copy?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the Marines responded in unison. Then they left the room. Within a few minutes, two of the giant helicopters were airborne, flying towards the embassy.

Meanwhile, at the embassy, chaos was unfolding. The Ambassador got on a line to Lictoria's leaders. "We've got rebels firing on us! We need reinforcements! Help us!" Hopefully, the government would send in some tanks, and the whole thing would be over. The capital was, after all, government territory. And no government soldier, the ambassador thought, would be disloyal enough to fire on Bonstocknian soldiers and civilians.

IC:Brigader General Tom Bradley was sitting at his fancy new desk. A Private walked in and dropped a report on Bradley's desk. Bradley groaned, " not another syupid rebellion". He started banging his head against his desk. After awhile he got up, put his gear on and walked to the M223 Guass Command Tank.

Another thing was happining at Fort Thomas, a base hidden deep inside a mountain. A group of soldiers looked over the report and started putting on the latest gear. The leader hefted a AT4 Viper and a Stinger and walked out of the room.

OOC: My military primarily uses Guass or Rail weapons. I have two elite fighting forces. One The Marks are the ones you just heard about. They are super-soldiers. The other is the GCT Core, led by Brigader General Thomas Bradly. I do not take POWs.

OOC: I understand, GruntsandElites, but I'm unclear on who exactly you want to kill here.

IC: "For freedom!" OFW 454 cried out- that was fairly rebellious-sounding. He fired a round that thudded into a marine's vest. The marine fell to his knees. Another bullet blasted through. The final tore right through his body and he fell limp.
One of the soldiers looked into the air. Two helicopters. Airborne. Looking slightly threatening.
"We have two choppers, left side," the soldier relayed to the squadron leader through his helmet mic.
"Understood, soldier. I want them neutralized before there's land under them."
"Reading you, sir, but how should I do that? With respect, our equipment just isn't goddamn heavy enough to-"
"Stow it, soldier. Continue fire on ground contacts. OFW 857!"
"Yessir?" 857 came in crisp over the waves.
"Cease automatic fire on ground contacts, we have additionals in the air, coming from the waters, on your left. Visibility?"
"Yessir."
"Equip XM1018 HEAB onto your SABR rifle, commence firing upon airborne contacts."
"Sir, yes sir!"
The XM1018 HEAB- High Explosive Air Burst. Good for taking down troublesome choppers, and if all went well, over the water so that tugboats could just pull the wreckage away and turn it into scrap. The soldiers would be buried at sea, of course. Or scrapped with the wreckage. Depending on whether they came loose while being pulled.
857 was perched on a crane mounted on a harbor within visible distance down the coast. In a heartbeat, he had his weapon geared up, a bright red dot painted on his first target's rear propellor, and a trigger that had just been squeezed.

"General! Bonstockian nationals are being fired upon, both civilian and military! They are requesting reinforcements!"
Strickland jumped into action. " OK, alert the Emperor to the situation, and then get word to our people in Lictoria that we're coming to get them out of there. Advise the Bonstockian government that we will do all we can to protect and retrieve their nationals. Immediately scramble two squadrons of Comanche HCGS's with the 11th AirWing as escort and support. Put the Black Katanas on high alert. They may have to move out of Bonstock into Lictoria quickly. Lastly, send a message to whoever is calling the shots in Lictoria that if just one Xeraphian citizen is harmed in any way, Xeraph will use overwhelming force to ensure that a second incident will not occur."
"Aye, sir. Anything else?"
" Yes, corporal, there is. Advise Alaric that this may be a bad one. Have him authorise the use of 500,000 armored troopers, 200,000 AI Spiders, 2 divisions of Mobile Armor, 6 AirWings, and 3 CBG's. And have three times that many available in case of escalation. If Lictoria harms our people, God's gonna have to help them......'cause Alaric is going to destroy Lictoria."
"Aye sir..........."

Over Lictoria's capital

The two Bonstocknian MH-53s, huge birds that could carry over fifty soldiers a piece, were unimpressed by the small arms fire directed at them. Some damage was taken, but most of it was minimal, and the choppers were still flying towards the embassy as planned. A few door gunners took .50 caliber machine guns and fired back.

The Ambassador on the ground turned to his Marine detachment commander. "Lieutenant," he began, "I need you and your men to barracade the gates as we try to get the civilians out. You and your men will have to stay behind. Hopefully by then the government will relieve us, and we'll send some more choppers to pick you up."

"Yes, sir." The Lieutenant quickly gathered his remaining men. Most had by now overcome the shock of the attack. Transmissions were quickly sent to the government, asking for aid in whatever way possible. Finally, the thirty-odd remaining Marines began their last stand at the embassy gates, as about a hundred Bonstocknian civilians were loaded onto the MH-53s. Within ten minutes, the choppers were away.

"All right men," the Lieutenant said, "The civilians are away, and we'll be relieved soon. Let 'em have it!"

The Marines let loose a hail of rifle and machine gun fire upon the enemy, as they retreated into the embassy building. Most were confident that they would be quickly relieved. No one had any idea that they were being betrayed, though the Lieutenant did take notes of the enemy's uniforms and weapons. Quite well equipped for some guerrilla rebels, he thought. And well trained. I would expect a bunch of guys with AK-47s in t-shirts and jeans.

OOC: So... what was I doing for those ten minutes while the civilians got away? Nothing?

IC: "Prophets help us. Prize Inside is away. I repeat, citizens have been successfully evacuated. Calling full retreat."
Three men lay twitching in their respective posts, holes bored through their body by the .50 cal. The mission was being aborted. The soldiers had failed. They had three casualties to show for it. There was nothing more to it than that. Swinging down to the ground, they began their retreat. An armored car in an alley took a few away. Some motorcycles in dumpsters and under dirty sheets made escapes for others. A few more saw a monorail coming and swung over it in the spiderweb of rails, hopping on top of it and speeding away. Fleeing to all parts of the city, they would regroup later... probably. There were definitely enough demotions... even executions... in store that would make sure that many of the soldiers that had been thrown together in this battle group would never see each other again. Failure was not tolerated.
"Regroup at HQ. I will deliver the news to the Prophet Miackar II," the squadron leader said solemnly.

OOC: Requesting some details about the Death Forest. I don't know how my Fortannian operatives are going to get in if you declare that it's impenetrable and I can't fly in on your airways. (Fortannia is an anarchist federation.)

Also, some security issues, like are your people barcoded? Surveillance cameras, secret police? Also, Lictoria city seems to be the central setting here, but are there outlying towns, any countryside at all? Suburbs? Which I guess in the case of such a massive city would really be cities unto themselves. What exists in Lictoria other than the city itself? Nomads? How do people get around (especially now that the grav-railway has been blown up)? Any cars at all?

OOC: Requesting some details about the Death Forest. I don't know how my Fortannian operatives are going to get in if you declare that it's impenetrable and I can't fly in on your airways. (Fortannia is an anarchist federation.)

Also, some security issues, like are your people barcoded? Surveillance cameras, secret police? Also, Lictoria city seems to be the central setting here, but are there outlying towns, any countryside at all? Suburbs? Which I guess in the case of such a massive city would really be cities unto themselves. What exists in Lictoria other than the city itself? Nomads? How do people get around (especially now that the grav-railway has been blown up)? Any cars at all?

Besides the soldiers, elite warriors and Prophets, what's the class system like? Feudalist, or more like the corporate market? What's your prison system like, too?

ooc: Ah, man! I was hoping you'd kidnap my soldiers that I left there and I'd have to go on a big hunt for them, only to realize in the very end that they were being held by the government!

OOC: BTW if it's too much trouble I'll just play the rebellion inside Lictoria.

ooc: Ah, man! I was hoping you'd kidnap my soldiers that I left there and I'd have to go on a big hunt for them, only to realize in the very end that they were being held by the government!

OOC: Oh, I never thought of that! I'm sorry, I messed this up. But if I can succeed against Xeraph, then maybe you can help him out.

OOC: Requesting some details about the Death Forest. I don't know how my Fortannian operatives are going to get in if you declare that it's impenetrable and I can't fly in on your airways. (Fortannia is an anarchist federation.)

Also, some security issues, like are your people barcoded? Surveillance cameras, secret police? Also, Lictoria city seems to be the central setting here, but are there outlying towns, any countryside at all? Suburbs? Which I guess in the case of such a massive city would really be cities unto themselves. What exists in Lictoria other than the city itself? Nomads? How do people get around (especially now that the grav-railway has been blown up)? Any cars at all?

Besides the soldiers, elite warriors and Prophets, what's the class system like? Feudalist, or more like the corporate market? What's your prison system like, too?

OOC: The Deathtrap Forest consists of a lot of Viet Cong-like crude traps, basically, laid on very heavily. Besides that, the main roads are covered with anti-vehicle mines. Also, snipers and guards are posted throughout the forest, with bulkier patrols in wartime. Only they know the way out. The forest is home to several types of dangerous animals, including all manner of venomous spiders, insects, and snakes. The forest also contains a few hi-tech traps, including automated laser cutters, poison gas nozzles, and most impressive of all- several hundred thousand tiny explosive mines disguised to look like leaves, powerful enough to blow off fingers or toes. There are dangerous plants throughout, and several types of edible-looking mushrooms (such as the Death's Cap Mushroom, which looks just like a Honey Mushroom) and berries that are extremely dangerous. Where the treeline thins, animals have been set loose- Tsavo lions, grizzly bears, Bengal tigers, ratel honey badgers, hyena dogs, and more. Over years of training, the original animals released were starved, tormented, and abused by humans. Over the years, convicts have been dumped into their lairs so that the parents can teach their offspring. Finally, past the treeline is a long stretch of desert, which is pretty lethal on its own just being dry and hot, but is also peppered with anti-personnel mines and populated by monitor lizards such as Komodo dragons and Gila monsters. Over the years, the lizards have found their way through the mines and become self-sustaining through cannibalism. But they would love some human meat. When the desert ends, you'll find yourself facing a high concrete wall, topped with razor wire, with snipers posted in towers. They aren't the best Lictoria has to offer, but they aren't really expecting to have to shoot anyone. No one has ever completely made it through the jungle.

As for security systems, there is no privacy in Lictoria. Surveillance cameras, barcoding, routine inspections of homes, and other such procedures are commonplace and pretty normal. Soldiers and some Clerics patrol the streets, looking for something to go wrong. They guard the only inhabited part of Lictoria- the huge city within the walls. The entire country is one big city. It's important to understand that Lictoria has little space, and with the construction of the Deathtrap Forest has had to sacrifice more. So instead of building out, they build up, with huge towers that any engineer would be proud of. There are cars on the streets, but most people rely on Lictoria's mass transit system- buses and maglevs.

As for the caste system, besides the government and the temple, there is little to say. Holy men and women are treated with great reverance, and as for soldiers- few people know their identities, or are meant to know. Most of them spend their lives in barracks, anyway. Prophets live out their lives in huge, elaborate palaces that reflect upon their usually inflated egos. And besides that- the rest of the population pretty much consists of a huge hive of bees. There is, to some degree, a caste system, since professions are usually handed down through generations. Though not a law, it has become a traidition in Lictoria that sons do what their fathers did. If your father was poor, then you probably will be, too- quite possibly for your whole life. But, being devoutly capitalist, Lictoria still allows citizens to get ahead despite poor heritage.

Finally, as for the prison system, it consists of a few massive complexes, most of them built outside the nation-city's walls, that are under tight security. Landmines, snipers, motion trackers, infrared beams, electric and razor-wire fences, and of course, once out of prison, escapees still have the Forest to contend with. The Prophets have decreed that all prisoners contribute blood. The DNA is typed and classified. The rich old men have spent millions in tax money to build hi-tech labs to examine and store prsioners' genetic material. They have an innocent explanation: DNA is like a fingerprint. When the sub-humans wheedle their ways out of jail, they'll commit more crimes, and the harmless genetic database will help identify the evildoers. In reality, there's (obviously) a far more sinister reason behind this. These testing laws are used for people who are mere days away from the death penalty. Condemned men are not getting out of prison- they probably wouldn't even want to. Genetic testing will identify which prisoner has the organs that would be perfectly compatible with which rich extremist. Organs are worth good money to these dying old men: Over fifty thousand onyx cubes for a heart, twice that for a pair of kidneys. One prisoner with the right DNA could be worth half a million in spare parts; a liver for this old man, some lungs for his granddaughter, bone marrow for a big party contributor, eyes for his cousin. As long as you're executing people, why not harvest his valuable entrails to reward the faithful. From there it's a small step choosing who should be executed or even arrested based upon the value of his organ harvest.

OOC: Thanks muchly for the excellent answers! My first moves shall soonly be decided and written.

OOC: I don't think getting the DNA sequence of prisoners is innocent under any circumstances, but especially not in a state like Lictoria, which considers heretics and dissenters to be enemies of the order.

IC...

A Fortannian patriot looked through his binoculars. Past the grassy meadows on which he then stood, he gazed at a massive, foreboding treeline. There it is, he thought.
“What do you see?” asked Fire Team Delegate Alexa Durgen.
The question was not at all commanding, not in the arrogant, demanding voice of a superior, but a concerned and curious inquiry from one equal to another. Alexa was not a Corporal, nor could the women and men standing on the border of Lictoria really be called part of any military. All were there by total voluntary choice. The warriors being organized according to anarchist principles, Alexa was not, nor were any of her other Fire Team Delegate cohorts, in charge of the other men and women. Most decisions were made by open discussions and soldiers’ votes. The Delegates were there for quick tactical decision-making in the middle of combat, when there wasn’t time for talk, and for other situations which prevented the whole group from being present in one spot.
“I think it’s the forest.”
“Can I take a look?”
“Sure.”
Alexa took a glance and nodded her head. Everything matched up with the intelligence. Carrying in their backpacks a variety of heavy equipment, from mortars to huge quantities of extra cheap firearms to lots of food, they continued marching on until nightfall, and they set up camp.
~
Once everyone had woken up the next morning, the whole section assembled. Alexa, being one of the more respected Fire Team Delegates, spoke. “Alright, people, this is what we’ve traveled across countries for. Remember, they’re going to try to get you at every turn, so be careful and don’t do anything stupid. We can clear a path with the mortars, but there’s still plenty of things in the Deathtrap Forest to screw us over besides the mines we might take out. Finally, we’ve come a long way from Fortannia, but as regulation states, I must ask anyone planning on desertion to leave now.”
Faces in the crowd looked at each other. There was tension, but nobody seemed to have any such intentions.
“Alright. Fire team councils, do your thing, then we’ll meet back to cover any problems, call the trucks, and blow ourselves a nice little road through the asshole of the world.” (OOC, credit to Apocalypse Now! For that phrase.)
The crowd stood up, a murmur rose, and the fire teams went their separate ways.
~
In the Death Forest, a tiger was bent over a carcass it had been saving up when an ear-piercing shriek shattered the silence. The bombing had begun.

OOC: Being not in the same region, I figured Lictoria doen't border Fortannia, but we can say it's just a few neutral countries east so you can bomb it if it ever comes to that. But I see no reason at the moment.

And you other hostage situation countries can go ahead and do your thing.

OOC: You can RP the reaction to my attempt, if you want, Lictor.

The Comanche's came in low and fast. They knew exactly where Snyder and his family was. And it was right in the middle of the capitol of Lictoria.
" Honey, here they come. Get ready," Brad whispered to his wife. He grabbed one of the children, and his wife the other.
As the HCGSs came into sight, a Lictorian patrol started across the square. They looked up at the sudden noise, and died as the HCGS gatlings cut them to pieces.
The copters landed, and the Snyder's sprinted toward the nearest one. A pair of Xeraphian Rattlesnakes roared by overhead, providing air cover for the copters.
With it's cargo secured, the HCGSs lifted off. Within seconds the alarms went off.
"Captain, bogies at 10 o'clock!"
"Hard left bank, lieutenant. Get those jet jockies on the line and tell 'em to get those punks off our back!"
As the lieutenant keyed the mike, the copter off to his left a hundred yards away burst into flames. A Lictorian missile had found it's mark.......

OOC: I understand, GruntsandElites, but I'm unclear on who exactly you want to kill here.


OOC:Me? Oh, I just want to kill everything.



No laughs?

Anyway I am going to side with the government. And sorry I havn't posted, I have been at camp.

IC:80 Helixes escorted 79 Raptor Transport Helicopters to the edge of Deathtrap forest. BG Tom Bradley stepped out of his GCT and waited for a Lictorian delegate.

OOC: Sorry for the late response, work has been hell.

IC: Miackar II, new head of the Prophet High Council, had heard the report enough, but every time it seemed unbelievable.
"A cleric pursued a rebel on a commandeered civilian motorcycle through the South-Five underworks with five civilian casualties... the rebel was killed... Xeraphian soldiers attacked, unprovoked, a patrol of Lictorian soldiers, and killed them... sent us an angry message threatening to destroy Lictoria if their citizens were harmed... and a small team has been blowing its way through the Deathtrap Forest. Wonderful," the Prophet had long ago killed the messenger and had him hung by his entrails in front of the High Temple. He hated bad news. Now, some Council members were sitting before his marble throne in the Temple, the light that sifted through stained glass casting a heavenly glow upon them.
"It's the Deathtrap Forest that I don't understand. Exactly who is doing this? Xeraph?"
"It would seem that Xeraph is responsible. From the outset of this situation, the Xeraphians have seemed... a bit more hostile than we predicted."
"It's almost like they're in the council chamber with us... But I still don't understand who would be trying to get through the Forest..."
"And the way that they are doing it is... unexpected."
"Yes. We have guards and snipers posted, we should be presented with a corpse any time now."
"Or better yet, a live one. I want to know who is doing this, why, and most importantly, who told them to do it."
"The Deathtrap Forest was designed to combat this. Do not forget that everything in it is designed to kill. The plants, the animals, everything. And rest assured, with all the men we're posting throughout the forest, the problem will be no more in any minute."
"Hmm. Xeraph is truly worrying me... we've lost our hostages. They're killing our troops, and they seem to know of our plot. Somehow. Can we handle a war with them?"
"With respect, all the nation has been doing for the past several decades is preparing for a war that nobody ever believed would really happen. Even before the Emperor was overthrown and the Council began to preach the word, Lictoria was ready for a war with the whole damned world!" a young Prophet broke in.
"Very well, then," Miackar said, "bring me every last rebel, Xeraphian soldier, and enemy of the Holy Nation dead, and I will believe in our fullproof plan. Until then, I want OFW-G's in the Forest. And send a telegram to Xeraph in regards to their little outburst on our soldiers."
"Telegram?"
"Yes. Play dumb. Say rebels launched the missile and try to be forgiving. Regardless of what some council members might say, it's better to avoid a war with Xeraph all together than be ready to fight them."
"Certainly, sir."
As Miackar got up from his throne and ascended on a platform to his personal quarters, he only shook his head and muttered: "Jihuntae was right, the dead bastard..."

OOC: Lictoria, I need permission to go over Deathtrap forest. Oh, I forgot which nation it was, but that dosn't sound like Anarchy. It sounds like Straight up democracy. If you had an anarchist nation, It would be one constant civil war.

Sacred Emperor Lucifer has a deep and abiding hatred of rebellions in general. Therefore he has decided to ship medical supplies to your government. However, the Council of Prefects has advised him not to militarily intervene at this time. The Sacred Emperor may, of course, simply ignore their advice, as he often knows better than them (filthy bureaucrats), so military action may come soon. We wish you well in your endeavour.

OOC: Nice thread! Lots of detail!

The rebels had paved their way to their target pretty far through the Deathtrap Forest. A few skirmishes with individual posted guards had occurred, but nothing bad. One group had been incapacitated by a gas nozzle and helped out of the forest.

Occasionally troops had stepped on the leaf mines. Somehow some of them weren't detonated by the mortars. Often it only blew off some rubber on their boots, but one unfortunate soldier picked one up with his left hand, and lost two fingers.

Alexa knew that these reports would keep coming in, and they were unsettling. But she knew she had to expect them, and they were all part of the mission. Wasn't no easy task, taking on an Orwellian nightmare of a megacity. But they had to press on. The Lictorian fascism probably killed more of its own citizens on a regular basis in a period of twenty years than would die on Fortannian hands. In the face of a society like that, one could hardly call sacrificing some others and themselves immoral. But the emotional toll was still taxing.

She, like the rest of the task force, was walking along slowly, with her eyes nervously scanning over every tree and every step ahead of her. Death could be absolutely anywhere.

Ahead of her three of the boys were laughing and joking, and she was happy to hear it. "Do I smell smoke, 'cause somebody just got burned!" said one of them in response to another's joke about the third's mother.

"Hey, shit, shit, shit, wait guys! Wait! My foot is caught on something!" The other two turned in alarm. They looked down to see that the unfortunate rebel had been shuffling his feet and one of them was stretching a metal wire that had probably been half-submerged from the dirt-moving the mortars had done.

The others started to back off. "Come on guys, HELP ME!" He wanted help, but was keeping surprisingly cool.

"Don't move!" shouted Alexa. "That thing hasn't gone off yet, which means it's either a dud, or it will go off when the wire is unstretched."
"So...I just stand here on top of this mine?"
"Sorry, babe, but for the moment, yes."
He bit his lip, inhaled sharply, and huffed. "Shit."
And then a loud snap was heard. "WHOA!" One of the other three men jumped. "That was d-definitely aimed at me! I heard the, the whiz!"
"Where is he, where is he?" shouted another.
"Over there!"
Six Lictorian guards were making their way through the trees toward Alexa's fire team, and opening fire. Alexa witnessed a red mist burst from one of her comrades, and he fell on his back. The anarchists began returning fire. It became quickly apparent that the Fortannians were outnumbered at this point. Alexa yelled “Fall back!”
~
The Fortannians sat at the campfire outside the Deathtrap Forest. It had been a mistake to assume a path would be blown to the target as quickly as assumed, and lives had been lost over it. Alexa decided she would bring it up at the next soldiers’ council.
“Anybody seen Tim?” asked one of the women. “He owes me a game of spit.”
Alexa’s eyes went wide. Tim was the one that had been left with his foot stuck in the booby trap.
~
“Drop the gun! Drop it now!”
In the Deathtrap Forest, Tim would not drop his weapon, even being ridiculously outnumbered. He had started to make his peace with death, or whatever fate he faced. He understood that he had chosen to give his life for the revolution so that others could enjoy the freedom that Fortannians could. After a lot of shouting, the guards figured he wasn't putting his gun down, but didn't seem to be using it, either.
The Lictorian guards approached. “Looks like we just might fulfil the Prophet’s special orders,” one mused to another. “We might be rewarded well.”
But he turned to Tim. “You,” he barked, with no mirth or compassion, “Why didn’t you retreat with the rest?”
Tim said nothing.
The guard shoved his gun in Tim’s face. “Speak up!”
“Oh, I don’t know…it was such a nice day.”
Tim was now considering making the ultimate sacrifice.
“Why don’t you all gather round so I feel real intimidated?” said Tim sarcastically.
“Alright,” the Lictorian said, motioning the others forward. “Everybody remember what this guy says, in case the rebels come back and somebody gets hurt. So why are you still standing here?”
Tim only smiled.
The Lictorian lost his patience and clubbed Tim with his gun, almost knocking him off balance.
“Ugh!” But Tim stayed standing. After recovering a little, he said darkly, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The guard only stood confused.
But another guard saw the crucial detail: “By the Prophets! Look! He’s got his foot in a booby trap!”
“Don’t one of you move!” shouted Tim. He and the gaurd trained their guns on eachother.
The fear in the eyes of the guard was apparent, but he stood his ground. “You’ll die too. Where exactly do you plan on going?”
“I don’t know,” joked Tim, “I’m crazy. We can stand here all night. Where do YOU want to go?”
And the two stared at eachother.

OOC: “Where we go from there…is a choice I leave up to you.” (RATM guitar riffing begins)
But seriously, this is your situation now, Lictoria. If you can figure out a way to get this guy off this mine alive, he’s your prisoner, and you can start to solve this whole mystery of my place in this thread. And it’s not a dud. You can also now write your major troops reaction to the enemy presence here, OFW-G’s, as you said. And I don’t know what Objective Force Warrior-G’s even are, are they a special kind of OFW?

GruntsandElites, if you were asking about anarchist principles, what anarchism actually means is quite similar to democracy, except in "democracy" only the government is run democratically, and often not democratically enough. Businesses are still run like dictatorships, and so is the military and just about everything else in life. Essentially anarchism means democracy in every single part of life. It means "no authority," not "no structure." I agree that if anarchy meant "no structure" it would be constant civil war, but that actually sounds more like Nihilism. Believe me, I don't support all-out civil war as a permanent way of living, even if we disagree over what something is called.

Edit: this thread owns.

OOC: I am going to assume I'm not going to get blown out of the sky when I fly over Deathtrap forest. I'll have to complete this later, I have to go.

IC: Just before they were ready to lift off a tech officer ran up to Bri. Bradley.
" Sir, I just heard. A small team tried to blow it's way through Deathtrap forest. A few were killed by a Lictorian patrol, but most escaped." " Ok, we're going to attack. Set down the 100 infantry and half the GCTs. Have everyone else fly to Lictoria City." Bradley quickly replied.

When they were set down on the ground, Bradley called out over the com "Alright, infantry switch to shredder rounds and GCTs switch to high explosives. " *** " There they are" PFC Avery Kyes whispered to the rocket jockey. " Hit the middle first, they all seem to be clustered." After that sentence, six rocket jockeys fired into the soldiers. Another 20 GCTs fired into the group. Only four shells hit the targets. The other infantry popped up and fired into the group. By this time the group had started to counter-attack. They peppered the infantry with bullets. Two fired rockets and hit a GCT. A sniper sitting in a tree at Deathtrap forest fired twice and both fell. By now the infantry had to retreat. There were 10 out of 30 casualties.

Sitting in his GCT Bradley said to is second-in-command over the COM " They souldn't fallow their advantage"

OOC: Uh, dude, I hope you don't think I only brought thirty people, or are you talking about just one part of my forces?

I'll respond soon. Be prepared for an unconventional strategy, and please play along some.

Btw, are your soldiers really grunts and elites? That would rule.

[TAG] for later post when it's not 2 AM

OOC: Uh, dude, I hope you don't think I only brought thirty people, or are you talking about just one part of my forces?

I'll respond soon. Be prepared for an unconventional strategy, and please play along some.

Btw, are your soldiers really grunts and elites? That would rule.

I brought thirty people to that part of the engagement.

Well, there are the national animal grunts and citizen grunts. And my tech people have just started mass-producing Grunt and Elite body armor. But for the most part it's only humans.

And that was a small part to that engagement, but be prepared for combat combings and carpet bombs

Sacred Emperor Lucifer has a deep and abiding hatred of rebellions in general. Therefore he has decided to ship medical supplies to your government. However, the Council of Prefects has advised him not to militarily intervene at this time. The Sacred Emperor may, of course, simply ignore their advice, as he often knows better than them (filthy bureaucrats), so military action may come soon. We wish you well in your endeavour.

OOC: Nice thread! Lots of detail!

IC: Prophet Miackar II thanks you for your support. He also has a great hatred of bureaucrats. He would be glad to accept military support but would never ask it of you. (OOC: He would just kidnap your citizens and hold them hostage...) IC: Again, thank you.

OOC Again: Thanks!

The OFW kept a targeting laser trained on the jugular of the... filthy anarchist. This man was willing to die, and for what? Chaos. That's what the goal of these people was. Lack of order. No control. No leadership. A society like that would tear itself apart. The Prophets had made that abundantly clear. No, they did not know what they did. The OFW turned to his leader, behind him, both faces hidden under reflective black visors. The OFW aiming at the soldier was given a nod. Behind the anarchist, another OFW had moved as quietly as possible into position. Another nod was given.
"Savor this moment," the OFW said, "because it's the last moment of your life that you won't be spending in agonizing pain." A tranquilizer dart pierced the man's jugular. He fell back, his foot still stretching the wire. The OFW behind him caught him. Any regular tranquilizer dart would have taken a little longer to work- enough time for the wire to be let loose. This was new stuff- powerful, quick, efficient. The commander and soldiers had been communicating via radio within their helmets, unheard by the anarchist, and the plan had been set up. It had worked. So far, flawlessly.
"Excellent work. 675, you know what to do."
The OFW nodded, lowered his rifle, and crouched to the ground. If he put just a milligram too much or too little of pressure on this wire, the mine could very well blow. Lictorians were not known for faulty explosives. Sliding the butt of his rifle onto the wire, he nudged the anarchist's foot gently away and dug his bayonet into the ground, holding the rifle in place. But it was only temporary. Quickly, 675 went around the mine, taking the anarchist's pulse to make sure the tranquilizer hadn't stopped his heart. He was still alive- perfect.
"Very good, men. 675 and 489, get him to the city. You remember where we left your vehicles?"
"Yessir."
"Excellent. Now, we should be seeing the cavalry- pardon me. We shouldn't be seeing the cavalry any time now. Otherwise they wouldn't be doing their job. But I think-" the commander was cut short when three OFWs abruptly materialized behind the soldiers he was facing.
"What, sir?"
"I think they're here anyway."
The soldiers turned and saw the three stealthy troops that had de-camouflaged behind them. The Objective Force Warrior Ghost- a paragon of stealth technology. Optical camouflage cloaks were nothing new, and were anything but invisible, though they seemed to make the wearer transparent. The cloaks were made up of retro-reflective materials, coated with tiny light-reflective beads that covered their entire lengths. These soldiers were wearing the most advanced stealth suits to date- with six miniature stereoscopic cameras built into the suit and looking at the environment, while very bright electronic displays used somehwere around eleven or twelve million "hyper-pixels" to project that environment around the soldier. Because of the exorbitant price for these suits, there were only a handful of OFW Ghosts- and they had to be good. They had been trained for years to move through the forest without a sound. It took a graceful person to move through this place alive- an inhuman person to do the same thing quietly. The new suits had even been equipped with some kind of new device the Lictorian Military Research Complex was calling: counter-frequency white noise emitters, which supposedly dampened the sounds they picked up, nullifying the noises of a moving soldier, by generating opposing sound waves of its own. The two sounds canceled each other out.
It was technology like this that made the Ghosts untraceable. They would let the anarchists go. They would let them think they had lost the soldiers. And then- they would strike. But then they heard the sound of aircraft and rockets firing. Quickly, the lead Ghost activated camfoil, and saw two rocket-launcher wielding anarchists be shot by snipers. He gave the message quickly through radio: "Suit up. Get the rest of your camfoil on, get cameras rolling. We have air support. Let them clean. What they miss, we sweep up."

This thread needs to move faster. So I am going to RP one more time.

IC: RJ Deallio, a Helix pilot, manerverd close to the enemy column. " Alright people, its time to glass the beach!" He pushed a button and two machine guns unfolded themselves out of the front. Carpet bombs were produced out of both sides. RJ pushed the big blinking button. The Helix's sysytems started to churn. Outside he could hear other other Helixes do the same. His Helix moved foreward and started spitting out bullets, the bombs started dropping. A few minutes later, with two Helixes down, the last of the screams were heard. The infantry and GCTs were picked up and transported to Lictoria City, with a hot meal awaiting. They had brought their own stuff.


The next day, the people really started rolling in. Four GCT divisions, ten divisions of M223 Guass Tanks. The Marks, and 15 infantry divisions. The total troops numbered 20,240.

OOC: I am going to start a thread. It's like a opposite to the Great White Tower Thingy. It centers around everything military. I need instructors, Heros and other peoples.

The assault was on - rockets were blowing open the front gates. The Fortannian losses were rolling in, as expected, but they were at their target, and had enough remaining troops for the task ahead.

They were going to liberate a Lictorian prison.

The machine gun turret stood empty, or rather, full of bodies, after consuming a few Fortannian lives. After all the front gate guards were eliminated, the supply trucks rolled up. The first rolled over a mine that hadn't been detonated and rolled over on its side. The other trucks behind it swerved as far as they could out of the way. After they passed, the extra ammo in it went off, and the blast let everyone nearby, including the prisoners, know something was happening.
Soldiers dismounted, some pushing carts with crates of guns, others moving in armed, but with extra guns strapped to them. As they stormed in, the Lictorian guards had rallied inside. The shootout was intense, with grenades being flung by both sides. Eventually one fed-up Fortannian cleared out the whole hallway with an RPG, and the Lictorians scattered.
Alexa strutted in, filled with revolutionary fire. "Guards of Lictoria! We are not here to kill you! In a better world we would be brothers and sisters! But, hey! Here's our chance!"
A few guards were listening from behind cover.
"So do us a favor for the moment, and drop your weapons. We're not here to fight you!"
The Fortannians carefully crept in. A guard lay on the ground, helpless and wounded. "Medic, get on him," said Alexa.
"But I have to help our wounded!"
"Enough are already doing that. Remember how we are going to win this war."
"Okay," he consented. He dropped down to the wounded man. "It's alright, we're going to take care of you," he comforted, "where are you hit?"
The rest of the team moved on. One guard jumped out from behind a corner, gripping his assault rifle.
"NEVER!" he screamed, and leveled his weapon at Alexa.
But she was ready for it, and he had a bullet in his head before he squeezed any shots off. He crumpled to the floor.
"What a shame," muttered Alexa.

The Lictorians never really expected their PRISONS to be attacked by foreign forces. What use could they possibly be?

So it was with relative ease that the Fortannians reached the control center and melted open the final door with thermite. In their ignorance, the guards expected to die upon the door being opened, so they bolted it shut as tight as they could. They threw their arms up, pleading not to be hurt.
But they were surprised. "Come on out guys. Go to the cafeteria, okay?"
They looked wide-eyed as they were pushed out of the control room. "Are they taking us there?" whispered one to another.
"No...it's really your choice..." interjected Alexa as she started flciking the switches to open the cells throughout the prison, "but if you want to be with the program, I suggest you get there, soon."
They shrugged and left for the cafeteria.
Alexa flicked on the PA system for the entire prison. "All inmates and guards report to the cafeteria immediately. Do not worry, you shall not be harmed.
~
I love my job, thought Alexa.
Thousands of faces stared at her, not sure what was going on. She bumped her finger against the mic to test it.
"We are agents of the anarchist nation of Fortannia," she announced, "and we are here to free you."
A thundering cheer arose from the prisoners. She and the Fortannians exchanged beaming smiles.
"But wait before you get too happy," she interrupted, "We have the the Lictorian airforce coming down on us soon, a bunch of crackpots from god-knows-where, and who knows what else. The fact of the matter is, not all of us are gonna get out of here alive."
The mood became more sullen, and the cheering stopped.
"We have sufficient arms for all of you, so you can all fight. We can take you out of here, if we survive, and then you can go wherever the hell you want. But some of you may - and I'm talking prisoners, guards, whatever, 'cause the fact is you're all prisoners in this country - some of you many wish to join us in the liberation of Lictoria. Now let's hand out those guns, people, 'cause we're gonna need the extra firepower to get out of here."

OOC: Sorry about the slow pace of my responses, but I try to make them quality, and often I don't write them in one sitting. Nice introductions of your forces, too, people. If you're wondering about the tech level of Fortannia, it's probably just a little under Lictoria. The soldiers are wearing body armor, but really nothing special. Plain old assault rifles. This operation doesn't have much in supplies/equipment from the country at large.

A quick reaction team, the Marks were already on their way. Mark -046, Will, was the first to drop down. He was temporary squad leader, becuase John was representing GruntsandElites at some dinner. He cut his way into the air vent and climbed down. He read no sensor contact. Strange he thought. He spoke over the COM " Anyone got something ?" he asked "I do, mass sensor readings over in the cafeteria." " Good, we'll check there. "

They had welded all doors shut but one. The Marks were ready. They had approximately 42 guns piled up near the end of the hallway. " Right, when they come through, blast anything that is armed or isn't Lictorian." Will whispered over the COM. Only 10 Marks were stationed in that hallway. All others were stationed in diffrent hallways, if they needed to escape. The door s opened ... and a grenade came through. Will kicked it back through the door. It exploded and several screams were heard. Will jumped back over the table and began firing. Another Mark fired an AT4 Viper through the door. Will attached a micro-thin wire to the guns and retreated. After he was three hallways back, he turned and pressed a button that was attached to the cord. A huge explosion was heard, along with many screams. If it was done right, probably one-hundred people were incenerated. Will climbed back up to the chopper and flew away.


OOC: That cord was attached to rockets and grenades.

Official Government Transmission
Holy Empire of Evir Bruck Saulsbury

From: Ministry of Foreign Affairs
-Vice Minister Felrom Distrate

To: Holy Empire of Lictoria
-Head Prophet Miackar II


The government of the esteemed people of the Evir Bruck Saulsbury has heard of the plight your government and people face due to insurgency. Our rulers and people sympathize with the disorder that has been wrought in your state, our own nation being born from endless civil and religous wars. As such, we wish to assist your nation in any effort to maintain order, and are willing to send military aide. Our nation is young, and small compared to the might our your own, not to mention that our economy is caught in a recession. But, our military is excellently trained and exceedingly loyal, even if small, as well as armed with the best technology we can offer. We humbly wish to be of any assistance to your nation in preventing chaos from growing in your nation. Our Emperor awaits your reply.

Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
Serving his lordship Emperor Urusic Kersisulen II

Ic:Lictorian rebels, it is the policy of Boozia to cuase as much chaos as possible, and so we give you full military support. If we win, we will request significant tithes of alchohol for our services.

Ooc:Boozia is a humour nation. If you want me to use the serious version, ask and ye shall recieve.

OOC: Wiring a telegram to you now, Evir Bruck Saulsbury. Boozia, the rebellion is frequently drunk. Any kind of this behavior you bring- seriously or humorously- combined with your fair share of killing oppressive Lictorian dogs- would be greatly appreciated. Just no anvil dropping and the like. Try to keep it within the confines of reality.

IC: "Are you Captain Salustradius?" the young man on-screen asked.
"Yes. And who are you?" The gravelly voice of the old man, his head a shaven dome, and of course his huge form, was more than a little intimidating to such a young officer.
"We have a security threat at Third Circle Prison."
"Wonderful. I don't care. The prison was designed to prevent breakouts. Landmines, electric razor fences, the auto-machine guns, and plenty of personnel-"
"Sir, it's not a breakout. It's a break-in, and-"
The Captain didn't appear to be very surprised. "Let me say this again: I don't care. So a gang is trying to spring their friends from prison. Not my problem. Now, if there's an enemy army the Prophets want me fighting, sure, but-"
"Goddamn it, shut up! There is an enemy army, they've armed the prisoners, and there was just a shootout between them and some forces from one of our allies- GruntsandElites, I think. Some explosives went off, there are some wounded, and an air strike is out of the question, since we don't know if GruntsandElites left any of theirs wounded. Besides, the Prophets won't scrap the prison. Sir."
"First off, that little outburst of yours will be excused, since it served a good enough purpose. But not twice. Remember that. There are a few flights of transports already loaded up- supplies, soldiers, everything- we'll have them into Third Circle on time. They should arrive before the enemy forces recover. Just who are we up against?"
"Fortannians, sir. They're much like rebels- anarchic, using some outdated weaponry."
"All right. We can stand up to AK-47s. End transmission."

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

The transports were away- six of them, with about fifteen OFWs on each. Essentially large helicopters, they were slightly faster, and a great deal more maneuverable. Breaking the cloud cover, they could almost see the explosion's effects. It wasn't going to pierce the prison's walls. Those would stand up to direct hits from cruise missiles. They were made to. But there was smoke belching out from the blown-off main doors. Some bayonets had been left pointing towards the exit- not much of a defense, but a blinded man would run smack into them.
The land mines- made to keep escaping prisoners in- had obviously done little to keep the intruders out. There were maimed or charred bodies strewn about, but little more. Smoke curled from the earth where they had gone off.
"All right, men! Lictoria is currently in the: 'getting our asses kicked' stage of this war. Now, let's discuss our strategy. The enemy is gathered in the cafeteria. Squads one and two will enter the side doors to the cafeteria. Squads three and four will cover escape routes. Five and six- that's us- have a special duty. Listen up."

OOC: Wiring a telegram to you now, Evir Bruck Saulsbury. Boozia, the rebellion is frequently drunk. Any kind of this behavior you bring- seriously or humorously- combined with your fair share of killing oppressive Lictorian dogs- would be greatly appreciated. Just no anvil dropping and the like. Try to keep it within the confines of reality.

IC: "Are you Captain Salustradius?" the young man on-screen asked.
"Yes. And who are you?" The gravelly voice of the old man, his head a shaven dome, and of course his huge form, was more than a little intimidating to such a young officer.
"We have a security threat at Third Circle Prison."
"Wonderful. I don't care. The prison was designed to prevent breakouts. Landmines, electric razor fences, the auto-machine guns, and plenty of personnel-"
"Sir, it's not a breakout. It's a break-in, and-"
The Captain didn't appear to be very surprised. "Let me say this again: I don't care. So a gang is trying to spring their friends from prison. Not my problem. Now, if there's an enemy army the Prophets want me fighting, sure, but-"
"Goddamn it, shut up! There is an enemy army, they've armed the prisoners, and there was just a shootout between them and some forces from one of our allies- GruntsandElites, I think. Some explosives went off, there are some wounded, and an air strike is out of the question, since we don't know if GruntsandElites left any of theirs wounded. Besides, the Prophets won't scrap the prison. Sir."
"First off, that little outburst of yours will be excused, since it served a good enough purpose. But not twice. Remember that. There are a few flights of transports already loaded up- supplies, soldiers, everything- we'll have them into Third Circle on time. They should arrive before the enemy forces recover. Just who are we up against?"
"Fortannians, sir. They're much like rebels- anarchic, using some outdated weaponry."
"All right. We can stand up to AK-47s. End transmission."

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

The transports were away- six of them, with about fifteen OFWs on each. Essentially large helicopters, they were slightly faster, and a great deal more maneuverable. Breaking the cloud cover, they could almost see the explosion's effects. It wasn't going to pierce the prison's walls. Those would stand up to direct hits from cruise missiles. They were made to. But there was smoke belching out from the blown-off main doors. Some bayonets had been left pointing towards the exit- not much of a defense, but a blinded man would run smack into them.
The land mines- made to keep escaping prisoners in- had obviously done little to keep the intruders out. There were maimed or charred bodies strewn about, but little more. Smoke curled from the earth where they had gone off.
"All right, men! Lictoria is currently in the: 'getting our asses kicked' stage of this war. Now, let's discuss our strategy. The enemy is gathered in the cafeteria. Squads one and two will enter the side doors to the cafeteria. Squads three and four will cover escape routes. Five and six- that's us- have a special duty. Listen up."

" Mark - 046, returning with considerable reinforcements." He looked down. Hundreds of inmates were pouring out. But no Forttanians he thought. " Pilot, go around back! " he shouted. As the Helix swung around the back, he spotted a group of Forttinians. They looked up and started firing. Will heard a scream and turned around. Mark -096, Jenna was lying flat on her back, with blood coming out of her suit. Will jumped off the Helix and started killing on the ground. He shot, stabbed, punched, kicked, and broke the enemy. A few Fortannians were fighting harder than the rest. He walked over to that group. He lifted one up and broke his neck. He whipped out three knives and threw them at the group. Three soldiers fell. One soldier remained. A woman. She stared at him. Will punched her through the heart. His fist came out the other side. He withdrew his fist and she fell. Will pulled out a grenade and put it near her mouth. He walked ten feet away, and shot the grenade. A few shrapnel hit him. He walked away, and got picked up.

"Open season, boys! If you can't hit something, you're shooting the ground!"
Squad Leader 073 was opening up on a mass of inmates that poured, completely unorganized, from the front entrance. His SR-21 chattered. Before him, the dull thuds of bullets impacting a human body were heard, and bursts of blood came from the wounds. The rest of the squad followed suit, firing without targets into the teeming mass.
073 squeezed his trigger again for a last, short and controlled burst. Two inmates fell- two less for the nation to worry about later. He squeezed again, and was greeted with the click of an empty cartridge. Quickly removing it, he saw that most of the soldiers were doing the same thing- they had been firing in a sort of synchronization, and had started firing more or less on a similar pulse. It may have seemed like a dire mistake- with no offense, there was no defense. The inmates now started taking notice, seeing that the squad was left open. And then, from above, the grenades poured down.
Like shooting stars, they flared across the sky. Above, on the prison roof, Squad Six was raining down hell with LRA30 Squad Automatic Grenade Launchers. The first two men blew thirty-two holes in the ground before reloading. The drum magazines rotated as another two knelt to take their place, while snipers above were emptying their ammo cartridges on anything that their fellow soldiers were missing.
But, though weakned, the mass of inmates was still a few hundred strong. Quickly, they formed up. Five underbarrel grenade launchers were snapped onto five assault rifles and focused on the rooftops. Two missed. Two landed directly on the roof, firing shrapnel at hypersonic speeds into OFW body armor. A few pieces penetrated the armor, somehow, but OFWs were made of tough stuff. However, it was the impact of the explosion that managed to kill one. With an explosive like that going off, the air was packed almost to the density of steel, ramming into the soldier like a freight train. With a sickening snap, his neck- reinforced with advanced ceramics, but not unbreakable- twisted around, his head facing backwards. But it was the final grenade that did the most damage, hitting a soldier straight in the stomach- a soldier in the middle of a grenade firing formation. The chain reaction caused multiple grenade rounds to go off, leaving only three battered survivors as the remnants of Squad Six.
"Come on, boys!" Squad Two Leader 065 yelled. "Remember your training!"
Bullets thudded into his armor without effect. Another brief spray from his assault rifle, and he was out. Checking for extra ammo, he sighed. He didn't want to have to resort to this so early...
Strapped to his back, his old buddy was still resting. He had used it almost twenty years ago for riot control- an M134 Minigun. Old, yes, but a classic, and still the fastest-firing personnel based weapon in the world. A belt of ammo hung from its feed, and the rotating barrels began to pick up speed, humming as they went. 065 squeezed the trigger, and the barrels lit up, spraying a mass of bullets into the throng. An M4 shot blasted into his vest, which went rigid immediately. Nothing. A volley of assault rifle fire hit him. Nothing.
Marching slowly forward, into the croud, he swept death from side to side, bullets thudding into him without effect. The bloodbath that this one man created was a sight to behold. But as he stepped steadily forward, the enemy thickened. And before he knew what was happening, he was looking down the barrel of a Steyr Advanced Combat Rifle, a steel flechette dart blasting out of it. Personal defense sciences could only go so far. 065 was reduced to hamburger.

--Veristege, "Imperial City" Capitol of Holy Empire,
--Imperial Tower, Emperor's Office.

He walked purposefully down the dark hallway, seeing the silhouette of the honor guard who opened the door for him. To each side of that door, hidden in the shadows of the narrow hallway were two insets in the wall, a member of the Imperial Guard standing statuesque on either side, waiting for an interloper to cut down. Minister of Defense, Lucifer Versavic nodded towards the silent figures as he walked into the bright office.

The opposite wall was dominated by a row of tall, narrow windows. Behind the desk facing away from the windows stood a man in a stiff military uniform. His hands were clasped behind his back, his face staring out into the spires of the city surrounding them. He did not turn around, all he said was "Report."

Versavic bowed slightly, dropping a folder upon his Lords desk. "We have received word from Lictoria, they welcome our intervention. I can have five Divisions ready to be in off their shores in under a week."

Emperor Kersisulen pivoted slightly so as to look upon his Minister of Defense out of the corner of his eyes. A cold smile flashed across his face. "This is good news. We have an excellent chance to get technological advances from Lictoria, whether the government wins, or loses." He turned back to the window, a hand raising to wave Versavic off. "Commence the operation, and bring something back for our empire."

Minister of Defense Versavic nodded, bowing slightly and then snapping to attention for a salute. "As you command my Emperor!" He pivoted quickly and walked swiftly away, a broad smile upon his face. This was the chance they had all been waiting for.

----------------------------------------------------------------
Serviga Naval Base, City of Serviga.

Commodore General Berstof Oserglav sat in his chair on the bridge of the Heavy Assault/Landing ship 'Bastion'; technically it should not have been there, but this is his command, and damn the higher up telling him he couldn't have it! A sigh escaped his lips, as he had been waiting here for nearly a week awaiting orders to leave. Fortunately for him, a communications officer leapt up from his post and hurriedly walked over to the Commodore.

Oserglav looked up, a scowl on his face. "This had better be good," he said gruffly, snatching the orders from the man's hand. He unfolded the paper, muttering under his breath at the attention to regulation his man paid regarding confidential reports. His eyes scanned the paper, his mouth dropping open slightly, a twitch in the corner of his eye.

"Damn it! Inform all ships to get ready, and get a few guards ready to escort me to the deck. We have 'company' coming with our orders," the Commodore grumbled, getting out of his chair and briskly left the bridge.

- Ten minutes later, on deck of 'Bastion'.

The VF-2 Dragonfly came in quickly, breaking and making its landing in a shorter distance than Oserglav would have thought possible; an expert pilot had to be behind the controls. But then again, figuring who was on board that craft, he had no doubt that it could be the best pilot in the forces. The door on the port side of the craft, a soldier in the uniform of a First Guard Officer, followed by First Guard Spc. Lieutenant Commander Eszcir Xurich. Xurich smiled, a smile cold like a snake's. He offered his hand, bowing slightly before the Commodore.

"Special Lieutenant Commander Xurich, wish I could say a pleasure to see you, but I detest young officers with long titles. I take it you have my order?" the Commodore announced, taking Xurich's hand coldly.

"Indeed, I do. I take it your fleet is ready to go?"

"Yes, the three destroyers, the three submarines, the four transports, and the 'Bastion', already to go."

"And five divisions, one air support, one armored, one heavy assault, and two light assault. You are also aware of the new addition? The First Guard 21st Special Brigade?"

Oserglav looked agitated, nodding. "Yes, I am aware, they were packed yesterday. So what are the orders?"

Xurich smiled a more genuine smile. "Altogether we have twenty-thousand troops, 500 tanks, 1,000 MUVs, 750 helicopters, 500 VTOL aircraft, and a few special weapons. . . Yes, we are quite prepared to proceed to Lictoria to provide military assistance. We are to get underway immediately, as you are well aware, and I am to serve as military liaison and commander of this mission. Those are your orders. Anything else, is likely on a need to know basis. Understood?"

"Understood," the Commodore grimaced, giving the younger officers a weak salute, turning towards the bridge. Xurich merely watched the man precede before turning up to look at the sky. What a good day this would be.

A few minutes later, the fleet departed on its way for Lictoria.

OOC: Sorry guys, I been on an outdoorsy vacation and will not have computer access for another week. Apologies.

The Holy Guard was marching in the square before the High Temple, in rows that merged in and out, until eventually, one by one, the guards were replaced with new ones, changing shifts. These Clerics still wore the armor plating their predecessors had donned over seventy years ago, though now it was lighter than air, and nothing less than armor-piercing rounds could puncture it.

Meanwhile, Temple Arch-Canon Sanghell Drin was rushing hurriedly past the fountains, through the ranks of recently-changed Clerics, flashing his ring at the Holy Guard as identification. Some Clerics resisted the urge to roll their eyes. Sanghell Drin was always like this- a bumbling old fool. But the local hushed whisper was that he used to work for the Red Tong, private assassination agency, and that he had graduated at the top of his class in the Monestary of Clerics, proving ground for the militant order of holy knights that had, for over seven decades, been the Prophets' personal protection corps. He was no bumbling old fool. And it was no secret that nearly every major decision the High Council made had been carefully scrutinized and calculated by this man, as he tried to see every possible repercussion.

As the Arch-Canon hurried up the many steps to the entrance, a man was looking through a scope above. What he was using was an armor-penetrating, .50 caliber BMG sniper rifle. Capable of destroying armored personnel carriers, aircraft, and bulk fuel/ammunition sites, the .50 caliber sniper rifle was an antique, but the Clerics still feared their old enemy. One thousand, five hundred and fifty yards- more than effective range. The sniper rifle would reach its marks with devastating force.

The expense of this weapon had been so great, considering the risk, that the rebellion only possessed three. They had to be put to good use. These things had taken out armored helicopters from a thousand yards. The sheer size of the rounds they fired was amazing in itself, never mind the energy at impact that made them so destructive. They could reduce a man to stew.

Easing his finger onto the trigger, the rebel breathed heavily, got a good bead on the Arch-Canon, and squeezed. The shot rang out through the city- a shot that would change the nation forever. The Clerics had strong stomachs- they had seen a lot in their day. But this was awe-inspiring, in the most grim sense of the word. The Arch-Canon lay in scattered and bloodied pieces on the steps. Even dental records would be useless should someone try to identify him.

The Clerics were far from a state of panic- panic wasn't in their training. But they were helpless. They faced an enemy they could not see or hope to reach, who had the capabilities to bore a hole through their armor and their bodies. Thirty-two guards, lined up in two rows of sixteen. The first one was lucky. The shot that crumpled his armor went straight through his heart before the incendiary aspect went to work. The next guard was not so lucky. The bullet lodged in his thigh- tunneling into bone, tipped with phosphorous that blasted his leg open on impact and burned at a searing three thousand degrees. It was meant to ignite the fuel in vehicles. They were put to good use here.

The next Cleric's helmet was blasted apart, only scraps of metal remaining. The rest had been obliterated. Three more shots rang out, and like that, it was over. The sniper wanted to deliver a few more enemies to the next world before he packed up and left. One did not open fire on the most important Temple official besides the Prophets themselves and wait to be found. The man swung down from the fire escape he was perched on, onto the next one down, and so on, and then threw himself into a dumpster- airbag. He jumped out of the dumpster and hurriedly packed his rifle into a sniper case. Setting the case to rest on the ground, he tore his garbage man's uniform off, a crisp businessman's suit underneath- spotless. And he strolled away.

Alaric was pacing like a madman. " Did we get our people out of there, captain?"
"Yessir, theyr'e out. Everyone got out out without a scratch."
Alaric was visibly relieved. Relieved at his people getting out alive, and relieved that he didn't have to order the ICBM's into Lictoria.
"OK, have all troops in Bonstock ready to go into Lictoria at my command. Spiders first, then the Katanas. CBG's to soften up the attack, AirWings to provide cover and support for the armored divisions. And have six of the subs arm their warheads. One Lictorian city for every Xeraphian casualty. I'm not gonna screw around with these savages. If Lictoria doesn't issue an official statement of non-agression against Xeraph, Lictoria will become a Xeraphian subject-nation. Give 'em two days to respond."
"Yessir...........two days it is."

(ooc: Is Lictoria completely land locked or does it have a port?)

Alaric was pacing like a madman. " Did we get our people out of there, captain?"
"Yessir, theyr'e out. Everyone got out out without a scratch."
Alaric was visibly relieved. Relieved at his people getting out alive, and relieved that he didn't have to order the ICBM's into Lictoria.
"OK, have all troops in Bonstock ready to go into Lictoria at my command. Spiders first, then the Katanas. CBG's to soften up the attack, AirWings to provide cover and support for the armored divisions. And have six of the subs arm their warheads. One Lictorian city for every Xeraphian casualty. I'm not gonna screw around with these savages. If Lictoria doesn't issue an official statement of non-agression against Xeraph, Lictoria will become a Xeraphian subject-nation. Give 'em two days to respond."
"Yessir...........two days it is."

Issue: Xeraphian Aggresion
From: Brigader General Tom Bradley
To: Emperor Alaric

Subject:That was an idiotic action.

Body: This was a stupid course of action. The only way to get people killed is to send them into battle. A safer course of action would to be to blockade your borders.
The use of nuclear armaments is not recomended.
Alaric, If you use nuclear warheads, there won't be a Xeraph anymore. You will kill hundreds of USGE soldiers, and for one soldier, we will take three citys. I don't suppose you have heard of complete and total glassing, have you? The weapons used are virtually impossible to stop, and since we have hundreds of weapons stations all over orbit, don't try attacking them. Don't think of as a threat, just a warning.

OOC: Don't use nukes. I used a 1/8 megaton nuke to clear out a street, and I got yelled at for two pages. Then they kept referencing to it for about 10 pages. MOst likely, nuclear attacks will be ignored, Or possibly your nation will be nuked in return.

Linxiong, PRC (Chonqing): In a speech this morning in the Capitol, Premier Wan announced that the CPLA (Chonqing People's Liberation Army) will provide military support for the Lictorian rebellion. This means that on Tuesday several thousand members of the CPLA will depart Chonqing and arrive in Lictoria to fight. Glory to the People!

Issue: Xeraphian Aggresion
From: Brigader General Tom Bradley
To: Emperor Alaric

Subject:That was an idiotic action.

Body: This was a stupid course of action. The only way to get people killed is to send them into battle. A safer course of action would to be to blockade your borders.


OOC: I'll finish it later.


Gen. Bradley,

Two questions:
1)...Who ARE you?
2)...Who ASKED you?

Alaric

Gen. Bradley,

Two questions:
1)...Who ARE you?
2)...Who ASKED you?

Alaric

Alaric,


1). I am the Head Officer of the Lictorian Campaign. I command the GCTs, a special forces group.
2). I asked myself. Any invasion of Lictoria would more then likely result in the death of USGE soldiers.

Brigader General Bradley

P.S, don't try to assinate me. Also, there is only one Lictorian city.

OOC: And please don't try to kill him. He is my main charecter. I have already used him in a war.

Issue: Xeraphian Aggresion
From: Brigader General Tom Bradley
To: Emperor Alaric

Subject:That was an idiotic action.

Body: This was a stupid course of action. The only way to get people killed is to send them into battle. A safer course of action would to be to blockade your borders.
The use of nuclear armaments is not recomended.
Alaric, If you use nuclear warheads, there won't be a Xeraph anymore. You will kill hundreds of USGE soldiers, and for one soldier, we will take three citys. I don't suppose you have heard of complete and total glassing, have you? The weapons used are virtually impossible to stop, and since we have hundreds of weapons stations all over orbit, don't try attacking them. Don't think of as a threat, just a warning.

OOC: Don't use nukes. I used a 1/8 megaton nuke to clear out a street, and I got yelled at for two pages. Then they kept referencing to it for about 10 pages. MOst likely, nuclear attacks will be ignored, Or possibly your nation will be nuked in return.


Gen. Bradley,
First off, if you are truly fighting the Lictorians, as I may be doing in the near future, then we should communicate and work together.
Secondly, not all ICBM's are armed w/nukes. A lot of mine are frags, which is what would be deployed against Lictoria. Xeraph has never used nukes, even when the situation was much more critical than this one.
Thirdly, my entire interest in this situation was the removal of Xeraphian citizens, which was accomplished.

ooc>and fourthly, might I advise you that a nation your age with the pop you have hasn't the ability to buy nukes of any kind, much less have anything orbiting. You will constantly run the risk of being IGNORED until your GNP/GDP has risen sufficiently to enable you to purchase the weapons you cannot possibly have now. If you engage me in any way, I have the choice of defending myself to Xeraph's full capacity or IGNORING you.

y advise is to fight the fights that you can win, and grow to be a more powerful nation in the process.

Gen. Bradley,
First off, if you are truly fighting the Lictorians, as I may be doing in the near future, then we should communicate and work together.
Secondly, not all ICBM's are armed w/nukes. A lot of mine are frags, which is what would be deployed against Lictoria. Xeraph has never used nukes, even when the situation was much more critical than this one.
Thirdly, my entire interest in this situation was the removal of Xeraphian citizens, which was accomplished.

ooc>and fourthly, might I advise you that a nation your age with the pop you have hasn't the ability to buy nukes of any kind, much less have anything orbiting. You will constantly run the risk of being IGNORED until your GNP/GDP has risen sufficiently to enable you to purchase the weapons you cannot possibly have now. If you engage me in any way, I have the choice of defending myself to Xeraph's full capacity or IGNORING you.

y advise is to fight the fights that you can win, and grow to be a more powerful nation in the process.

Alaric,

First, I am with the Lictorians.
Second, An ICBM (Inter-Continetal-Ballistic-Missile) is used expressly for firing at diffrent continents. Anything else is a waste of fuel.
Thirdly, You threaten to attack, and yet you have just said you have no reason to.
Fourth, I must ask you, do you have a large chance of defeating Lictoria if you attack, if so we will switch sides. We're not dumb.

Brigader General,

Thomas Bradley

OOC: That is an arrogant think to say. My "pop" is more then the US' and they have they biggest nuclear arsenal in the world. Suck on that. And since I don't build nuclear missiles, my country has saved up enough mony to build three. And I over-exagerated. They are Super MAC orbital cannons.

"Prophet Nubassi, if you will pardon me for speaking out of turn!" Miackar was in a state of absolute rage. Nubassi, a young, olive-skinned man- the only man on the council under sixty and the only one not born within the Wall- withdrew and held up a calming hand. Miackar continued, not at all calmed.
"If none of you will do what we know needs to be done, I shall!" he exclaimed, his eyes grave. Prophets whose hearts had been beating only enough to keep them alive for the past few decades were now sitting up and taking notice. The council room had not held this aura of electricity since the First Rebellion- when Emperor Neron had been assassinated and the Council had become the ruling body of Lictoria.
"I will tell Xeraph that they may send their little missiles, if it so pleases them to condemn billions to death without purpose! The size of their nation holds no meaning to me- every man, woman, and dependent in this nation will pick up a gun and fight to the death if we so ask them to! I will write it with my own hand and my own pen: Should Xeraph continue flaunting their military might, Lictoria shall rain onto their heads a rain of ruin the likes of which they have never before seen or imagined! To he who writes these boastful 'ultimatums'- when I last checked, the High Council, not you- ruled Lictoria! And should you decide to kill our people, then remember your own people! Make your peace with them, and then begin counting the final moments of your life, for they will be precious."
Every Prophet sat at the Council table in stunned silence. Miackar looked about the table, upon his brothers. And one by one, the same look swept across the Council seats. At that moment- a rare one, to say the least- every member of the High Council of Prophets agreed with each other. Xeraph was just another nation with money and missiles, swimming in a sea full of the same. If Xeraph would destroy that much more of Lictoria for every Xeraphian casualty- then the High Prophets would slaughter a thousand Xeraphians if it so pleased them. Besides- Lictoria was a fortress nation. It was built to handle missiles.

Evir Bruck Saulsbury Lictoria Peacekeeper Taskforce Communication

att: Lictoria High Council Head Prophet Miackar II

re: Arrival of Evir Bruck Saulsbury Peace Keeping Forces.

We have arrived with five divisions, twenty thousand soldiers to be deployed at your discretion. We welcome the oppurtunity to assit you in maintaining security of your nation.

-Commodore General Berstof Oserglav

Ooc:Sorry for not posting, hols. I had a much longer post originally, but forgot to log on, this is just the end, I'll add a flashback later.Taking the liberty of a Lictorian coast, hope its ok.

Ic:Captain Byrans studied the explosive rifle in front of him. Although it was short ranged, it was built to punch holes in the new Lictorian troops, and came with a new bayonet, able to cut through a clerics armour with about three quarters of the its speed against flesh, and with an explosive tip, only good once and capable of damaging the rifle, not to mention the soldier, but capable of going through a lictorian super-soldiers armour and completely unexpected...hopefully. Byrans was in charge of a small group who's mission was to airdrop into the city, proceed to the lower levels, avoiding detection and removing witnises, and hook up with the rebels, who's new objective was to be sabotage, spying, and assination in aid of the planned invasion.

"Sir, leaving in five!," yelled sergeant Angors from her perch on one of bigger helicoptors that littered the deck of the aircraft carrier, "Unshaken", which, together with her sister ship "Fortitude" and many smaller carriers was the airport of a fleet just off Lictoria small coast which also comprised transports, stores vessels, cruisers and surfaced subs for missile launch, protective destroyers, and numerous utility ships serving as hospitals and repair bays, all huddled around the factory platform.
"Coming, sergeant! Chief tech, I want all this stuff." The chief grappled with a slab of notepaper being thrust at him. Captain Byrans turned, and hurried up the ladder onto the flight deck.

OOC: Boozia, how exactly does this stuff work? It's easy to say that everything you have is simply "designed to kill OFWs" but there needs to be some kind of explanation, or some kind of drawback to keep these weapons balanced. Your nation is young, so I think you should probably take a look at some sticky threads on godmodding and whatnot.

IC: A frag went off next to Squad Lead. Arassam, showering his vest with shrapnel. The world spun. His ears rang, and every scream, every gunshot, every explosion around him fell silent, overshadowed by the steady beating of his heart. He didn't feel himself hit the ground or fall down. He just saw the world turning.
Occasionally, in spars and hand-to-hand bouts, one could see an unconscious man get back up after being knocked out, just to avoid a victory by knockdown. But Lictorian soldiers were trained to stay down. While Arassam's mind was focusing on a million different things, idle and meaningless events from the past, tidbits of memories he had lost to time, every ounce of concentration left in his conscious mind was willing his vocal cords to move. He rasped out the words: "Damage assessment."
There was a brief pause, and into his helmet mic, a computerized voice said: "Compound fracture, left leg fibula. Hairline fracture, pelvis. Phalanges of left foot, shattered. First, second and third metatarsals, broken. Fourth and fifth metatarsals, integrity warning." Returning to the world, Arassam groaned. His left leg was basically broken, his foot shattered, and his hips could fall apart any minute now. He didn't care. He could get fixed up as soon as the men were withdrawn from action.
Struggling to one foot, he heard the hiss in the air as an RPG whizzed within inches of him. He lifted a Desert Eagle XIX- .50 action express, the most powerful semi-automatic handgun in the Lictorian arsenal. It had been deemed useless as a tactical weapon, too absurdly powerful. But OFWs could stand the recoil, and were strong enough to haul around any amount of equipment. They had plenty of a space for a pistol. Five shots, five drops. The Desert Eagle made a hell of a mess.
Behind him, he heard the whirring barrels of an M134 Minigun. He turned, seeing another squad leader in full armor spraying down ranks of prisoners. He did not turn in time enough to duck as the Minigun-toting soldier's line of fire swept into him. There was a stab of pain where the bullets hit, and Arassam ran towards the Minigun-wielding man.
"Soldier, what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You were in my line of fire!"
Arassam casually lifted his pistol and split open two heads.
"Why didn't your display show me?"
OFWs were always keeping track of their allies. Always. Databases put up information onto the helmet displays, making friendly fire a thing of the past- or so they were supposed to.
"I don't know, our computers are screwy!" another grenade detonated, this one behind the Minigun-wielding man. He took a step forward and shook off the impact. "We're built to last, friend. You didn't get hurt."
AK-47 bullets sprayed into Arassam's vest.
Arassam returned the favor, lining up his sights on the man reloading his assault rifle. One shot in the stomach would have killed the man, but Arassam was angry. One bullet landed with pinpoint accuracy on the prisoner's left kneecap, blowing his leg clean off. He screamed and fell to the ground before a shot to the right shoulder made him a paraplegic. Another scream, and finally a bullet went between his upper and lower jaws and came out the back of his head, severing the connection between the spinal cord and the brain, nearly blowing the prisoner's head off.
"Listen. I think we're about to make a withdraw. The Lictorian Air Force is coming quick. Let them handle it."
"Agreed."
Less than five minutes later, Lictorian OFWs were landing far outside the prison from their transports, seeing the flash of air-to-land missiles incinerating the prisoners, and waiting for any survivors to crash against their perimeters.

" Bearing down on the Boozian fleet, sir." said an enginer.
" Good. Fire Control, is the MAC in the correct position?" Captain Jon Carpenter asked Fire Control.
" Yes, sir!"
"Fire at will!"

The three orbiting platforms shudderd in unison. Three milky white balls fell down on the Boozian fleet. Another three fell about 4 minutes later.

In the darkness, a match was struck. The two men's faces lit up in the inky black.
One man's head was completely hairless, a horrific mask of burns covering its surface. His name was Balistem Dorvarno. He was known to the rebel armies of the Lictoria underworks as The Masked General, for the black-and-red, chequered harlequin mask he donned when giving formal speeches. But in the privacy of his own room- a set of four curtains in the long network of abandoned subway tunnels beneath Lictoria- he allowed his flesh some air. The other man was intruding on his property, so he would not wear his mask. He didn't have to.
Galdaen Manaro was much younger than the grizzled freedom fighter he now conversed with, but already had gradually broken and chipped and chiseled away at Lictoria to a point that no one man could ever hope to do alone. He had been three kilometers up, clinging to an armored air transport carrying the Cleric Swizex Belvin to his inauguration ceremony into the High Council. He had let go, and, in free fall, shot a Raufoss multi-purpose round into the transport's exhausts. The murderer Swizex- the man who started the civil war between Guards and Clerics- was blasted out of his aircar in full armor, the only man not vaporized instantly- thanks to the ceremonial armor, which glowed red hot, searing him all the way down to the spearhead spire of the Galoni Tower. Meanwhile, Galdaen floated peacefully downward on his parachute.
Galdaen had led in three riots, including the Massacre in Jihuntae Square, where three hundred rebels staged a protest as nothing more than a distraction to the force of a hundred and ten Clerics, until finally, explosives were secured via rebel tunnels beneath the square. The rebels had run like hell as the bulk of the Lictorian Holy Army was tossed explosively into the air like ragdolls. He had participated in the freeing of seventy-five prisoners from Third Gate Penitentiary- a feat thought impossible- without a single casualty. He was called the Liberator from then on- a man who did what others would never dare to do- in the name of freedom.

In the flaring light of the match, they whispered.
"So, where do we stand?" Galdaen asked, black hair shimmering sleekest ebon in the flame.
"The Arch-Canon's death was a great victory for the rebellion. His voice will no longer exist to guide the council on their slaughter of our people. Meanwhile, we have larger game to hunt. Aleren Ulem, our agent in the High Temple, has confirmed our suspicions that Jihuntae is dead. What little gossip there is in the High Temple, he has heard that Prophet Miackar II is now the puppetmaster in the Council chamber. If this is true, then we have a chance at succeeding in this struggle," Balistem rasped.
"I have my target cut out for me, then. Miackar himself."
"I fear that is impossible, boy. Even for you."
"No. It was impossible to trace the Cleric Swizex's aircar from the seventeen decoys sent out. But I did it, and I cooked that Cleric to a cinder. I can kill the Prophet Miackar."
"To what end? He is far from the last ambitious mind in the Council. And besides, even if we did kill the Council, what about restructuring the government? A full democracy does not grow on trees. Killing Miackar would add to the mindless chaos the rebellion has been spouting since its conception, but it would not free this nation and it most definitely would not keep the civilians from panicking and killing each other when they saw their leaders paraded through the streets. Focus your mind on more useful things."
"If you insist..."
But Galdaen showed it in his eyes. He had a plan.

OOC: Bump

OOC: Bump


ooc: Well, it is good to see that this thread isn't quite dead. Though, Lictoria, I was curious what you wanted to do with the aide I offered you. I would prefer to get some direction from you on this rather than just going off and doing something stupid.

Ooc: Christ, I'm tardy. Anyway, looking at the bayonet, that is godmodey, cept the splodey thing, since the chance of user death is about 90%. The rifle is short ranged. Really short ranged. It's measured in feat to target, and even up close, it takes 5 good headshots to get an OWF, 2-3 for a cleric, not to mention the agonizing accuracy. As to how it works, similar to that gun the rebels have only three of but less so.
And on a godmoding note, no ofence ment, G&E, but destroying my only way to attack Lictoria!? :eek: Think I'll let you and Lict sort it out, after all, the nation is young.

Ic: The strike force was well underway by now, but the forest was the soft part, the majority of AA power being in the desert, away from the obstructive canopy. It really was a miracle of defence, thought the Lt. It would of taken Lictoria to think of such a thing, and it probably caused some kind of financial crisis when it was built, but the country was effectively invincible. It would only fall, if all the necessary manpower was already there...

"What do you mean, nukes!"
"With respect, admiral, sir, I mean what I say," said the trembling ensign.
"But this is an outrage! Surely not even the prophets council would stoop to... I mean, there a civilians aboard the factory platform! At least get them to the destroyers and pull them out, and stating loading everyone onto the faster ships. I trust you called interceptors?"
"Aye, sir."

In space, so high above the fleet that "above had ceased to exist, four bulwark 11 defensive missiles contacted four G&E projectiles, and with a light show that made the worlds combined Guy Fawkes and 4th of july look like a match being struck, detonated. And still, out of expanding nuclear morass, two white dots held steady courses.

The decks of the Boozian carriers resembled an anthill that had just bean tread on, the pilots dashing out of hatches and two the few fighters the fleet had for protection in almost a constant stream, as transport after transport dashed from the tangled city of vessels, the bigger ships engineering crews helbing to prevent the massively overburbened reactors from blowing, which could be as deadly as the remaing two missiles if a chain reaction started. None did, but many seamen lost their lives to exploding steam turbines.

"Number three, I repeat, are you clear? Respond!," bellowed Lt Byrans at his mike. Still only static, and what might occasionally of been shouting, then, just for a fraction of a second, a huge hammer of noise, so nloud as almost to be physically felt, then just static, but of a more "there just isn't any radio left" tone than the smashed equipment sounds of the first. He risked a peak through a window. Flak every where, 16 on fire and descending, the wreckage of three obscured by smoke.
"Distance to capital?" The pilot glanced at his instruments.
"Seventy clicks now."
"Great, now were in range of the cities AA, and combat air patrols."
"I'm hit in the tail!" That was number 17 on the radio. Oh shit, this time I really am gonna die, no fooling around or miracles or reinforcements or anything now, just us, oh shit. Against all his expectations, these were not Byrans last thoghts, but someting very similar passed throgh the mind of 16's pilot as his vehicle crumpled like an incendiary accordian.

"So, Miackar," the Prophet Nubassi stood before his fellow Prophet, in the silence of the Great Temple library. Around them, monks were quietly whispering and picking up books for study. But no longer were their studies on the history of the Holy Nation or how best to preach its doctrine. They now turned to the arts of war. Many handled the ornate silver handguns of clerics, though they were far from achieving that rank.
"The Boozian forces are on their way, over the Deathtrap Forest. Lictoria City is vast, you know this. In this modern day their planes will probably never make it a foot past the walls. They will set down in the desert. They have no other options. Their force will dwindle to nothingness before they make it into the city. They will have to land publicly, and be intercepted by our soldiers or Clerics. They have to set down in the desert, enter the city discretely. There is no alternative."
"So, where do we stand?"
"You know our nation is built for war. The corporations of this nation are massive, nations in their own right, and the powerhouse of industry is the Arms Manufacturing sector. There is no shortage of equipment. Law and order and defence have been our two chief concerns, you know this. We have enough people and enough guns on the streets. Rebel forces stand no chance, especially when the new Objective Force is prepared. There are citadels waiting in the desert, near the walls, not too far in..." Nubassi said. Miackar understood- bases that went too deep into the desert tended to disappear after a time. Lictoria was, at least in that respect, too efficient for its own good. "We shall fill them. Evir Bruck Saulsbury has adequate forces, and requested our guidance. We shall begin where the rebels are doubltess planning to strike."
Miackar shot a stare at Nubassi. "Ninth Gate?"
"Yes. We must, my lord."
"Ninth Gate it shall be."
Ninth Gate prison- hell on earth. After witnessing the death of several people in the Organ Harvest coverup, a guard named Madouc had killed a handful of Clerics and met with the fledgling beginnings of a rebellion. Clerics were, then and even now, not afraid of civilian casualties. The leader of the Cleric hunt for Madouc, who had gained information on the organ reaping- Swizex himself- had killed nearly a hundred guards and civilians in his chase, which eventually resulted in Madouc killing himself rather than face capture. Swizex had been blown to pieces on his trip to the award ceremony. Since then, Ninth Gate prison, arguably the most secure, unbreakable fortress in existence, had been abandoned. But it was still a minor outpost. OFWs still patrolled there, but it had not become important in a long time. The rebels would strike there, for it signified the beginning of their rebellion, and held great strategic importance. It held an entrance to the city, and could hold its own if necessary. They needed Ninth Gate. It would begin and end there.

Ooc: Christ, I'm tardy. Anyway, looking at the bayonet, that is godmodey, cept the splodey thing, since the chance of user death is about 90%. The rifle is short ranged. Really short ranged. It's measured in feat to target, and even up close, it takes 5 good headshots to get an OWF, 2-3 for a cleric, not to mention the agonizing accuracy. As to how it works, similar to that gun the rebels have only three of but less so.
And on a godmoding note, no ofence ment, G&E, but destroying my only way to attack Lictoria!? :eek: Think I'll let you and Lict sort it out, after all, the nation is young.

Ic: The strike force was well underway by now, but the forest was the soft part, the majority of AA power being in the desert, away from the obstructive canopy. It really was a miracle of defence, thought the Lt. It would of taken Lictoria to think of such a thing, and it probably caused some kind of financial crisis when it was built, but the country was effectively invincible. It would only fall, if all the necessary manpower was already there...

"What do you mean, nukes!"
"With respect, admiral, sir, I mean what I say," said the trembling ensign.
"But this is an outrage! Surely not even the prophets council would stoop to... I mean, there a civilians aboard the factory platform! At least get them to the destroyers and pull them out, and stating loading everyone onto the faster ships. I trust you called interceptors?"
"Aye, sir."

In space, so high above the fleet that "above had ceased to exist, four bulwark 11 defensive missiles contacted four G&E projectiles, and with a light show that made the worlds combined Guy Fawkes and 4th of july look like a match being struck, detonated. And still, out of expanding nuclear morass, two white dots held steady courses.

The decks of the Boozian carriers resembled an anthill that had just bean tread on, the pilots dashing out of hatches and two the few fighters the fleet had for protection in almost a constant stream, as transport after transport dashed from the tangled city of vessels, the bigger ships engineering crews helbing to prevent the massively overburbened reactors from blowing, which could be as deadly as the remaing two missiles if a chain reaction started. None did, but many seamen lost their lives to exploding steam turbines.

"Number three, I repeat, are you clear? Respond!," bellowed Lt Byrans at his mike. Still only static, and what might occasionally of been shouting, then, just for a fraction of a second, a huge hammer of noise, so nloud as almost to be physically felt, then just static, but of a more "there just isn't any radio left" tone than the smashed equipment sounds of the first. He risked a peak through a window. Flak every where, 16 on fire and descending, the wreckage of three obscured by smoke.
"Distance to capital?" The pilot glanced at his instruments.
"Seventy clicks now."
"Great, now were in range of the cities AA, and combat air patrols."
"I'm hit in the tail!" That was number 17 on the radio. Oh shit, this time I really am gonna die, no fooling around or miracles or reinforcements or anything now, just us, oh shit. Against all his expectations, these were not Byrans last thoghts, but someting very similar passed throgh the mind of 16's pilot as his vehicle crumpled like an incendiary accordian.


Actually, none of the would missles hit the boozian fleet. They would missed by two miles. It's very experimenty tech. Oh, and sorry I'm late, and you should have sent a message to me, flaming on me. Sorry if you guys have to rewrite stuff, I couldn't find the thread. The things are giant super propelled molten mass of iron, which is flung out at sub-snail speeds. The rotation of the earth makes them miss. Oh, and they don't explode.


IC: Bradley had brought up the AA Flak cannons just for the purpose of blowing shit out of the sky. Many Boozian planes were downed and crashed into others that downed to. The majority of Boozian planes passed unharmed though.

OOC: I can't think of anything else. I'll make another post.

Three days and no new posts? has this thread been canceled?

OOC: No, it's just moving r-r-r-r-r-r-r-really slow.

Alaric,

First, I am with the Lictorians.
Second, An ICBM (Inter-Continetal-Ballistic-Missile) is used expressly for firing at diffrent continents. Anything else is a waste of fuel.
Thirdly, You threaten to attack, and yet you have just said you have no reason to.
Fourth, I must ask you, do you have a large chance of defeating Lictoria if you attack, if so we will switch sides. We're not dumb.

Brigader General,

Thomas Bradley

OOC: That is an arrogant think to say. My "pop" is more then the US' and they have they biggest nuclear arsenal in the world. Suck on that. And since I don't build nuclear missiles, my country has saved up enough mony to build three. And I over-exagerated. They are Super MAC orbital cannons.

ooc> first, two apologies. I haven't responded because I am on the road for 2-3 weeks at a time. Secondly, I misread your start date. Your military capabilities are as you stated.
As I stated in the post, I will only attack Lictoria if they do not issue a declaration of neutrality against Xeraph. It's not because I don't WANT to fight, but as I said, my job at this time prevents me from getting overly involved in much of anything. If Lictoria will just leave us alone at this time, perhaps we can in the future have some sort of relationship, peaceful or otherwise.

ooc> first, two apologies. I haven't responded because I am on the road for 2-3 weeks at a time. Secondly, I misread your start date. Your military capabilities are as you stated.
As I stated in the post, I will only attack Lictoria if they do not issue a declaration of neutrality against Xeraph. It's not because I don't WANT to fight, but as I said, my job at this time prevents me from getting overly involved in much of anything. If Lictoria will just leave us alone at this time, perhaps we can in the future have some sort of relationship, peaceful or otherwise.

Apology accepted. What was my start date, anyways? I forgot. And, I don't think they will attack.

IC: Tanks, troop tranports, attack cycles, jeeps and helicopters moved toward the Boozians for an all-out attack. Artillery shells whizzed over Bradley's GCT and into the Boozian encampment. The Helixes whizzed forward and engaged Boozian planes and helicopters. Such a vicious, unexpected attack hit the Boozians hard. Hundreds of infentrymen jumped out of trucks and advanced into the Boozian encampment, firing shredder rounds that viciously killed anything in their way. Boozians fell, dead and injured. Gila monsters that USGE had captured were released into the encampment and immediately attacked the wounded with an animal ferocity. Screams of pain cam form th Boozian camp and were silanced when the glassing started. USGE soldiers backed away and hid their eyes from the intensly bright light as hundreds of bombs filled with incendinary powder and naplam splashed into the Boozian camp. The USGE soldiers were picked up by Helix copters and transported to their barracks in Ninth Gate Prison, where they awaited the rebel attack.

It was in the beginning shades of twilight that Galdaen, an antique carbine rifle slung over his shoulder, led two hundred rebel troops on a five-kilometer-long crawl through the pre-wall desert that served as a nigh-impenetrable defense against invasion. Those five kilometers contained hundreds of land mines- of plastic make: small, cheap, and nasty. Scorpions scuttled along the desert floor, black mambas slithered about in the cool night air, and massive monitor lizards, schooled in the art of clamping jaws on a man's throat and never letting go, roamed their own chunk of Lictoria as the only warlords capable of surviving in what had to be the most inhospitable terrain ever created by God or man. The Reaper himself strode these sands, and was keeping ever-watchful eyes on enemies of the state, waiting for a single slip-up.

Galdaen was on his belly, combat knife in hand. The crew would reach Ninth Gate by daylight, if they were lucky, and if they didn't keep running into problems like this. The single land mine that he now dug out of the ground had stopped the entire company after only thirty feet of uninterrupted crawling. The mines were not especially hard to disarm- but the quantity of them, and the watchfulness of the desert helicopters that mysteriously sped to and from the stronghold combined to make each one more than just an annoyance, but indeed a lethal obstacle. Galdaen dug into the interior of the mine with his knife and severed one of the critical elements of the firing system. He clipped it onto his belt- the rebel's means of badges, like notches in an axe. Silently, he grinned, his sand-smudged face giving way to pearly whites. He waved the company on, and they began to move again, grudgingly, every one of them with sore limbs.

And so, on a moonless night in the closing days of the Second Era of Lictoria, the rebel freedom fighter Galdaen led his troops through five hellish kilometers of desert unseen, losing only a single man, to the venom of a snakebite. And as an AH-64 Apache helicopter soared into the emerging lights of Ninth Gate, which even now swarmed with soldiers from Lictoria and from abroad, it was evident that no matter what happened, if there was not success here, the rebellion was essentially doomed.

OOC: Shootout time! If reinforcements on either side arrive in time, this will be a huge battle, but even with two hundred troops it looks like the rebels are gonna get crushed. Let's see some guns, people!

" REBELS! NORTH GATE!" came a cry from a sentry. All activity was stopped as hundreds of men picked up guns and swarmed to all gates, towers, and walls in a flurry of movement. The men at the north wall fired into the sand, pumping bullet after bullet, after bullet into the sand. Screams of pain were heard. The rebels didn't stand a chance. There was no way the rebels could enter, unless every single man ran out of bullets (impossible) and the death trap mines didn't work (improbable). A resulting BOOM was heard throughout the desert was napalm, fire, and human body parts went up. Sounds roared up over the distances. Someone was coming.

"Mortars, dammit! Now!" Galdaen shouted over the screams of the dying. Ten or twelve men unslung portable mortar-launchers from their backs as Galdaen kept shots pumping into an OFW, who shrugged the bullets off, lifted an automatic, and sprayed bullets through a man loading his mortar. Another shot would have stricken the loaded mortar shell, but Galdaen was quick, picking up a nearby stone and throwing it, flicking the crude, replaced firing mechanism that the rebels had managed to use for their scavenged weapon. The launcher emptied, and the shell struck a Minigun turret, sending it and its user to kingdom come.

An RPG whizzed towards the mass of soldiers that now fired, some blindly and some with targets, into the desert. But Lictorian soldiers had been trained for quickness. One had to realize that after lifetimes of rigorous training and painful surgery, they were no longer human. The world around them was slow in comparison. Superconductive fibers had long ago been grafted to their nerve endings, so electrical signals traveled at immensely high speeds, increasing sensitivity and speed by vast amounts. Of course, the side effect was that every toothache, headache, stomachache, and wound of any kind was so immensely painful that OFWs spent years in advance tolerating terrible pains, hardening them. Those that saw an Objective Force Warrior looked upon a man who had endured horrors no person should know exist.

Lictorian soldiers quickly leapt out of the way. They could somewhat see the path of a bullet- so the path of a rocket-propelled grenade was, in their eyes, moving with no more quickness than a first grader's idea of a fastball. It impacted the reinforced walls of the prison, kicking up chunks but barely scratching the surface of the fortress. Its user was quickly met with decapitation by an anti-vehicle sniper rifle, which spilled the gray, lumpy contents of a smashed skull onto the sands, and half a heartbeat later the sniper rifle blew apart the man next to the dead rebel.

Exoskeleton moving at full force, Squad Leader Jenkins leapt from one level of the huge prison down to another, as the makeshift catwalk he was on erupted into flame, and he fell fifty feet to the concrete below, which was alight with machine gun chatter. There couldn't be much more than a hundred rebels left, give or take about ten. Lictorian casualties remained at a big fat zero. This was the rebels' wonderful plan. This was the best they had. Or so he thought. As a Stinger missile, mounted on an automatic turret, flicked through the night, Jenkins knew that something airborne was coming. Probably more than just one.

OOC: Bump

OOC: Bump (I don't think this thread can be resurrected anymore, please post)

OOC: Folks, thread is dying here.

IC: The combat helicopters were not originally intended for combat use- at least not in the modern day. Seventy years ago, Stinger missiles were the cutting edge of technology, and the riot helicopters used by city guards were juggernauts over the streets. Now, they served a new purpose. Makeshift metal sheets grafted to their skins, they were the gun platforms of a hundred rebels, firing rockets and grenades down upon the prison.

It hadn't been easy- transporting the bulk of the rebellion, along with the bulk of the rebel fleet, through a heavily-guarded border. It had all been apart of Galdaen's plan.

FORTY-THREE HOURS EARLIER:
Prophet Miackar was flanked by Clerics, each sheathed in white plate mail, silver pistols hanging ready at their chain belts. Invincible- that was the word applied to a Cleric. Very little, short of an artillery shell, could pierce their alloy plate- save, perhaps, the Sniper's weapon.

The very same gun had killed the Arch-Cannon. A .50 cal BMG sniper rifle, with a Raufoss multi-purpose incendiary/explosive/armor piercing round- in fact several- loaded in. It was the only weapon of its kind that the rebellion had managed to secure. Two shots would reduce the finest armored limo to a flaming heap of twisted metal. This one had greater purpose.

Perched atop the High Temple itself, the Sniper let drop the lifeless body of a stabbed Cleric, easing it onto the metal sheets of the roof. Death would come again, from above. It had not been easy to secure this angle, but it was imperative that the new lookouts atop the temple would not spot the Sniper form a city building. So the Sniper had used a silenced .22 to send a round through a terribly careless eighth-of-an-inch crack between a Cleric's gorget and upper breastplate, killing him almost instantly before the Sniper sent a combat knife jabbing in and out of the man's throat. The armor was removed before the blood could stain it, and, two silver pistols strapped to his belt, the Sniper strolled past Clerics who had paid him no mind. It was not until he reached the roof that he was in trouble.

White cape fluttering in high-altitude winds, sun glinting off his armor, the Sniper had struck at the backs of heads. Chinks were found in Cleric armor, and one such chink existed in the space between the back of the helmet and the beginnings of the gorget- near the brain stem. Death was instantaneous for the first two Clerics, but then things got harder. A Cleric turned around and shot a gauntleted hand towards his alert button, but a loud bang slammed through the weaker materials that protected the back. The bullet-slowing capes did some work, but the Cleric had little hope. The combat knife had done the rest- two more dead Clerics, blood on the ground like scarlet rivers. Before screams could happen- the Sniper was already close enough. And now, he sat with a BMG sniper rifle, watching Miackar stroll with his invincible guards, knowing that more of them, attracted by the loud bang of a silver pistol, would be coming. Death was fine. But one thing had to be achieved first.

OOC: Bump

0300 hours

As Mark 117- John opened fire on the huge flying fortresses, he smiled. So, the rebels have one last trick up their sleeve. As the rebel combat choppers flew up, at least 2000 Helixes shot straight up in the air and fired 40 scorpion missiles each. Scorpion missiles are titanium plated, and 3 feet from target a huge sheet of mercury bursts out and if anything is in the way before, it won't be anymore.
0634 hours

On the ground, thing were a lot worse. The rebel combat choppers were firing missiles and bulllets into a crowd of soldiers. Then, one exploded, then another, and another. Soldiers stared in puzzlement until they saw a new X-V-2 ground stinger station. More and more troops rushed into battle. The battle it-self though, began to take on a smaller and smaller square of combat. Hundreds of men fought hand-to-hand with swords, knives, bayonets, and fists. A huge buzzing was heard. Three gargantuous Helixes were floating in the air. Four side panels rollede out on each of them, revealing more then 200 scorpion missiles on each side panel. The Helix Minors retreated to the safety of the Helix Majors. Whatever scorpion missiles the Helix Minors had left was rolled out.
0907 hours

Soon, all that was left of the Rebel sky fleet was limping away from the battle. A huge white light soon enveloped them. The rebel sky fleet was no more.

At the ground scene, things were beginning to look better. Many rebels were fleeing or had given up. They were led away by the hundreds to Lictorian or ARGE falcilities.

bump

Galdaen's plan was meeting with little success. Five carbine shots sounded around him, pinning him down to the thick metal square he had set up. Ricochets pinged off the metal's surface, and Galdaen desperately reached for his sidearm. He had more soldiers to kill. He would not die without taking as many as he could with him. From his belt, he pulled a Thunder .50 handgun.

Once upon a time, this massive weapon was the pinnacle of power- a hand cannon perfect for shooting down enemy aircraft. To avoid the shattering of fingerbones, recoil resistant gloves had to be worn, and nobody would want to be within a meter on either side of the beast when it was fired. Galdaen had a feeling, though, that his enemies would have a harder time dealing with it. This particular handgun fired a .50 cal Browning Machine Gun round. The cartridge had been developed a long time ago, but was far from outdated. At the moment, an armor-piercing incendiary round was loaded in. The earplugs Galdaen was wearing would have to work- he leapt up, and in half a heartbeat, had pinpointed the carbine-wielding soldier's position. A squeeze of a trigger, a loud bang, and the soldier's invincible armor had been compromised.

The massive swing-down breech lock was flicked, and the gun was reloaded with another high-caliber round. An OFW with a chainblade in hand, meanwhile, was sawing through a rebel's collarbone when a shot blasted through his visor, sending him to the next world. A few seconds' pause... Galdaen fired again, and this time hit at the neck, blowing off a portion of the soldier's chin and a few fragments from his shoulders, separating him from his head. Galdaen's positon was all but compromised, though. Before the final round was shot, a flash/bang grenade was tossed. Galdaen was stunned for a second, then shook it off, and looked up to see an OFW holding him at gunpoint. He could smell the oil. This was it. He bowed his head, a shot cracked, and like that, it seemed the rebellion was over.

In the aftermath of the battle, only 20 rebels managed to limp away. Most of them were shot dead by patrols combing the desert. The rebels in detainment talked away about underground passages under Lictoria City, then were killed. A massive expedition was sent into the tunnels.

bump

But the rebellion was not yet over. For Galdaen's plan had involved little of killing Miackar- that was a bonus. It was about the BMG sniper rifle first smashing Miackar's skull and then punching a hole in the backs of two Clerics before more of the white-armored men flooded the rooftop.
Meanwhile, above, a rebel helicopter had taken off inside the city, and managed to launch a rocket-propelled graphite bomb that knocked out the air defense- and the communications- of the High Temple. Fifty rebels were all that was necessary to storm the Temple. They, like their leader, carried Thunder .50 handguns- capable of punching through Cleric armor.
Spilling from the alleys, they came thick and fast, blasting through the front doors and ending the lives of the Clerics in the reception area with a series of quick bangs. Kneeling by the fallen, armored corpses, they sought the silver pistols from the white leather belts of their victims. Through some means or another, these high-caliber weapons could propel armor-piercing slugs very fast, with about five bullets per clip. The shells were filled with density-increasing factory machines.
With stolen pistols in hand, the rebels had swept through the building like a storm. Grenades sounded. Pistols cracked. And not a single plea of help was transmitted.

(OOC: Let's wrap this up. It's pretty much dead.)

But the rebellion was not yet over. For Galdaen's plan had involved little of killing Miackar- that was a bonus. It was about the BMG sniper rifle first smashing Miackar's skull and then punching a hole in the backs of two Clerics before more of the white-armored men flooded the rooftop.
Meanwhile, above, a rebel helicopter had taken off inside the city, and managed to launch a rocket-propelled graphite bomb that knocked out the air defense- and the communications- of the High Temple. Fifty rebels were all that was necessary to storm the Temple. They, like their leader, carried Thunder .50 handguns- capable of punching through Cleric armor.
Spilling from the alleys, they came thick and fast, blasting through the front doors and ending the lives of the Clerics in the reception area with a series of quick bangs. Kneeling by the fallen, armored corpses, they sought the silver pistols from the white leather belts of their victims. Through some means or another, these high-caliber weapons could propel armor-piercing slugs very fast, with about five bullets per clip. The shells were filled with density-increasing factory machines.
With stolen pistols in hand, the rebels had swept through the building like a storm. Grenades sounded. Pistols cracked. And not a single plea of help was transmitted.

(OOC: Let's wrap this up. It's pretty much dead.)

The Marks and some OFWs that had responded to a call of help right before the line was cut short were doing much better than the clerics. Mark -117 and Squad Leader Charlie were standing back to back, firing away. A rebel tried to get up with three bullets in his leg. He was blown away by a AK-97 guass rifle. Guass weapons are very effective anti-anything weapons. Most FSGE weaponry was gauss. Anyhow, what was left of the rebel slammed into a wall, and three rebels backed up right near that wall. One fainted, one slipped in the blood and was hit by an adhesive grende (a grenade that sticks to anything), and the other was taken in the blast. A chunk of wall flew out and hit an OFW in the head, but it only fazed him a bit. The rebels fell back into the building. A Mark threw a grenade into the room. Several cries could be heard over the resulting blast. A OFW charged in, and was promtly blown to bits. Another OFW moved in and shot the rebel holding the gun. One Mark threw a small axe at a rebel that appeared through a doorway.



THREE DAYS LATER

A post war meeting was being held between the winning side. The meeting was to decide alliances, trade stuff, and other diplomatic crap.

"Lictoria, would you be willing to trade s suit of OFW armor for guass technology?" asked one person inquisitively.