NationStates Jolt Archive

[Weigar, The Empire]

The entourage of cavalry made it into the outskirts of central Weigar by midnight, most of the steads tired, and the great majority of the men hurting. It had been a hard run from Fedala, but a necessary one for survival. Fortunately for the convoy of horses, the Emperor had not made haste in their destruction, consequently, their vital trip to Weigar was done in more comfort and luxury than one would suspect. Nonetheless, the same luxury did not appear in the forseeable future, and that included time.

The lead horseman looked more of a peasant than a knight. Indeed, his legs were bare, except for the two leather boots which enveloped his feet and ankles, and he wore a thin tunic, covered by a brown overcoat, with its huge hood covering his head. His face was hidden from plain sight, and looking into the darkness one could see nothing. He was a ghost. His horse, however, seemed the only stead still in strength, with its huge thigh muscles bulging every step. The man was curved into the stallion's neck, brushing its thick black hair of the mane, and petting the more slender hairs of the neck.

The escort behind him, on the other hand, looked one of pure majesty, with most of the men draped in the stereotypical clothing of the nobility of Dienstad, the old heartland of the Empire. They were fat, tied down with gold and other jewels that no normal man could afford, and their horses looked more for fashion than for riding, which explained the terrible pains the stallions were feeling. They were sorrounded by their own minor escorts, which included soldiers and servants.

The whole host of men looked like a medieval battlegroup, not a modern convoy of mobility. But they had their reasons to escape into Weigar clandestinely. The lead man turned to the others and rose his hand to show the way. They had made it into central Weigar, skirting the various towns and suburbs of the city, at around one in the morning, and the fog of the night was encroaching through the city streets, blinding the sight even more. Strangely, there was no hint of moon either, and thus, the only light came from the eerie glow of the street lamps.

Slowly they trotted inwards, making scant noise, except for the sound of the horse's hooves on the stone paved streets of the ancient city. Suddenly, from the dark, a voice startled the group,"Who goes there at this time at night?"

The man in the tunic turned and whispered in return,"Erich, is that you?"

When that was said the flood lights of four trucks poured through the cracks and veins of the quickly moving fog, and the rider took his hood off, revealing his head. The entourage of nobility gasped as armed men poured out of the trucks and one even screamed,"The Emperor has found us!"

Erich, the man who had found the party of horsemen, turned agrily and lashed the noble with his tongue,"Silence, we are the Weigar resistance, pushed underground by this man's father. It's strange that the son of a man bent on the union of this Empire, is so willing to cause it's disunion, just for its throne."

The lead rider again whispered,"It was a robbery."

Erich turned to his men and nodded. Another group of soldiers, this time unarmed, pushed out into the midst of the riders, with food in their hands. They looked to the nobles and to the rider in the brown tunic and prodded them to eat. Then Erich laughed and said,"How do you know it's not poisoned? Bring a tester!"

Almost on que another two soldiers brought a man in rags, hanging from his two arms, his eyes almost entirely within his head. The man was drooling from the mouth, and in a small voice he ranted crazily. Erich nodded again and the man was given the same parcel of food that was given to the nobles, a small snack. The prisoner greedily devoured the food, and it was obvious that he had not eaten in days - the standard punishment for a soldier of the Empire who unfortunately is caught by the resistance movement - and when he finished he looked up, a smile on his face. As he turned around to meet his guards, ready to go back to his dark cell, he shriveled up and bent over, falling onto the ground. White foam poured from his mouth, and he rumbled in his small voice. Within seconds the man was dead, and the guards picked him up to take him to where he would be incinerated.

The nobles looked at each other, and then at their food, and then at the man in the tunic. The said rider looked to Erich, who looked back and said, "Eat"

None of the riders cared to do what the man said, and all them continued to look at the man in the tunic. Erich grew sterner and said once again,"Eat.:

The man in the tunic and the brown overcoat took a bite out of his snack, and waited. Nothing happened. However, the nobles still did not eat, and one even accused the hooded man,"Heinrich, did you order this food to be poisoned?"

Heinrich, son of Jonach, father of Emperor Fedor I, sat silent, eating his food. Erich's broad smile faded into the dark and he yelled,"Eat!" Finally, he burst,"How can I trust the nobles who once supported Jonach to crush me, if they cannot even trust me? Heinrich, how dare you bring such an ugly group of nobles to my city?"

Heinrich still sat on his stallion, silent as a rock. Erich looked at him with a glare, and then to his soldiers, who wielded their assault rifles from their shoulders, pointing them at the nobles. Within a minute the slaughter was over, and somewhere near one hundred men lay massacred on the streets of Weigar. Heinrich looked at the carnage and then back to Erich,"Where is my army?"

Erich's smile came back,"Don't despair my friend, it's here. But why did you want me to kill those nobles? They supported you. Is that what I can expect from you, after your victory?"

Heinrich laughed and responded,"Nobles can never be trusted. Their loyalties are fickle. Had I shown a hint of weakness they would have betrayed me, even killed me. The nobility of this Empire is built on treachery, and that must be destroyed. Be thankful that I arrayed so much of Dienstad's nobility before you - never again will you have to opportunity to destroy so much of this Empire's aristocracy."

Erich nodded,"Indeed."

The soldiers of the resistance, and Prince Heinrich, moved back into the darkness, and drove off to wherever destiny would take them. It was truly an unfortunate turn of events that an Empire, forged by the hands of Emperor Jonach, which had so much promise, so much glory, was only destined to be churned by another war. Indeed, the sequence of events was only making war inevitable.

[OOC: For a little bit of an understanding of what's happening, I suggest you read this short thread - it's incredibly short, so don't worry. But it explains who's Heinrich and who's who...so read it!

Black Void Sorrouding (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=428654)

]

[Fedala, The Empire]

The black hooded spy entered the Golden city sometime around midnight, two days after that historic meeting between Heinrich and the leader of the Weigar resistance, Erich Dular. He came with news that was urgent according to the words of Emperor Fedor I, who had just been crowned days ago, about three weeks after the death of his grandfather, Jonach I. The spy, who went by the name of Agitus, crepts up to the lead of the Imperial guard, during the latter man's sleep, causing quite a stir, but he successfully designed a meeting between the Emperor and himself.

Fedor I sat on his regal throne, the Golden Throne to be exact, which had been the object of lust and power for over two thousand years of history. It had been carved, of pure gold and expensive jewels found in the kingdoms lost even to history, during the reign of the first emperor of the Golden Throne, Regalus I, who had once controlled territory that now could only be dreamed of. For two thousand years it passed down the same line of kings, never changing dynasty, until the epic fall of the dynasty in 1898, which consequently caused the Great Civil War, which ended with the reunion of the core of the Empire under Jonach I, the first king of the Catalan dynasty.

Fedor I was the grandson of said emperor, however, he wasn't the third emperor. He was the second. His father, Prince Heinrich, had been cheated, at least to his father's perspective, of the throne. Jonach, in his will, had claimed that the man who would occupy the position of the most powerful man in the Empire would belong to his grandson, who was better trained and better minded to rule. Obviously, Heinrich had not agreed, and upon the burial ceremonies of Jonach Heinrich escaped into the night, and a week later he found himself in Weigar with Erich, preparing for another epic rebellion, or at least that's what he thought. Consequently, Fedor I found it very urgent to have a line of spies and such to tell him where his father was at all times.

Fedor was garbed in the standard uniform of the Catalan dynasty, set by his grandfather. It was the royal white military uniform, lined with metals and ribbons across his left breast, with the Order of the Golden Throne right under his neck. Fedor was taller than Jonach, who was also fairly tall, and his chin was clean, as opposed to his father and grandfather who preferred the ancient custom of having a clean cut beard. His brown, Spanish, hair was nicely lines on top of his head, marking the center of attention on his face, and especially on his fairly long nose, although it fit his jaw almost perfectly. He was an extremely handsome man, and many people wondered why he still had not married, although he did have plenty of girlfriends.

The tall wooden doors that led to the chambers opened suddenly and Agitus entered, stumbling across the way. Fedor narrowed his look and Agitus bowed, allowing Fedor to speak,"Welcome to my courts spy. I believe your name is Agitus, or at least, that's what you call yourself, although I have not heard such a language since studying the old Empire. What business do you bring to Fedala?"

Agitus smiled and responded,"Perhaps then we should return the customs of the old Empire."

Fedor laughed out loud,"Perhaps we should."

Agitus continued,"As you ordered, I followed the convoy of nobles and your father. They stopped at Weigar to speak to a man who your grandfather thought was dead, Erich Dular. He's obviously living well. They have an army prepared to rebel against your rule, and to march to Fedala to overthrow you and place Heinrich on the throne. The nobles, those bastard traitors, are dead, sir, so about that you don't have to worry."

Fedor's expression changed and his smile faded,"How did they die? Were they ambushed? And where is that army?"

Agitus nodded and went on,"The nobles, all from the area of Dienstand were killed by soldiers of the resistance. I'm not sure why. Heinrich was not killed and he seemed rather sympathetic with Erich. The army is still at Weigar. I'm no military strategist, but I suspect they're still preparing."

Fedor looked away and spoke again,"Thank you Agitus. You may go. I have entrusted you with a car so that you can go to Weigar a bit faster, and a bit more comfortable. I want you to keep an eye on my father. Do not use the phone to reach me. I will send runners to speak to you. Again, thank you, you are doing a great service to your Empire."

Agitus bowed again and headed out backwards, never putting his back to the Emperor, as was the custom. Finally, when he reached the door he turned to walk away and the guards slammed the wooden gates behind him, leaving Fedor alone. The Emperor sighed and slumped in his chair, thinking of what his next move was to be.




[Weigar, The Empire]

"Attention!" The entire company of soldiers snapped to attention. A wiry captain appeared out of the shadows, his grey uniform giving no contrast with the gray morning. The master sergeant saluted him sloppily and the captain returned it and turned to his company. He looked over his men. He grimaced. These weren't fighters, these were men with dreams, fathers, overweight. How could he build a successfuly army from resistance fighters who had never fought a single resistance.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out as he thought of something else. Finally, he spoke,"Soldiers of an independent Weigar, are you prepared to fight?" He didn't wait for an answer, although a few murmured a yes,"We finally have an opportunity to show that the Weigar resistance is not a fable and was never driven underground. We have an opportunity to make Weigar independent. It was an opportunity given to us by the weakness of the Empire's central government. A flaw in their regal succession. We will take advantage of that flaw!"

The men cheered, although some were already starting to wobble from standing at attention for so long. The captain gave his next order,"At ease."

He then made an about face and walked away giving command to his master sergeant. The latter turned and began to explain several drilling processes that would make up the days of these men for the next three weeks. Then, after that, we just three weeks training they would be put through the hell of their lives.

[Weigar, The Empire]

The rotors of the twenty black hawk helicopters made their way southwards quickly, coming from the Fiechler Air Base some fifty kilometers north of Weigar's final ring of suburbs. They were moving fast, making use of the time given to them, but they weren't sure what exactly they were to do once they arrived at their destination, the center of Weigar. No Imperial military unit had ever been ordered to Weigar although it was the center of all resistance to Imperial authority and it was strange that today the government had ordered the movement of 1st Waffen-SS Air Assault Group, made up of soldiers who's home country was Geisenfried. Nonetheless, the helicopters carried out their order and the men moved south.

Inside the lead helicopter the men were completely silent. Even if they wanted to talk the noise of the rotors was to loud to speak through. Sergeant Koberch manned the machinegun on the right side of the chopper while his kamraden Private First Class Zuev manned the machinegun on the left. Koberch looked out, scanning the horizon for Weigar. It was his duty to make sure that the chopper put them in the right spot at the right time and he was good at his job, although there was a bit of pressure since all the other helicopters also relied on his expertise. He shuddered and then sighed. Although he was a soldier for his country of origin this was his first time in combat with the Empire, and although he had learned to like his profession of being a mercenary for the Golden Empire, he also liked his life, and everyone was scared of dying, especially when there were possibilities of street battles.

They finally began to fly over the suburbs of Weigar and they made their way some thirty minutes from their designated landing zone. Koberch raised his fist and the pilot of the chopper made the necessary corrections to his flight path, and lowered the bird to about six meters on top of the rooftops of the flats below. The entire group picked up speed and the co-pilot turned around and screamed,"ETA is an expected twenty minutes. Pack up and ready up. As you perfectly know, this is a five minute rope procedure."

The men's eyes widened. When they were told to ready up there was possibility of direct combat, and nobody liked that idea, especially when they had been told that this was a street policing mission - not an urban combat mission. Nevertheless, they prepared their assault rifles, loading the clips into the rear of the gun, which was pointing towards the floor so that in case of an accident the bullet tore the floor of the bird and not the vital rotors.

The time passed quickly and when some of the men opened their eyes they found themselves at a higher altitude passing the skyscrapers of central Weigar. Nobody in the military history of the Empire had ever committed men to such an operation, but if there was such an operation the 1st Special Operations Air Assault Group was the one to do it - all one hundred and fifty men. The choppers began to tango within the buildings and lower their altitudes and finally they hit their landing zone. The designated LZ was chosen to be one of the finest rotundas of the Empire, beautified by a fountain of Mars ridding a four horse war chariot, sword in hand. It had been built in the 1600s by one of the emperors of the old Empire, and it had survived wonderfully for the rest of the history of the Empire.

The choppers began to hover over the rotunda in groups of five, while the rest continued to circle through the streets waiting for their turn to unload. From each black hawk four ropes fell from the sides and the men began to jump off, grabbing on the ropes. It took about a minute to unload each group of helicopters and within five the entire group was on the floor, rifles in hand. Crouching they began to move through the stopped cars, which had stopped to see the scene, and they began to crawl through the streets. Major Fastow Carlische raised his left hand and put up three fingers. Immediately each master sergeant yelled out,"Plan A is a green."

One of the radio men to a platoon put his knee down, right under the statue of Mars, and dialed for his headquarters in Fedala. A general picked it up on the other side and the radioman said,"We have the bull by the horns. We'll erase the resistance within forty-eight hours. Rondevouz zone Dexter is still a green. Out."

On one of the skyscrapers Erich Dular looked down upon the spectacle and scowled. They were looking for Heinrich and we ready to wipe out the resistance at the same time. He turned around and walked over to his work desk and picked up the phone dialing a few numbers. A few seconds later he mumbled into the telephone,"Fuck. They brought some birds and some men. This is going to be harder than we thought."

The only thing one could hear coming from the other telephone was,"Destroy them."

tag

[Weigar, The Empire]

The unit moved through the streets as fast as they could but with the traffic stopping to see them in action they had trouble making it to their designated positions. Officially they were committing a policing action to take down some leaders of the local mafias and resistance movements that worked together, but really they were looking for Heinrich, who was needed alive. But the men were proffessionals, and extremely well trained, so they moved nonetheless, pushing past men and women on the sidewalk and skirting around cars, pointing their rifles if necessary.

All the while Heinrich was also moving fast. He was perhaps two blocks away from the moving Waffen-SS units but they were moving in a tighter knit group, and the citizens of the city aided them in their escape, opening the path. The bodyguard awared to Heinrich, made up of the best resistance fighters, forged a protected globe around the body of the prince and pushed him through the crowds.

Major Fassbinder heard the shouts of patriotic citizens blocks away and he arched his eyebrow. Stopping and raising his fist he turned around and yelled to the men who had followed him,"Ready your rifles, things seem to be turning hot." Then he continued his run through the streets towards the shouts. Something was stirring over there, especially since the shouts seem to originate from areas more distant. He began to climb on top of the cars to make the advance faster and he signaled for his men to follow him.

Blocks away Heinrich stopped just as suddenly and pointed towards the rooftops. One of the guards nodded and broke off from the groups and into one of the high rise buildings, all of which were flats. The group then broke off running again. Sweat was already falling from the head of the prince and he gave a sigh of relief when he saw the mouth of one of the entrances to the metro, making his way down the stairs. They finally turned and jumped the gates, made to stop people who didn't pay, and continued down three or four other flights of stairs before making their way to the rails. Five minutes later they were long gone.

Fassbinder's group continued their pursuit reaching the block with the metro entrance, but they saw nobody. The major threw his left hand in the air and murmured,"Fucking shit."

Suddenly a shot rang out of one of the buildings above, barely missing a technical in the leg. The major turned around and began to shout orders,"Move, move, move. Get out of the street!" Another shot hit a soldier in the temple, killing the man instantly. Fassbinder continued to yell,"Get the fuck out of the street! Where the hell is the radio?"

A soldier, which looked almost overweight, came running towards him, evading rifle shots as he made his way to the major. The man kneeled on one knee behind a car which Fassbinder forced to stop with the barrel of his assault rifle. Once he whipped out the radio he began to call directly to the black hawks above,"We got an unindentified sharpshooter in one of the buildings above. We need you to wipe these buildings clean."

They got a shredded,"Confirmed."

A single black hawk came from behind another building, armed with a single machinegunner on the side, and it began to rake the side of buildings, especially through the windows. These soldiers had no love for Weigar, known as the butt of the Empire, and the trouble makers. The best Weigarian was the dead Weigarian. Fire sputtered from the mouth of the machine gun, and round after round went through the buildings. However, the sharp shooter was not killed. Another shot rang out and a metal cling resounded across the avenue. There was a gaping hole in the fuel injector and the chopper began to smoke. Fassbinder began to murmur to himself,"Get out of here you mother fucker. This is a goddamn firing squad."

What was just a simple cease and destroy mission was turning into a bloody street battle, with already one soldier dead, and probably dozens of civilians as well. The rest of the airborne group had also stopped their advance in hearing the gun shots and began to consolidate themselves in their positions, radioing headquarters and asking for reinforcements. Fedor was looking to end a war before it started and all he was doing was making it occur sooner.

However, soon enough the streets settled again and it was obvious that Heinrich had succeeded in making his run. He was long gone and it would take more intelligence to track him down. Fassbinder took the radio from the soldier's hand and said,"Mission failed."



[Fields of Glory, The Empire]

The black pick-up car stopped in an empty barley field, which now occupied the area in which Jonach had defeated the last of the kingdoms of the civil war period in a bloody two week battle. Heinrich stepped out of the passenger's seat with a fury, and the driver followed him from the other side. The prince began to stomp around and shouted,"Where is my army?"

From a small house which looked like an agriculturist building to cover the watering motor Erich, the leader of the resistance, stepped out, a broad smile on his face. The man looked at the prince and retorted,"It takes more than two days to make an army prince."

Heinrich stared back, his face straight as stone,"Fedala has sent their armies into Weigar. We are loosing time. They are stomping your men as we speak. I have failed."

Erich's smile did not fade and he responded,"Nonsense. Give me seven days, and I will have enough to march on Fedala. We will not win, but we may scare them to give us what we want."

Heinrich nodded and said,"If you fail me, I can promise you that Weigar will never be independent." Following that threat the prince got back into the truck, and waited for the driver to follow suit and drive off. This exchange of cold words would mark the beginning of the turning of events that would lead to the War of Macabee Succession.

(OOC: Tag! http://70.85.81.229/2968/155/upload/photo-2.gif )

Sarcanza Provence: [Pronounced: Sar-khan-tha; Capital: Marsa Bruth]
The entire panhandle which borders Zarbia and Riptide Monzarc is a vast blight - a desert. The only plants which can survive the hot day temperatures and the cold night temperatures are Cam III plants, including several different species of cacti, and small plants. Climatic characteristics include several miniature wind routes which sporadically create tornadoes and such, which ravage the largely rural population of one-hundred million.
-The Macabee Factbook

Sarcanza, Zarbian Border

The convoy of Ford Pickup's chugged along down the dirt road, each trucks bed packed tight with men and ordanance. It was a cool spring night, the temperature dipping down close to fifty degrees. The motley crew in the back sat in uncomfortable silence, each wearing his own homemade uniform -- in fact, the only unifiying factor of the men was the zealous squint in their eyes and the uncomfortable look across their mouth.

The three trucks continued to prowl down the road at a clam forty kilometers, anymore and they ran the risk of kicking up too much dust. The insurgents -- for that was what they are -- held a variety of weapons. AK-74's, GP30s, even the ocasional Degtyarev DPM light machine gun. On the roof of the lead Ford an SG-43 had been mounted, its clip running loose across the gun.

The trucks abruptly came to a halt, its young crew nervously dismounting. After a few quick words exchanged in a heavy dialect, its speakers tripping over his C's. Two mortars were slowly assembled at the base of the sand-dune, the rest of its crew huffing along the doubled over taking cover in the darkeness, so thick you could practically choke on it.

Spreading themselfs out in a line nearly two hundred meters long in a half-circle they fell flat to their face and began a slow crawl towards the goverment Fire Base, their postion offering them little in the way of cover but the ability to engage the superior pro-Jonach forces from close range.

They had little in the ways of anti-armor weaponry. They would need to cross the fifty meters quickly before the soldiers could turn their powerful rifles and automatic weapons on their exposed postions.

The Fire Base was old, constructued shortly after the end of the Great Civil War. The fences were brittle from the harsh enviorment, and the security weak, due mainly to a lax security policy on the part of the soldiers. However, once alerted they would turn into a deadly force, and it was this threat that required the insurgents to quickly engage the soldiers.

Back behind the sand dune the mortar teams adjusted thie rusted equipment. A quick exchange of words through their two-way and the mortar teams let off their first rounds. Suddenly a sharp whistle cut through the air and the insurgents of Sarcanza errupted foward towards the newly exposed gap in the fence, its mass torn away by two heavy mortar rounds...

[Fire Base Beatrice 1, Sarcanza Provence, The Empire]

Private First Class Schrader leaned over his machine gun, looking over the wooden rampart of the wall which made up the northern defenses of the old fire base. The defensive point was placed along the Zarbian border just after the Great Civil War, paid for by the increased military budget that Emperor Jonach I had began to develope. Unfortunately, those who were given the task of constructing the great defensive wall from Sidi Rezegh to Marsa Bruth laxed on their job, and created cheaper, faster forts, thinking that war with Zarbia would never come. Consequently, Beatrice 1 was given a small station of troops, about forty in all, a fourth of which were on leave in Marsa Bruth, the only city in the whole desert until reaching the more fertile climates of Sidi. There was a single machine gun facing north, and another machine gun facing south, while there were three machine gunners in the garrison ready to quickly move to pressure points. About a hundred meters from any of the fort's walls there was a short fence, already beginning to tear away due to the decrease of maintenance budgets along the Zarbian border.

Schrader turned to his kamraden, a watch guard given daytime duties, and said,"When the fuck did they say we would get out of this hell hole? Fucking heat. Fucking country."

The other guy didn't turn, but continued to stare north, into the horizon, the sun glinting off his thick black frames. Schrader scoffed and turned back to lean on his gun again, thinking to himself. Suddenly the other guy put his hand on Schrader's shoulder and leaned down,"Did you see that?"

Schrader squinted and responded,"No. What did you see?"

The guard shook his head after looking for an intense three seconds and answered,"Screw it, I don't get paid enough for this shit."

As Schrader nodded his head in agreement the northern chain link fence snapped in the center in the heat of two great explosions. Pieces of metal and aluminum flew for about sixty meters, and tore into the sandy dunes below. But when the dust cleared from the impact points Schrader noticed that there was a huge gap where the fence used to be. Schrader slowly formulated his words,"Motherfucker."

5.56mm rounds began to zip past their heads as a rag tag team of fighters began to pour through the gap. The guard, who was standing up, was hit in the shoulder and he fell instantly back, almost falling over the footing of the wall and into the central courtyard of the fort. He was able to get on to his knees and he crawled down, all the while screaming, to get support on the wall. Schrader wasn't as merciful and he opened up with his 12.7mm machine gun, concentrating his fire on that gap but about thirty seconds later the machine gun jammed and he kicked the tripod, sending it to the floor, swearing,"Son of a fucking bitch! What a piece of crap."

While he swore and pouted the assailants didn't wait for him to finish. They continued pouring through and finally Schrader began to make his way down to the central courtyard, leaving the fighting to the rest of the garrison which was making its way up. The three machine gunners were first, placing their guns right on the wall. Nonetheless, one was hit straight between the eyes, and another man had to drop his assault rifle and take the machine gun. Heavy fire portruded from the ramparts of the wall onto the attackers, however, most feared it wasn't enough - those mortar rounds would soon be marking their territory.



[Weigar, The Empire]

The city had settled down after the previous day's firefight, and the city had gone from Code Red to a simple policing duties after "terrorist activities". Nonetheless, the Waffen-SS Air Assault Group remained in Weigar policing the streets and waiting for a single hint of information on where Heinrich was - time was running out.

Fiechler Air Base had finally moved reinforcements by air. These were made up of the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Task Force [Kurzes Schwert], composed of foreign recruits from Doomingsland, as well as the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Regiment [Heimlich], made up of Guadalombian recruits, which meant that there were almost two thousand Waffen-SS frontline personnel patrolling the streets and raiding underground resistance chambers, killing all they could see, which were many. However, there was no hint of the core members of the resistance, or of the long gone prince.

On the border of the Imperial Provence of the Golden Throne and Weigar Emperor Fedor I was already placing his elite in order to make sure that Heinrich did not get out. Waffen-SS divisions Dolch, Schwert and Speerspitze, along with 1st, 2nd and 3rd Waffen-SS Panzer Grenadier Divisions gave him a strength of twenty thousand frontline personnel ready to repel any insurgencies within Weigar.

It was a grand display of imperial power and it would make Heinrich's situation much harder, but on the Fields of Glory he made known that he was prepared to strike towards Fedala and take the capital by storm. The throne would be his, he claimed, and he would do all in his power to ensure it.

War was now inevitable.

The majority of people inhabiting the Sarcanza region are devout Catholics. Following the creation of the Church of the Broken Dawn under Jonach the region underwent a brief period of turmoil, and reports of several insurgent groups in the area have begun to surface in the last several years.
-The Macabee Factbook

A cloud of white smoke and a heavy whistle as the GP30's grenade launcher was levied against the garrison. The small clatter of the AK-74s, with the occasional burst from the DPM echoed for miles off in every direction. The air was cut clean in half by the occasional chirp from the nearby SVD, hitting harmlessly into wood and lethally into flesh.

Another gasp from the Mortar and suddenly the insurgents were covered in dust, the round falling well over five yards short of the wall itself. The second one let loose, coming down only a few feet away from the wall itself, ripping chunks out of the aged wood. Already there were five dead on the ground, another six moaning. These casualties were expected however, and the yield from siezing the firebase would more then cover their loses.

Another round came down, this time on target, tearing a small gap through the wood. Elsewhere along the line men began to find their way through the fence as they began to strech the small garrison thin across the wall.

Suddenly the lead Ford from before made a brush turn from around the Sand Dune, its crew of five racing down the dirt roadway towards the main gate of the fire base. Its front end poorly reinforced with rusted sheets of metal, the vehicle continued to pick up speed, the trucks machine gun going quiet as its operator ducked down into the truckbead, bracing for impact with the gate.

OOC:Hey Mac, can I RP a squad of the Doomingslandian SS guys doing their resistance killing duties?

[OOC: Doomingsland, yea sure go ahead. Sarcanza, I'll reply later on, my back hurts from walking from college.]

[Fire Base Beatrice 1, Sarcanza Provence, The Empire]

The garisson commander rushed out of his office as the plume of heavy white smoke enshrouded the fort's large central courtyard. He rubbed his eyes to see if he was dreaming as he saw the outcome of the day's fighting. When the smoke and dust settled anyone could see that a huge gap had been blown by a mortar into the side of the fort. The commander threw down some papers he had in his hand and began to run towards the fighting, to take command of the situation. As he hit a group of soldiers who didn't really know what to do he began to yell at them in turn,"Take position behind that gap. I don't want any fucking thing moving in here."

The group nodded and made their way to the predestined location, but not before two were taken down by rifle fire and the rest cowarded behind buildings and such, not willing to directly defend the gap. The major sighed but continued towards the wall that still stood, climbing the staircase to it. He murmured to himself,"This fucking thing looks like a medieval castle. What the hell did they want us to do with this shit."

When he reached the top he peered down, placing his big hands on the wooden rampart, and gasped. The ford truck was accelerating, soon to hit the main gate of the fort. He turned around and pointed to other soldiers, who were firing into the crowd of assailants,"Move down, reinforce the gate with something."

It was too late, the truck pounded right into the gate, slamming it wide open. Nonetheless, a quick witted soldier belonging to the garisson threw a grenade into the truck bed and within a couple of seconds pieces of scraps were flying through the air like shrapnel, forcing many to duck down, and wounding others. The commander swore and moved back down the wall and towards his personal chambers. He didn't seem to mind the constant gun fire and the massing of enemy troops within his fort, he just marched straight to his room, and grabbed the phone, pressing a thick red button which dialed to a central headquarters for the long string of forts and he said,"Beatrice 1 has fallen. Code Red. I repeat, code red. Beatrice 1 has fallen."

It was over. Every single Imperial soldier within Beatrice 1 was a dead man, the fort had fallen. The commander walked back out with a white flag and waved it high. It had been surrendered. As he hoisted the flag onto a barricade along the staircase to his room he gathered whatever remained of his garrison and began to lead out the rear gate which led right to the border of Zarbia, which was heavily mined. But it was the only chance of life that the surviving twenty or so soldiers of the Beatrice 1 garrison would have. They would escape, or they would die trying.

Presidential Suite, HailandKill
The world was driving itself into the ground. New wars were popping up so much that many leaders, like the president, could not keep track of all the death and despair occuring at any one point in time. The president had stayed up recently pondering the impact of these wars, squabbles, and skirmishes on the earth, all its peoples, and the mentalities of the citizens of HailandKill.

"Do the citizens fear death? Are they willing to give their lives for their country? Are they scared? Do they trust me?" The president was thinking loudly, while laying in his bed, his room, the one coveted by all aspiring politicians.
"Three days and I havent slept a fucking ounce" President Revello muttered while still thinking about all the recent events that had happened. The last few days were the worst of his presidency; his closest ally was on the verge of civil war, and one maniacal man had threatened the safety and relative peace of the world. It was safe to say he, and most of his closest advisors and friends, hadnt slept in almost a week, trying to keep up with all the events and progresses. With world war brewing, with massive death immenint, the president finnally fell asleep.

President Revello was unlike other presidents in the nations past. He did not age much while in command of the nation. Many presidents enter their terms bright, young men, they come out, old, gray and tired. The last few days had exposed how much he aged, like some sort of make-up remover. The recent events had melted his youth, and brightness into the typical president of his age. Hopefully he would rebound, or the nation would not be the same.

Presidential Office, HailandKill
The president who emerged after a long slumber was the young, bright, buoyant person who led the country through some of its roughest times. With the time approaching 1500 HK Time, he was preparing for his afternoon brief with his NSA. When the NSA entered his office, he was sitting.

"Ahh, Mr. President, I see you are awake. How are you feeling?"
"Refreshed, I feel much better" The president replied
"Well, todays brief is a bit rough" He paused, gauging the reaction of the president "It seems major combat has erupted in The Golden Throne, between Fedor's forces and forces of The Wiegar Resistance."
"That matter is taken care of, I have, in recent days, been communication with The Golden Throne and their leaders, and we will be helping ASAP in their civil war."
"Yessir" The NSA said before the president cut him off again
"Here is the plan, with TGT being closer to AMF than we are, I have decided to mobilize many of our armed forces, naval and ground, to our military instalation in TGT. We are now going to defcon 1, all military bases, civilian cities are now to be put on highest alert. We will be as close to the OMP/Praetorian alliance as we can get to. We are most likely joining the OMP coalition, seeing as most of our allies are heeding the call. My official decision will be pending."
"Yes sir. and one question?"
"Go ahead?"
"Did you have an epiphany last nite?"

The President doubled over in laughter. He had not laughed this hard in a long time. He had not had an epiphany, he had, somehow gained clarity, clarity not since obtained since he was a three star general.

"Specifically" The president continued "I want the military instalation in TGT to be on high alert. They shall be ready to mobolize all their forces on my command."
"They will be ready Mark" The NSA said "HailandKill will be ready for anything"

Their was much increased activity in Scarborough, the military city of HailandKill. Many new recruits and soldiers were saying goodbye to their families, to go fight foreign enemies on different nations homelands. The army was loading with soldiers, and the navy casting off mooring lines, headed towards The Golden Throne. All of the active duty soldiers in HailandKill were going to help The Maccabees and eventually help in the downfall of AMF and her evil allies.

[OOC: The militarys base RP of mobilization and deployment will come tomorow.]

Weigar, The Empire

The tunnel shook gently from a far away surface burst, dust falling to the ground, a soft rumbling filling the air. Marius tensely gripped his rifle as he made his way silently through the dimly lit underground corridor. Panicked voices of resistance fighters came from further up the tunnel. Shouldering his weapon, he motioned for his men to halt with the raise of his fist.

He and the three men under his command were members of the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Task Force, "Kurzes Schwert". His unit had been assigned to clear out a network of tunnels suspected of harboring resistance fighters. That suspicion had proved correct, for he had personaly collected the heads of six enemy soldiers. The men were now six hours into the hunt, yet didn't feel tired in the least.

For them, this was just another day on the job.

As former members of the Doom Legion, they'd spent their whole lives soldiering, that being what they were best at. They found themselves among the elite in the Waffen-SS due to this unique characteristic they all shared.

Up ahead, the tunnel veered upwards at what appeared to be a 45 degree angle. There was plenty of cover, with crates of supplies and ammunition littering the hall.

The tunnel was of a simple construction: loosely placed wooden planks attempting to cover the soft dirt floor, walls constructed of tightly packed sandbags, the occasional lightbulb adorning the cieling to provide some degree of illumination. It was wide enough for three men to walk side by side and tall enough for a man to stand up straight.

However, they knew that if they were caught off gaurd, they were as good as dead.

This had made itself apparent when one of their teams failed to report back. When they went to investigate, they found all four of the men dead in the corridor out in the open having suddenly been ambushed.

Then again, the same rule applied for the rebels...

Marius motioned for his men to take cover behind the crates, his automatic rifleman setting up his weapon on top of one of them, allowing for excellent accuracy. The men all stared down their holographic reflex sights, awaiting the approach of their enemies.

With a series of hand signals, he ordered his men not to open up until he gave the signal. They were going to catch the rebel scum with their pants down.

The silhuette of a figure appeared at the top of the slanted tunnel, quickly scanning the area for movement. The men in their camo fatigues and balaclava masks were difficult to see in the poor lighting, so the man made a fatal mistake in failing to notice their presence.

A hand motion was made by the rebel, a young man in his mid twenties, armed with a Kalashnikov rifle, wearing civilian clothing, bandoliers of ammuntion hangning across his chest.

With that order, he began to move down, with five more men following him. All were moving cautiously, their weapons tucked snugly against their shoulders. As they got closer, the SS men could smell the fear on their enemy. This pleased them much. Marius waited until they were just fifteen feet away and had the red dot reticle right between the eyes of the lead man until he gave the signal: the pull of the trigger.

The weapon gently recoiled as it spat out two rounds of ammuntion, which impacted the skull of the lead resistance fighter, horribly disfiguring his face and blowing the back of his head out, spattering blood and grey matter all over his comrades.

A nanosecond after he fired, the rest of the team opened up on fully automatic, quickly filling the air with lead.

It was all over before it started. The fresh smell of chordite and blood filled the nostrils of the Doomginslanders as they arose from they slowly arose from their positions to inspect the damage.

Their foes had been torn to pieces: several men had sections of their heads completely blow off while others were cut cleanly in half. One man was just barely breathing. His wound was particularly gruesome, having taken several rounds through the gut at a sideways angle, splitting open his belly and pouring his intestines all over the floor.

Marius, not waiting for the man to start screaming for help, withdrew his knife: a sinister weapon known as the Gladius Doomanus, more commonly called the Doomingsland Long Knife. The blade, at sixteen inches long, was a favorite amongst the members of the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Task Force for the horrible wound it caused. Sharpened to a fine edge, it was a double edged weapon with three "teeth" on either side pointing back towards the hilt, that is small jagged edges, also extremely sharp.

Kneeling down and gripping the fallen rebel by the hair on his head. He swiftly stuck the blade into the man's throat, a look of total neutrality on his face as he commited the execution, and ripped it out with a twist. The teeth of the blade made a normaly standard wound absolutely horrific, tearing his throat to pieces as they sliced the meat on their way out.

His face still one of total seriousness, he then siezed the now very dead skull of the man, put one foot on the corpse's shoulder, and began to tug with all his might. After three seconds, the head, along with a section of the spine, came right off. His men had done the same with the others. One of the men opened a black canvas bag he carried with him to have several pairs of glazed-over eyes stare right back at him. He smirked back at the shocked and horrified faces of the men they had killed. The heads were all tossed in the bag with the others, looks of shock and horror frozen on the faces of the roughly twenty bleeding severed heads.

Grunting to himself, Marius casualy removed the magazine from his rifle, inserted a fresh one, and continued up the corridor, his men close behind them. They had more skulls to collect...

Due to the strong anti-Catholic policies of Jonach it really was no suprise when Sarcanza declared their allegiance to Weigar. Despite their losses in the Great Civil War many politicians have continued to argue that govermental presense in Sarcanza is not strong enough, and have gone on to argue that another uprising is inevitable. These claims have been dismissed as mere political jargon.
-The Macabee Factbook

Sarcanza, The Empire

It was all over in less then an hour. The complete invelopment of the Fire Base had been less then textbook however, with over twenty-two killed or wounded in the assault, along with the loss of one of their few reinforced Fords. Nevertheless, more warm bodies could be found and more old trucks stolen, but the supplies stolen from the Fire Base could not be matched.

The numbers were staggering. Close to fifty Samson combat-suits, another ten in varying conditions stripped from the bed. Two-Hundred Hali-21 Assualt Rifles. TNT, plastique, night-vision googles. A unknown number of NATO issue machine-guns. The actions of the insurgent group, and for that matter most of the Sarcanza Republic was clear. In the west Weigar was coming to life, and the implications were clear as to what Sarcanza intended to do. The Great Civil War was clear in everyones mind, Sarcanza's allegiance to Weigar had not been forgotten.

The overall objective too would be clear -- Marsa Bruth, the capital of the province, and the hotbed of pro-govermental support in the region. But Marsa Bruth was a far different matter then some forgotten Fire Base. They would require more then a few old trucks and some tattered rifles to take the city. And so it was of little suprise when the convoy of men and materials turned from its path towards Marsa Bruth and instead broke off towards the closer city of Prokhorovka. The old capital of the region, Prokhorovka was a testimate to the way things used to be in Sarcanza.

Moreso however, Prokhorovka housed industry, something few and far between in all of Sarcanza. The motives of the breakaway province were clear. Take Prokhorovka and declare their independence from the Golden Thrown and their heretic policies. Catholicism would rise in The Empire again. But how long could Sarcanza keep outside forces from interfering?

Tag

[Fields of Glory, Weigar]
Heinrich was pleased with himself. His intimate knowledge of the old miltary warehouses of the area allowed him to requisition several pieces of armor for his new army, although he knew well that none of the technology he was able to grab matched that of Fedor. Regardless, his victory would need to rely on the speed of the campaign.

He had spent countless hours the night before explaining to his generals the utter importance of how hard and how fast they hit the Imperial lines. He could see himself that night, going over what he had said, to make sure he had said it all,"...the Imperials are well trained fighters, perhaps the best in the region, and some of the best in the world. If you allow them to recover they will recover, and they will push you back. They are trained to win, and the fight for your men will be hard. However, I believe that they do not expect a full fledge resistance ground army which has the balls to come out and fight, and consequently, they will be caught with confusion for the first twenty-four hours of this war. Take that time to your advantage. Destroy their lines and open the path to Fedala. If we take Fedala, we take the Empire. I assure you of that."

He looked down at the maps in front of him, clearing his mind of what he had said the night before. He wasn’t much of a military strategist, but he knew enough to know that he would need a lot of work to carve up the Imperial divisions. Then again, the campaign he had designed wasn’t going to work to the advantage of Weigar. He expected that over three-fourths of them would die in this short war, but that was just a safeguard. He had promised Weigar its independence, but he wasn’t prepared to give it to them, nor did he really want to. He would use their manpower to his advantage and he would win his throne, and then he would crush Weigar.

He looked to his clock on the wall of his quarters, located in a bunker deep under the Fields of Glory, where his father had won his final victory in the Great Civil War before his rise to power. It was time to head out. He got up, threw the maps on the bed beside him, and walked out of the room. Turning the halls he did not even wait to salute those who saluted him. He marched straight up the staircase, and then out of the bunker. He grinned as he witnessed the sight before him.

Row upon row of T-80 main battle tanks covered his eyesight from one horizon to the other. There were somewhere around two thousand T-80s to be exact, old tanks used by the Kingdom of Weigar when it was still independent. They would be riding with around five hundred BMP armored personnel carriers and another two hundred T-90s. Although there wasn’t enough armor to really match that of the Empire they knew that if they surprised the Imperials enough they could come out of this fight with the advantage still in their hands.

The brute force for the campaign would come from the sixty thousand freedom fighters, armed with Ak-74s and An-94s, who had been recruited from the streets of the capital and the houses of the small towns which dotted the landscape. It was truly an army that fought for liberty and, perhaps, a democracy, and every single man had a single thought in his brain – the independence of their beloved Weigar. Each man wore a standard uniform, although each garb was rather sloppy in nature. It didn’t matter to the average soldier though, they only cared about the Weigar Flag which they proudly displayed on their right arm.

Heinrich nodded to Generaloberst Karl Heist, commander of all the armor, dubbed I Panzerkorp. He had chosen exactly this day to begin the offensive because word of rebellion in Sarcanza had come. Fedor was facing the first major crisis of the Second Empire, only eighteen years after its foundation. This epoch would forever be known in history as one of turmoil within the Empire, but Heinrich knew that the history books would always know his name.

Within minutes the armor began to roll out, the infantry tagging behind them in Pegaso military trucks, painted a standard green in emulation of the Imperial armies. Within three hours the First War of Golden Succession would begin. Every single soldier smiled that day, and each one held his head up high. The hour had come to fight for the independence of their nation.

Suddenly, however, a single aircraft passed overhead and most held their breath. One soldier shouted,”Imperial!”

Indeed, it was one of Fedor’s birds; a reconnaissance aircraft to be exact. Heinrich scowled, the divisions Fedor had ordered to the border of Weigar would soon know that an army was marching their way. Inside his tank he ordered his driver to accelerate and he picked up the inter-tank radio comm., ordering,”All units, accelerate.”

His tank had been especially accommodated to hold more than one person in the main compartment. Indeed, Generaloberst Heist had also found a spot within the tank, and a map separated the two men. Heinrich looked at him in silence and Heist said,”They’ll know very soon.”

Heinrich nodded and responded,”Which is why there will be no more waiting. The offensive will begin now. Order your units to plow straight through those lines.”

It seemed as if the war had begun early.

[OOC: Where is this taking place in your country? I have got to post an attack on the resistance and officially declare war on them, but I think im going wait until the actual attack on the imperial troops happen. On a side note where has SafeHaven been?]

“…..radic fighting is continuing in the streets of Weiger as special Macabean army units are ruthlessly cracking down on the city trying to enforce martial law on the area. The soldiers in the street are not imperials but instead members of the newest branch of the Macabean military, the Waffen-SS almost entirely comprised of foreigners. Even though the fighting has remained sporadic, as you can see here at the St. Mary’s hospital, it is far from bloody and casualties, most of which seem to be unarmed civilians continue to pour in. In this past hour I have personally seen dozens of victims rushed thru these doors including sadly many countless children caught in the crossfire. The hospital has been overwhelmed with victimsand supplies are running short, especially blood.

I have received multiple reports of atrocities being committed by the SS units around the city but we have as of yet to receive hard evidence of this and the Macabean government has firmly denied such claims saying but looking upon the scene here at St Mary’s I’m beginning to question the governments sincerity. In my professional opinion it looks as if the government is slowly losing control of the area and as a response a massacre is occurring here in Wieger city. Ov..” A sudden boom resounded across the city quickly followed by the steady crackle of small arms, sending the reporter almost to his knees in panic as the camera went wild in the air for a second, the gunfire reached a crescendo for a few seconds before dieing down. Regaining his composure the reporter continued. “As you can see the fighting has yet to subside…."

What a fucking mess. What a fuucking mess. Senator Daff, the head of the biggest and most powerful political in Safehaven, sat in his office watching the evening news. He had just come from wrapping up a vote on a request the military had put thru. Permission to assist the Macabees in dealing with the “civil disturbances” going on in their country had been granted by a fair majority, not a majority to be proud of but a majority nonetheless. The military was lucky this news broadcast hadn’t come a few hours early because there would have been no way in hell that the military would have gotten its wish. And there was no way in hell they should have gotten it anyway…Jesus Christ! He blurted it out so loud that his secretary heard him outside and jumped. Daff had no love for The Macabees, if he had his way, and one day he hoped he would if he got his dream job the presidency, then Safehaven2 would have cut relations with The Macabees along time ago, a nation that did nothing but bring trouble to Haven. But what he saw put him over the top. Bodies, or what remained of bodies lay haphazardly their heads severed. Never a holy man he still invoked His name a few times mixed in with a few more phrases before picking up the phone.


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


The Northern Command Zone, the Home Guard, “Pride” of Safehaven. The Home Guard was supposed to be the best of the best, the most elite regular army formation in the Havenite army. But a rot was setting in and the Guard was imploding on itself, eating away slowly over the years. Years before the Guard had been the best, It had been an elite formation, back then only a select few were assigned to the Guard but that had changed. Havens rich and upper class used the Guard as a place to send their sons and daughters, they didn’t want to see family in a regular unit mixed in with the dregs of Haven. Because of Havenite culture joining the army was seen as something that was extremely honorable and respectable so many upper class families started sending their kids and filling the ranks of the Guard with them. The Guard then became more of a ceremonial unit, unofficially banned from going off to war by politicians who didn’t wish to see their children hurt the Guard was a green unit. It had not seen combat in close to eighty years and even then it was only small isolated units of the Guard that went off. Not seeing combat didn’t necessarily make a unit bad or poor quality but added to that was poor discipline and that did. People just didn’t show up for training or exercises, drinking, parting long vacations, that was the norm. Why should they show up, it wasn’t like anyone would “tell” on them, at least no one that hoped to keep their jobs long and advance in the ranks. It might as well have been a militia though the men who made up the Guard were good at showing off their uniforms.

It was this formation that General Devin Orrel commanded. A career soldier this post was a punishment of sorts and in his misery instead of improving things in the Guard he let things slip away even further. What did it matter, the Guard would never see combat anyway based on the Zarbian and Macabean borders, both allies of Haven. So he sat and watched the Guard rot into little more than a place for the rich and famous to congregate. The rosters of various units were practily a who’s who list.

When word reached Haven of internal problems in The Macabees it was first sent to the Guard as they manned a good portion of the border. When the orders came in General Orrel wasn’t even at his command post, not that he was the only one missing. Six hours later he strutted in completely oblivious to any wrong he might have committed. He snatched up the orders and continued to his office. He never made it, before he could reach the door he stopped dead in his tracks reading and re reading the orders that had come in. His chance, a chance to get into combat, a real command. As if new life had been breathed into him he immediately went into action. Looking up he barked out, “Where’s Colonel Betura?” The reply that came back shouldn’t have surprised him, “He’s out, said he’d come back later.” The way the reply came out it sounded like that should have been expected but not today. “Damnit, he’s relieved of command, captain get these orders out, were to mobilize.” And with that he strode into his office with a bounce in his step leaving a confused and shocked staff behind him. Safehaven2 was coming to the aid of her ally The Macabees in their fight against the rebel scum plaguing their empire, or so everyone thought all the way up to the President.

(OOC:Not my best post but meh, had to get one up)

[OOC: This is a continuation of my last post, and then some. It also adresses the military buildup on the border of The Maccabees and SafeHaven2.]

30 miles over The Golden Throne
Satelite 2593, MacSat being its assigned operating name, was making its pass over The Golden Throne at its usual time. With the situation in TGT worsening between the rebels and the imperialists a few satelites were diverted from their normal orbiting duties to asses the situation in TGT better. As Satelite 2593, MacSat, was orbiting over TGT it took its normal photos, which would reach HKIS (HailandKill Intelligence Services) in about 12 minutes. Their were 4 photos, each photo encompassing one-quater of TGT and about 30 miles of nation waters/national borders.

HKIS, DeMaio City, HailandKill
Intelligence officer Tim Hawckins was reviewing the new satelite recon that had just came from MacSat. He was assigned to MacSat after HailandKill was informed of the civil unrest in TGT, and he was told he could not tell anyone what he learned, or "disapear without notice".

Tim Hawckins grabbed his magnifying glass and began looking at the recon that had just came in. He had seen the same thing for the last three days; that imperial soldiers were gathered near Weigar, and a rebel firebase was being destroyed and no major rebel army was present. It was on the last quater of the SATREC that he noticed something was wrong.

The befuddled officer ran to his superior, Chief Officer Tom Rollins, with the magifying glass in one hand, and the photo rolled up in another. Rollins had rose to the top of HKIS in 15 years, and his job was to sort major finds from small ones that could be ignored. Any major finds that the agency found were to be immediatly reported to the NSA's office.

The two men had began discussing what the SATREC had discovered, and at 0546AM HK TIME, after a heated discussion between the two men, it was decided that the national security agency was to be informed immediatly.

The White House, DeMaio City HailandKil
The president was awoken at 0612AM local time by a secret service agent. He was told something urgent had come up and that his presence in the Oval Office was required.

The president rubbed his eyes and walked out of his suite, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, to his office. He grabbed a coffee and chugged as much caffine as he could. The president then walked into his office to see a wide awake NSA.

"Sir, we have a new development in The Golden Throne" He paused, thinking of the right words "A country that borders TGT, called SafeHaven, has mobilized a sizeable amount of armed forces. We do not know if SafeHaven has mobilized due to the civil war or because of the AMF situation. The list of mobilization reasons stretches far and wide but this is big."

"Yes, I see your point. We have all our armed forces anchored around the waters of Targul Frumos, near our military base correct?"

"Yes, we do" Replied the NSA "The soldiers on our transports are getting antsy, and the OMP Taskforce is awaiting further orders."

The OMP taskforce, or all of HailandKill's active naval, and armed forces, was deployed to the HailandKill military installation in The Golden Throne because of the location of TGT. TGT was closer to AMF than HailandKill was, and now the OMP taskforce was waiting for the presidents orders.

DeMaio Military Installation
General Earnest Cromwell was having his morning coffee, as usual, when an aide rushed into his room. The aides face was beaming, and it was apparent to the general that the aide could not help from smiling. In his left hand he held a transmission, one of utmost importance.

URGENT TRANSMISSION TO DEMAIO MILITARY INSTALATION, TOP SECRET

Commander Cromwell, the following orders are to be carried out as soon as possible. These directives come from the Joint Cheifs, the NSA, and the president. Failure to comply will result to the loss of command and trial by court martial.

Your current orders are:
1. Put DeMaio Military Base on high alert.
2. All soldiers and armored units are to be able to be deployed at any moment. When the code Bravo-Six is given to you, you are to mobilize all availible forces to the location specified, using force if neccasary.
3. If any hostilities are brought upon your installation you are to retaliate as neccassary.
4. You are to quater as many soldiers in Task Force OMP as possible. It is also your responsibility to keep these soldiers well organized and safe. Four HK Kriegsmarine CVBGs are stationed in Maccabee waters near your location, it is also your responsibility to command them effectively and keep them out of harms way. These TF-OMP units are officially being placed under your command, and these units are also to be kept on high alert in case of any Gholgoth mobilizations or the urgent need of soldiers in the conflict area.

In the next two weeks there will be full-scale warfare. You are to be as prepared as possible. May the Republic triumph. Good Luck.

[END DOCUMENT]

----

Almost two hours later, all of HailandKill's armed forces were on highest alert. Soldiers were prepared to go to war at any moment, and HK Kriegsmarine CVBG's were operating as if they were involved in war. If the moment came to go to war, pre-selected divisions were picked to spearhead the forces and lead the charge.

[The Battle of Mons Dei

Captain Frederik Lorns kneeled down and felt the ground slowly, all the while looking straight ahead. His mouth twisted along the right end and he looked back to his company, shaking it slowly. He got back up and began to run towards the defensive position his company was manning, which was one of hundreds all along the border of Weigar. They had been placed there in case a general uprising had occured in Weigar, and now it looked like something of that size was coming. Perhaps the resistance had been emboldened by the uprising in Sarcanza, perhaps they had been emboldened by the fact that Haven had chosen to side with Guffingford in the political landscape of the war between Praetonia and AutoMagFreek. He really didn't know; all he knew was that the ground was shaking uncontrollaby, and an earthquake hadn't struck Weigar for around four thousand years. Moving in between his soldiers he ran to the radioman and patted him on the shoulders, and knelt to say something into his ear,"Tell division headquarters that they're coming."

The radioman turned around with a solemn face and said,"Division headquarters already knows. A reconaissance aircraft moving to the airbase north of Weigar caught them. They're coming straight for us."

About ten kilometers west Weigar's armor rapidly crossed the landscape of the area, which was as flat as the Russian steppes, and as green as Southern France. The tanks rolled right through it without major troubles at around forty kilometers per hour. Soon enough a lead T-80 swirled it's main gun around and fired a single shot. Where that round was headed to would take a while to find out, but seconds later one could hear a sharp cling, which hit the munitions compartment within the tank, sending the crew to heaven, and basically decapitating the vehicle. Nonetheless, the rest of the armor continued without fears.

Back on the Imperial lines Captain Lorns whistled as the vast array of armor first came into his view. He held his helmet down as he began to yell out orders,"Get those Ebros over here. I don't want see no tank right in front of me. Move, move, move you sissy bitches!"

A loud shriek was heard and a trail of vapor gave away an Ebro anti-tank missile skimming the surface of the Earth, right towards a T-90 moving quickly towards Lorn's company. A cloud of dust enveloped the tank as the Ebro struck and when it cleared away the T-90 was dismembered, with its turret lying beside it on the ground. But there was still vast numbers of vehicles moving towards Lorn's company, and the captain swore,"This is their damn focus point!"

He looked at his men and murmured,"Son of a bitch." He followed that with something a lot louder,"Pull back!"

The "pull back" became a headlong retreat as the men finally figured that resistance would be futile. The company would not be able to hold against what seemed like three or four armored squads, which meant somewhere around fifty tanks. This was especially true since the company lacked armored support. There wasn't even enough time to radio division headquarters. The rebels had been able to break through the infantry line within five minutes. It was a complete fiasco.

Soon enough the armor would be able to encircle small pockets of Imperial men, and then the infantry would begin to pour in. It looked as if the position of the two armored divisions and the one Imperial infantry division had been comprimised and that the entire line would have to pull back if they were to keep some sort of defense between Weigar and Fedala. If this line crumbled altogether Fedala would be left open.

The other armored spearpoints kept on hitting walls, and most of the Weigan tanks were repelled, expending extremely heavy losses amongst them. However, that sole breakthrough would be hard to patch up, especially since headquarters hadn't been warned. The battle was in jeopardy, and it seemed more and more likely that Weigar would have an early victory.

[OOC: Hey Mac SafeHaven2 officially IC'ly declared his sympathy with the Gholgoth/AMF side? If so would'nt you have declared war?

IC involvement to come after questions answered.]

[OOC: Hey Mac SafeHaven2 officially IC'ly declared his sympathy with the Gholgoth/AMF side? If so would'nt you have declared war?

IC involvement to come after questions answered.]

[OOC: No, because that's not necessarily a hostile action against me, since I'm not at war with AMF; I've just declared that in case they need it, I would help them against him. But SafeHaven is going to use that as a reason to invade me.]

[OOC: Ohhhh, I get it now.....
Ok then, heres my IC response]

Transmission To Leadership Of The Golden Throne

It has come to my immediate attention of the worsening situation in The Golden Throne. This small civil disobediance has turned into a major civil conflict and in the best interest of our closest ally, the Republic of HailandKill would like to aide in the best way possible. We have voiced support against these dissenters of your nation and now would like to put our money where our mouth is. Our units in DeMaio Military Installation have been placed on high alert and we would like to send our 1st Panzer Brigade [OOC: All my info on division sizes is in my military factbook in my sig.] to aide your soldiers. We anxiously await your reply. If the answer is a yes, then we ask that a major highway be cleared for our forces to arrive at the quickest possible time.

[Signed President Revello]
[Signed General Cromwell, DeMaio Military Installation]

Direct Sattelite DataLink to DeMaio Military Installation

Emperor Fedor I has given us approval to accept your aide, although the Empire has never been one to ask for it. Regardless, the resistance, or what we thought was a resistance, has launched an offensive towards Fedala, which we think is rather strange, since they haven't even secured their own city. Nonetheless, we have news that one of our units is full on retreat, opening a breach for the "resistance" to pour into. It is to say, it's finally hit us that the army we sent to crush a rebellion in Weigar, is in jeopardy.

What we ask is that you use that 1st Panzer Brigade to strike at the rear of the rebel formation. I don't believe they'll expect it, because they know that the nearest thing we have to their location is in Targul Frumos, even more south than your own location, and it's not ready to strike at a moment's notice.

We believe that this will catch them off balance, and we can end this battle before it gets too ugly.

- General Feldmarchall Gerard Dien

[OOC: Unfortunately, although you will do damage, I'm going to have Weigar win the Battle of Mons Dei. I can't end this civil war too soon, or else this role play would have been rather boring. There's going to be a crushing defeat for the Empire, and you'll see where that leads as I role play it on. I'll wait to finish off Mons Dei for you to post again, and for SafeHaven or Sarcanza to post their own offensives.]

[OOC: I know how exactly to do some damage but not make it crushing.]

DeMaio Military Installation
The whole base was in uproar, all the men of the 1st panzer brigade were getting ready to go to combat. This would be HailandKill's first ground combat in a real long time, and all the soldiers wanted to do their country an honor and return home victorious.

The three panzer brigades were headed towards Wiegar, to help defeat the rebel forces. The plan was to assemble near Weigar to get behind the rebel army. It had taken nearly two hours to get all the vehicles gassed up and all the soldiers armed and loaded into their Maccabean made SOV-06 IFV's. Every soldier in the panzer divisions were assigned to an IFV and having two-thousand soldiers find their assigned vehicle out of a possible two hundred and fifty IFV's took some time. After every soldier was armed, and inside his assigned vehicle the panzer divisions began to move out.

=====On the road to Weigar=====

The column was traveling in a two line formation, on a local highway. Traffic had been cleared for the massive amounts of armor and IFV's so that they could arrive ASAP to their location. 1st panzer brigade was being led by Col. Straffaer and he led the long line of vehicles.

The three panzer divisions were almost one-hundred and fifty from Wiegar when it happened. An SOV-06 was traveling at about forty-five miles an hour when two tires blew out, and it skidded into another SOV. The two SOVs crashed and hit a KriGud which flipped on its side. Other vehicles behind the pile-up either crashed into the pile up or abruptly stopped. Every vehicle in the second and third panzer divisions were in a deep traffic jam, stuck behind an eight vehicle pile-up.

Col. Straffaer was informed of the pile-up, almost fifteen minutes after it happened, via radio. His first order after learning of the accident, was that the first panzer division were to immediatly halt. After his order was broadcast over the radio, he and his aides/soldiers exited their SOV-06.

"Gimme the facts, what the fuck is going on?" Col. Straffaer barked at his aide

"Sir, reports from the second panzer division commander states that a vehicle had a two tire blow out and crashed into another vehicle causing an eight vehicle pile-up" The aide replied meekly

"Sonofabitch" He yelled "Of course this shit is gotta happen outside of the fuckin' city. How far out from the rest of the brigade are we?"

"About four and half miles, sir" He said "The ETA on clean-up is about six hours"

"SIX HOURS?" He yelled

"Yes sir, we have to fix the vehicles and administer first aid to all those injured"

"Fuck" He replied "In six hours those rebel bastards could be on the offensive. Six hours is time we do not have"

"Sir?"

"You will assign Lt. Cole of second panzer division full command of the rest of the brigade. He will make sure everything is cleaned up and also every soldier and vehicle is accounted for. When that is done have him go to this junction and wait for further orders"

"Yes sir!"

The Aide ran to the SOV to broadcast his message. Within fifteen minutes the first panzer division was on the move again, this time at flank speed.

Outside southern Wiegar
The panzer division was stopped outside of detection range. Inside Col. Straffaers SOV the planning of an attack was being made.

"Ok, heres the plan. First all our KriGud's and our Panzer XIs will assemble here."
He said, pointing a point on the map "The enemys last location should be here." He said, pointing to another circle on the map. "When all our vehicles are assembled our Panzer XIs will push at flank speed towards the enemy, leading the charge. The KriGuds will push at fifteen MPH while laying down suppression fire on the enemy units. When the order is given our SOVs will push forward at full speed to over take this line"

As he was reading the order to his SOV team, the same was being done in all 256 SOVs by a corporal, who would lead the eight man team into battle.

Twenty Five minutes later
With all the tank commanders and panzer soldiers knowing the plan, the armor rolled up slowly, and as quiet as possible to the meeting point. When every vehicle was accounted for by a sound off, the operation started.

Tank commander Jimmy Wilson had trained for this day since he enlisted, and having a natural aptitude he was placed in command of the units. When the sound off was complete he grabbed the radio, clicked the talk button, and said
"ALL UNITS PUSH FORWARD! LETS ROCK AND ROLL"

Their was an energy burst along along the line as 415 Panzer XIs jumped into flank speed towards the direction of Fedala, so that they would hit the enemies rear. Rolling along the steppes made it easy to drive, and the gunners and their crews began to pick targets. Almost 17 minutes after the start of the operation the first shells were fired. Jimmy Wilson's tank fired the first shell at a T-80. The rest of the tanks followed suit, firing at any piece of armor they found.

As the Pzn XIs were firing upon tanks, the KriGuds were moving forward at a slower speed and were loaded with HE rounds. The KriGuds main job was to take out any infantry resistance that there might be against the tanks. The first loud shot was taken by unit 056 and then a simutanious boom was heard amongst the KriGud lines as the units fired into the night.

----
As fast as the Pzn XIs started they all stopped at an invisible line. They were still firing upon tanks but pushed no further. When the stop was reconized by the Col. he gave the order to the SOVs to move out.

At full speed the SOVs were moving quite fast. The soldiers goal was to take a line and hold it until relief. The first SOVs were making it to the designated drop point and when they stopped the guns on the top roared to life. As the top guns fired at anything that moved the doors of the SOVs dropped down and soldiers were pouring out. The soldiers came out firing, and were off running to the point they were briefed about.

Almost an hour after it started it stopped. The soldiers were lying on the ground in the prone position, in front Pzn XIs who were providing them cover. Mixed in with the Panzers were SOV-06s. Behind the SOV and Pzn line were the Kriguds.

The attacked was ceased and everything lay motionless, waiting for a counter-attack.

[EDIT: There are two subtle corrections in the text that explain that my forces were assembling outside of Wiegar and hit the enemy attacking Fedala in the rear.]

The push into Prokhorovka had been textbook. Having taken on fresh reinforcments from throughout the region the soldiers of Sarcanza was nearly two thousand bodies strong by the time it hit Prokhorovka. Prokhorovka was a devided city, its western half devoutley Catholic, its eastern pro-govermental. In reality the battle for Prokhorovka was nothing more then a glorified street fight.

The key to a victory in Prokhorovka was securing its industrial center, from which they could siphon off vehicles, spare parts, and possibly military ordanance. As such the insurgent forces launched their attack from in a uneven pincer, putting most of their wieght into quickly overrunning the industrial sectory, while its more northern flank pushed in both slower and weaker. The pro-govermental forces would hopefully be pushed into the North-Eastern corner of the city, into the proverbial 'killzone' from which Sarcanza could level the quarter with ease.

Industrial Center, Prokhorovka

The bullets bounced harmlessly off stone and painfully into metal, setting the slow moving crankshaft into flames. 'Idiot! Aim for them, not the equipment' shouted a somewhat derranged officer, ripping away a RPK out of the arms of a soldier no older then seventeen. Suddenly the crankshaft burst with a sickening crack, sending bits of shattered metal in all directions. The officer recalled the truck ride over and the speech about preserving the saftey of the equipment. Then he popped a round into his GP30 sending it spiraling into the second crankshaft some twenty feet away, sending the bodies of three men flying in all directions.

'Now! Go!' yelled Ismail, bringing his GP30 back to his hip. His command sent twelve men towards the last row of equipment, firing their weapons inaccuratley towards the last of the pro-govermental forces in the building, quickly overruning the last two men.

North-Western Quarter, Prokhorovka

The push through the North Western Quarter was more of a parade then a military assualt. Insurgents marched down the streets, their weapons lowered, anxiously awaiting their arrival at 'the border'. Suddenly an automatic cut down the street, well over two blocks before the edge of the 'saftey zone'. Men scattered into small shops and homes, smashing threw windows and doors. In these 'friendly' streets however they could still use vehicle support, and it didn't take long for an outdated truck to disable the postion with its 12.7 milimeter mounted gun.

Pushing across the streets would prove both perilous and costly. In the tight urban areas the pro-govermental forces had the benefit of suprise. What they lacked however were warm bodies, and as the fight continued they would continue to lose that valuable asset. The fighting pushed steadily threw the streets, often passing roadblocks due to the added firepower of mounted machine guns or accurate SVD's.

Suddenly all units came to an abrupt halt. Before them, just ouside the saftey of the streets lay the are dedicated to city property. The library, courthouse, district police station. A barren lawn, nearly two acres of mowed lawn sat across from them. A proverbial marthon when exposed to direct gunfire. Then the gunfire began. Windows exploded in shatters of glass as small arms of all size errupted from both sides of the line. Extending several city blocks the city property was the fortress of Prokhorovka. The fighting in the North bogged down as commanders began to plot how to overtake the small island of resistance.

[Battles of Mons Dei]

The twelve T-90s looked hard into the distance, noticing a broad column of dust moving down the plains of Eastern Weigar. One of the tank commanders, in full splendor, warned the rest of the armored column using his radio comm,"We have a unit attempting to flank us. We believe it's hostile. Requesting permission to engage at will."

The commander got his response, and consequently, the twelve tanks moved southwards to meet the incoming threat. Behind them another four tank squads, put on reserve, followed them to check out what was happening. Suddenly, a sharp whaaang preceded the internal explosion within a T-80, sending the tank's turret sky high, and killing the entire crew. Screams and yelling could be heard from kilometers away as the five tank squads manuevered to seperate so that they wouldn't be completely destroyed by the incoming tanks. More rounds sped inwards, some missing, some hitting their mark. The results were terrible. The Panzerkampfwaggen XI BredtSvert was a vastly more successful tank than any Soviet model, making both the T-80 and T-90 completely inferior in all respects. Regardless, the crews were ready to die for the independence of their country.

Enemy KriGud suppresant fire began to pin down rebel armored units, although they were able to evade some of it. Nonetheless, some of the rounds found their target, turning Soviet designed tanks used during the Great Civil War, into charred wrecks and the such. The smell of the dead already began to portrude from the air, despite that rather extensive differences in space between one unit and the other on this battlefield.

One T-80 let out a rush of flames from his muzzle as a SABOT left towards an incoming BredtSvert, at around two thousand meters. More and more T-80s finally began to enter the range to engage the armor, which seemed to be Imperial, but by then the damage done had been irreversable. At least thirteen T-90s and eight T-80s lay completely destroyed on the plains of Mons Dei, and the rest were in a terrible mismatch.

Fortunately, they were also presented with lighter targets, including SOV-06 IFVs, and just for the casualty count, the lighter T-90s began to engage. The SOV-06 weren't meant to fight the heavier main battle tanks, although their 15mm gatling guns, armed with depleted uranium penetrators, could certainly do a lot of damage. Regardless, the SOV-06, with their MEXAS armor, could easily be penetrated and destroyed by SABOTs.

Consequently, the fight in the south western portion of Mons Dei, where the 1st Panzer Brigade from Hailandkilll had engaged rebel forces, had turned into an organized armored battle, into a slaughterfest. The rebel armor continued to engage, regardless of how heavily outnumbered they were, and in the end all sixty tanks that engaged the 1st Panzer Brigade were destroyed, although the damage they left behind to the 1st Panzer Brigade would also be extremely high, since they had been aiming for the softer skin vehicles, as well as the BredtSverts.

However, that was not their focus point. The center of the battle remained in the area of the Imperial line where rebel forces had broken through, putting the entire front in jeopardy. The fighting to the south would have to be put on hold, and for those reasons Heinrich ordered some two thousand infantry, armed extremely heavily with anti-tank ordnance, to move south and to establish a position directly parallel to the forces of Hailandkill, establishing a defensive position in which Hailandkill would not be able to harass rebel units.

All the while, the Golden Werhmacht continued to attempt to plug that hole in the line. Rebel armor continued to pour through but several counter-attacks in the same area had allowed the Imperials to push them back to the very edge of the front, although the rebels were fighting with equal determination. The fighting around that area had turned extremely violent, and armor from both sides lay charred and grey on the rolling plains of Mons Dei.

The rebels had lost a major part of their armored force, going from two thousand armored vehicles to around one thousand five hundred within twenty-four hours of the battle. It was true, however, that Mons Dei was fast developing into the largest armored battle in the history of warfare, with some three thousand tanks engaged at any one time. It also had promise of growing larger, and larger, if the Imperials were forced to send reinforcements.

Generalmajor Franz von Siedlitz had chosen to personally lead his counter-attack to plug in the hole formed within the line. He decided to throw the entirety of his reserve division, the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division. The seven thousand frontline soldiers of the division moved out quickly, without a word of resistance - they were the elite of the elite. They struck with their SOV-06s within two hours, when the sun was already setting down on the second day. The infantry moved speedily, hitting the rebel infantry line with a force that would scare even the best soldiers.

Nonetheless, they were immediately hailed by extensive gunfire coming from the armor and light machineguns, pinning most of them down. von Siedlitz grew frustrated and began to issue orders himself,"Get up! Get up! Take that position!"

The shelling intensified, and von Siedlitz took a look around and gasped. Some soldiers lay with half their body seperated for more than five meters, and others held their intestines as they died slowly and painfully. He worked his mouth into a scowl and began to shout orders once again to his battalion commanders. He had to get this division moving, or else that hole would never be plugged, and the defenses would have one division less to use.

A company of motorized infantry, with their SOV-06s, were able to infiltrate the rebel lines to the northeast of the bulge created by the entrance of rebel forces within the Imperial line. The subsequent fighting was one worth to recount, and it left countless dead, and even more injured. Small arms fire erupted heavily on that area of the fight, and although increased intensity on the counter-attack in that area was able to push the rebels back a bit, the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division was, in the end, repelled, by superior enemy numbers. They left behind some four thousand dead or wounded, but they had massacred well over seven thousand rebel soldiers.

Nonetheless, the final Imperial counter-attack to fill in the gap had failed. It seemed as if Mons Dei had been lost.

Brigadier General Karl Bietz smiled when his forces finally were able to repel the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division. The freedom fighters of Weigar had never been expected to fare so well against the most elite, and the most violent, units in the Empire. But now it was time to take advantage of that success. He frowned when he took in mind the casualties Mons Dei had taken from the resistance army, however, it was just a shadow to the immediate success that Mons Dei would bring the resistance. Without any divisions between Heinrich's army and Fedala, perhaps Fedor would come to the table and give Weigar its independence. That would certainly end Weigar support for Heinrich, although it would be a bit hypocritical. Regardless, he would now make sure that Mons Dei was a rebel victory.

Bietz commanded what was left of his 4th Armored Division, which now contained somewhere around fifty-six T-80s, the rest destroyed in the two days of fighting - testament to the resistance put up by the six Imperial divisions designed to halt the rebel movements, and to subsequently crush any rebellion in Weigar. Fedala was going to get a terrible suprise.

His division, as well as two infantry divisions behind him, began to make their way through the destruction left behind as the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division fell back to regain some control of the situation. They wouldn't have enough time, as Bietz was prepared to strike through them, and surgically destroy the division, making sure that they wouldn't be able to fight in the battle, and in the war, any longer.

Mons Dei was days away from ending, just two days after it had begun. It was truly an astonishing victory for the rebels, even though there was still a lot to complete.




[The Weigar Uprising]

When news of the feats at Mons Dei had reached Weigar most of the population was estatic, and even the two Waffen-SS units, although rather small, had trouble keeping control of the riots and parades going through the city. There were incidents of shootings, and even some warcrimes committed to by the Doomingsland soldiers. These latter events had enraged the population, and Mons Dei had given them the final propellant for what would seriously warn Fedala that this was not just a small uprising against central authority.

At around midnight on the second day of Mons Dei it was finally decided that Weigar would become another front. With the crushing events for the Empire at Mons Dei it was decided that Fedor I would put most of his efforts to protect Fedala, before reinforcing the two small Waffen-SS attachments in Weigar - the same thing was proving true in Sarcanza.

Consequently, some two hundred thousand freedom fighters, from sixteen years of age, to sixty, armed with anything they could get their hands on, began the general uprising within Weigar, forever known as the Weigar Uprising. About fifty thousand were armed with the best weaponry, Ak-74s. They were those left behind from the army now fighting at Mons Dei - reserves and replacements to be exact. Others were armed with old house rifles and pistols bought for their own personal collections, including many Mausers and even some STG 44s. Disregarding their rather poor weaponry and protection, as opposed to the Waffen-SS who's Samson Battle Suits could most likely stop a round from a Mauser and STG 44 cold, the Weigar resistance could do damage using pure numbers.

At around 12:30 that next morning, while Bietz continued his drive to destroy the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division, two thousand freedom fighters rose from their cellars and their houses, and entered the streets of central Weigar, where the Kurzes Schwert task force was patrolling the streets, and massacring the peoples of Weigar. The Kurzes Schwert was entirely made up Doomingsland ex-legionnaires, making them extremely well trained, and extremely dangerous, as well as extremely fanatic. Regardless, it could be said that the resistance also held the same level of fanaticism.

Using the night to their advantage, they moved through the streets ambushing seperate units of Kurzes Schwert, killing them little by little. Nonetheless, after a while, seperate fire fights that erupted in the streets, warned the rest of the task force of the presence of enemy fighters. Major Derik Ericsson, commander of the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Task Force, swore under his breath, and turned to the small unit he personally commanded ordering,"Set up a position in that there four way intersection. I want this to become a haven for our one hundred and fifty men - now less. We'll lead the battle for this night there, and hopefully the rebels will throw themselves upon us, instead of us having to go find them."

The fire fights were getting closer, and it was obvious that the task force had been extremely reduced. They only had one hundred and fifty men to begin with, and it was very possible that by now the massacre of the night had reduced them to about one hundred and twenty men.

Nonetheless, the Doomingslanders were not foes that were easy to dispatch. Some, when pinned down, prepared all of their grenades, still attached to their belt, and threw themselves into crowds of rebels, claiming dozens of lives and such. Moreover, the fire fights lasted for many minutes, and the rebels were terribly outclassed, leading to the deaths of perhaps one hundred resistance fighters, even before the Major had ordered the retreat to the four way intersection.

Although the two Waffen-SS task forces were seriously outnumbered in this battle, they would not fall away without putting their mark in history. The uprising would be bled white, and even though the two task forces were in for certain death, it would seriouly aid when it came time to re-capture the city for Fedor.




[The Siege of Prokhorovka]

Some eleven kilometers north of Prokhorovka sat the all purpose Werhmacht base named Base Manstein, after perhaps the most celebrated German general of the Second World War within the borders of the Empire. The base was garrisoned by the 5th Airborne Division, a full ten thousand frontline personnel that were dropped by C-5 Galaxy aircraft when there was no threat of supressing aerial fire power.

With news of the fighting in Prokhorovka, Fedala had ordered that the 5th Airborne be paradropped in the industrial center of the city, through a high altitude jump. It would be difficult to land some ten thousand men in an urban center, and certainly, never in military history had such an operation been attempted, but it was completely necessary. Apart from the one or two battalions of security infantry defending the city, there was nothing disallowing the Sarcanza rebels to take the city. Consequently, the 5th would have to make sure that when they got there, there was something disallowing Sarcanza to prevail.

While the 5th was preparing for their jump, the two battalions of security soldiers within Prokhorovka continued to struggle for control of the industrial center, and the insurgents moving into the North-East portion of the city. As a consequence, the two units had seperated to meet both of the threats.

The one thousand men moving in the first battalion began to set up heavy defensive positions in seperate factories and such, forcing the rebels to take factories one by one, with heavy resistance. Most of the factory and industrial defenses were centered around just twenty men occupying a building, and putting three or four machine gun positions near the entrance, and arming the rest of the men with standard sub machine guns, lacking the newly ordered submachine guns from Doomingsland.

Groups of around fifty men formed around five or six barricades in four way intersections, setting up dozens of machine gun positions in all directions. They would act as speed bumps for the Sarcanza rebels, until the 5th could paradrop into the city and push the rebels completely back.

It was truly becoming a siege of the city, and it would cost thousands of lives, on both sides. It was already becoming evident as the fighting wore on in the North-East portion of the city.

The second security battalion had already made it's presence known in the area, launching a heavy counter-attack against the marching rebels. As the Sarcanza freedom fighters turned to riot and to break the city, the security forces hit hard and fast, gunning down several pockets of enemy soldiers, and then setting up heavy denfensive positions in four way intersections, basically blocking the way for the advance of the rebels to reinforce the city center.

An Ebro anti-tank shoulder propped launcer soon shuddered as an Ebro missile left its now charred tube. The missile elevated and then oscillated between different elevations. Finally, it rose in altitude, and fell directly on top one of the reinforced trucks charging defensive positions throughout the city. It was immediately destroyed, leaving all of its occupants dead, and its machine gun disabled.

The fighting was escallating, and it wouldn't be so pretty forever. Captain Daarsfeld, commander of a company of security forces, scowled and murmured,"Where the fuck are those reinforcements?" They would never have enough time to make it...

Central Command. A small corner store with over twenty scrambling men inside it. Giant maps spread out across tables, dated radios, scattered side arms. It was inside this crowded room where the one bit of information came in that would later be accredited as the single sentence that won Prokhorovka. It was a message from a scout unit, a young boy no less, not a day older then fifteen. The message read, 'Imperial airborne troops soon to drop on Prokhorovka'.

That one sentence sent a shockwave through the Sarcanza command that echoed all the way to the very boots of the lowliest private. Within ten minutes orders had worked their way down to all postions. The orders? 'Intensify Assualts, ROE Disengaged'.

With the terms of the assualt changed a new wave of ferocity gripped the assaliants. In the industrial district RPGs and mortars began to enter the conflict, disabaling roadblocks where mere greandes and small arms would have never been able too. More importantly, in the north-eastern quarter all weapons were loosed. The complex was immediatley showered with a variety of small shoulder launched weaponry, and then, under direct fire from mortars almost at zero degree angles all along the line smoke grenades were finding their ways onto the field. Granted, they certainly were a bit dated, and in some cases they failed to go off, but for the most part it provided a crucial blanket for nearly three hundred men to cross the open expanse.

As they broke into the clear several feet from the building, their units already damaged from the crossing another wave of men rushed across the field, this time numbering closer to one hundred. Rushing so many men into the complex might not have been the best idea, but the hopes of central command for Prokhorovka was not to win the battle with sheer force, but to intiminate postions into the 'killzone' from which they could shower the area with ordanance.

With casualty reports mounting ever higher, and the threat of open conflict with large amounts of Golden Throne Regulars mounting the First Army of Sarcanza was finally mobilized into action. Consiting of twenty thousand men, they would move into action to both reinforce Prokhorovka and advance on their next target.

[OOC: Shit, I didnt mean to do that much damage....Well atleast it wasnt three panzer divisions....]

Battlefield Site, Mons Dei
Shit, Shit, Shit
The commander had yelled out these words when he saw what the enemies were doing. Col. Straffaer had not expected this type of counter-attack, he hadn't really expected a big counter-attack at all.

"Fuck, pull back those fuckin' SOV's" He yelled at his aide "Their pushing forward to hit our SOVs and soldiers!!"

"Yes sir" The corporal yelled over the loud noises coming from the battlefield

The SOV's started to get even further behind the Pzn XI's but it was too late for almost a third of the SOVs there. The Pzn XI's began to fire again on the moving T-90s coming towards them.

"Fire at that motherdfucker over there!" Yelled tank commander Jimmy Wilson "His range is about 600"

"Yes sir" Yelled the gunner

The commanders tank fired at the T-90 effectively taking it out of action. Many of the other Pzn XI's were doing the same, firing at the advancing T-90s, destroying tanks left and right. The KriGuds were out of range of the T-90s and had not fired since the lines were becoming somewhat mixed.

Commander Jimmy Wilson opened his hatch to get a look at what was happening. He saw soldiers running for cover behind the looming tanks, and as the soldiers were huddled behing the tanks he saw young faces flushed with panic and fear. He saw metal carcasses of SOV-06s that were specifically targeted by the T-90s. When he scanned the battlefield with more intensity he saw a few damaged tanks, and about a handfull of destroyed tanks.

The SOV's were almost out of range of the few T-90s that were trying to push forward. Jimmy Wilson was looking for one SOV in particular, the Colonels command SOV, which was identifiable by a red pennant on top of it. Jimmy Wilson had found the SOV with the pennant on it, and he knew it was the colonel's.

Oh no, oh god no, not the colonel, please not the colonel!
This thought screamed through Wilsons mind as he saw a flash of orange come from the SOV with the pennant on it. A plume of smoke puffed up from the carcass of the SOV and SOV was stopped dead in its tracks, its gun collapsed into the main hull.

"SIR? SIR? SIR!" Yelled the driver/radio operator at the commander "What the fuck is going on up there?!?"

James Wilson was slow to reply, he had just lost his mentor and closest friend.
He took another glance around the battlefield and saw one third of the SOVs had taken out. He also saw that the pushing T-90s were annihilated.

"SIR? SIR?" He yelled again

"Were going to fucking hold this line!" He yelled back "Get back on that radio and tell everyone that the COL. has been killed in action, also tell them im in command now!!"

When the initial rebel push was ended 76 SOVs were knocked out of commision, and about 275 soldier casualties. The KriGuds were coming to about 300 meters from where the Pzn XIs were holding the line, under Jimmy Wilsons command to provide support and shell anything that came to close.

Thirty Minutes later
All the soldiers in the 1st pzn division were either huddled behind the BredtSverds or in the remaining SOV IFV's. The terrible choas was initially over, and the high ranking LT'S all were gathered inside one SOV behing Jimmy Wilsons tank.

"A line has formed about here" Wilson said, while making a line motion with his finger along the map "The Pzn XI's will hold the line, and the SOVs will support the soldiers should another attack come before we can organizer a counter attack. All our soldiers will stay behind all armor until we can get orders from high command."

"Sir where the hell is 2nd and 3rd divisions?" Said a young LT.

"I dont know, honestly" He replied "but we can do this alone....now get those orders out"

The LTs scrambled out of the SOVs to go along the lines and give out the orders. While the LTs were giving orders out, a message was sent to General Cromwell in DeMaio Military Installation. It told of the battle and the current stand off between rebel forces and HailandKills elite divisions.

Seven minutes later
The comms officer at the DeMaio Installation recieved a message from the first panzer divisons leader almost seven minutes after it was sent. He scanned it, yelled holy shit, knocked over his chair and ran right into Cromwells office.
Cromwell read over it, and told the Comms officer to get him a link to TGT high command.

Seven minutes later this message was sent to Maccabean high command:

[SIZE=4]URGENT MESSAGE FROM GENERAL CROMWELL[/B]

Almost five hours ago my forces engaged in battle with rebel forces in Mons Dei.
The rebels that pushed my forces lines have been defeated, at some cost to us. With the current defeat of imperial forces, and the ability to march to Fedala, I ask what your next directive to our forces may be? I do not want to dispatch men to an area without orders or meanings.

Respectfully General E. Cromwell.

[End Transmission]

The general eagerly waited a response.

[The Battle of Mons Dei]


The opened front to the south, where there had been a violent revolving armored battle with Hailandkill, had left hundreds of pieces of armor destroyed or seriously damaged, leaving the rebels with only three quarters of their starting strength. Nonetheless, they were still stronger than the opposing imperials, which now on the third day of battle still had failed to be reinforced by stronger units from Fedala. The truth was that the Zarbians, an inland, backwards nation, was expected to invade Sarcanza soon enough, meaning Fedor I, who saw the Weigar uprising as a secondary threat, was forced to prepare for a possible counteroffensive against a Zarbian invasion, and the consequent offensive into Zarbia itself. Yes, Fedor I planned in everyway possible to use this war to his benefit to expand the Empire. He would not only be remembered as a great ruler, like his grandfather, but as the emperor who had formed the mightiest Golden Throne in the five thousand years of the area.

Consequently, at Mons Dei, Karl Bietz was suprised when he found it easy to crush the Imperial 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division. He had began to engage the rear guard of the division within thirty minutes after the outright retreat of the Imperials, and had crushed the small pockets of resistance in a matter of hours, allowing his limited armor to race through the fields and pick whatever armor, or light armor, the Panzergrenadier Division had off. Slowly but surely his own armor, of the 4th Armored Division, would have the Panzergrenadiers fully sorrounded, and they would be subsequently destroyed.

However, heavy fighting erupted on his nothern flank, as a pack of three Hyenas put staunch resistance against a moving squad of his T-80s, which were seriously understrength, only fielding some eighty tanks. The Hyenas, hiding behind some of the hills which made up the area of the Imperial Provence, were able to suprise the squad, knocking out three of the eight T-80s, and seriously damaging another two, before one T-80 knocked out a single Hyena, and the other two fled and in the process destroyed another T-80 by firing backwards. Subsequently, half the remaining squad had been literally blown to pieces, and another two were damaged, disallowing them of further advance until they were repaired. For now, the 3rd Panzergrenadier Division would continued to hold the eventual encirclement by their limited counter-attacks.

However, Brigadier General Karl Bietz was outstanded to find out that he would be reinforced by the 5th and 6th Armored Divisions, augmenting his total armored strength to around three hundred tanks, and by the 1st and 2nd Infantry Division, giving him a total of fourteen thousand frontline personnel for infantry, making his strenght in the section the strongest single concentration of Weigar's men. Fortunately, at least for him and Weigar, he had been promoted to Major General, and the divisions were renamed the I Corp. The 3rd Panzergruppe's skies looked very dark.

Regardless, elsewhere the situation for the Imperials was somewhat different. The offensives against the 1st and 2nd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Divisions had been repelled for the time being, although casualties has been taken. Regardless, the two divisions were in near perfect health, consequently, they began to quickly pull out of their defensive locations at orders from Fedala. With the moving rebels threatening to cut off the 3rd Panzergrenadier Division, which was already moving extremely slowly, they wanted to save whatever they could before it got worse. Fedor had decided to take in the reins.

Indeed, that same morning, the third day of the Battle of Mons Dei he left Fedala for the location of the two salvaged divisions, where he would take command and lead them back to the gates of Fedala, where he was already planning to rondevouz with enough men to destroy Heinrich's army, and march to Weigar and crush the uprising within the city. The two divisions were already pulling back, leaving a rear guard up for defense, while the others made their move to make it behind the 3rd Panzergrenadier Division and set up the subsequent defensive line nearer to Fedala. Moreover, the Luftwaffe had also fully readied their aircraft for the harrasement of rebel lines, although most of the aircraft were moving to the Zarbian border, after the notification of buildups, and to the Havenite border, after similar threatening reports.

The 3rd Panzergrenadier Division, no longer truly salvagable, since the original seven thousand frontline personnel had been reduced to about two thousand after the massacres of the pursuing rebel forces. Regardless, they were expected to hold out as much as possible, and in the end it would buy time for Fedor and his attempts to scrap together an army to destroy the threat to the capital.




[Siege of Prokhorovka]

Unfortunately for the defenses of Prokhorovka the mix-ups due to the heavy movement of aircraft in the cases of an invasion of Sarcanza by Zarbia, and an invasion of Weigar by Haven, had caused fateful delays in the transportation of the 5th Airborne Division. It seemed as if the two security battalions, already heavily outgunned and outnumbered, would have to fare on their own.

Those protecting the north-east of the city, forming those roadblocks, had the hardest time. Pelted by mortars and by heavy small arms fire, they were pressured to the limit, and they tried to return fire to the best of their abilities, often firing blindly into the heavy smoke layers laid down by the Sarcanza rebels. No defensive position could hope to prevail without the use of long range weapons system, and they were simply sitting ducks for those mortars. However, most of them held their ground, and used mines and even packs of dynamite to blow shelters in the center of the intersections, making makeshift trenches to protect soldiers from the shrapnel, although those manning the machineguns were always in the face of danger.

Regardless, Imperials were not ones to let down their resolve - even lowly security troops. They would continue to hold out, until very little of them were left. Typically, a roadblock would surrender when left to the last three or four men. These would normally attempt fire their last shots, and expend their last grenades, and then throw in the tower. Barely any were truly fanatical, nonetheless, there were cases of fanatics throwing themselves on grenades in the midst of a group of rebels. Often being shot to pieces, and then having the greande exploding, and some dying as they wished.

Nonetheless, it was a slaughter. Within the industrial center it wasn't as bad. The mortars wouldn't be able to truly penetrate the buildings, consequently, the men guarding those would be protected. The rebels would have to take each building by force, costing them lives, and losing them time.

Heavy fire raged within buildings as defenders fought to the last man, or often to the last two or three men, killing as many as they could before they surrendered. The fighting was heavy, and both sides lost dozens of lives. Throughout the entire siege, now raging for its second day, both battalions had lost somewhere near three hundred and seventy-five men. Considering the day of the siege, and the number of men there, it was an extremely high number. Regardless, Prokhorovka would not fall easy.

“We’ve been allied to Fedala for years, what your proposing is madness.”

“We’ve been living a mistake for years, does that me we can’t rectify it now?” Senator Daff barked back. “Now is our chance, never will we have a chance like this again.”

“Your suggesting we go to war with our oldest ally over what? What reasons do we have for such a thing?” The senator from Tarabulus responded just a sharply.

“What reason! How many wars have we fought for Fedala? How many Havenites died for a cause not for their own? For a reason how about this, the government in Fedala HAS gone mad and I don’t know about you but I do not want such a government as my neighbor. They have hired out foreign mercenaries to slaughter their own people! You cannot tell me you didn’t see the news coverage last night and we all got the same briefings this morning.” The meeting had been going on for well over an hour and didn’t look likely to end any time soon. But the mood in the room was slowly swaying Duffs way, people were beginning to see his point and they agreed with him.

“Come on now we all know that the media blows everything out of proportion, things cannot and are not as bad as they are made to seem.”

“Then why is it that not one but two Macabean provinces have risen up in revolt? Provinces in different parts of the Empire? People do not revolt because the taxes are to high or their congressman didn’t get elected, Fedala is becoming tyrannical and we need to stop it. I don’t want war with The Macabees but with Fedala, it is not the people who are at fault but the government.”

The senator from Tarabulus could see the mood swing and knew he was fighting a losing battle. He got up and lost control of his voice, ”What you propose will destroy our country. You cannot separate a people and their government in a war, they are one and the same can you not see that? Maybe the government has gone to far but so far it has not affected us. If they want o kill off their own people then to bad, let them. Like you said Fedala has dragged us into to many wars, why let them drag us into another!” His voice quivered at the end as he gripped the table to keep control.

“Maybe your right, their internal affairs maybe shouldn’t be our problem as morally wrong as it is to ignore them but what of this news that Fedala has thrown their support behind the OMP? This happening AFTER we threw our support behind AMF? It is almost as if they want to alienate us. No I refuse to sit here any longer and so I call for a vote on the matter.” What Senator Daff didn’t say but everyone knew was if you want to keep your job than vote my way. He was the top pick for the presidency in two years and had the backing off most major political figures and the media including the President. He basically had the presidency now able to pull the strings on he Presidents back on most issues whichever way he liked. And so the voting was quick and final.

“Good, tonight I will present our decision to the President and ask him to enact his right as Commander In Chief to finalize these plans.” War hadn’t been officially declared yet, that would take a presidential order which wouldn’t be hard to achieve especially with the Senates Defense committee having voted for it. Oddly enough there wasn’t a representative from the military present. While it was completely legal to go to war without the militaries input it wasn’t proper so to speak but the military hadn’t been informed of the meeting that was called to order by Senator Daff and it was no mistake on Daff’s part. The military was Fedala’s greatest friend in Haven and would never have gone along with what was decided, but they couldn’t ignore an order from the President whatever their feelings on the matter may have been.





The mobilizations all along the border continued and not just the Guard but other regular army units. Tens of thousands of men and vehicles began preparing to move out. The mobilization was so big that it would be impossible to hide and so it continued under the guise that it was to help put down the twin rebellions in Wieger and Sarcanza. That would be enough for most observers but then orders went out for the navy to start mobilizing and the navy couldn’t put down a rebellion on land and that’s when people started asking questions in the military. For leuitenant Yara those questions were answered in a simple communiqué. She worked in communications taking care of all incoming and outgoing messages for General Manny Primer 48th infantry Div, Northern Command Zone. Being head of communications she got to see many “secret” orders and documents that were supposed to be only seen by generals and people with high passes but along the way were looked over by dozens of simples communications officers passing them along.

Today she received a transmission all the way from central command in Haven headed as CRITIC level traffic, something that didn’t come along very often. It was meant for only those at Brigadier rank or higher but she of course took a peek to see what she was delivering. Guess the rumors were right. She printed out a few copies for the General and his staff then proceeded to retransmit the orders to the three Brigade commanders in the division. She didn’t usually bother encrypting the messages she sent out as who would really listen into traffic going around inside a division when there were hundreds all around Haven. But she decided to encrypt this one just in case realizing its import but having not touched her encryption equipment in nearly a year the job she did was half assed at best. A college drop out with a good computer and some technical knowledge would have no problem reading what the message she sent out said but then again who listened to internal divisional traffic anyway? In a weeks time it wouldn’t matter anyway as the whole division would be over the border.

-Encrypted International Communiqué to the Empire of the Golden Throne-

From the Armed Democratic Republic of Mekugi, The Anchrish People and Praetor Patrick O’Neil

We for far too long have watched the escalation of incidents within the schismatic provinces of your territory. Being a long since allied nation to the Golden throne and in accordance with Articles Five and Six of the IADF charter along with our common sympathy and support we stand ready to deploy the Third Dragoons to help quell the rebellion and defend a force of Battalion size (1500 experienced troops plus fire support, armor, command staff, logistics, etc.) with the Eighth Combat Regiment standing on mobilization status should it be required. This support stands ready at your beck and call, We will not refuse to aide an Ally no matter the cost or distance.

May the Stars Protect you.
Praetor O’Neil
ADRM

--------
Port Carson, Northern Mekugian Republic-

The whine of deisel engines and the thunderous rumbling of heavy military vehicles filled the port with an undying din. Various Armored Transport ships were going through the motions ready to deploy a mechanized force in aide of a long time ally. Despite the professionalism and well timed and arranged execution of the pre-deployment this would be the Republics first military deployment, or more accurately it would be the nations first combat deployment, they had the mobilization of troops down, the actual combat was a possible new twist however, as the isolationist government had worked hard to avoid conflict when ever necessary.

The troops however weren’t exactly green, devoid of combat experience perhaps but they had all at least five years military experience and were well versed in their equipment and defensive tactics. They would put a up a good fight regardless of how few of them had actually ever seen an enemy soldier in their lives. The vessels had been filled to the brim with some of the newest Mekugian Armor including the AMT-33 Panther (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/panther1color.png) Main Battle Tank which was as some say ‘brand spanking new’ in fact it wasn’t even declassified to the public yet setting the stage for an impressive trial by fire on Macabean soil. Supporting the Panthers were the newly implemented MACLV’s (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v203/jay3135/compjeep.png) which had replaced the ageing jeeps and HMMWV of the republics past. And supplementing all of it were SA-33 Block II MANPADs and shoulder launched MIRKAT (Maneuverable Intermediate Range Kinetic Anti-Tank) missiles. Though quite satisfied with their new toys and with morale high the ships sat ready troops in their bunk houses and tanks and various logistics vehicles strapped down inside the hull that is however except for the man who was leading all of these men, eh sat with a somber look on his face isolated in his cabin near the bridge of one of the massive amphibious assault vessels. His mind was racing playing over his years in the military, the things he had sacrificed over time for various promotions and what-not, and now as it finally came time for him to fulfill his duty to his country he was awash with a mixture of fear and doubt. His mind was fixated on the fear of writing letters to mothers about the loss of their sons and daughters, though he knew they would be most likely facing a lesser equipped force Luck seemed to favor the underdog, and he knew that losses were inevitable. Taking a long sip from a shot glass of twelve year scotch he brashly slammed it down on the table in his quarters and stood up to go make one final check on the preparations, until such time as the orders to deploy circulated down to him he had little to do but wait.

[OOC: Shorter than I would have liked, but Im in the middle of two Phone interviews for a new job.]

[OOC (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9557251#post9557251) thread for use.]

[OOC: Nice job entering Mekugi, things are going to get hot real soon.

Oh Mac, with all the border build-ups, whats my orders? I have my OMP taskforce moored by my military installation, and using them against SafeHaven because hes an AMF supporter would be perfect for the situation. I think i could hold SafeHaven, until I get my friend and Mekugi to reinforce my lines.]

Battle Of Mons Dei
Jimmy Wilson was contemplating his next move, things were getting strenuous along the HailandKill line, and the fight could get worse at any moment. He wanted to push the rebels off his back, so he could regroup and make a final, finishing assault on the rebels.

Jimmy Wilson opened his hatch on the tank to see the current battlefield. He took out his binoculars and scanned the horizon, he saw no current threat, but he still had a bad feeling in his stomach.

In front of his tank, and possible every tank, were three soldiers in a foxhole. The soldiers were ordered to dig foxholes to fight defensively against any rebel push, and if the rebels wanted to get back to Wiegar they would have real problems.

"Shit, if I had the other three panzer divisions here, we could annihiliate these annoying bastards" Thought the acting CO

"Sir? SIR!" The acting XO yelled at the dreaming commander "We have news on second through fourth panzer divisions"

"Well what is it?"

"Under Captain Ryan's orders, they turned back. He claims that they had too many losses from that accident and that this division went too far"

Incompetent bastard, that Captain Ryan He thought, but he would only think it, and not speak it, because if he told the ass-kissing aide, he could get court-martialed.

"Were going to make a push, get all the company Lt's together"

"Yes sir"

It took almost a half an hour for all the Lt's to gather in the middle of the line. Many of the soldiers prime fear was that they were stretched to thin, and that any push could split the HailandKill forces and cause chaos along the lines. When all the Lt's were gathered the CO spoke up

"Tonight, under the cover of darkness, we are going to try and break the rebel lines. Intellegence says that they have a division surrounded, and if they break through, its gonna be a fuckin' mass murder"

"SIR, HOLY SHIT, I THINK THATS SECOND DIVISION!!!" Yelled out a private

Indeed, a growing rumble and clanking was coming over the horizon, and the HailandKill crest was visible on the lead tank. The panzer division was flying along at flank speed, and to Jimmy Wilsion they were a godsend. When they finally came into range, almost a half hour later, they stopped behind the first divisions tanks, and leading the division was 2nd Leutenant Alex Smith. Smiths first words were, "I heard you hit a spot of trouble"

"You bet your ass, you sonofabitch" Replied Wilson

"Well whats the current situation?" Replied Lt. Smith, unfazed by Wilsons anger.

"Shitty, we have a loss of IFVs and were stretched thin. You showed up at the perfect time, but wheres everyone else?"

"Ran home, we knew that you were in trouble, made up some B.S. excuse and then slipped off here. Ryan's gonna be pissed but I dun' care much"

"Well, join us, were making some plans"

--------------
"As I was saying before, this division is going to be broken soon and there will be a mass slaughter. Were going to disrupt it, if we can" He paused

"Half of my division will guard the lines, along with two-fifty assault guns. All our tanks will attack, with the support of one-fifty assault guns, and all the troops not defending this line will assault the enemy. We have armor superiority, but troop disadvantage. Our basic first objective is to take out this line, that we have been fighting. After that we need to attack the rear, but importance is to take the enemy lines. Our tanks will lead our attack and our IFVs will be behind the tanks if and until our tanks hit here" He pointed to a spot on the map

"If we make it here, our KriGuds will pound the shit out of the soldiers and our soldiers, with SOV support will take out as many enemy soldiers as possible. When I give the all clear, all our soldiers and IFVs will get behind the tanks, and hold this line. All this depends on the fact that we get the enemy in retreat on the opposing line."

-----
Soldiers were moving out like crazy, to get to their SOVs, and to prepare for a big assault. Tanks were loading up AP rounds, and KriGuds were loading HE rounds. Everyone was on edge, and things were going to get crazy.

The all clear was given about sixteen minutes later, signaling that everything was ready to go. The commander, who was going to lead the initial charge, gave the go ahead words. Phase one was in action

Eight-hundred tanks roared forward, in mixed patterns. Behind the tanks were
the SOVs and then the Assault guns. Before the tanks and soldiers were close to the line, the KriGuds began to fire HE rounds on the soldiers holding the enemy lines, and the bombardment would continue, until all soldiers were dead, or in retreat.

The tanks and SOVs began to come into a close range with the enemy line. The tanks began to fire at any armor they saw, and many mounted machine guns came to life on the tanks. The SOVs were arcing their 15mm Gattling guns, shooting over the tanks, aiding the killing of soldiers. The combined 50. Cal, tank mounted machine guns, 15mm Gatling guns, and 125mm HE rounds all combined to make a killing machine.

The division slowed down, to see the reaction of the soldiers. If they ran, or surrendered, the division would push forward to the meaty back of the rebels, but if they didnt surrender, or run soldiers would disengage from the SOVs to take the enemy line.

Prokhorovka, Sarcanza
Day Three

Things were taking far too long.

The siege originally intended to be a quick sweep had esculated into a conflict encompassing thousands of men in tight urban quarters. After several fiece hours of debate it was decided that rather then wait for the Imperial forces to reach the killzone those units originally intended to keep the Imperial soldiers trapped in the killzone would push forwards from the rear in light formations to quickly cut off and destroy indivdual units. Unlike the primary assualting forces they would not be burdened with heavy arms. Instead they would utilize speed and manuverability to quickly assualt units and then shrink back away before being themselfs targeted by heavy fire from more well armed troops.

Of course for such a function it would require small amounts of tactical units rather then overwhelming force. One of the trump cards in the Sarcanza hand was the use of the fifty Imperial combat suits captured at the border Fire Base several days earlier. Operating at night small units disguised as Imperial troops would ambush unsuspecting units at close ranges. Not only would this provide quick and silent assualts where possible, much of the Imperial arms would hopefully remain unharmed allowing them to be redistributed into the growing arsneal of Sarcanza. The Second 'Army' was already being trained across the region and soon enough Sarcanza would have a large infantry force capable of fending off the inevitable armor and air units.

Hopefully Prokhorovka would provide the rebels with the neccesary food, funding, and supplies to continue the war. The entire rebbellion was hinged on capturing the city in the next few days.

Things were calm and slow at the airbase in the still dark hours of the morning. It was almost as if the airbase had taken a day off, almost. Behind the façade of shy, nervous grins and the thick concrete walls off the hangers was an excitement. Aircraft stood at the ends of runways and on elevators in their hangers, weapons hanging from their wings and tanks topped off. It had been a long night were no one had gotten any sleep but the result was three squadrons of combat aircraft sat ready to strike as soon as the sirens wailed. Off to the side the ground crews rested from their night of work and admired what they had accomplished. The flight crews sat around their aircraft going thru last minute briefs and pep talks. The whole airbase had been waiting for a week for this moment and the anticipation had reached a boiling point inside of them.

It had been a week since the airbase along with countless others had received orders to stand down. For the past week the airbase had been standing down as mechanics poured over every piece of equipment and brought every aircraft as close up to 100% as they could. Pilots were made to rest between briefings. For a week that excitement built up, everyone knew what was going on meant they would be deployed some were, you didn’t prepare that much for nothing. The rumors floated around about were they would go and what they would have to do but the generally accepted truth was that they would be putting down the rebels that had cropped up around the Golden Thrones Empire. That “truth” was “confirmed” four days before when maps of the Golden Throne were include in briefings for flight crews. They didn’t know how close they were, but at the same time how wrong they were. The real truth was broken just the day before, they would be going over to the Macabees but to put down the government, not the rebellion. And a shock it had been, what most people in the military agreed was the best military in the region, well best next to them at least, was about to became an enemy and that made them nervous. They were the best but the air force next door was pretty damned good.

Finally the sirens started up, startling everyone around for a second. The calmness that had surrounded the place was shattered by the sirens warbling screech and the beat of military grade boots pounding on the concrete. Pilots already next to their aircraft climbed up and strapped in joking and boasting with each other along the way to show they weren’t nervous or scared. In between two of the runways an ambulance and a fire truck moved up and parked, a quiet reminder that not everyone was coming back. The wing commander was the first to start heating up his engines. He shot a glance at his watch, 5 minutes early, and then took off down the runway accompanied to his left and right by his brothers in arms. They formed up in the air and started circling waiting for the others, in a little over five minutes the airbases full compliment of aircraft was airborne and flying away to the west. They would cross the border just as the sun started creeping over the horizon to their backs.





Thirty miles away the scene was very different but the purpose remained the same. Three dozen holes had been dug into the ground and three dozen objects filled them. Three batteries of 175mm KAG-66 guns lay arrayed in some anonymous farmers field, a man who would be forgotten by history but would help in the killing of dozens. Part of the 48th infantry div’s artillery reserve they were to support its advance in this sector. To the right another three batteries of KAG’s waited while a miles back a single battery of KAR-45 rocket systems lay in wait. All in all Major J. Jaime was proud of his dispositions. He sat on the turret of his “baby”, the third KAG in the line favoring it to the command vehicle he had been assigned. “Your boys did a good job, I didn’t think they would get it done it time.” The man, actually women he as talking to sat to the rear of the KAG resting her head on the turret and looking up to the sky. A major just like him she wore a uniform different from that of the artilleryman’s though just as dirty from a night of preparations, the uniform of an engineer. “Off course we did, their my boys remember.” Saying boys she ignored the fact that a full quarter of her “men” lacked the parts to get them that designation but it was something that stuck in the military, something that didn’t make sense but was there just because it had been so for years. And she had done a good job, her unit dug in all of his batteries and two fall back positions for them, although Jaime would have preferred three. Jaime chuckled a bit before fishing in one of his pockets and pulling out two short cigars. He stuck one in his mouth and handed her the other. He pulled out a lighter but as soon as he lighted it up the roar of low flying aircraft filled his eardrums and the light went out. “Fucking flyboys.” He won a chuckle out of his fellow major for that one before lighting up again.



Here we go. The line of no return had been crossed, if anyone in Haven had any reservations about this it was to late now. Leading his squadron of Rain fighter bombers from the front Captain Noe was the first to cross. The actual border was up ahead just a few miles, and bare seconds away. Noe wasn’t really flying his aircraft, the multiple computers built into it were controlling it now allowing him to fly closer to the ground than any previous generation of pilots ever would have thought possible and to go at high speeds while doing it. To his right the burning exhaust of dozens of engines could be sent cutting thru the air even faster than his planes. It should have been impossible for planes to move like that except they weren’t planes, they weren’t even human yet they would receive the honor of striking first. And then all of a sudden he crossed the border, he was in enemy territory but yet no missiles or tracers rose up to swat him from the sky. He wanted to yell into his radio and it took all of his self control to stop himself from doing so and breaking silence. Soon enough he would be able to yell all he wanted as he guided in his weapons and smashed the bastards below him. Soon, he could feel the aircraft bank slightly to take it to its pre designated target.


He wasn’t alone, to the north and to the south dozens of aircraft moved to cross the border just as the sun started rising to their backs. The center was left alone, remaining as quiet as the day before. But to the north and south the aircraft were led by nearly three thousand missiles. It was an expensive first strike but it would be well worth it as the missiles bore across the border each bearing half a ton of high explosives. The missiles flew low to the earth and tried to remain as stealth as possible not that that was possible with so many filling the skies. They crossed the border and headed for military grade radars plugging the GPS locations into their memory in case the Macabean’s manning them tried to full the missiles by shutting down. Even if they didn’t destroy all or even most of the radars in the areas targeted it was hoped that the holes punched in the coverage and the chaos caused by the situation would be enough for the air strikes that followed to get in and wreck things even more.

Two hundred and fifty six Rain fighter bombers to the north and an equal number to the south headed to the border following the missiles. Their mission was almost the same and they hunted aiming to destroy the air defense network. SAM’s and radars took priority for them although other aspects of the Golden Thrones air defense network were struck as well. Seventy two heavier EB-9 Night Eagles followed in the north and a slightly smaller number at sixty EB-9’s in the south. Bigger than a Rain they carried a much heavier punch because of it and with four turbofans they had the power to handle themselves and the sixty thousand pounds of munitions they carried. While the Rain hunted down the air defense network and kept it busy they went out to destroy airfields, primarily fighter fields. With a variety of munitions from bombs to missiles they had to shut down the air force before they could get up into the air. In case any Macabean fighters did get airborne in time squadrons and squadrons of F-133 Valkyrie fighters prowled the skies. Their sleek bodies violating the privacy of their neighbors airspace as they hunted for anything in the air that wasn’t Havenite.

Then one last act was committed in the air. A handful of missiles intermixed with the aircraft hiding amongst them as they crossed the border. Almost nothing compared to the large numbers that had come across earlier they would still prove their worth. Barely a hundred of them fanned out, each one with a warhead lacking any explosives but instead the power to shut power off, EMP missiles. It was an idea that had yet to prove its worth on the battlefield but would hopefully do so today. The missiles were targeted on major towns and cities in the Ruska province. They weren’t targeting military bases because military hardware was protected against such a strike but it was unlikely that civilian electronics were afforded the same protection. And so they hoped to shutdown the cities and towns of the Ruska province, spread confusion among the people and stop the flow of information to them. It was hoped that if they worked riots and looting might even break out but having them work at all was the first step.



On the ground Major Jaime could see the flashes off light across the border, less so now as the sun came up but the sound of thunder, constant thunder let him no they were still there. The war was started. He flicked the stub of his cigar out the hatch and waited to receive the command to fire. Thru the thick hull of his KAG he could here the hum of hundred of engines warming up and felt the ground shake as thousands of feet shuffled forward. No matter how beautiful the initial strike looked or sounded it was up to those boys on the ground to win the war and so the Guard advanced for the first time in eighty years.

Ruska Provence, the Empire

Axel Lunsford rubbed his eyes before setting them again on the huge array of screens to his forefront. Next to him, Carsten Diech, looked quite exhausted as well, as the man yawned in a rather unproffessional manner. The two had been stuck at the Mosnoi Bor RADAR complex for the entire nightshift, and neither of them were happy about it. Most of the time, the MBR complex had a shift of over two hundred workers, as it was a massive system, including short range phased array RADARs, mediocre range air search RADARs, surface search RADARs, and finally, the more expensive, over-the-horizon RADARs (OTHR), which were of the longest range. Nevertheless, for all of this technology, the night shifts of the MBR were no more than fifty personnel. Axel looked over to Carsten and almost jokingly said,"So, I guess Fedala thinks that war isn't waged at night?"

Carsten gave a half-hearted smile and responded,"Of course not. The Empire is too good to be attacked, even though we have two rebellions already stirring up." He sighed, and his face became that of a rock, and he continued,"Axel, this is a joke. The Empire is in the midst of a castatrophe, with a division about to be sorrounded near the capital, and we have three border nations, none of them truly friendly, except Haven, and we have a night shift of fifty, which is a fourth of what we really need."

Axel nodded his head and simply said,"At least we're on the right border."

The young operator turned his head, and what he saw almost made his eyes bulge out of his face. His jaw moved up and down in a nervous gesture, and he put his left hand on Carsten's shoulder and with his right hand pointed at the RADAR screen. Carsten's jaw also dropped, and he immediately made a move for the phone. What they saw looked like the beginning of an apocalypse. The phased arrays were picking up huge amounts of missiles, which seemed as if they had anti-radiation guidance (HARM), and the OTHR, as well as the phased array, were picking up large tracks of Havenite aircraft moving towards the border.

Carsten was already speaking on the phone,"Sir, please come to the operator room. There's something you have to see. It's a dire emergency sir."

The lead technician, Artur Zienlaan, came as fast as he could, and when he first popped through the door he stood motionless, but he quickly regained composure and began to yell out orders down the hallway,"Warn Fedala of this! Prepare for defensive operations!"

Almost, if on his word, the subterranean world of Macabee defenses came to life. All throughout the border area, although a bit back, perhaps some fifty kilometers behind the actual frontlines, the titanium doors to the surface to air missile battery stations opened up, like spirals, all in conjunction - those in space would be mesmerized at the sight. In a matter of seconds the Praetorian batteries began to lift in perfect harmony, elevating themselves to their combat positions. The batteries were left white, with the imperial eagle on either side of the batteries to mark them as Imperial, and they were beauties in the midst of more beauty. Ruska was a beautiful provence, unfortunately it would soon go through a period of destruction and rape.

The Praetorian batteries, some one hundred in total all along the border, began to fire in a symphony of shrieks, screams and moans. The landscape around them soon found itself engulfed between the licking flames of fire, and the heavy drag of dark grey smoke, as Praetorian V missiles shot into the air, with a disregard to everything else. The total of one thousand Praetorian Vs, using their solid rocket fuel boosters, emerged into the high toposphere of the atmosphere, and their boosters fell away, combusting and disintigrating on their way down. From there the Praetorians would use their SCRAMjet engines, and they would track the incoming missiles using ground based RADARs, and their on-board LIDAR/RADAR programs. They accelerated to Mach 5, and from there began to track the Havenite missiles on their own, beginning to descend from the toposphere. During their terminal flight they would fall right on top of the missile they were tracking, and pre-emptive explode, sending tens of thousands of miniscule tungsten balls through the air, using a centrifuge to launch them in all directions. These balls would rip through a missile, destroying its warhead and sending it to the ground thousands of meters below.

However, simply said, there were not enough Praetorians to complete the job. Indeed, even after the clouds of smoke from the impacts cleared, the great majority of the incoming missiles continued inbound, much to the horror of the Macabee witnesses.

Nonetheless, more of the Macabee defense came to life in that instance. As the missiles first began to cross that invisible line that divided Haven with the Golden Throne, the anti-air artillery batteries came to life. They ranged from 50mm to 155mm and were manned by Luftwaffe Reserve units, as well as civilian 'minutemen' bands, and although rather unproffesional, they knew how to get the job done.

The entire span of border began enflamed in flashes of red and orange, with occasional puffs of blue, and from Mosnoi Bor one could hear the hammering of the batteries filling the air with their shells. It was murderous, and rather frightening. Nobody had ever witnessed such fire power; nobody ever knew that their emperors had done so much to protect them. Indeed, a feeling of patriotism swept over those who had seen the acts of the morning - a sense that the Empire would survive for another thousand years.

The guns fired their own special round of shells, called enCAPsulated MEtalStorm rounds (CAPMES). The rounds worked much the same as the missiles. At a certain height, determined by cheap pressure regulators on the shell, the gadget would blow, sending thousands of tiny tungsten balls in all directions. The only difference between CAPMES and the Praetorian V was that CAPMES was infinitely cheaper, and could be fired in much more quantities. One could witness that this day.

But the MBR station wasn't about to put their futures in the hands of CAPMES or the AAA batteries lining the border. Lead Technician Artur Zienlaan had already ordered the shut down of all RADARs within the MBR station, and the smaller stations along the Havenite-Macabee border. Within five minutes there was no working RADAR screen over Ruska. The only RADAR feed the defenses were receiving were from OTHR nets centralized around Targul Frumos, Beda Fromm and Arras. It was perhaps the largest emergency shut down ever to occur within the borders of the Empire, and it would present a problem for future airborne operations which based their intelligence on those RADARs.

However, it wouldn't matter anyways. The surviving missiles still inbound were not tricked, much to the defender's chagrin. They were still headed towards flightpaths for the destruction of the RADAR stations are the area. Within a couple of seconds the horizon became impacted with explosions, as the incoming Havenite missiles found their targets, wreaking havoc on the shut down RADAR stations.

When Axel first heard the explosions he whispered,"Fuck." Seconds later Axel Lunsford was a casualty of war. The Mosnoi Bor RADAR station was left in a burning wreak, and most of the technology there was left in tatters. It would take weeks, if not months, to reconstruct the damage in Mosnoi Bor. It seemed as if the southern part of the Ruska Provence had already been ensured capture, putting the city of Mosnoi Bor directly in the path of the Havenite ground troops once they began to trickle through the border. Fortunately, the firebases in the area didn't need much RADAR to defend themselves, and that, hopefully, would slow down the murderous Havenite advance until further reinforcements could arrive.

As if to add insult to injury many of those missiles lacked warheads. Instead they were charged with electro-magnetic pulses, which would just about eliminate basic electricity, and thus water and gas, to much of the housing in Mosnoi Bor and sorrounding towns, leaving circa six hundred million citizens in the dark until the EMP damage could be repaired; the latter of which would take at least two weeks.

However, the major electric centers were protected against electro-magnetic pulses, meaning that the larger infrastructure was not totally damaged, making the repairing within Mosnoi Bor and other towns easier to deal with. It was a single respite in a morning of hell - however, anything now could raise the moral of the people of Mosnoi Bor.

The AAA batteries coulds till be heard slugging away at the sky. Their targets had changed from murderous missiles to fighter-bombers, bombers, and heavy bombers - the Havenite Air Force. Things were getting tricky, and it seemed as if the skies grew dark for Ruska, and the people of the provence. Regardless, most held utmost confidence in the abilities of their leader, Fedor, as well as his allies, Mekugi and Hailandkill, which were set on protecting the Empire from her enemies.


---------

[OOC: Response to everything else coming later!]

The Battle of Mons Dei

It was the fourth day of the battle, and already the Weigar military had scored a crushing victory against three Imperial divisions, causing two to begin a long retreat towards Fedala, and the third to be sorrounded by superior rebel forces. It was an insult upon Fedor and the military his grandfather had forged, considered highly superior to anything else. This proved that the Empire was not invincible, and hopefully other rebel groups would begin to again split the Empire, just like it had split a hundred years before. Moreover, Weigar hoped that Zarbia would take advantange of the situation and begin their long waited invasion. The Havenites had already began their large invasion of the Empire, and so far they were also doing good, although the Empire's military was able to put up more of a fight in that area.

Major General Karl Bietz looked through his binoculars on top of a single hill on the battlefield. To his left and to his right dead bodies created a smell that would make any man feel sick, and all this supplemented by the smoke of charred armor. He grimaced and then smiled as he saw the conclusions of Mons Dei. To his north two Imperial divisions were moving to Fedala, keeping a heavy rear guard fight, and it appeared as if they were now led by the Emperor himself. The third division had been shut tight by the rebel army, and the doors to Fedala had been swung right open.

However, his southern flank was flaming up again as Hailandkill continued to pressure his defenses in the area, and if that ring broke the encirclement would be jeoperdized. He twisted his head to see the fighting in that area, and indeed, it was heavy. Gun flashes could be seen across the horizon, and he could see the advance of the larger enemy units. He swore under his breath,"Son of a bitch."

Up close and personal it was a very even fight. The Hailandkill armor and infantry began to shell defensive positions as soon as they were about two kilometers away, but the defense held out. Heavy small arms fire began to attempt to pin down enemy infantry, and the larger tanks were pressured with RPG-27s attempting to blow off their tracks. The Panzerkampfwaggens were immune to most weaponry the rebels had, but if they managed to take out their tracks then the tanks would be forced to stop, and the infantry could claim a large part of them from a subsequent counter-attack. It was a pretty desperate call, but it would be the only defense Weigar could put up. They needed this victory, and Fedala would be right there.

The defensive lines did not budge, and soon enough the enemy offensive began to get rained on by dozens of mortar shells, ranging from 20mm to 120mm, and most importantly, the north had been warned, and there were at least four tank squads rushing south to alleviate the situation.

The flashes in the southern flank of Mons Dei continued, and it was expected that they would continue for most of the day. It was known that those who fought for Weigar would fight to the death, and that's what Karl Bietz needed - time. But one could only pray.




Siege of Prokhorovka

"Fucking A, they're rushing us." The entrances to the larger industrial complex in the center had already fallen, and news had spread of larger rebel armies ready to ravage the city. The two security battalions had been ravaged and there was no news from the Air Assault division scheduled for landing in the area, and it was already the fourth day of the siege.

Sporadic small arms fire continued throughout the city, but the security battalion in the north-east had already fallen back to their final positions, and their numbers had been reduced to around one hundred and fifty effectives, from the original one thousand. About four hundred had died in the four days of siege, and the rest that weren't effective were wounded, and they were literally tossed all over the streets, holding their guts, and screaming in the air. It was hoped that the rebels wouldn't be too barbaric with the prisoners they collected.

Battalion commander Major Tiergarden had already lost hope. He was gripping his head within one of the command buildings holding one of the final defensive roadblocks that would hope would slow down the rebels and kill most of them off before reinforcements came. But he knew the truth, and now he hated himself for it. His entire battalion would be destroyed, and he knew it. The air assault division had been transferred to Fedala where news was that the Weigar Armies had scored a major victory against the Empire. Now Fedala had nothing in between them and the victors, and consequently, they needed all they could get.

He got up, solemn, and put his hand on the shoulder of a private and said,"Surrender." That was it. The north-east of Prokhorovka had fallen.

The industrial center surrendered soon after that, although they put some terms to their surrender, including the safe transfer of all Imperial soldiers out of Prokhorovka, including the wounded, and allowing them to return to their families. In return, the rebels would get all of their weapons and uniforms untainted and in perfect conditions.

No matter, Prokhorovka had fallen.



Encrypted International Communiqué to the Armed Democratic Republic of Mekugi

To Praetor Patrick o'Neill

We thank you for your sympathy, and you couldn't have offered aid in a better time. We will owe you a great favor when this is all over, and you can believe that we will carry it out for our honor, without hesitation.

Hail Mekugi, hail o'Neill.

[signed]Fedor I

Port Carson, Northern Mekugian Republic-

Onboard the Amphibious Assault Ship Manic the captain had finished all but the last drops from his bottle of scotch, as he had waited for orders his worry had not deceased with the contents of the bottle. Finding what solace he could as he looked down on his deployment orders through the bottom of the last shot of scotch he sighed deeply into the liquor. As he raised the sot glass to his lips his door flung upon unannounced the captain spilling the drunk all over his nicely pressed uniform.

“What In the bloody hell is going on here?! you incompetent mor--” but the Captains foot quickly silenced the rest of his sentence as his vision cleared there standing before him was the Vice Admiral of the Navy William Decker. His posture straightened as he tried to retain what dignity he had left in front of his boss.

“Sir, I-… I didn’t realize you would be joining us…”

“Things have changed Captain, and quite quickly at that…” The admiral said quite mater-of-factly as he brushed off a place on the Captains bed. “You have been cleared for deployment, but it wont be for just the Third Dragoons, All of the First Regiment will be joining this deployment as well, and if the stars are on our side all of the First Expeditionary Force within a month or two.”

“but sir” The Captain interjected has he tried to pat dry the remnants of the booze from his shirt. “That’s over one hundred thousand Combat personnel and god knows how many Actuaries (logistics) Surely the Macabees can handle this rebellion without using up so many of our forces.”

“Perhaps your right Captain but its not just a rebellion anymore, TACSAT reports some dubious border movement in places that aren’t exactly ‘normal’ seems some of our allies neighbors aren’t too keen on the noise the neighbors have been making.”

“You cant be serious sir, surely there was a mix up I can command sixty-five hundred personnel by myself…” nervously commented the captain.

“Relax Captain, you wont be in command of the deployment of first Regiment” replied the Vice Admiral with a smirk.

“ But then who sir? I wasn’t aware we had any more naval assets cleared for this deployment we cant seriously expect to enter a possibly hostile environment with no support.”

“We wont be Captain we’ve been given the Archon, and her Battle group to support ground operations in the theater.”

“The Archon Sir?”

“Yes Captain the Archon…”

“But why sir? That seems not only excessive, but a risk for the only SD we have in our stock pile!”

The Vice Admiral closed the door to the Captains quarters and leaned in close. “ The Archon is not the only SD we have in our stockpile Captain but we cannot afford to let all our cards be out in the open if you understand… for now however you are correct, for this initial deployment, we are only going to have one SD in theatre, supplemented by four Trinity class BBGN’s two McConchie Class CVN’s and an untold number of other vessels, I suggest you get ready captain this may just be the war we’ve been waiting for..”

“Been waiting for… of course sir…”

The captain stood and saluted as the Admiral turned his back to him and opened the door to the captains quarters before turning back around. “-and by the way Captain.. Change your uniform, you smell like a drunkard…”
----------

All around the port what had been sleeping ships for the last few days seemed to spring to life smoke filled the air from the non nuclear transport ships left port to meet up with their escort group, a vessel in its lead so large it could be seen on the horizon small from this distance but massive compared to the ships scuttling around it. Onboard the Manic, the Capitan in his newly cleaned clothes stood stalwart on the bridge internally picking apart his conversation with the Vice Admiral earlier that day. It still bothered him how eager the Vice Admiral was to send these troops into Harms way, but he also understood that conflict was what justified the Vice Admirals job, without it military expenditure was moot, and likewise his job as well.

“Stars protect their children and keep the heavy sun from our shoulders…” The Capitan said as he bowed his head in a sub-conscious prayer, the escort group was getting closer and soon they would be enroute to the Havenite threat…

Battle of Mons Dei

Jimmy Wilson was spearheading the push of the defensive lines holding the rebel rear flank, and it the fight was getting chaotic. The rebels were trying to hold off the assault with RPGs and small arms fire, and it was somewhat working, and somewhat failing.
"Shit, their going for the treads" Jimmy thought

He had also noticed that they werent scared off as he had hoped. Although outnumbered, there was a rumor that 3-4th panzer divisions were coming to aide, to defeat the rebels faster. It was unconfirmed though, and tensions in the fight were rising.

"OK, we didn't scare them off as we hoped" He yelled into the radio "But we gotta take this line! Get everyone out of the SOVs and push the line!"

On that command, 50. cal rounds began to light up positions, from atop the tank to provide cover. It was almost like a firework show, with all the tracers lighting up the night. The people in the foxholes would see all the tracers, but unluckily for them, there would be five more bullets they wouldnt see. With machine gun cover, the SOVs pulled forward to get their soldiers out into the fight. Most of the SOVs came along the tanks, almost like a flood rushing through lanes. It was almost eerily a line of SOV, tank, SOV, tank and so on. The SOVs opened fire on the defensive positions with their 15mm rounds. As the first doors began to hit the grassy steppes, tanks were taking fire from RPGs. Many of the RPG rounds bounced harmlessly off the tanks, but their were some that hit the treads and would leave tanks stranded if the push failed. As the soldiers were emptying their IFVs under the cover of heavy machine gun fire, and a few bouts of shelling from the tanks, the KriGud shelling stopped. The hellish shelling stopped, but soldiers began to rush the lines. Soldiers were attacking the lines, firing their 7.62mm ACP rounds as they ran. They got as close as they could without being clipped by the large amounts of machine gun fire coming from the tanks and IFVs. When they got into a good range, many of the soldiers dropped on their knees or in the prone position to get a good steady shots on who they saw.

Corporal Ryan Kipp was involved in the attack on the lines and he was leading his eight man team to hit the lines. He also turned out to be leading the charge in his sector of 250 men. He was firing at anything that moved in the lines. When he started seeing tracer rounds over his head, he dropped to his knees, and he saw others start to do the same. When he was on his knees, he grabbed grenade off his belt, pulled the pin, flipped the handle and threw the grenade. He saw the orange flash, and also noticed a few more orange flashes along the lines, as other began to lob grenades. Most of the soldiers had made it to the point were they could drop on their knees, then go prone and fire without being a big target. Besides seeing orange flashes he also saw some soldiers drop to the ground, being hit with bullets the defenders were firing. Some hit men, were either dead or screaming for help. Rushing defended positions always had its death toll, because as you initially run for the prone position you make your self a target, until you can get on the ground and safely fire on the enemy.

Jimmy Wilson was watching the soldiers try to overtake the lines, watching them lob grenades, watching them drop to prone postion and watching them die from small arms fire.

"Fire right there" He yelled, while pointing "Load an HE round, theres some RPG fucks!"

His tank loaded up a round and fired and HE round at the RPG team. He felt the tank lurch backwards as they fired, but felt it lurch again when the RPG round hit it in the tread. He was in the same position as alot of other tanks, he was stuck. He saw orange flashes as other tanks followed his lead and fire HE rounds. He thought they might have it, he thought we might succeed.

He yelled at his tank crew "Fire another HE round! And watch for any opposing armor!"

His tank lurched backwards as they fired again.


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


HailandKill Intelligence Service, DeMaio City, HailandKill

The officer who was assigned to monitor all the military activity in, and around The Golden Throne, was just getting the photos from MacSat. He started glancing through them, not giving them much look over, as there wasn’t much activity that high command or Strategy Command didn’t know about. He went back to monitoring other satellite photos, when he accidentally noticed something on the MacSat photos.
“What the hell is that” He said to himself “ Who’s tanks and soldiers could that be? ”

He shrugged it off, because he figured that it was either Golden Throne soldiers and armor, or possibly HailandKill soldiers on border patrol. He wasn’t told what the HK soldiers were assigned to do so he didn’t it did not exactly bother him when he saw soldier on the border. He got up to get coffee, and bullshit with any officers at the machine.

When he sat down he was got into thinking about the Intel. What was bugging him was who exactly was there, so to solve his problem he grabbed his high powered magnifying glass and looked at the photo. He started studying the tank design and looked for an insignia or symbol.

“What the fuck...Oh no, no, no, no He yelled aloud, after he checked his chart that showed what insignia, tank design, or symbols belonged to whom, and compared it to the satellite Intel. He grabbed a notepad, scribbled down some notes, and then grabbed the photo and outlined certain things with his red pencil on it. When he got everything together he ran out of his office and ran right to his director.

“Sir, I have something big, real big” He said

The director put his hand over the receiver part of his phone and said

“Can’t it wait? I am having an important conversation here”

The officer went to the desk and clicked the button on the phone that reset the line

“Are you nuts? What the fuck is your pr---”

He was interrupted when the officer yelled

“Look at this! SafeHaven is invading The Golden Throne! Look at the way the tanks are formed, and the look of the barrels! There loaded and live or else they wouldn’t be up! Look at the insignia, its all there!”

The officer thrust his notepad, map, and chart on the desk of his director. The director’s face went from calm to panicked

“Holy shit” He said “You go tell army SATCOM, and get a fuckin’ message out to DeMaio military base, get them on high alert. I will get this to the NSA ASAP.

Both men ran out of the office almost knocking over people like bowling pins.


DeMaio Military Installation

The base was in uproar, and every soldier, OMP taskforce or not, was on edge. Everyone had heard, from someone or another, that SafeHaven had invaded The Golden Throne. All soldiers, and tank divisions were on high alert, and the only thing stopping Cromwell was the order to go.

Cromwell had just received a transmission from HKIS and was disappointed in what it said. It read:
General Cromwell, SafeHaven has invaded The Golden Throne and it is extremely advisable that you, and the OMP taskforce be on high alert from any attacks. Further orders will be transmitted.

He grumbled and crumpled up the message. He already knew all of this and went back to work.


White House, DeMaio City, HailandKill

The NSA walked into the president’s office without warning. The president was on the phone, and the NSA had said “Sir, I suggest you hang up, I important news”

The president told the person on the line that he would get back to him and something extremely urgent had come up. He hung up the phone and looked at his NSA with a face that said Now what?

“Sir, we have a new development in TGT. It seems that SafeHaven has invaded The Golden Throne. I just had a discussion with the director of HKIS and the formation, and way the tanks and soldiers are traveling states a clear indication of invasion. This Intel is a few hours off because of the time difference and it’s estimated that SafeHaven forces have probably engaged TGT imperial forces.”

The president paused for a moment, as in utter disbelief. “Shit, shit, shit, well we cant stand by idly. Well we are defiantly going to have to declare war on them or lose an ally. When I address the country in a few minutes, we can also use the fact that they are a supporter of the Golgoth alliance to gain more support.”

“You plan to use our OMP Taskforce?”

“Yes I do. When we finish helping The Maccabees in their civil war we will continue the crusade against the evil Golgoth supporters.”

“My orders sir?”

“You will get Cromwell ready, and all the CVBG’s will be under the admiral that led the CVBG’s in the Foxsteni-Concador conflict. Every soldier will be on alert, and until we can get SATCOM and the joint chiefs together for more extensive planning, have Cromwell get all his forces together to push into the Ruskin Province.”


TO MACCABEE HIGH COMMAND, FROM THE DESK OF PRESIDENT REVELLO

It has come to my direct attention, of the invasion of your homeland by SafeHaven. My first priority, is to defeat the enemy and help you successfully win your civil conflict., rather than help the defeat of AMF and the Golgoth Alliance. To help me complete my first directive, I plan to use all our forces in the OMP taskforce that have been deployed to DeMaio Military Installation to help your nation. I ask where they be deployed, and as a former general of HailandKill forces, I have many suggestions. I would like to discuss these ideas somehow and am open to ways to discuss them. Please respond ASAP, as we await orders to help our closest and most esteemed ally.
[Signed] President Revello, HailandKill

As forces in DeMaio Military Installation were being prepared, and briefed of landscape and SafeHaven forces, they all awaited the instructions on where to go and whom to fight.


[OOC: Hey Mac, I will declare war and have deployments and stuff when your high command gives the orders.]

Note: Sarcanza was my puppet. I will be using my main nation from now on. I will still be Role-Playing as the Sarcanza Province.

Prokhorovka, Sarcanza

The Golden Throne's flag burned brightly under the mid-day sun. Prokhorovka was a mess, but the armies of Sarcanza had far more important matters at hand. With Prokhorovka secured they now had the means and the postion from which they could make their rebbellion known. They too held the industrial sector of the city, from which they would salavage what they could.

As the tattered soldiers from the battle took up residence in the newly claimed city the First and Second Armies were busy preparing for the unavoidable confrontation at Marsa Bruth, the capital of Sarcanza. However, it was no easy task to transport thousands of men hundreds of miles. To meet the task the automobiles of the entire city would be siezed and converted into military transport. Many would be outfitted with Machine Guns, others with newly aquired anti-armor weapons.

With hundreds of aquired uniforms a new 'Shock Division' was formed, equiped with the best weaponry, soldiers, and commanding officers. It was this unit that would be able to go heel against the crown without a numerical advantage. It would also be the most mobile, alotted ample transport to make itself the most mobile unit in all of Sarcanza.

The next matter at hand was declaring their support for Weigar. It was the intern-president , Peter Frogori who would contact Weigar from the badly damaged governors office in the remenants of the city. Casting aside the phone on the desk -- the crown would have shut off Sarcanza from the rest of the grid by now, he withdrew a rather large cellphone from his inside pocket. Casting his eyes downwards at a slip of paper on his desk, he paused a moment and then quickly punched in the ten digit line. ''This is Peter Frogori, intern-President of the breakaway republic of Sarcanza..."

[OOC: I'm the Friend that HailandKill was mentioning]
------------------------------
-The capitol building, Edwardsburg, Ironmaidia-

"Mr. President!" The sound of these words and the urgency in their tone echo through the halls of the capitol building of Ironmaidia.
"Yes, Mr. Stevens? What happened?"
"This, Sir," Stevens replied while handing him a document from his trembling hand. Stevens had often communicated transimissions to the president but nothing like this. Nothing like this document.
"Thank you," as President Potenza took the communication. He glanced down to see the sender of the document. "President Revello?!".
He continued reading the note, getting more and more worried with each sentance...
"President Potenza,
Of course you know that the conflict between the superpowers of the Macabees, Zarbia and Safehaven is raging. The fate of our mutual ally is at risk. My country has already mobilized it's troops; but compared to the vast nation of Safehaven I fear that they will not be enough. The confilct has already begun and many losses have already befallen to all sides of the war. HaillandKill's millitary efforts seem to be in vain and that is why I am requesting the aid of Ironmadia. I beleive that if you lend aid the threat of Safehaven may be deminished, allowing our allies to comtinue with their war efforts. I request this of you, as an ally, as a peer, and as a friend, please help the effort.
President Revello, HailandKill"

"Well Sir?" Stevens inquires with a shakey tone.
"Well what? We can't leave our allies alone in such a perilious event! We are going to War!"

------------------------------
-A National News Broadcast-
"After much debate in the Capitol, the president has decided to assist the war effort in The Macabees! Though we do not know what caused hi to finally decide on assisting after this long internal debate, but the desicion has been made. Troops wll be deployed to the waring countries to work along side HailandKill, already stationed in the country. A total of 800,000 troops from the army will be deployed to the confilct from the army. Divisions 3-6 of the Ironmaidian Tetraforces will be called to duty. This has been INN with this breaking news broadcast"

-------------------------
- Naval base, Wiccer City, Ironmaidia

"Admiral, we have just recieved word to arm and deploy for The Macabees. The Acacia carrier group, along with the Icarus carrier group are to be deployed to rondevous with the HailandKill in the southern part of The Macabeean Seas"
"So be it, call word to all the men! Tell them to arm the ships, and themselves. For once they are ready all 22 Acacia ships will depart South East to The Macabees!"
"Yes Sir!"

“Fuck man, I feel like I’m in one of those damn WW2 movies.” Noe’s aircraft was bouncing around in the heavy air, being thrown left and right by the near constant explosions of AAA rounds. It did look like a scene out of an old movie with puffs of smoke designating were the “flak” rounds were hitting and tracers cutting thru the sky hunting for targets. It seemed like more of a nuisance than a threat but it was a big nuisance. “Noe, I’m gonna take those guns out.” “Have fun, there’s only a few thousand more around this place.” One of them Rain fighter bombers in Noe’s formation broke away and lined up for a run on the battery of guns banging away at them. While radar/Lidar stations and SAM systems still had top priority they were cleared to take out any AA and AAA presence as those were part of the air defense network.

The Rain’s sleek body cut thru the sky seemingly invincible as dozens of shells exploded harmlessly around it. The bomb bay doors opened and just as the munitions started falling out the Rain became engulfed in a massive black cloud of shrapnel. A heavy AAA shell exploded right under the Rain tearing it to shreds in an instant and detonating the falling munitions. In seconds a seat was opened at the mess back home.

Wordlessly Noe turned his Rain around. He lined his plane up for a bombing run, not wanting to waste a missile for a target like this. A solid PING shook his plane reminding him he was just as mortal as his friend had been. Moving thru the sea of flak he released a single RBK-1500 bomb from a kilometer up. The bomb burst open letting out almost six hundred tiny bomblets that would cover a five hundred meter area. The guns below continued firing up until the last second, and then the field below erupted in fire, six hundred individual explosions joining into one to turn what had probably been a fertile field into a blackened charred graveyard for an unknown number of Macabean’s. To Noe it didn’t matter, moving on he led his squad as they hunted for more AA batteries to exact a vengeance.

Noe’s unit learned the hard way that the flak wasn’t just a nuisance as many other units would learn to. The Rain fighter bombers continued picking apart the air defense network plowing a way for the bigger EB-9’s as they made their way to their targets. Many Rain went down to the heavy fire, losses ranging in the dozens, but they did their job and the EB-9’s flying high were having an easy time of it so far.





They could have been branchless trees sticking out of the ground if it wasn’t for the odd angles, and the fact that they were moving. The final confirmation had just come in a few minutes ago and the whole battery was punching in the locations of their different targets. Major Jaime sitting in his own KAG got on the units net saying a simple few words, “Commence firing.” The targets were already punched in and so all that remained to be done was to “press the trigger”. BOOM BOOM BOOM. The guns fired off their shells sending the barrels shooting back down and the vehicles hopping back for a second. Inside the next shells were already being moved into position. Seconds later another wave of shells went upward destroying the peaceful silence in the still early morning. The sounds of the guns mixed in with a piercing screech from behind as the KAR-45 rocket systems pitched in sending their massive rockets into the fray. After another bout of firing Major Jaime went back on to the units net and relayed a new set of orders. The batteries guns turned just a bit to the right and lowered not even an inch. Then again spurts of flame short out of the barrels and a new target received hell for a few minutes.

The guns and many like them fired deep into the Ruska province blasting away at Macabean military installations. Installations that were well known to Havens military planners over years of cooperation with their neighbor. The shelling was meant to pave the way for the start of the actual war, the ground war.



The 48th infantry division was the first to start across the border. Moving quickly in their IFV’s and APC’s the entire division spread out on a fifteen mile front headed west. Overhead helicopter gun ships flew low and fast buzzing back and forth to no real destination. It was a beautiful site, hundreds of vehicles spread out over fifteen miles advancing across open land, and across the invisible line that separated that land in two. On the Havenite side of that line the temporary headquarters for the 48th was beginning to move out. General Manny Primer stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out at his division. He had reason to be proud, of the entire Guard only his and one other division had moved out on time. It would be another two hours before the majority of the Guard got moving. But that wasn’t Primer’s problem, it wasn’t even on his mind as he spent the day not with his men or reviewing his divisions actions but being interviewed by reporters.


Down south another advance was taking place along the coast. While the Guard was receiving all the attention the true professionals were busy down south. Eight divisions and two armored brigades, veterans of numerous wars crossed the border here heading for Aurillac while the Guard got to take in Mosnoi Bor and the prestige from such an incident. The southern thrust was more of a diversion, a covering action so that the Guard could get its job done. It was a plan heavily influenced by politicians against the will of the military but it was what they had.

They moved together headed by a heavy recon screen. All eight divisions moved in what was actually a northern direction. They took things seriously, most of them had fought alongside troops from The Golden Throne and most of the others had trained against them. Many officers actually had friends on the other side. They new how effective the Macabean military could be and so they did things effectively and cautiously.




“What the hell do you mean we can’t enter?”

“The lanes in and out of this port have been closed for the rest of the day. The government will cover any monetary loss because of the delay” The port official was getting tired of repeating himself all day, and this guy was being especially picky about it.

“Why? Why would you close down the port?” Guido Tani was the captain of the Makedli, a heavy cargo ship. He was already two days late because of a freak storm that had tossed his ship around and now he was told that he wasn’t allowed to dock for another twelve hours. He was taking it out on some official who probably had no part in the decision but it made him feel better, although he was still just as angry. He was about to yell into the radio again when a crew member tapped his shoulder.

“Cap’ain, I think I know why we can’t use this lane into port.” He had his arm outstretched pointing out the window. Hundreds of ships were steaming out of the port, military ships. Destroyers, cruisers, carriers, most of this ships weren’t combat ships but were just as important. Amongst all the ships a single one stood out, a behemoth amongst the little ones around it, it was still in turn dwarfed by the massive SD’s of other navies. It was an Argentine, the flagships of main surface battle fleets, the SD killer. Behind it still coming to, outlined against the distant lights of the city a twin could be seen coming. Two Argentines meant two battle fleets, a nearly a fifth of the navy. Then out of no were a navy interceptor buzzed by the Makedli, eyeballing it along the way. Beneath its wings were an array of missiles, all of them white tipped, they weren’t going out on a drill.

“Holy shit, get us out of the way Pat.” Guido didn’t question the port official anymore, though he had a dozen questions swimming around his head wondering what was going on that needed a full two battle fleets, what he didn’t know but would have sparked his interest and worry was that a third fleet was already out to sea waiting to link up with these two. That left a single fleet to defend Haven the rest being deployed to different parts of the empire, from Manium to Afmanistan to New Usecton. Haven felt what she was planning on doing was important enough to leave herself open.

Ruska Provence

The Havenite aircraft continued to wreck quite a bit of havoc on the anti-air artillery batteries lining the border, however, the simple matter of the truth was that those batteries were infinitely cheaper than those aircraft, and the batteries were tearing up the aircraft. Nonetheless, the chance that the anti-air batteries would bring down one of those heavier bombers was not as large as their accuracy against smaller aircraft and missile systems.

Consequently, the task to destroy those bombers coming in, caught by the OTHR stations throughout the Empire, continously bouncing radio waves from the ionosphere, was left to the Praetorian surface to air missile batteries that had finally reloaded while the brunt of the defense was left to the anti-air artillery batteries. The Praetorian systems againt whiggled from their subterranean protection chambers and pointed themselves towards the incoming bombers. Fire lept from their rear ends and mouths, and from the midst of smoke and char, at least five hundred Praetorian V surface to air missiles shrieked into the colored sky.

After they had reached a certain height their rocket fuel boosters fell, allowing the SCRAMjet engines to start igniting, sending the missiles at velocities exceeding Mach 4, with the manueverability of a missile moving at Mach 2. They're targets were the bombers, and they wouldn't stop until their targets had been neutralized.

All the while, the anti-air artillery batteries continued to enflame the sky, as their muzzles left licks of fire, and their rounds made the skies turn black. The beat of their volleys had already given the war a steady rythm of destruction.

On the ground, Havenite artillery had begun to pound military locations belonging to the Golden Throne, causing immediate damage. Early death estimations had put the toll at around three hundred to four hundred in the opening thirty minutes of the bombardment, but nonetheless, the Empire's soldiers were well protected from attacks. Almost immediately, Corbulo self-propelled 155mm field pieces lept fire in a continous counter-battery barrage, hitting positions of Havenite rocket, fixed and self-propelled artillery, calculated within seconds using global positioning systems and good ol' trigonometry. The counter-battery fire was deadly accurate, as the Corbulos lauched their rocket propelled shells for hundreds of kilometers.

The grounds on both sides of the border were already rolling in burning lights of red and orange, and the grass which had once made the border area beautiful had turned crisp black, as if the devil had set his paws on Earth.

The Panzerwerfer's range was far too short for counter-battery fire, consequently, they paid attention to the 48th Infantry Division moving towards Mosnoi Bor, and towards the rest of the Havenite army, which was considerably larger, moving towards Aurillac. In rythmic hell they pounded the entire line with thousands of rockets fired over a timespan of twelve seconds. These rockets ranged from high explosive to anti-tank to multi-bomblets. They would at least slow down the Havenite advance while the defenses of Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor materialized.

For the latter, they were. The Macabee military in the south had already been warned, and they were readying to pummel the invasion. Never before had the Empire been invaded, and they would make sure that this first time would end in a glorious victory.

It was to say, three panzergrenadier divisions had amassed to protect Mosnoi Bor, along with a single panzer division and half an artillery division. Another five panzergrenadier divisions and three panzer divisions were spread out along the front, ready to put up a stiff resistance against the Havenite drives. However, there was little in the way of reserves. This task was put for a single infantry regiment. Nonetheless, the regiment would be reinforced by the rest of the division, and slowly the Macabee defense would gather enough strength to return the initiative to the Empire.



Operation Radial

The gigantic blades to the Albatross' turbofan engines made fateful whisks through the air, forcing the engines to forty thousand pound force. The infra-red suppresants worked like slaves, continously cooling the engine outtake area, while the turbofans ferociously worked on. There were sixty Albatrosses flying that day, working their way south. They were now right over Targul Frumos, and from there they could strike at the Havenite fleet with impunity, causing more damage to the Havenite invasion than the Havenites expected.

They were being escorted, of course, by sixty-eight Lu-05 Schlachten Air Superiority Fighters, all flying in a tight air screen around the perimeter of the bombers. It was a huge air formation, scrapped from what could be scrapped, and it would prove to be the first fight back for the iniatative of the war.

From just ten kilometers south of Targul Frumos the pilots of the bombers, looking up on their primary multi-function display, which was composed of a liquid crystal matrix screen, found their list of targets, which varied from Havenite shipping to Havenite shipyards. The majority of the targets revolved around Havenite sea power, which seemed to allude to a greater sea offensive, either by Haven, or by the Empire.

The Albatrosses relied on their general stealth to enter the area of attack as silent as possible. Indeed, in terms of stealth, they exceeded the technology of the B-2 bomber by at least two generations, and the fact that they were invisible to even over-the-horizon RADAR was a testament to just that fact. Consequentially, their fly over Targul Frumos was largely uneventful.

As if by instinct, the bomb bays of the bombers opened up quickly, revealing bristling warheads to seperate missile systems. Five of the Albatross bombers were fitted with hypersonic anti-radiation missiles, which were Ausf. B Cruise Missiles fitted with anti-radiation seekers. A complete volley of some two hundred of these were fired at Havenite RADAR sites throughout the area of the bomber attack, which was mostly around the northwest coastline.

The other bombers were fitted with a range of Principe III anti-shipping missiles and Ausf. B Cruise Missiles. Launched were some three hundred of the former, and three hundred of the latter. After launching the bombers turned around as effectively as possible and headed back to base, while the fighters kept a rear guard, making sure that Havenite fighters wouldn't get close to their real prey.

The Havenites knew well how the Principe IIIs and Cruise Missiles worked, and they knew the effectiveness of said missiles. They would be left to deal with the casualties of war. All Fedor knew is that he had struck back.



Battle of Mons Dei

The southern flank of Mons Dei was receiving heavy pressure from Hailandkill, just when final victory over Mons Dei was almost within arms reach. The 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division had been finally sorrounded, and they would have to either surrender, or fight and die of starvation. Regardless of how Mons Dei ended against the Waffen-SS, the southern flank was becoming more and more important. If Hailandkill broke through the entire rebel army would be put in a dangerous situation, in which they would have to manuever to get out of, including, perhaps, disengaging from the encirclement of the 3rd Panzergrenadier Division.

Because of this, reinforcements had arrived rather quickly to hold that southern flank, including several vitage towed anti-tank pieces, ranging from 54mm to 120mm artillery pieces. From over ten kilometers away they began to pelt the Hailandkill armor with round after round, lighting up the plains of Mons Dei.

However, it was just a small factor within the large battle. The skies of the fifth day of Mons Dei were red and orange, just like most of the rest of the Empire - now brewing with war - and the clit-clat of small arms fire could be heard from kilometers away. The rifle fire was soon supplemented by dozens of 12.7mm machine guns going off, sweeping the positions of Hailandkill infantry. It was fast becoming a massacre, for both sides, and it was obvious that the southern flank wouldn't bend without massive loss of personnel on, again, both sides.

Regardless, the days were growing dark for the 3rd Panzergrenadier Division and the Weigar Army alike, depending on how fate turned.

[Done after three edits to finish the post finally.]

[OOC: Well Mac, this front is getting to a stalemate and it might be time to break it and make my RPs interesting with char development]
Battle of Mons Dei

Shit, their reinforcing the line and they really want a fight
Jimmy thought to himself. He was nervous without his left tread, and he knew many of the tanks were in the same situation. Casualties were mounting as Weigar forces were reinforcing the line. Tanks were firing upon the lines with HE rounds, endangering HK troops, but it was neccasary to kill the rebels. Jimmy Wilson was watching as his soldiers were prone firing on the lines, but also getting shot by the entrenched rebels. It was safe to say all hell was breaking loose, and win or lose, 1st Panzer Brigade was going home with heavy losses. Jimmy knew this, and win or lose their would be no retreat.

Wilson went to the radio to call for fire support from his KriGuds when he got a transmission from Captain Ryan.

"This is Ryan, I have two panzer divisions under my command, and we are looking to get into the fight, were should we progress? over."

"This is tank commander James R. Wilson, I currently have control of our units! We are getting pounded and we need you to hit from the southwest!"

"What is your rank soldier" Ryan replied

"That shit dont matter, we need you to put pressure on the southwest!"

"Your orders are to pull out and we will relieve you, we are about two hours out, pull out and we will take the line"

"Are you fucking deaf? We cannot pull out or we will lose this line and jepardize this line and our soldiers! Hit the southwest you fucking moron!"

"Do you realize who your talking to son? You have orders"

"I will not follow them and have my men killed, you are not witnessing the battle, now hit the southwest or we will lose this line, and that will be disastrous"

"When this battle is over I will have you court-martialed, but for now we will hit the south west because recent intel has shown possible weakness"

He signed off and left Wilson with his mouth open. His troops were now under the command of a man who had made rank because he had high connections in the military. He also knew that Cpt. Ryan was not a great leader and earned the nickname "foxhole norman".

On Wilson direct south the Kriguds were hitting the rebels again under Wilsons orders. The bombarment from both sides was creating a large amount of dust, dirt and shrapnel. The tanks were again churning death, in the form of 50. Cal rounds. The SOVs continued the onslaught of 15mm rounds, raking the lines.

All along the lines soldiers were firing non-stop, towards a well defended enemy. Along one sector of 250 men, Corporal Kipp was about to lead a charge. He motioned towards the tanks to give cover, and the 50. Cals continued with the tracer rounds lighting up the night. Corporal Kipp got up, lobbed a grenade at the line, watched it explode and ran towards the line. The men in the sector followed suit, running towards the line, firing their weapons, whilst having a good angle of firing. They had a good angle on the defenders, and the defenders had a good shot on them, and after the shock of seeing the charge ended, HailandKill soldiers started to drop. The charge was having mixed results, and soon enough they were closer to the lines. When they got into a good range they fired at the defenders at point blank. The Kriguds were still firing on the lines, and some soldiers were killed by friendly fire. The MG fire from the tanks and IFVs stopped to let the HK soldiers rush the lines without getting killed by friendly fire. All along pockets of the lines the same style of charge was taking place, with concentrated fire on anti-units. The charges were somewhat last ditch, and somewhat effective but the battle would take another turn.

Southwest section

Captain Ryan was about to have his two divisions assualt the southwest part of the lines, to take some fire off of Jimmy Wilson. Ryan was leading one division and a LT leading another. Both divisions set off with their tanks leading the charge, followed by SOVs full of fresh troops, and KriGuds with their guns angled, so they could fire and move. It was time to break off and both divisions went their separate ways.

LT. Hargroves section
LT. Hargrove was leading one division against the southwest section, and he knew the urgency of the situation. His tanks were leading the charge and they had sighted the enemy. He noticed the enemy had plenty of anti-tank weaponry, and waited until they came online. When he saw the AT weapons firing, he ordered his KriGuds to open up with arty rounds on the line. He hoped to have them offguard to maximize kills.

They approached the line at flank speed, now under the cover of arty fire. Hargrove ordered his tanks to stop a mere 900 ft. from the line, and he also gave the weapons free command. With that command The tanks began firing HE rounds, and the SOVs firing 15mm machine gun rounds at the lines.

Soldiers began unloading from their SOVs and they were told to charge the lines after the enemy was softened up. When the MG fire from tanks and SOVs ceased the 2000 men of the division charged forward firing their rifles and lobbing grenades. This attack was well orchastrated.

Captain Ryan's section

Ryan's attack was not going as well as Hargroves had. His KriGuds were ordered to open up too soon giving the defenders time to duck and cover. His tanks were leading, but the SOVs were moving to fast and passed them leaving them open for AT rounds. To make it all worse Ryans orders did nothing but confuse his men, and when the order to disembark came, his section became a killzone, and a slaughterfest. The men were forced out of the SOVs under light cover from 15mm rounds, and with the SOVs being a good 150 ft. in front, tank support could not be used without killing both HailandKill and Weigar soldiers.

[Alot of tanks in the area but I made it nice and even with my incompetant leader. ::wink::

BTW what are my orders for the men at DeMaio base with the SH invasion. Im still waiting for orders.]

[Battle of Mons Dei]
Southern Section
The heavy fire fight continued well into the sixth day of Mons Dei, and the wear and tear of almost a full week of fighting began to show on the frontline soldiers of Weigar's army. Nonetheless, they continued to pour lead into the ranks upon ranks of enemy soldiers, cleansing what was in front of them as fast as they could. Nonetheless, this sector was becoming larger and more confused with every passing hour. Recent movement of reinforced had increased Hailandkill's presence by at least three armored divisions, while the rebels had increased fixed defensive positions, evidence that they were not prepared to budge.

The six days worth of fighting had propelled some sort of inginuity between the soldiers defending the southern flank. Indeed, machine gun positions had been crafted from pure dirt, and basically they resembled medieval castle firing slots, where dirt mounts would act like walls, and small slit would allow them to rake enemy infantry with a hail of fire. Mortar pits had also by now been perfected, forged deep behind lines, protected from shrapnel and stray fire, and light to heavy mortars were pelting Hailandkill's divisions continously, forcing their heads down, and by and far slowing down the advance.

It seemed as if after six days of fighting there was enough evidence that pointed towards a stalemate at Mons Dei. Indeed, the Macabee Imperials had been routed, save the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division, which had been sorrounded within the war's first kessel. With that, Weigar only had to make sure that the southern flank held until the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division had been completely destroyed. Nonetheless, it was being pressured, and it would be a matter of time before it broke, but there had been a series of necessary buildups behind the southern flank which would allow the broken line to re-assemble again within a hundred yeards of the present front lines, meaning their would be a repetition of the six days of hell every one hundred yards. Soon enough, perhaps, Hailandkill would not see it as profitable to continue their investment at Mons Dei, and would allow the rebels to do their bidding.

Regardless, this sixth day was still lit on fire. Sporadic charges at first shocked the rebel soldiers, but they quickly regained composure, trying to halt charges with heavy machine gun fire, while fixed 155mm anti-tank guns highlighted heavy armor and placed a couple of rounds into them, and 75mm anti-tank guns searched for the armored personnel carriers. It was becoming an increasingly heavy exchange of fire, and more and more deaths were piling.

The official death count on the southern flank for the rebels had grown over the last hours, and indeed, official reports filed in by the lower officers had amounted to some nine hundred to two thousand dead already, which was an extremely heavy number, especially taking in mind that most of the men capable of fighting were currently in pursuit of the 1st and 2nd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Divisions, or encircling the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division. But their stiff resistance had most likely also claimed heavy casualties for Hailandkill, and that's what they were counting on.

South-Western Section
Heavy artillery fire began to suppress anti-tank positions, but those who survived were quickly reinforced through the quick crafting of entrenchments around weapons, forging weapon pits of sorts, allowing the anti-tank guns to continue pounding enemy positions with relatively little cross section for counter battery threats. Nevertheless, some two hundred soldiers had lost their lives to the opening barrage by the enemy KriGuds.

RPG-27s continued to bristle from infantry positions, and the occassional line of smoke followed the quick movements of a rocket propelled grenade shrieking through the air towards a moving, or stable, SOV-06 infantry fighting vehicle. As enemy soldiers began to unload from these vehicles heavy machine gun fire began to pick up dust as bullets pounded into the dirt, searching for fresh blood. The south-western front promised to be as much as a quagmire as the southern front, since it could equally be reinforced.

Nonetheless, there were mere changes in the amount of land the rebels controlled. Every hour the rebels were pushed back around ten to twenty meters, and the south-western front became infamous within those same hours to resemble something out of a First World War history book - a living hell.

In some instances [talking about Captain Ryan's charge], Hailandkill's charges were poorly conceived, costing the lives of countless soldiers as rebel gun fire slaughtered infantry in droves, and anti-tank weapons and rocket propelled grenades cut armor and soft skinned vehicles to threads.

The skies were still lit up with fire, through Mons Dei, to the Ruska Provence, and every day passing was evidence of the blood that was being spilt over the Golden Throne. The War of Golden Succession was heating up, although it seemed that it would soon turn from a rebellion, into a war between foreign powers.

Communique to DeMaio Military Installation
We implore you to disengage from the rebels in Mons Dei. The battle for us has been lost, regardless of your success against them. Even if you break through, the surviving parts of the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division will be too weak to fight, and at least now they are holding up vital rebel forces, which will make our subsequent victory in a soon to formulate counter-attack much, much easier.

In the stead, we suggest you move all current units southwards, to hold the advance of the Havenites. While we protect Mosnoi Bor, Hailandkill, along with allied and Mekugian forces, can protect Aurillac. That way we can split Haven's forces in two, and defeat them with relative ease, allowing Imperial soldiers to rush into Haven, and end this war once and for all.

Regardless, the ultimate decision is yours.

[signed]Fedor I

DeMaio Military Base
Cromwell was reading the latest tranmission with great intent. He was conflicted on what to do and was in his office with great anxiety. He was in his office for almost two hours before he came out and gave orders to his aides.

"Lt. Bycer get this out to James R. Wilson at Mons Dei. You tell him to abandon his attack, dig in, and prevent the rebels from getting back to Weigar. When Fedala makes a counter-attack make sure that they make a fuckin' brick wall"

"Yes sir"

Cromwell went to another aide and said
"You will gather all our high ranking officers and NCOs together for a breifing. Its time to go to war"

"Yes Sir"

Battle of Mons Dei
Jimmy Wilson was fighting to the end, when about every vehicle with a working antenna got the order to pull back. Jimmy Wilson was relieved and disapointed at the same time, he felt that he had failed.

On the sixth day, a day in biblical times when god created life, four panzer divisions were pulling back to their original lines, which were heavily entrenched and had most of the divisions artillery. If the rebels wanted back into Weigar, they would meet staunch resistance. The HailandKill units were pulling back, tanks in reverse holding any resistance, and SOVs taking soldiers and wounded alike were moving at flank speed to the original lines.

The battle had gone back and forth and was costly for both sides. Hopefully the Imperials would rout the rebels and get some payback for themselves and the HailandKill soldiers.

DeMaio Military Base
"We will move our forces to this area to split the Havenite attack, and we will have support from Mekugi, IronMaidia, The Macabees, when we attack the Havenites. We will mobilize all our forces, first through sixth armies, and second through fifth panzer divisions. Our panzer divisions will spearhead the movement."

The base was on fire, everything and everyone was getting ready to fight. Combat was on everyones minds, and every soldier wanted experience. The convoy of soldiers would be ridicoulously long, stretching for at least fifty miles. At about 1435, the first units pulled out of the compound. Their would be many more leaving those gates, and the full emptying could take a day, with all the massive amounts of troops leaving to fight.

[OOC: more to come later.]

[Bump, for SaveHaven2, Mekugi and CommunismRevisted-]

Marsa Bruth City Limits, Sarcanza

A sharp shriek cut the air as the mortar round exploded twenty feet to the left of the advancing row of troops. Quickly rushing foward and bursting through the door a heavy line of shots rang out as the Imperial Solder attempting to retreat was cut down by automatic fire.

This represented the nature of Marsa Bruth -- tight urban combat. Unlike even Provhkohra where the buildings were no more then three stories tall Marsa Bruth boasted a heavy urban downtown, and even a highly neglected subway system. In just a short week over twenty-thousand men had poured into the region, with at least three thousand engaged with imperial troops at any given time.

This was the third time Sarcanza troops had reoccupied this area, stuck in a constant tug-of-war with hardened Imperial Troops. Already casualties climbed into the hundreds as everyday more men were commited to the objective. Whilist the Sarcanza fighters had numerical superiority, their advantages ended their. They had worse equipment, less supplies, and certainly inferior commanders.

The battle plan for Marsa Bruth would not be the same as Provkohra, simply because the city did not lend itself to any sort of killzone strategy. Rather the city would be tackled head on from all sides, with twenty-four hour fighting -- men constantly being circulated into the fight, attempting to deny Imperial troops any semblance of rest.

The true victims of war -- civilians -- had long since taken shelter, but there was no doubt casualties would climb well into the thousands. Sarcanza fighters had little concern for this. In their eyes, death for freedom was preferable to life under Imperial rule, and they certainly weren't about to stop the war to let the civilians leave.

The armies of Sarcanza picked at Marsa Bruth from all sides, wolves trying to find the weak point in the city's defences...

The Battle of Mons Dei
A huge cheer rippled through the rebel lines as they witnessed Hailandkill withdraw from their offensive into the rear of the Weigarian divisions. Mons Dei could now officially be applied as a victory for Weigar, although the capital of Weigar itself was still in Imperial hands, and furthermore, the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division was, unfortunately, still stranded within the encirclement, and every day growing wearier. However, with Hailandkill's pressure Fedala had bought enough time to formulate an active defense of the capital, and all of a sudden Heinrich saw his future incredibly bleak.

His forces had been reduced from the original sixty thousand infantry and around three thousand tanks to around forty-five thousand infantry and some two thousand tanks. He had lost eight thousand dead, and the rest wounded, and most of the armor lost had been completely knocked out. Consequently, Fedala, with most of her military within the Empire despite recent actions in Noddestan, could field a force perhaps ten times as large. Indeed, the situation was bleak.

He continued to center his forced into the full destruction of the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division, which was tying up resources, but his probes into their defenses had proved futile. Although hungry, these men were the most elite in the Imperial army, and they were showing their skills off. The fighting had been extremely heavy near the fringes of the kessel, and already dozens had died in their offensives and their defensive operations. Nonetheless, the Imperial division was weakening, and every passing day gave more testimony to that.

Regardless, soon Fedala would be ready for its epic counter-attack.

[Glorified bump for SafeHaven.]

It took a second for anyone to realize they had been targeted by Macabean SAM’s, most people thought the SAM network to be down by now and those people received a rude awakening. The SAM’s, while surprising, weren’t unexpected by the planners and things went into action to counter them.

The fighters that had been swarming around high above Ruska without a thing to do ,since the Macabean air force seemed to be sitting this one out, came down to protect the bombers. Dozens of missiles shot out to try to thin out the wave of SAMs rising up. The medium range missiles tore into the wave of SAM’s taking out more than half but half was more than enough to take out the bombers. Another wave of missiles went out, and a staggered line of flashes and explosions marked were the SAM’s and the missiles met. Now a heavy wave of jamming was put up along with other countermeasures and the bombers went on full stealth. Some AWAC’s birds tried to “dry” the missiles electronics by concentrating all their energy on them and overloading them but in the end dozens of SAMs still bored in hard on the bombers. It was up to the bombers and their pilots now, still on full stealth the bombes began maneuvering independently throwing out countermeasures and trying to stay alive. It started looking good, the first SAM’s to make to the bombers were “juked” out by the pilots, thru luck and skill combined, and exploded harmlessly in the air but then the first planes started going down. The first bomber was taken by two missiles almost simultaneously completely shredding its right wing and sending it spiraling down till it exploded on a hillside below, its armaments and fuel magnifieng the explosion multiple times over and starting a scorching fire. In the end twenty five EB-9’s were shot down with many others suffering damage.

The survivors took it out on the Golden Throne, beginning to launch their missiles at their targeted airfields. They continued forward to finish off the airfields completely with bombs. While the bombs were free fall dumb boms the bombers still had to be a bit closer before they could drop them but that would only be a few minutes before the air fields across Ruska started receiving hell on top of the battering they’d be taking from the short range heavy missiles just launched.

Below them Rain fighter bombers moved out to destroy the Praetorian batteries that had just exposed themselves to the world before they could reload. They were to now ignore the AA batteries for the most part, only engaging the heavier guns that could threaten targets not flying so low to the ground.



A distant whine, a sound they all knew but couldn’t describe was heard even thru the din of their guns and the heavy armor of the KAG. Jaime knew what that sound meant, and he feared it. And he wasn’t alone, most of the crew looked at him, twisting around in the crowded confines of the vehicle to show him the fear they to felt. Before the first shell could strike someone yelled out, “Incoming!” it was completely useless, they were stuck inside the KAG which could either become their savior or a coffin. The first shells missed them but they could hear hundreds of tiny pieces of shrapnel patter and cling of the hard metal hide of their KAG. Jaime took a half second to thank God for sparing him before reaching over to grab the radio. His voice was drowned out by the noise of the gun barking back defiance but the driver already had the KAG moving back to the secondary positions with the rest of the unit before the commander could repeat his orders. Once there they opened up on the Macabean guns that had been firing on them.

Hundreds of guns joined them turning on their Macabean counterparts. The Havenite army always was an artillery heavy army, even with the hundreds of guns firing there still were tens of hundreds who hadn’t made a sound yet. The ones currently dueling with the Golden Throne had a huge advantage though. Not only were they in prepared, hull down positions with other positions to fall back to they were all completely armored unlike the Macabean truck mounted guns. The KAG’s would need a direct hit to be destroyed while the Macabean guns and their crews were completely exposed, a near hit might not destroy the gun itself but it would wreck havoc among the crews and destroy the trucks they were mounted on.

So while the Havenite guns took casualties, many more than anyone would like to admit they plotted the complete destruction of their enemies. Hundreds of guns and rocket artillery systems started replying to the Macabean guns using simple trig, plus radars designed for just this, counter battery fire, and some good old fashioned reconasance from the air force over the border. Instead of HE rounds they chose to fire cluster munitions, flechette rounds and mines specifically hoping to take advantage of the lack of armor on the trucks and how exposed the crews were.


The Guard itself and the southern pincer towards Aurillac continued their advances which so far were unopposed. They both had their recon screens out in full force looking ahead for any Macabean formations to show their faces but no real resistance was expected for at least a day as it would take some time to organize such an effort. They pushed on hard hoping to make fifty to sixty miles before the day was out, before the rockets started coming in. The rockets played hell with the forward formations tearing into them and turning dozens of vehicles into simple funeral pyres. It was all so sudden, over before you could even realize it had begun but the damage was there. The Advances faltered but they continued, mainly because of the fact most people couldn’t see outside their vehicles to see what had happened around them. The war wasn’t even a day old, not one single battle had been fought nor had the enemy even been seen but casualties were already ranging in the thousands.





The fleet could just barely detect the Macabean aircraft over Targul Frumos but it didn’t matter as their was no way to stop them from launching. The six hundred missiles immediately registered on every radar screen in the fleet, the war at sea was starting early. The fleets ADV’s, ironically enough co-engineered by both the Macabeans and Safehaven2, along with the destroyers were the first to engage the missiles. A wave of SAM’s over a thousand strong struck head on with the incoming ASM’s. The SAM’s thinned out the missiles before a second wave crashed in further reducing the numbers to less than three hundred. But then the unexpected happened, a little over a hundred of the missiles dived into the sea on their own as if they had a glitch but everyone knew what that meant.

A final wave of SAM touched off completely enshrouding the ships below with fire and smoke. This wave was much smaller than the previous three but it still did its toll of damage wiping out many of the remaining missiles before they crashed in. Only a few miles away it turned into a brawl, individual ships fighting for survival. Short range SAMs were fired off before tracers from CIWS systems had to start filling the sky searching for incoming missiles.

To make things worse the Principe missiles were now making themselves known, the torpedoes they disgourged closing in fast. The picket ships began firing off their ASW mortors and rockets in front of the torpedoes, any torpedoes would have to make it thru that wall of explosions to get to the ships but not many could. The torpedoes that got thru were first engaged with a small wave of anti torpedo torpedoes. The wave wasn’t as big as it should have been but the crews were torn between the torpedoes and the missiles. Still some torpedoes came on. It was almost futuristic what happened next if you could see it under the water, out of the hulls of the ships from little bulges came guns, ASHUM turrets. Like underwater CIWS systems they began engaging the torpedoes to a great effect taking out nearly all of the remaining torpedoes but taking out the torpedoes wasn’t always a great thing.

When the ASHUM guns blew up a torpedo to close to the ship the results were almost worse than a direct hit, the pressure collapsing the hull and destroying the ship from below without a big explosion or something to give it away. Ships simply went under with no warning. Between the missiles and the torpedoes eight ships went under or were going under leaving behind a sea full of wreckage and a thick layer of oil.

The fleet headed north passing the dead and dying ships at thirty knots as they headed to the Macabean coast. Up ahead dozens of subs kept watch, forming a picket line in case the Golden Throne felt like pulling anything else. Behind the fleet small gunboats cut back and forth looking for survivors, but they didn’t find enough, hundreds had died but thousands would die when the fleet got into position.

From the decks of the carriers small groups of fighter bombers escorted by naval fighters took off. Breaking up into squadron sized formations they went out to patrol the seas out west, away from the coast. There they hunted, any ships heading to the Macabeans from the south or south west wasn’t going to be getting any were fast. The fighter bombers had clear orders to sink anything heading to the Macabeans regardless of what it carried, military ship, merchant ship, even ocean liners were all targeted. While this wasn’t the fleets main mission it was a fun bonus, and hopefully it would catch the Golden Thrones attention.



On the coast the radar stations were prepared for the missiles when they started coming in, although they weren’t expecting them from that angle. The response was immediate and effective, a large wave of SAMs rising up from Havens northern provinces to engage the missiles out over the sea. The explosions resonated across the beautiful sea that attracted thousands of vacationers. The remaining Macabean missiles were engaged by more SAM’s before they had a chance to reach the coast but by then most had been destroyed. The surviving missiles broke up targeting different radar stations, fighting their way thru last ditch SAM launches and close in defense systems. Thru all of it multiple stationary radar stations had been taken out leaving holes in the radar net which would have to be by inferior mobile sets and AWAC’s birds till new ones could be brought online.

[OOC: Time to get back in this. SafeHaven, where exactly are your naval units?]

On a side note: I didnt exactly specify where I was going in my last "deployment" post, but I hope you might be willing to accept I was going to Aurillac, as specified by Maccabee high command. If not, I will edit the post above.]


Almost all of HailandKill forces were defending Aurillac, to prepare against Havenite invasion of The Golden Throne. They were entrenched around the city, with second through fifth panzer divisions mixed in with the regular infantry. The panzer divisions KriGud artillery units were in the city, protected by air attacks by mobile SAM units. The KriGuds were being used as artillery, to protect the regular forces, and hopefully knock down the invaders numbers. With most of the tanks, and soldiers entrenched, taking the city would be problematic. On the first line, where the HK regulars were entrenched, about every six foxholes, there was an M-60 or M-263 SAW machine gun set up. Behind the HKR's, the panzer divisions were set-up, with the tanks dug in, so the turret was the only visible part of the tank.

[/B]Mons Dei[/B]
With the fresh, and old units, back to the original line, and well rested from their last attack, they were prepared for any rebel attack. The first and second panzer divisions took heavy losses, but also inflicted them. They were currently waiting for an attack, but glad they weren't joining the hellish fighting against SafeHaven yet.

[/B]White House, DeMaio City, HailandKill[/B]
The president was currently in the middle of the war briefing, in the "war room", a two-billion dollar project that had up-to-date information, and live satellite feed. The display lay in front of him, showing the current battle between TGT and SH. The battle grid switched to the naval battle, which was showing the massive amounts of SH warships.

"Mr. President, they are currently engaging with The Golden Throne, and we feel that if the allied forces lose this, that the Havenites will have perfect naval ability to shell allied forces. We have four carrier groups that can openly engage them and aide the current Maccabee air attack."

"Excellent, what will you need from me?"

"A declaration of war."

The room was somber. The only other nation to recieve a declaration of war from the nation of HailandKill, was Jenrak. HailandKill ad fought other small wars, but none of them as large scale as this one. The atmosphere of a real war was in the air, and all the generals and STRATCOM wanted to prove their mettle.

"I will be on the air in twenty minutes." The president replied "In those twenty minutes, have Cromwell give the order to the Admiral to launch an air attack."

"Yes sir"

[/B]DeMaio Military Installation, The Golden Throne[/B]
General Cromwell had just talked to the NSA, on the heavily encrypted line to the Mainland. He was still somewhat shocked, as he was anticipating this order, but half heartedly did not want to face a larger, more experienced army.

"[I]Shit" He thought "Well, its officially time to go to war, and I hope I can leave a mark in HailandKill history, as the general who helped defeat the Havenites in the defense of our most trusted ally.

He left his thoughts, and dreams to get into contact with the Admiral. He summoned his aide and said, "Get me the line to fleet command"

"Yes sir."

Within four minutes, he had got in contact with the fleet and ordered the air attack on SafeHaven's naval forces.

[/B]HKS Zealous[/B]
On the first carrier's superdreadnought, where the admiral had commanded his mighty fleets before, he was preparing the attack on SafeHaven's naval units.
He had an aura, that many of the junior officers respected, and he was a naval man for most of his life.

"Tom, get the order to prepare an attack" He barked at his XO "I want all our SAM and VLT batteries operating at one-hundred percent, with all batteries and operating systems at full alert. I want a four wave attack, with 150 planes in each attack. All our Fighters will fly high altitude protection, and our bombers will load with principe IIIs, for Air-to-Sea fighting. Also, move our Seawolf submarines in front of the carrier group to form a picket line.

"Aye Sir"

The order had gone out to every carrier, and SD, that could launch planes, and within twenty-five minutes aircraft was being loaded onto flight decks, and catapults. The first wave began to launch, with the fighters gaining quick altitude, while the bombers were flying above each other, to disguise their numbers. They were flying towards the Havenite forces, and most pilots, veteran of the Jenraki-Foxsteni war were praying that with the recent battle between the Maccabees, and SafeHaven, that the Havenite forces would be caught off guard.

------

While jet engines were roaring, the president was being fixed up for his speech. Last minute adjustments were being made to his hair, and outfit. Every channel would have this speech, and it all had to be perfect.

"Am I ready?" The president asked

"Yes sir" Replied his NSA

The president had risen from his chair, and looked at himself in the mirror. He still had a youthful apearance despite his growing age. He looked crisp, and when he approved of his appearance, he strode out to the podium. He organized his speech, looked at the cameras and took a deep breath. He saw the camera man make a three, then a two, then a one, with his fingers and then he saw the read light go on. He took a breath and began.

"Citizens of HailandKill, in recent weeks there has been alot of tension between many nations. Most of this tension has started because of a nation called AutoMagFreeks imperialist agression. Many nations have rallied behind his banner, and nations have rallied against his banner. We have rallied against their flag, and have shown support to Praetonia and her allies. Our allies have supported Praetonia, especially our most close ally, The Golden Throne of The Maccabees. A nation called SafeHaven has declared support for AMF and her allies, and in response to our ally declaring support for the OMP coalition, they have decided to invade. With many of our forces in the recent area, it is our duty to come to the aide of our ally. With the current Macabee civil war coming to a close, with the defeat of the rebels, it is time to shift our forces engagement to the SafeHaven invasion. Now, today, as I speak, pilots, and sailors are preparing to engage the imperialist bastards! I come to you to support my decision, our allies, and the eventual defeat of tyranny!

The speech room, which could hold one-thousand people, was in uproar. Many of the reporters and important people were chattering, or cheering. The president always knew how to stir a crowd. He let the importance of his words settle in before continuing.

I ask that you support our nation, and our allies, by joining up for our armed forces, and join the fight. It is important, that in the darkest hours of time we do not falter. As of now, a state of war exists between HailandKill and SafeHaven.

The president stepped off the podium to a cheering crowd. He was somewhat sweaty but he smiled. He knew they supported him. The official show of support came when the numbers of men who enlisted in to the army and navy came in.

[OOC: Thats all for now, but before anyone posts back, I would like to edit this, and put my actual attack on the Havenite sea forces.]

Ruska Provence
The air war was heating up and it seemed as the Havenite forces were on the verge of cracking the aerial defenses of the area. Although the Empire always relied on its over the horizon RADAR systems throughout the Empire it was true enough that the net to the south had been more or less completely destroyed by the opening rounds launched by Haven. It was to say, the Empire was at a disadvantage, and they would need to put all their pressure in order to reverse that disadvantage; or in other words, they would have to work to regain the iniative, which was vital for the victory in any war.

The anti-air artillery guns continued to pound the skies with their enCAPsulated MetalStorm canisters, hitting anything within thirty thousand feet of altitude. The horizon was still lit up as over six thousand anti-air artillery guns made Haven blood flow down to Earth, filling the dark skies with the thick black smoke of explosions. Since the bombers were pretty much out of range the anti-air artillery guns focused on the incoming fighter and ground attack aircraft, as well the missiles inbound to Macabee targets.

Consequently, when those first missiles started coming in close, some of the guns turned immediately, swiveling the rather light guns towards the inbound threat. The skies lit up once more, and they soon filled the the dark silver of swarms of tungsten balls being thrown in all directions. The missiles were taken out in droves, however, most of them were able to hit airfields within the Ruska provence, causing about thirty percent of all military airfields in the area to be non-operational, and directly destroying some four fighter squadrons, while making sure that at least a hundred could not be put into action until those airstrips were repaired, which would take at least two days.

Nonetheless, the border battles were to revolve around aerial defenses, not aerial warfare. The Luftwaffe had no need to put its aircraft on the line when ground defenses could do the job more or less perfectly. It was to say, Havenite fighters were within the arch of anti-air artillery, even if the bombers weren't, but when they ran out of fighters their bombers would become mince meat. If need, anyhow, the Empire could scramble over ten thousand Lu-05s from all over the Empire, ready to hit the Havenite forces, but of course, that was both an exxageration of force, and a folly when concerning logistical requirements - it was to say, such a large counter attack was impossible.

On the ground the artillery duels continued, however, the art of the Corbulo was that it could fire three rounds in thirty seconds, and then change positions, making it nigh impossible for an enemy to put it out of action. As more and more reinforcements arrived to strengthen the frontlines the number of Corbulos raised to just about three thousand guns, pounding KAG positions with as much as possible. The rocket propelled rounds moved fast, at over Mach 7, arching high and then falling right on top of Havenite positions, constantly keeping track of the slower moving self-propelled howitzers in the Havenite army. Although the Corbulos had a chance of having a disadvantage in terms of armor, they had the advantage within the fact that they were a long range field artillery gun, which moved faster, and fired faster than the Havenit self-propelled howitzers, which historically have always had small ranges. It was to say, the Corbulos, at any time, would be able to withdraw, place themselves out of range, and harass the KAGs in that fashion. However, they didn't want to do that - they wanted to take as much attention as possible.

While the Corbulos were pounding back at the Havenite forces, losing upwards of at least thirty guns in the opening rounds, the Panzerwerfers, who had been firing at the Havenite infantry before, was in range to pelt the KAG batteries with high intensity anti-armor missile rounds. Artillery commander Colonel Heinrich Verst took the radio as a muffled message came through,"Havenite forces advancing on Aurillac, we suggest you get a move on."

He was quick to retort,"Only after we give them hell!" A muffled laugh came back over and Verst smiled. Changing radio sets to the inter-unit radio comms he said,"Load up, and prepare to fire within five minutes"

After a series of last minute changes, including the changing from high explosive to anti-tank bomblet rockets, the Panzerwerfers changed positions to avoid reconaissance pinpointing them for the enemy KAGs to just smash them, and then turned towards their enemies. Within twelve seconds each Panzerwerfer fired eight 155mm rockets each towards the enemy KAG positions. There was at least one hundred and twenty-five Panzerwerfers, making a total of somewhere near a thousand rockets. The grasslands behind them were covered with a drenching fire , strong and thick, marking death all over. Indeed, what was once beautiful had turned into a hell on Earth.

The rockets would disintigrate over the head of the KAGs, showering them with medium sized anti-tank bomblets, much like what they used to shatter Corbulos batteries into submission, which seemed to work, as over one hundred souls lost their lives, and over thirty guns were lost. So, the Empire's rocket artillery launchers would try something along the same lines.

Mosnoi Bor was left with relatively little defenses, because although there were three Panzergrenadier Divisions protecting the city, along with a single Panzer division, these divisions were also stretched to defend Atbarah. Consequently, there was only really a single panzergrenadier division defending Mosnoi Bor, as well as the armored division and by now the whole artillery division. It would take at least another four days before another two panzergrenadier divisions and two panzerkorp could make their way south to reinforce Mosnoi Bor. So, for the time being, that would be the weakest area along the front.

On the other hand, with five panzergrenadier divisions and three panzer divisions spread out south of that, for the sole purpose of defending Aurillac, Aurillac was by far the most defended area of the front. Consequently, commanded personally by the Chief of General Staff Durgstaden von Laifsraggen, now running for position as security council within the IADF, it was decided that it was high time to regain the iniative in the war. The second day of the Havenite offensive, the day after the rocket barrage, saw the opening of some one hundred Corbulo self-propelled artillery guns opening a thirty minute barrage against Havenite forces, following standard procedures by firing three rounds in thirty seconds, and then changing positions, all starting at the crack of dawn. The black skies streaked with the glow of the artillery rounds moving through the sky, and then the bulbs of fire emerging in the horizon, engulfing what they hit. The deep rumbles of battery and counter-battery fire could be heard even in Fedala, as Emperor Fedor I prepared to get married to the love of his life, Sophie, who nowhere to be found [side story: The Swans Touch (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=443082); not really important for A Passion Play - if it is, I'll copy/paste it here.].

Following the intensive bombardment the 12th Panzer Division moved out, heading southwards, along with the 6th Panzergrenadier Division, forming a defensive line just under the axis of Mosnoi Bor, so that a straight line could be formed. This was reinforced quickly by the 7th, 8th, 9th and 10th Panzergrenadier Divisions, and the 11th and 10th armored divisions. It was designed so that the Havenite forces would hit a brick wall after about another forty kilometers of advance, and then they would have to break through actual defenses. As a consequence, the Battle for Aurillac was set to begin for the third day, changing the rythim of the war from just a matter of border battles ranging from low scale troop movements, to battery fire, to full fledge battles for the most important cities in the Ruska Provence.




As for naval actions, Targul Frumos had already released twenty Cartagenas and ten Tenerifes for actions around Noddestan, as well as battle group November, leaving a reduced submergible force in Targul Frumos, and only battle group Romeo. Regardless, if needed, the Empire could rely on Battle Group Juliet stationed at Corzar, to the north. For now, Targul Frumos ordered the release of twenty Cartagenas and thirty Tenerifes from the port city, allowing them unrestricted submarine warfare in the area. The Cartagenas would be used to harass Havenite warship movements, while the Tenerifes would put an end to all Havenite merchant trade coming to his coastline, using their forty-three knot and over velocities to outrun anything Haven had.

As usual they were let go from the submerged pens, waiting for the huge reinforced titanium doors to open through extremely heavy hydraulics. From there, at around three knots, the submarines made their way south, to prepare to wreak havoc.

[OOC: Ok here is the continuation of my last post.]

Waters off of Targul Frumos

The first wave was airborne. One hundred and fifty planes were streaking towards their new enemy, and most of the first waves pilots were the most experienced of the navy. The first wave was comprised of FB-22 bombers armed with Principe III anti-shipping missiles, and F-22 fighters, mostly armed with AAM's. The bombers were flying low, and in a stacked formation, so their numbers would seem lower than they really were. The bombers also had their active radar turned off to avoid detection. The fighters, however where flying high altitude, and spread, so the enemy might think this was the real attack.

A voice cackled over the radio.
"This is Johnson, all fighters closing to the target, commence your bombing run. Over"

At that command the bombers activated their active radars. Also, they began to pick targets among the ships, and have their missile guidance systems lock in. They began to close to the firing range, and many of the pilots counted down until firing, almost like a macabre space shuttle launch.

5-4-3-2-1.....Many of the Principe IIIs dropped from the hard points, with the engine activating almost a second later. The streaks from the missiles had severly lowered visibility, and hopefully would provide a smokescreen. With many of the missiles away, many of the pilots pulled high speed banks to their respective carriers. Many of the pilots would not see if their missiles hit. Two-hundred and twelve missiles were fired. The rest either jammed or did not ignite properly.

HKS Zealous
The admiral was watching his radar screen. He saw the missiles, and the banking bombers. Although they were not very far away, a counter-attack was expected. After studying his radar he yelled

"Launch wave two!"

"Aye sir" said his XO

-----

The planes from the second attack were taking off, and many of them formed up similarly to the first wave. The fighters from the first wave were ordered to fly protection, and more bombers were launched in the second wave. The bombers came in low, and they began to launch about three-hundred feet later than the first wave. The missiles were away, with their programmed targets ahead of them. The missile trails were even more blinding, and the result of the thick smoke was a few crashes amongst the FB-22's. The second wave was also escaping, with remnants of the first wave mixed in with them.

-----
The admiral watched the second, and first waves join up with each other. He was dissapointed, as a large group could be destroyed easilly by alot of SAMs.

"Begin missile launch!" He yelled at his XO

"Sir?" the exasperated XO responded "The smoke trails could blind the aircraft coming in!"

"I am aware of that, but you will still follow my orders. Begin VLT launch, with anti-SAM, SAMs fired at the counter-attack"

"Aye sir"

The missile batteries opened up on the destroyers, cruisers and battleships. With the VLT tubes active many missiles were being fired. The VLT batteries launched SLedgehammer missiles, and Principe IIIs, in such large amounts that the day seemed to turn to night. The smoke trails could be seen from the shore, and then the SAM batteries opened up. The SAMs were programmed at any enemy missiles fired in retaliation, and the men firing them prayed that they would not cause friendly fire.

With the large amounts of missiles fired from both air, and sea, the war officially began.

The EB-9’s had completed half of their mission and now they moved on to finish it off. With the Macabeans not sending up fighters to stop them and with no more SAM fire coming up the EB-9’s proceeded unhindered to the airfields. A single EB-9 was enough for an airfield. Flying high the bomb bay doors opened up and dozens of bombs fell lose, not the dumb bombs of WWII but guided munitions, cluster munitions, HE all forms. Many of the bombs burst before they hit the ground spraying hundreds of smaller ONC munitions all around which would tear apart aircraft, vehicles and men. Other bombs let loose deep penetration munitions which dove into the runways digging their way in before exploding leaving deep, ugly craters behind. And then some bombs continued on their way down crashing head on into the heavy armored and many times underground hangers. The heavy BetHB-666 bombs were guaranteed by their designers to be able to pierce 12 meters of concrete, designers, which ironically were allied to the Golden Throne. Each EB-9 carried sixty thousand pounds of munitions, sixty thousand pounds of death to be delivered upon the airfields below to shut them down permanently.

And with that the big bombers turned around and headed home but the air war continued hot as ever. The smaller swifter Rain and Valkyrie’s remained over Ruska. New formations of Rain fighter bombers and Valkyrie fighters were being switched in and with them came a new tactic. The fighters remained high, above the effective range of but the heaviest AA guns below. Below them the Rain hugged the ground as they made their way around, in doing so they would only be giving any AA gun a few seconds to target them and shoot before they were out of their line of site. Along the way they radioed in the locations of any AA gun they located and immediately a few dozen shells would pour in to shut them up permanently. Four and fifty of the KAG’s that had been silent were assigned to help the air force take care of the AA threat and they sat by their radio’s waiting for a pilot to call for them.

The AA guns were a problem but they couldn’t and wouldn’t win the air war for they were just that, a problem, and nothing more, and the new formations of Rain had more important things to do, sixteen squadrons of twelve crossed over taking the place of their much depleted brethren who now had a chance to go home. The Rain formations were split evenly down the middle, eight squadrons and eight squadrons when it came to their jobs. The first eight squadrons, half up north and half supporting the Aurrillac drive skimmed the ground as they hunted Macabean artillery emplacements. They hunted in pairs going about to areas were Macabean artillery guns were known to be, the guns could pack up and run from counter battery fire but they couldn’t do anything if a Rain saw them driving away. The KAG’s were helping the air force with the AA guns and in return the air force was going to see to it that the artillerymen back home had an easier job of it then what they had now.

The other eight squadrons had a different but similar mission. They flew deeper into Ruska, going behind the defense lines now being set up by the Golden Throne. They took broke up into smaller groups and started hunting, they searched and hunted for any Macabean vehicles streaming south to bolster the defense lines now being set up. In doing so some Rain almost went as far as the Ruska border looking for formations to bust up, supply convoys or reinforcements. They were each given extra 20mm HYVELOC for the job, the rounds would work wonders shooting up lightly armored supply trucks or APC’s on the road.

The Golden Throne couldn’t be allowed to continually reinforce their defenses, not if Haven wanted to get anywhere in this war. It was up to the air force to keep those reinforcements and supplies tied up, to slow them down while the army advanced. While it sounded like a major task to try and accomplish the air force had some help in that regard. The EMP missiles had done their jobs well striking dozens of major cities and towns in Ruska, and in doing so they accomplished more than just shutting off the electricity. In those cities and towns the streets would be filled with cars which had shut down when the EMP blasts took out their batteries, basically a massive road jam in every city hit. Any Macabean force trying to go south to the defense lines in front of Aurrillac or Mosnoi Bor, both of which themselves were hit, would have to maneuver thru these cities. Supplies coming to the army would have to get thru there. Furthermore the Golden Throne was going to have to find a way to supply its people, the electricity would have shut off the refrigerators spoiling the food. Electric stoves wouldn’t work to cook canned goods. Subways and elevators would be stopped trapping hundreds, flashlights and other battery operated items wouldn’t work, the people of Ruska were being thrown back into the Dark Ages. If there wasn’t a war going on something like this would be considered a disaster but this event was being overshadowed by the massive war that was its cause. Those people would need help, they had to eat, they had to drink and many would need rescued from odd situations or need medical help from car accidents and the like caused by the sudden loss of control. The Golden Throne would have to find a way to get reinforcements and supplies moving to its army thru each one of the cities and major towns that were hit along the road south, but at the same time they’d need to help their people, unless they chose to abandon them.



The artillery duels were getting deadlier and deadlier. The KAG’s were taking more and more losses but so far it looked like they were giving about as good as they got. Both sides had their advantages and disadvantages, the KAG having a slower rate of fire because of their bigger gun, the Corbulo’s lacking the armor of the KAG. In the end it evened out to a slugfest, both sides firing a few shots before getting out of the area. The KAG’s still felt they held the trump card, the fact that they had to be actually hit to be taken out while the Corbulo’s just had to be in the area and it wasn’t that easy hitting a target that moved after every few shots. With superior numbers and air support it was hoped by the artillery commanders that they would be able to finally wipe out the Corbulo’s and move on to other more pressing targets when those other targets struck first.

The Panzerwerfers’ rockets streaked in before bursting open above without giving any warning. Thousands of bomblets lanced into different KAG positions wrecking complete havoc among them. Even the heavy armor of their tank chassis couldn’t stop many of the bomblets from piercing thru and turning the insides into infernos. A little less than two hundred KAG’s fell, a huge number to just one strike. KAG losses were already above what they should have been and now the number just jumped.

The Panzerwerfers were destined to be destroyed, but even if everyone of the 125 rocket launchers was taken out it wouldn’t be a fair trade for the KAG’s in the eyes of Haven but it was as close to fair as could be got at the moment. BY moving close enough to hit the KAG batteries the Panzerwerfers had put themselves well within the range of the KAM-9 Flail auto mortars accompanying the army on its advance. A little over sixty of the auto mortars turned their vehicles so that their four barreled 120mm heavy mortars beared on the Panzerwerfers. Just seconds after the bomblets started striking the KAG’s the Flail’s opened up dishing out hundreds upon hundreds of 120mm shells at the Panzerwerfers. Behind the KAM-9’s, KAR-45 rocket artillery systems, long since forgotten by the Golden Throne in their focus on the KAG’s, joined in. A hundred of them joined the auto mortars, each firing off twelve massive 250mm rockets. The rockets were cluster munitions, just like the ones just used to kill the KAG’s, but they weren’t fired directly at the Panzerwerfers. Instead the were fired in a semi circle around were the Panzerwerfers fired from, the hope was to catch the Panzerwerfers as they pulled out away from the auto mortar fire, catch them and kill them the same way they had just dished out death.

All that still wouldn’t guarantee the deaths of the Panzerwerfers but that wasn’t all they’d get. Four Rain which had been on an artillery hunting mission nearby were called in. They made good time hugging the ground on the way to where the Panzerwerfers fired from. One went down in a ball of flame from AA fire but the other three continued on their way. Whatever Panzerwerfers survived the auto mortars and the rockets would have to deal with the three Rain. Even if the Panzerwerfers were fleeing the area they wouldn’t be able to hide from the Rain searching for them above and any Panzerwerfers that were still kicking when the three Rain ran out of munitions would be targeted by more auto mortar fire called in by the Rain before they left.

That was how the rest of the day went, until the sun fell, the guns continued pounding each other while the Rain fighter bombers went about hunting only stopping to rest at the days end. It had been a day of artillery, guns and pilots and missiles but oddly enough it was the infantryman who had done nothing up to this point who suffered the worst from it all. They watched night take over hoping the next day would be different, hoping it would bring a chance for them to actually fight back instead of having to endure punishment from unseen opponents.

The Golden Throne didn’t share their hope and the morning opened up with a sudden sharp bombardment. (OOC: I’m assuming this is against the men marching on Aurillac and not the Guard.) The first thirty seconds sent men reeling, three hundred shells striking in quick unison. Dozens went down in the first barrage but these men had been under worse fire before, veterans from the African colonies they had been thru their fair share of shelling and had more than paid their dues. Men scrambled to their vehicles and away from their positions to get away before the next set of three hundred fell in. The advance started a few minutes early, hurried by the bombardment as the men tried to get out of the path of the shells.

Behind them three hundred KAG’s opened up on the Macabean guns, tracking their shells with radar to find where they originated from. They fired a few rounds then got a move on before firing again. After yesterday they weren’t expecting to do a lot of damage to the Corbulo’s and so the majority of the KAG’s either remained silent or were assigned other duties like destroying AA emplacements. In return the air force was doing its part.

Rain following the tactics set the day before had already moved out across the border when the sun first came up. Every two hours a new wave of Rain went in, always the same numbers on the same mission. Valkyrie fighters and F-121 interceptors waited above Havenite controlled territory deep in Ruska in case today the Golden Throne sent its fighters out. A few pairs of Rain were radioed in to hunt the Corbulo’s firing away at the advancing Havenite army while the rest went about on t heir own looking for targets, and radioing in targets for the KAG’s whenever an AA gun was sighted.

While all that was going on and keeping every ones attention, fourteen EB-9’s took off from airfields near the border. Ten shot north towards Mosnoi Bor while the other four headed to Aurillac flying high again to avoid AA fire. Each wave of the big birds was protected by three squadrons of fighters. In front of each wave of big EB-9’s was two squadrons of Rain specifically assigned to them with the simple job of busting up any air defenses that might pose a threat to the bombers along the way.

The eight bombers heading to Mosnoi Bor and the four striking Aurillac had the simple job of dropping sixty thousand pounds of munitions each on the forces of the Golden Throne arrayed in front of each of the cities. A mixture of munitions was placed inside their bays for use, from FAE bombs to RBK-1500B’s which would release dozens of ONC bomblets in an area a few hundred square meters big. Then there were advanced versions of the old American Smart Pig which would burst open and unleash twenty smaller sub-munitions, each of which would pick out a vehicles below and shoot it at high speeds with heavy guidance. The bombing wouldn’t come anywhere close to breaking the defenses, but Haven had control of the air for now and no one knew how long that would last so they had to make the most of it. And so the day started off looking very much like the one before, a war of planes and artillerymen were the infantryman received the punishment.





Out to see things were much the same, the war sticking to one of the air. The CAP was just switching, as many of the fighters running the old CAP were running Winchester after engaging the Macabean attack, when the first signs of the H&K attack were detected. Yells echoed in dozens of ships and in AWAC’s birds flying over the fleet as well over a hundred targets registered on their screens flying out of Targul Frumos. The sixty Valkyrie’s that were moving out to take up the CAP turned up their engines and shot north on afterburner trying to bring the H&K aircraft within range of their missiles before they could launch. Behind them sixty F-121 interceptors began leaping off the decks of the carriers and following the Valkyrie’s north to defend the fleet at mach 3 plus. It was hopeless, just as the range closed to 150 miles which was well within the 200 plus mile range of their long range missiles the H&K aircraft let loose their missiles. The H&K launch was followed just seconds later by a return salvo as the sixty Valkyrie received orders to fire. The wave of missiles was staggered as some fighters launched before other but in the end a total of four hundred and twenty AIM-123 Divinebolt missiles leapt forward to strike back at the H&K aircraft. Instead of diving in and trying to shorten the range so they could fire off their medium rang missiles they sat and waited for the F-121’s to meet up with them. It tore at them to just sit there and watch as the H&K aircraft sat just out of range while their missiles were now heading straight for the fleet.

Back at the fleet things went into action quickly. The missiles could clearly be seen on the screens, it wasn’t a large amount but it was enough to be dangerous. The forward ships began picking out targets and started firing off their SAM’s. Six hundred SAMs rippled off the ships created a fog bank of sorts which actually hid some of the smaller ships. That one wave of SAMs was all they were able to get in before the surviving missiles took their dive into the ocean. The fleet was heading north at full speed and so the closing speed of the torpedoes was amazing. The ASROC launchers on the forward destroyers swiveled northwards and unloaded their cargo sending dozen of what were basically underwater SAM’s fighting an underwater version of what had just happened in the air. The only difference was that you couldn’t really see the results, most of the time at least. A few plumes of water shot up like geysers marking were torpedoes had hit torpedoes near the surface. But it was never enough and a few kept coming. Now the forward destroyers turned to an angle so that their ASHUM turrets could come to bear and they started chewing up the remaining torpedoes. The defenses worked amazingly, turning a wave of two hundred plus missiles/torpedoes and grinding it into near nothingness but the fleet didn’t get off the hook without harm. Two torpedoes struck the HNS Warren, the first was a glancing blow all the way to the aft of the ship. She kept on going and would have survived, her mass enough to take the hit of one of the smaller torpedoes when the second one took her dead on below the foreward turret. It sliced thru the armors, the explosion force and momentum cut thru all the thick bulkheads and made it to the ammunition hold for the foreward turrets, touching them off. What happened would have made a movie director proud as a massive explosion tore upwards literally picking up the ship and cutting it in half before slamming it into the ocean below. The Warren wasn’t alone, but things could have been much worse.

When the next wave of H&K aircraft came forward they were met by a wave of Divinebolt missiles, four hundred and twenty strong. The combined force of Valkyrie’s and F-121’s followed the Divinebolt missiles hoping to get within eighty miles so they could engage the H&K air craft with their medium range missiles. The fleet behind them continued advancing all the while watching to see how many of the H&K bombers got off their missiles, to see how bad things would be next time. All he while the screen of submarines continued way ahead of the fleet, if any Macabean of H&K subs wanted to get out of Targul Frumos they would have to take a wide detour west along the coast before going south if they didn’t want to run into the screen.


(OOC: I'm gonna post a summary of all losses I've taken so far in the OOC thread sometime soon before the next post.)

[SH: This is to continue the other part of the story, the rebellion. My response to your latest post will come next.]

[The Battle of Mons Dei [7th Day]]
Soldat Bertrand Keitel looked dreary as he watched the barren field in front of him, with short stubby bushes blocking his view in certain areas. It had been seven days of battle and it was the third day that the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division had been sorrounded. There had been brief hope that Hailandkill's men would break through, but Weigar had proved to be quite tenacious in their defenses to the south. For the time being the 3rd was on its own, and although they were on their last day of their own food, and they were cut off from further supplies, their training would keep them alive for a week or so. Nonetheless, the situation was prone to turn dire for the 3rd if they were either rescued or if they took the iniative to break out of the kessel.

Keitel stroked his fast growing beard which had been clean shaven seven days ago. Not, it was beginning to accumulate and he began to like his new look. He looked over to his machinegun partner and commented,"Damn, it's fucking hot. I could have been with my baby right now, stroking her fine ass body."

His partner retorted,"shhh," as he stared straight into the horizon. Keitel turned to see what he had been so rude about, and then saw nothing. Giving a perplexed look to his partner the latter filled in the blanks,"I smell the enemy."

Keitel gripped the trigger a bit tighter; his friend was never wrong. The short bushes ahead hid movements, and the rolling hills could hide armies. Suddenly, the division's heavy mortars and self-propelled artillery opened up, and Keitel looked up to watch the trajectory to shrieking artillery shells. A Scout must have called in for the strike. Bright bulbs of light flashed behind the hills, sending licks of fire of their crests. The bombardment, sending shockwaves through the area, continued for about twenty minutes before Keitel could see what he was facing. He squinted as some figures appeared in one of the distance hills and then he gasped turning to his partner, "Armor."

His partner nodded and responded,"We'll stay to see if there's any infantry with that armor; if not, we'll leave our position and give it up to someone who can take care of that. The division is in no position to lose men to stupid deployments."

Indeed, although the brunt of Bietz' troops, all of which were now under his command, moved towards Fedala to take it as quickly as possible, he had ordered that some stay behind to keep the encirclement of the 3rd well and alive, and then he had given orders to begin its eventual destruction. Consequently, those in command of the units around the 3rd had taken to heart the opening events of Mons Dei and hoped that there massed armor would have the same effect of breaking through and destroying. However, the 3rd, now experienced with the rebel's warfare style knew exactly how to deal with their armor, and the 3rd would survive to see another day.

The artillery had largely disrupted the rebel advance for a while, but it didn't take long for them to concert their efforts again and continue the headlong advance into the northwestern corner of the 3rd's defensive perimeter. Within thirty minutes the fighting had renewed itself in the area and the kessel became active with small arms, rocket and artillery fire. The rebel tanks, numbering about sixty in all, moved quickly, firing on the move and tearing apart standard infantry positions. However, tenacious defenses caused more than a few casualties on the rebel's side and they soon reinforced themselves with infantry, continuing their rather suicidal advance. Their artillery had also opened up, however it was quickly supressed by that of the 3rd.

Tagus anti-tank missiles streaked red through the skies, arching up and then arching down, hitting the enemy tanks square on the turret armor, sending the T-80s back to the stone age, and killing all the occupants. It was easy to say that the armored advance had been halted, although some still continued their attack, and by two hours most of the rebel armor had been destroyed, including thirty-two tanks totally knocked out, and over one hundred men dead and burning across the fields of Mons Dei.

The fight itself continued for another three hours into the evening, but never did it regain its iniative and ferociousness, and the rebels were fighting a losing battle after a while, continously feeding meat into the meatgrinder. Nonetheless, the rebels were in a much better position to kill men as they had a stream of reinforcements, while the 3rd had absolutely nothing - just casualties. Indeed, the victory at Mons Dei had persuaded youngsters throughout Weigar to offer themselves for the rebel army moving to Fedala and the army increased from around thirty thousand men moving to Fedala, to around seventy thousand, increasing the original amount by ten thousand. There were some five thousand recruits intended to bolster the units around the kessel, and these most likely would be used to totally crush the 3rd.

The division was facing a massive casualty count. It's utter destruction in the opening two days of the battle had cuased it to lose around three thousand men, dropping it to an eight thousand frontline personnel division. In the four days following that it had dropped to around seven thousand men, and it had lost another three hundred or so men in this small fight, reducing its ranks even more. Indeed, the situation was becoming dire.

However, the day did not only see that minor armored skirmish in the northwest, but the first Imperial aerial action of the war, proving that the Luftwaffe was still alive and well after the brief stun, having to design strategies to provide aerial superiority over Sarcanza, Weigar, Fedala and Ruska. It was hard pressed, but after seven days it had finally been able to get back on its feet, and the enemies of the Golden Throne were going to see a more vigorous defense than before.

Approximately two hundred Be-23 Archimedes Lever Heavy Transport aircraft ran two flights, one in the morning, one in the evening, dropping medals, foodstuff, medicine, and the such over the kessel, giving the 3rd much needed supplies to continue their resistance. They also flew in a series of orders which were presented to the commander of the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division depicting a breakout operation when the armies of Fedala, under the direct command of Fedor I, destroyed the rebel army marching towards the capital. It would something similar to Operation Winter Storm, only much better coordinated, and much more epic.

In short, the Empire was fighting back.


[Battle of the River Nestor]
Generaloberst Bietz followed the brunt of his armor over the River Nestor, the official border between Weigar and Fedala, moving in his own tank, standing out with his binoculars emulating Erwin Rommel, perhaps his favored armored general, although sometimes he switched his opinion over to Manstein. Regardless, today was perhaps the most historic day of his life, and of the Second Empire. No rebel group, or army of any kind for that matter, had crossed the River Nestor for at least a thousand years. As his tank splashed through the waters of the rather shallow river he emulated another one of his historical heroes and exclaimed,"Iacta Alea Est." - the die is cast, so infamously said by Julius Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon River in order to drive on Rome.

However, Bietz would not have it as easy as Caesar. The latter had been opposed by Pompey and most of the senate, who had claimed that on the stomp of Pompey's foot an army would be formed. Unfortunately for them, no army had formed, and Caesar took Rome unopposed as Pompey fled to Greece where his army was at. Unlike Caesar though, Bietz' lead units soon collided with Fedor's own army, dubbed the Imperial Army, formulated by what had been called a panzergruppen [two panzerkorp, or three thousand tanks], and a single infanteriekorp [two hundred thousand men], forming the largest Imperial formation to fight within the borders of the Empire. Not even the contingent fighting Havenite forces to the south had grown to this size, although soon it enough it would.

However, the most important part of Fedor's deployment was that it seriously outweighed that of the rebels in both numbers and experience. Mons Dei had rested on the fact of suprise, and the idea that the three divisionsd defending the entrance to Fedala had not realized that the rebels had such mechanization. However, on the Nestor River Bietz would meet an army that was more than a match for him, and the upcoming battle would be decided totally by the commander's experience. Bietz had thought that the road to Fedala was open, and that the Golden Throne could be transferred to Heinrich, finally ending this war, but he was dead wrong. Fedor would fight for his throne and for his crown.

The battle of the River Nestor was due to begin with a bang.

[OOC: Response to Sarcanza and the rebellion of Weigar coming in the next post, not Haven's response. The response to Haven will come in the post after the next.]

[OOC: From This Was (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=445759). SafeHaven, this will be of extreme importance after the war and during the war, so if you want to get into involved here please do so. Same thing goes for anybody else. Although it is an economic roleplay, the war effects will be huge considering the fact that Harbinger will most likely start secretly funding Haven when Fedor starts his overt anti-monolopy campaigns. The Knights of Pir-Sar will also have a big role in the post war Haven/Empire rebuilding.

This is just a snip of the thread, and it most likely the more important part right now.]

It had taken about three days to design the operation but the Knights would not allow their name to turn into one of lathargy, and they finished what Harbinger had ordered them to do. Harbinger had been denied the purchase of Dienstad General Electric and it seemed that now he would do his utmost to make sure that DGE and Gareth von Vender were repaid in hostility. Indeed, the Knights of Pir-Sar would culture a name that meant fear, war, violence, death and most of all, utter effeciency. It was easier to complete this when you had the money and technology of the Kriegzimmer Conglomerate, which was the sole weapons industry within the Empire, and the sole provider of armament to the Werhmacht, and to many foreign armed forces as well. It was to say, the possibilities were endless, and so were the means to complete the job.

The explosives had been trucked in from the industrial polygon outside Fedala, taking about a half a day, under the reason that the convoy was headed to Macabea to resupply certain military deployments there with new armaments. Of course, the country was pretty much open from the inside; only the national borders were heavily watched and guarded - consequently, the Knight's job was made much easier. The exact explosive was heptanitrocubane, which was perhaps thirty percent more powerful than octagen, and it was packed into small suitcases which could very well blow an entire floor of a building back to the stone age.

When it had arrived in Macabea it was dropped in Kriegzimmer warehouses and from there shipped to the subterranean local headquarters of the Knights, marked by nothing but moory. The entire order was carried out in an utmost proffessional matter, as again, they were to be infamous for deadly effecient economic terrorism, and by the third day they were all ready.

The DGE building, rising three hundred meters above the ground, perhaps one of the tallest in the city, was flanked by a subterranean parking garage which could house somewhere around six hundred vehicles at any one time. The entourage of Audis, Alfa Romeos and Jaguards moved into said parking garage, working their way to the very bottom plant where they were assured a great deal of spaces to station their vehicles. It was all very suspicious at that point, but with three days gone by, nobody had taken Harbinger's threats seriously in DGE, consequently, the level of vigilence had gone down since the first day, although of course, no man would lower security past a certain point when Harbinger threatened them. When they finished parking each car released four men, putting out a total of twenty men.

Three-fourths of them carried suitcases, while the rest began to heavily arm themselves, stocking ordnace under their long parkas, including shotguns, pistols, assault guns, and even small rockets and grenades. It looked as if they were preparing for a war, and indeed, some could say they were. With that in mind, they made their way to an elevator that united the garage with the lower plant of the building and it took them about a minute to get there. When the doors opened a series of security officers set their eyes on them and pointed towards a conveyor belt that moved objects under a X-ray. Unfortunately for both the men didn't listen, and instead the lead man put a bullet into each of one, sending people to the floor, screaming as loud as they could.

The lead man raised his voice,"This is a robbery. Nobody move, or I will shoot" A few people took a bit longer than tolerated to get to the floor and they were immediately killed. The lead man turned around and nodded and two men broke off, allowing them to make their way back to the cars - they were needed in case the police came. The rest continued their way through the now fearful crowd while the lead man stayed behind to keep an eye on the bottom floor. The rest moved to the elevator and made their way to the tenth floor. Nobody was really sure what happened next but it was assumed that the suitcases were all placed on that floor and that the men made their way back down, and left the building as police were just making their way there.

It took only about seven minutes for the police and special weapons and tactics to filter the area, but they were far too late. It had taken five minutes for the Knights to finish their operation, and leave the garage. By the time the building was full of officers the tenth floor gave out in a massive explosion, sending licks of flames through ten to twenty floors down and up respectively, killing many within seconds. Others were severly burnt, and the exists collapsed, trapping people inside the building. All the while, the foundations and skeleton of the building began to creak as it because obvious that the steel skeleton on the tenth floor had been snapped by the huge explosion.

From the outside people looked horrified at the situation. Never before had they been attacked like this by terrorist, and nobody knew how to react. Nobody had even heard of a terrorist cell before, but they all saw what was happening. The fire inside raged ever more, and finally the weakened support structure gave out on the tenth floor sending everything above straight down, smashing through the bottom ten floors and killing all the occupants of the building. A wave of black smoke rushed through the streets, clogging people's lungs, and forcing most under cars and such. When the dust settled all people could see was a huge pile of debris occupy where once the huge DGE building had stood, as well as other flattened buildings around it, destroyed by the force of the collapse.

A couple of minutes after von Vender, who had been out south to speak with other electrical companies, received a phone call from a number put down as 'Restricted'. He picked it up and the voice on the other line calmly said,"You shouldn't have said no."

von Vender's eyes widened and he sneered,"You son of a bitch."

The consequences of the buildings concerning the Empire and international politics were not as dire as one would expect. Of course, the IINSA began to pick up on the traces of the Knights, and the idea of a foreign terrorist network attacking was thrown out immediately, as such a thing was largely impossible. None of them had truly found out, but the economic holocaust within the Empire had begun, and it would take a lot of the Empire's resources to stop the Knights of Pir-Sar.

[Siege of Marsa Bruth, Sarcanza]
General Daniel von Menzel took a look at the detailed map of Sarcanza, then looked back at the lieutenant, and then back at the map, and finally finished off by glaring back at the lieutenant,"What do you mean Prokhorovka has fallen? Where is the 5th Airborne Division?"

The lieutenant gulped and responded quickly and thoroughly,"Sir, the 5th is being placed under your direct command, and the Emperor has promoted you to the rank of Generaloberst, and has charged you with the defense of Marsa Bruth. We have dozens of thousands of rebel soldiers piercing the city's defenses already, and with Prokhorovka fallen we can ill afford the loss of Marsa Bruth."

von Menzel swore under his breath and took his anger out on the younger officer,"I bloody well know that! Get out of my sight you swine, I have plans to make. If this fucking city falls I lose my head, and we can't bloody well have that."

The other man left and von Menzel went straight to work. The defense of Marsa Bruth would be even bloodier than that of Prokhorovka, even with the 5th in the city. However, the first order of the day was to think of how to get the division into the city, especially with so many rebel soldiers already sorrounding Marsa Bruth. Official government reports put estimated time of arrival for the 5th for two days from today, the first day of the battle for Marsa Bruth, and they were coming by truck, not by aircraft. Consequently, it was concluded that they would break in, something never before seen in warfare as normally you would want to break out, nonetheless, it was expected tha by them breaking in they would not only do that, but they would open a gap between rebel lines, opening a roadway of supplies, and that would be protected by most of the 5th, while the remainder fought to regain city blocks on the outskirts.

Rumors that the Luftwaffe had stirred alive comforted few civilians. Many of them supported the Emperor, but they knew that if Marsa Bruth fell it would be destroyed by bombers, much like they expected would happen to Weigar. That meant that most of the civilians capable of doing so rushed to the bomb shelters dotting the city, most under nicely detailed business buildings, all of which were at least one hundred meters tall. Nonetheless, many did not feel safe even there. Each bomb shelter was five to seven stories, all deeper and deeper into the ground, and custom was to put a candle on each floor, and when the candle was put out by the forces of physics the floor was evacuated because it meant that oxygen had run low. One by one floors would give out and the entire bomb shelter would have to be evacuated, forcing people elsewhere while oxygen replenished the bomb shelters. Throughout the rest of the Empire bombshelters had replenishing air services, but in a border city as unimportant as Marsa Bruth nothing of the like existed.

Overhead the sounds of gunfire persisted as Sarcanzan rebels continued to push through the outskirts of the city, one building at a time. Marsa Bruth was defended by a conglomeration of border units, mostly made up of a reserve Sarcanzan Guard unit, which was a B class division made of pure infantry. Nonetheless, although they lacked the training of a panzergrenadier or infanterie unit, they were equipped with the same weapons, making them just as dangerous. There were even intersections where the division had put 105mm howitzer guns, ready to pummel rebel positions. Indeed, it had gotten to the point that if a building was taken it would be blasted to hell with a howitzer, and it normally ended with half the building left in a wreck, leaving the outskirts of Marsa Bruth rather destroyed, if you will.

Most of the soldiers had abandoned their assault rifles and instead opted for the mass purchased assault rifles from Doomingsland, as these were better used in sewers and within buildings. It was also commong for soldiers to use light machineguns and shotguns, and the fighting as a consequence was bloody and violent, often ending in short times, although it would leave dozens dead and hundred wounded at time.

It was like a scene from Stalingrad, and perhaps Marsa Bruth would turn into the Stalingrad of the War of Golden Succession. It was estimated that already two hundred soldiers had died in the first day of the siege; how then could one think the rest of the siege would go? It was obvious that Fedor thought the siege would be bloody as he had already ordered the deployment of two panzer divisions and three infanterie divisions to the area, who would break into the city after the 5th had done its job. That meant that a total of over four hundred thousand soldiers from both sides would converge on Marsa Bruth, which was a potential for over one hundred thousand casualties on both sides. Not quite like Stalingrad's one and two million, but nobody knew the full extent of what Marsa Bruth would bring. Only the months of battle would be able to tell.



[Weigar Uprising, the Empire]
It had been four days since the beginning of the uprising and the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Task Force [Kurzes Schwert] and the 1st Waffen-SS Air Assault Group [Kavallerie] were already having trouble. At first they were battling two thousand, but the number had quickly expanded to over one hundred thousand, and the three hundred soldiers could simply not handle the fight. They had plead to the government and high command to get them out of there, and already fifty or so had lost their lives within that fateful intersection where they all found comfort, killing as many as possible when they got close. Indeed, rebel casualties had been high as they had attempted to rush the fortress at least four times a day, losing at least two thousand dead.

Nonetheless, on the fourth day high command heard their plea and returned their message:

Tomorrow at 1200 hours Weigar shall be under heavy aerial assault by Canaries and Hawks, opening a possible escape route for the 1st Waffen-SS Special Operations Task Force [Kurzes Schwert] and the 1st Waffen-SS Air Assault Group [Kavallerie]. If you fail this rescue operation you will be stuck in the city. In forty-eight hours Operation Carlos V will begin.

Operation Carlos V is the full scale bombardment of Weigar. Yes, we are destroying the city completely. If our analysis is correct within thirty days there will be over twenty-eight million dead within the ashes of that city. The rebellion shall die with them. If we cannot win this war through reason, we will win it through extermination.

With that we finalize the warning. Should you fail in your breakout, you will die along with them.

With those words both teams prepared for tomorrow's operations. Their lives depended on it...


[OOC: This is also important, and it comes for The Swan's Touch (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=443082).]

Sophie had spent the week galloping her way to Fedala, with her father's guards in hot pursuit. She studied the irony of the situation of Soborguntia, where her father's increasingly anti-Imperial policies were turning the territory into a medieval haven. Indeed, she was being chased by knights, five hundred years since the death of the middle ages! It was ludicrous, and this marriage to Fedor would most likely be able to reverse that. She too thought about her marriage, and although she loved Fedor dear, she also had political motives behind the marriage. Her being Empress and Queen, and consequently, not just duchess of Soborguntia but Princess of Soborguntia, would persuade Fedor to keep Soborguntia as a territory, instead of just adding it to Fedala's territorial lands.

It was difficult to explain to anybody foreign how the Empire worked within itself. Although it was perhaps one of the most modern countries in terms of technology and politics in the region, it still followed with many feudal charactiristics. For example, the territories formed provences, which were owned by whoever sat on the Golden Throne, not to Fedala. However, those territories formed provences not through the administration's organization of territories, but through political alliances. Meaning, provences normally followed the political spectrum, although since the rise of Jonach and the modernization of the country's political system things were becoming much more stable. However, there was still the threat that Fedor would force Soborguntia to declare allegiance to the city of Fedala, turning it over to the Imperial Territory, in which Soborguntia would lose her historical role and charactiristics; something Sophie refused to allow to happen. By marrying Fedor not only did she marry the man she loved, but she assured Soborguntia's territorial autonomy.

She entered Fedala the week after she had left the palace of Soborguntia, and alont the way most had been rather kind to her, especially when she left the territory of Soborguntia, and she entered the Imperial Provence, where all were loyal to Fedor. She did have to skirt around Mons Dei, as she saw the artillery flash in the distance, but that did not take too long, and rebel scouts failed to know where she was, although her father had warned them of her escape and her potential threat to doom the coup.

When she entered Fedala nobody truly knew who she was. Her marriage to Fedor had not yet been made public. Of course, all knew that there was a marriage of some kind, but nobody, not even the press, had seen her face. However, she had friends in Fedala, most notably the Lord of Fedala, heir to the Golden Throne if Fedor died without a blood heir, and he had promised her quarters until her wedding day. Fedor, of course, knew of her presence when she arrived, and he estatically kept the date of the wedding fixed, already giving invitations to all lords and ladies throughout the land, rebel or not, allowing them to witness his wedding and the peripheral glorification of the Empire.

Indeed, there was only three weeks until the wedding began, and already the dignintaries of two countries dear to the Empire, Dumpsterdam and Triancia, had arrived. It would be a magnificent wedding, and Fedor's reign could begin as he planned - achieving military glory by destroying the armies of Haven and of the rebels, marrying one of the most beautiful women in the world [second only to Hypolita, the [b]most[b] beautiful woman in the world], and then undergoing his technical deification, although really, only God was the true deity, underscored by the heavy presence of the Holy Church of the Broken Dawn.

Soon, the Throne would be stable again, and he would be able to extend the power of the Church, and his own power, throughout the world...

OOC:Sorry I haven't been posting...I'll probably be able to work something up tommorow.

OOC:Note: this particular part starts before the retreat.

Weigar Uprising

Marius and his team had been hearing the sounds of battle eminating ahead of them: gunfire, explosions, scream of the dead and dying. It was music to their ears. The tunnel continued on ahead of them, seemingly randomly winding and turning. This prevented them from seeing very far ahead.

Perhaps the rebels had done this in the construction purposely? Marius certainly hoped not, as that would mean they were probably walking right into an ambush. In this war, the victor in a skirmish was usualy whomever got the drop on the enemy. Marius and his team had been lucky the past six or so times, but he was unsure if they could keep it up. They'd been going for eight hours straight without rest, probing the tunnels, constantly aware. Their senses were begining to dim.

This was not good for them. Their pointman, Decius, was approxamitely ten meters ahead of them, making constant use of his Hali-21's gun camera. He progressed slowly and steadily, making as little noise as possible as to prevent his own detection, and to allow his finely-tuned ears to pick up on any noises ahead. The chatter of machinegun explosion and occasional whistle of mortars made that difficult enough.

The men behind him were just as tense, their rifles constantly shouldered, moving with a military precision.

As Decius approached yet another sharp turn, the sounds of battle began to subside. Perhaps it was a temporary lull?

Flattening his back against the wall and tightly gripping his rifle, he slowly moved it around the corner, the image produced from the camera showing clearly on his HUD. He only saw them for a nanosecond, for as soon as that rifle moved around the corner, the rebel machinegun team lit up the corridor.

The 7.62x54mm projectiles fired from the PKM machinegun blew both of the SS-man's hands right off, sending his rifle flying against the wall. Startled by this, he stumbled over, accidentaly exposing himself. He was torn apart limb from limb, instantly cut in half from a hail of bullets, his head violently torn off his shoulders.

Dirt was kicked up by the large rounds as they impacted the wall of sandbags behind the now dead ex-Legionary, dirt intermixed with his blood. They others reacted as soon as it happened, rushing up to the corridor. The rebels were unaware of just how many men they were up against. These seemed to be particularly ill-disciplined men, peppering away at the wall long after Decius had fallen.

The man on the machinegun stopped firing for a few seconds to allow the dust to clear. Upon seeing the torn body of an SS-man, he was filled with joy. That much was obvious when the men heard cheering coming from the enemy position.

Both parties had their own disadvantages: The Legionaries had no idea just how many enemy soldiers there were or how far the corridor extended. For all they knew, there was a whole squad gaurding that area. Then again, as far as the insurgents knew, they'd just killed the last man in the tunnel complex.

Marius crouched by the wall and cycled through his HUD. An uplink system allowed for him to view all of what his men saw. Cycling through a number of options, he found the one that suited him. Within the memory banks of his Samson Battle Suit was the last thing poor Decius had seen: three insurgents manning a well-fortified machinegun nest just eight meters down.

They now had the advantage in intellegence, and may be able to get the drop on their foe. However, they were uncertain of just how aware the rebels in the position up ahead just were. For all they knew these men had only been there twenty minutes and were fully rested. Marius doubted this assumption, but still took it into consideration.

Their grenadier, Caius, was instructed through hand signals to load a fragmentation grenade into his underbarrel 40mm grenade launcher, which he did without hesitation. Without even needing to be asked, he took up the same position that Decius had been in those fatefull few seconds. With a look of sheer determination, he steeled himself for what he was certain to be his end.

In a split second, he stuck his rifle around the corner, fired off a singal genade with a loud 'thump', and pulled back in as the explosion occured, sending limbs and sandbags flying out towards their side of the tunnel and darkening the former rebel position in dust. All of the lights in that corridor had been shattered, as well.

As soon as the explosion had occured, the remaining members of team rushed around the corner, raising their rifles as a dazed enemy soldier stood up, and lighting him up. The man's body was jerked around as he was hit in roughly twenty different places, blood spattering out from his chest, gut, and various limbs, crumbling to the ground in a heap of rotting flesh and shattered bone.

The machinegun nest had been crushed by that round, broken bodies lying strewn throughout the tunnel, the sandbags blown completely apart, the PKM machinegun nowhere to be seen. Marius smiled at that. A position that could potentialy have killed off his whole squad had been exterminated with the loss of only one man.

Caius seemed to be a bit dazed himself from being in such close proximity of the explosion. Marius gave his comrade a pat on the back and swaggered off into the darkness, taking point. The men activated their night vision, the cavernous expanse now glowing a tinted green through their HUDs. Upon exiting the other end of the dust cloud, Marius saw just why the enemy had left a machinegun position there: it was the end of the tunnel. Five feet up was a hole in the wall, leading into the basement of some rebel-occupied building.

He gripped the mouth of the opening, pulling himself up and through, immediatly crouching and staring down the sights of his rifle to scan the immediate area. The basement was sparse; however, a table with a radio and several maps was on one of the walls and several rifles lay about the floor. They'd stumbled upon an enemy HQ.

However, they would be doing no fighting here. For almost as soon as Marius had taken up his position, the door at the top of the stairwell was kicked down and a man rushed through. Marius had to stop himself from lighting the man up; to his delight, it was a fellow SS-man.

Marius stood, lowering his weapon, and smiled.

"Cassius, my friend, it appears you are late," he said in Latin with a smile as more men began to enter the room,

"Marius! I feared you dead, my brother. I take it you've encountered some resistance?" he querried with a raised eyebrow upon noticing that the team was missing a man.

"Indeed. A machinegun nest defended the entrance to this room," he replied with a smirk, motioning towards the hole leading down towards the tunnel.

"Well, you've come out in better shape than most of our units, my friend." replied the man grimly, "Tho' we have suffered heavy losses in the tunnel, we've managed to clear the majority of them out."

A pair of SS demolitions experts slid down through the tunnel entance, begining to wire the whole section for destruction.

"That is indeed good news. Now, have you orders for us?" asked Marius, who's facial expression now returned to one of no emotion.

Cassius nodded.

"We've all been ordered to pull back to an intersection and hunker down. Major Ericsson wants us all in one place to allow for us to concentrate our firepower."

"A sound plan," replied Marius soberly, "Very well, Cassius. We best not keep the major waiting."

One by one, the men began to file out of the structure, the two demo experts being the last men out. As soon as they were out, they moved themselves and the rest of the men out to a safe distance. Turning the knobs on their detonaters, six twenty pound satchel charges went off in the six story apartment complex, causing it to implode, entombing the bodies of countless rebels and that of Decius.

The men had already begun their brutal vengeance against the rebels, created a gruesome display common amongst Legionaries when on campaign: the hundreds of skulls that had been collected by the teams were being emptied from their bags into an intersection, mutilated bodies being strung up on the streetlights. Hundreds of fresh severed heads, their terrified expressions and bloodshot eyes staring out into the distance, being piled higher and higher. The stench was unbearable for anyone there that wasn't a Legionary; yet the only ones that weren't were amongst the gory pile. It seemed to extend to the heavens, being roughly twenty feet high. They'd killed enough rebels to fill a dump truck.

Already the carrion birds and rats began to flock to the mass grave that lay above the surface, chewing on the flesh of the defiled men. Such was the price of defiance. And then the men let out a mighty roar, letting loose a traditional Legionary battle-cry,

"SKULLS FOR THE SKULL THRONE!"

With the bloody buisiness of the hour completed, the men marched rank and file down the street towards the rally point in which the rest of Kurzes-Schwert was hunkering down, setting up defensive positions. The Battle of Weigar would go down as one of the most gruesome in the war, that much was certain...

[Lusankya, Malatose]
[Grand Imperial Palace]

It was a quiet evening in Malatose. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of rain drops and the distance sound of thunder. However, the quietness infront of Imperial Palace would soon end. Almost abruptly, a large black car pulled up. Out of the front seats, ISB agents stepped out in a hurry. They ran around and quickly opened the passenger door. Out stepped a short lanky man, with blond hair and blue eyes. The man was no other than Emperor Zalian Zorban.

The large security agents quickly led him into Imperial Palace. As he entered, everyone either saluted or bowed to him. He was a man that demanded respect, and it was given to him. He slowly walked down the halls of the massive palace, while his advisors and Minister of various offices briefed him on the various affairs of the state.

After walking down the massive halls, he finally made it to his personal office, where he sat down and sipped some tea that was already on the table. He then began to go through the various papers, signing them or just throwing them away if so no use to them. He was soon interrupted; however, by his Grand Vizier.

"Aww, yes, Grand Vizier, what can I do for you today?"

"Yes, My master, I have some information that you or may not find useful. However, I am sure, you will find it of the upmost usefullness."

"Go on, Grand Vizier, continue."

"Yes, My Lord Emperor, It appears that the Weigar is in civil war. As you know, and I'm sure you do, you have direct claim to the throne. Perhaps.."

"Sorry to interrupt you, Grand Vizier, but if you're suggesting we get involved..it was totally out of the question. I have no need to send this nation into war."

"Emperor, I respect your words, yes, I do, but it is the right time to strike. Using our vast Military resources, you could take over the throne and expand the reaches of Malatose across the oceans."

"You are truly a man of words Grand Vizier. Mmhhmm, and I truly see where you are coming from. Ready the Navy and prepare the Army for possible war."

"Yes, your majesty, sir"

The Grand Vizier quickly left the room in a hurried pace. Emperor Zalia Zorbon stood in almost of a daze and he slowly sat down. According to his families historical records, he was son of a cousin of a Emperor that ruled the country years ago. Thus, he was entitled to the throne.

However, there was one thing on his mind. He had promised the people of Malatose peace not war. But this was a war to solve a personal problem, not one to please the people. And besides, the people of Malatose would jump to his every command anyway. Soon, The Malatosian Gears of War would began to turn and the target was, of course, the throne of Fedor I.

[OOC: Uh-oh, another enemy. Shit.]

IC:
Naval Battle, Waters off of Targul Frumos

HailandKill had started the fight against the Havenite vessels and the first real exchanges of war between the two nations was occuring. The massive amounts of HailandKill ships made it an armada, and hopefully a tough one to beat. Admiral Eustice, the most experienced HailandKillian admiral was leading the fight against the Havenites.

"Sir, we have the first wave encountering small resistance" He paused "SAMs are being fired at the first wave and losses seem to be growing"

"Shit" Replied the admiral "Any reports on our missile volley?"

"Nossir"

The admiral was in thought. He knew the first wave of fighters and bombers had not fared well and the casualties were mounting. He also knew the first wave of missiles were not as effective as he thought.

"All ahead full!"

"Sir?"

"We are to come into shelling range. Fire another round of missiles from our battleships, cruisers, and destroyers."

"Aye sir"

The first wave of jets were coming down on the decks of the carriers. The casualties were mixed, and many of the inexperienced pilots were now floating in the water, or waiting at the pearly gates. The carriers were sailing into the wind, making landing somewhat difficult. Whoever had not landed yet would have a "fun" time landing in missile trails.

----

The first batteries were coming online on the destroyers. With four CVBGs combined into the armada, the combined 60 destroyers could really pack a punch. The VLT batteries were packed with Sledgehammer Anti-Dreadnought missiles, so if any missile successfully hit they would do massive damage.

"Sir, 56 out of 60 destroyers are ready to fire! All 28 battleships are ready to fire! Also, 36-40 Cruisers are ready to fire!"

"Excellent. The battleships will fire first, then the destroyers, and finnally the cruisers. Set the SD missile goal at 200 missiles a ship, the battleship goal at 100 missiles, the destroyer goal will be 150 and the cruiser goal will be 200."

"Aye sir!"

---

The first shots came about 2 minutes after the direct order from the admiral himself. With individual targets preprogrammed, the armada slowed to 12 knots, and the first missiles left their tubes, with another missile following out of the tube next to it. The quadruple tube was firing in rotation, and missiles were being hydrolically re-stocked. The VLT tube helped provide speed and effieciency. The VLT tubes on the superdreadnoughts fired their missiles, and the 3 SDs met their 200 missiles a ship easily. The battleships followed suit next and their VLT batteries began to bellow fire and smoke into the sky.

The destroyers kicked in after. The destroyers had many batteries on them, and the repeating system on the ships caused day to turn to night. The destroyers were firing on the preprogrammed targets, whether or not they existed after the first volleys. With the destroyers firing their missiles, the most lethal volley was coming. The cruisers packed the worst missile punch, with the most VLT tubes and the most amount of missiles. The cruisers began launching, and the smoke around the armada intesified two-fold.

The missiles streaked towards their targets, and the black smoke around the armada was the clue to the amounts. With the missiles being restocked into VLT tubes as the first volley streaked towards the enemy, the next attack, including shelling would be murderous.

[OOC: Its late and hopefully this doesn't suck. I tried, so sorry if its not my best.]

[OOC: This is the third time I've written this post. The first time I closed it on accident, the second time I didn't even notice I closed it. As I've said before this will also include a history on Malatose's claim to the throne.]

[Border Battles, Ruska]
"Son of a bitch, we've been here for at least ten minutes already," exclaimed Daniel Groeker, one of the lead engineering managers within the subterranean airfield complex which was aptly hidden under eight meters of concrete and four meters of a vanadium and ceramic compound, designed to withstand penetration hits and the such. Groeker squinted his eyes in some show of pain as he heard the crackle and explosions of bombs attempting to dig their way through onto the complex, and every time he thought he was going to die.

His partner, Axel Camech, eyed him and laughed while saying,"When has this Empire lost a war?" Indeed, the Empire hadn't lost a war since the day Jonach Catalan first acended to the throne. However, then again, the Empire had never fought a war on its own soil.

Groeker didn't find it funny and he retorted,"When was the last time an engineer survived a carpet bombing?" Both of them shut up as the alarms went off around the complex, signalling an emergency meeting between all crews and their managers and all pilots and their superiors. Apparently, something was going down, and it was obvious it would be soon, as the bombings had seemed to end, and the EB-9s were most likely turning around and heading back home. Looking at each other, the two men broke apart and went to their respective meeting rooms.

Groeker, as the man working for the well being of the airfield was briefed about the casualties that came from the bombings, but he first started with,"Where the hell is our airforce? Where the hell are our defenses?"

The briefing officer looked at his particularly and then responded in succession,"Our airforce was confused, but we have words that they're coming in for a gigantic air raid, which is estimated to arrive within about twenty to thirty minutes. Our air defenses were all pushed underground, save our anti-air artillery batteries which have actually have had some success against the New Empire designed Rains and even some Valkeries, but I wouldn't count on them to save the day." Groeker nodded and the other man continued,"What is important are casualties..."

Groker took it all in, and in the end he was mesmerized at the amount of damage done to airfields that were supposedly protected underground. At least eight squadrons of reconaissance aircraft and ten of Lu-05s were destroyed on the surface. Their positions there were designed for use as quick strike aircraft, which had obviously failed in their mission, as they had not taken off when it was a proper time to do so - at the beginning of the war. Now, over two hundred aircraft lay destroyed on surface hangars, metal scraps thrown all over the place, and surface based runways full of craters. Although there were plenty of other aircraft to call on, this would ultimately be felt by the Empire when they were looking for more aircraft to put in the air.

All the while, throughout the frontlines and beyond in the Ruska Provence Rains began to wreak havoc on anti-air guns, moving in low. The 75mms to 150mms simply had too much range and too much power to fire that low, and consequently, as they attempted to take down the high flying Valkeries, the smaller caliber [37mm to 50mm] anti-air artillery guns depreciated their muzzles, blasting the tree tops with their CAPMES rounds, churning the light blue sky black, as thousands of tungsten balls spread in all directions. Men below covered their head within their defensive trenches, dug around their guns, as to not be hit by the balls, as they were just as deadly as an enemy bomb.

All the while, the defending infantry in the area, were ready to show off a new variable in the war - the SA-33 Wraith (fixtables.php), exported from Mekugi, built in Kriegzimmer factories on lease from the IADF. It would prove the response to the endless hell the Rains could bring upon the defending Imperial guns. The 1.3 meter missiles flashed into the skies, followed by a trail of light smoke, marking the path of destruction. The treetops began to flash with explosions, either because of a collision between missile or aircraft, or a missed missile that exploded. Fire blazed through the once green leaves of the Ruskan tree line, leaving crisp brown behind it.

The Havenite airforce was receiving one hell of a greeting, and it would get more exciting as the first hints of the angels of death came from the north. Yes, eight Lu-05 squadrons raced at ten thousand meters, cruising at Mach 1.2, arms ready under their storage pylons, and below them, somewhat slower, came a weapon never before seen. Indeed, it was the first units of the newly designed Lu-45, considered a wanderwaffe for this war. There were two squadrons, amounting only to twenty-four aircraft, but it would be enough to do the job. The Hawks came in at subsonic velocities to take full advantage of their stealth, while the Lu-05s barged into the battle, as they usually did, taking all the attention for themselves.

The Lu-05s first turned their guns on the retreating EB-9s, putting two MTAAM-3 Predator air to air missiles locked on each to make sure that a great deal of them were struck down. The Predators left their wings, followed by a thick trail of smoke, as they accelerated to ungodly velocities, exceeding Mach 4. From there, the Lu-05s banked to avoid confrontation with the Valkyries, and then turned back again, raising altitude to around fifteen thousand meters. It would soon become a very long range and violent dog fight over the skies of Ruska. Imperial pilots knew damn well the training and excellence of pilots fighting for their southern neighbor, and they knew this would be very hard fight ahead of them. They fired two more Predators each, before opening the range again by banking and turning back, and then turning around once again. The missiles left behind rose drastically in altitude, entering the top of the toposphere, and then crashing back down again over the head of the Valkyries.

All the while, the Hawks ignored the fight above them, keeping at around one thousand meters altitude, and began to pinpoint the Rains still flying around the Ruska provence. They had made a very large mistake by proding too far into the provence, and now they would feel the reprucussions as the Luftwaffe came alive once again. The Hawks snuck up on them, as much as they could, and at a range of around seventy-five kilometers from their respective targets, pressured each Rain with two Predators each. Coupled with the pressure coming from below, and now this, even two Predators could do quite a bit of damage.

The air battle was raging throughout the Ruska provence, yet things below continued to heat up, as the first ground units began to clash in front of Mosnoi Bor and Aurillac, and the artillery barrages were beginning to erupt in flames. All the while, supply trucks continued to cram into the provence's tows and cities, while the smaller roads were crammed with refugees heading northwards and eastwards into Zarbia. Ruska had become one big huge traffic jam, but the Empire would continue to offer aid to its civilians. The situation wasn't as bad as one would suspect. Although many civilian electrical appliances were turned off, major electrical plants were not, and neither were military installations, meaning that electricity continued to run through the cities and towns. It is to say, quickly reception centers were constructed where people could go get their daily rations and such, and although it looked like a warzone nonetheless, at least it was effective in getting the job done.

The rocket and artillery duels were going quite well. The Panzerwerfers would not die entirely that day, as they had the ability to move quickly and effeciently, more so than the KAGs and their brethren on the other side of the border. While Havenite artillery and rocket artillery had began to fire their counterbarrages against the Panzerwerfers, the 155mm Corbulos continued their suppressing fire on the now pinpointed artillery and rocket units. Almost two thousand guns now joined in harmony to pummel and supress the loud KAGs, 120mm mortars and KAR-45s, striking with their cluster shell munitions, which dropped dozens of anti-armor bomblets overhead on unsuspecting units. The shriek of shells travelling back and forth would send a chill up anybody's spine, no matter how adept to warfare they were. Indeed, something of this magnitude had not been seen since the Second World War. The Panzerwerfers, on the other hand, suffered relatively high casualties, despite their ability to move. Of the one hundred twenty-five in the battalion, only around thirty-six escaped. Nonetheless, the effect they had produced was well worth the casualties, as they had caused at least a ratio of 1.5 to 1 death. The surviving Panzerwerfers did not stop again, but continued to go full speed back to the safezone, where they could resupply and reform their unit with reinforcements; they would need it.

The new EB-9 formations and Valkyrie formations coming in after the surprise strike from the Luftwaffe was caught on OTH-B radars, as the standard military radards in Ruska were rebuilt slowly, but surely. They would run into the hordes of Lu-05 and Lu-45s, and especially the latter, as they attacked from below, launching missiles at the Valkyries and EB-9s aiming at their bellies. The Rains were enshrouded with 37mm to 155mm anti-air artillery rounds, painting the skies around them black with small balls, ripping into wings and clouds alike. Again, the air war would prove to be one of the most volatile and one of the most violent fronts of the war.

But out to sea, in specific Targul Frumos, and even around Earth's orbit, things began to stir as well, and a third front was deemed to open...


__________________

[The Malatosian Claim to the Throne]
The Malatosian claim to the Golden Throne was a rather shaky one. The last emperor of the First Empire of the Golden Throne, Ornelius XII, had had cousins in the distant Malatosian Empire, but nonetheless, the truth was that all royal families were somehow connected. Indeed, even in Spain, the queen was from the Greek royal family, and somehow the Bourbons had connections with the British dynasty! It was truly ludicrous how royalty worked, but nonetheless, it worked that way.

This distant claim to the throne was actually much stronger than Fedor's, simply because his grandfather was not of royal blood. His accension was due to a coup, and in the eyes of many monarchist, the Golden Throne belonged to the old royal family, that had ruled for over two thousand years. It was easy to say that through the Grand Civil War most of the local royal family had been killed, consequently making Malatose the nearest Empire with a real claim to the Golden Throne.

And so, war clouds would cover the seas and beaches of both Weigar and Beda Fromm as Emperor Zalian Zorban neared his fleets. There would most likely be an epic naval battle, and then an epic landing, followed by an epic scale land war. One that would match all others. Indeed, unlike any other front, save for Weigar, this would be a battle between two powers, not rebels, or not powers with no real claims to the throne [just claims to regional prowess]. It would be a war between dynasties, and many knew already that it would come down to nuclear proportions.

The shape of the Empire would be forged by the War of Golden Succession, and the nation that succeeded in either keeping or taking the Golden Throne would be the one that would most prominetly rise in the international world.

Preparations.


The Imperial Minstry of Defense was less than calm. After the shocking decree from Emperor Zorbon, The Military Planners went to work. However, there was some arguments among the high ranks. An amphibious landing would need alot of logistical support, something that Malatose could do; but it would cost half of the Navy's Logistical Support system. Naval officers argued that such an assault could take place; while, airforce commanders argued that Airborne Forces would be the best route.

However, the arguing was soon put to rest when the Emperor walked into the room. Emperor Zorbon was a man of great Military Knowledge, and he had led the nations in many wars before. He even served as Grand Admiral of the Fleet of Malatose. He slowly looked over the various plans, and quickly chose the Navy's plan. It was decided, The Navy would send a great Armada to crush any resistance before it and launch as amphibious assault.

After the plan was decided, it was set into motion. The Malatosian Gears of War began to turn. Hundreds of thousands of well-trained troops were now being called up for action. Each soldier had no idea where he was headed; he was only given a piece of paper and told to report to his appropriate post.

At the Malatosian Port of Zarlania, The second largest in the nation, activity was at a all-time high. Hundreds of sailers were now reporting to their prospective ships. In the distance, The Navy's Prometheus-class Super Carriers and Deadalus-class ships were being equipped for war. Large cranes could be seen lifting up missiles onto the ships to be equipped.

Fleet preparations was short; for the Malatosian Fleet was always ordered to be a hightened state of alert. One after one, the ships began to leave the port, headed in the wide open sea. It was a rather large fleet, possibly one of the largest fleets mobilized in Malatose History. Nethertheless, soon this fleet would be headed towards an Empire in Civil War to claim the throne for its rightful owner.
--
Fleet Specifications

5 Prometheus-class Supercarriers
15 Nicholas the Great-class Battleships
45 Daedalus-class Guided-Missile Cruisers
39 Tokugawa-class Nuclear Guided-Missile Destroyers
25 Anarias-class Nuclear Attack Submarines
12 Velias-class Nuclear Guided Missile Submarines
--
100,000 Troops plus equipment in various landing ships.

[OOC: Mac, is there fighting at Aurillac were my men are stationed? I might of missed it the first time. I am itching to RP my ground forces because my naval RPing sucks.]

[OOC: Yes, but his recent pincer to Aurillac halted under the pressure of artillery. No doubt he's going to continue in his next post. I'll give him permission to roleplay striking at my defenses in front of Aurillac, which are made up of five panzergrenadier divisions and three panzer divisions. The north has less defenses, composed of three panzergrenadier divisions and a single panzer division, but they have less to defend against, especially in the area of training. So, SafeHaven, you can role play engaging lead units of any division you feel like.]

[OOC: Well Mac on your IC orders I have alot of men stationed at Aurillac, so I feel that is well defended. He can strike at my forces, and maybe you van pull out to strenthen other areas as I have this covered.

You can attack me at Aurillac too SafeHaven.]

South of Targul Frumos

The Valkyries and F-121’s had met up in the neutral sky between the two fleets. All around hundreds of smoke trails remained from the missile launches of the last few minutes. For now it seemed like they ruled the sky, the H&K planes not coming out to challenge them, instead they had went home and started landing. The F-121’s still had their full load out of Divinebolts and they couldn’t go home without using them.

The five squadrons of F-121’s began lighting up targets over the H&K fleet. They focused on the AWAC’s and CAP over the fleet but anything that was flying was included in the targeting. 480 Divinebolt missiles leapt off of their firing platforms on the F-121’s. The Divinebolts headed towards the H&K aircraft at mach speeds blowing away the aircraft that launched them.

Back at the fleet things were looking good. The HNS Ursil, an Argentine, was the combined fleets flagship. Inside, taking advantage of the amazing command and control abilities built into the ship, Admiral V. P. Harshman was trying to figure out what exactly was going on. They had finally figured out that they weren’t fighting Macabeans but H&K ships which came as a surprise. They had a mission to do and they were so close to being able to accomplish it but this H&K fleet stood in the way. They had to be moved one way or the other and quick so a large strike was prepared.

Five of the fleet’s arsenal ships prepared their salvos getting ready to do the job they were designed for. Each arsenal ships had twenty ships assigned to it , twenty targets for them to destroy. The launch was massive, a thousand ASM missiles rose up completely blocking out the five arsenal ships behind them. The missiles barely rose up before diving back down and skimming the sea. The hope was that the F-121’s would have managed to down any AWAC’s birds over the H&K fleet thereby severely hurting their ability to track and engage sea skimming missiles. The missiles would burn the distance in minutes focusing entirely on the destroyers and cruisers of the H&K fleet, giving each destroyer and cruiser ten missiles to deal with.

Things were looking amazing after that launch and a huge smile for the first time that day could be seen on Admiral Harshmans face. Then the H&K launch was picked dup almost immediately after the arsenal ships let loose. The radar operator who first noticed it was sweating when she announced the launch. The command center went silent as the targets multiplied, first a few hundred then thousands. Radar screens were literally filled to the brim with targets, and then hundreds more joined the fray.

The ADV’s and destroyers of the fleet were the first to engage. The combined fleets had started out with 120 destroyers and sixty ADV’s and while nearly two dozen were sunk that still left plenty of firepower. Thousands upon thousands of SAM’s went out to meet the H&K missiles. Almost immediately after thousands more rose up from the bigger ships behind them. A rolling wave of explosions lit up the sky signifying the deaths of enemy missiles but the wave was rolling the wrong way, it was getting closer and closer. The SAM launchers were becoming continuous now as ships unloaded everything they could to keep alive. The F-121’s and Valkyrie’s in the sky were out of long range missiles and so had to wait but the wait wasn’t long and the missiles came into range quickly. Hundreds more medium and close range air to air missiles started knocking down more missiles but it wasn’t enough, it couldn’t be enough against so many missiles.

Tracers began joining the battle, thousands of them reaching out and searching for targets. Hundreds of short range mini missiles fired out from the picket line as the missiles started coming into range. The fleets guns began firing, firing special shells that would burst and spray thousands of flechettes to down as many missiles as they could. But the casualties started coming in, destroyers and ADVs got ganged up on by more missiles than they could handle and started going under. Around thirty destroyers went down or were turned into floating wreckage, burning even though they were surrounded by an endless supply of water, and more ADV’s were joining them. But it wasn’t over, missiles continued thru the outer ring, pre-programmed as they were on certain targets. The missiles were chased by tracers and SAM coming from the surviving picket line ships. By now the H&K launch was a mere remnant of its former self but that was still a lot of missiles and they proved it crashing into the next ring of the fleet. The cruisers, more ADV’s and some smaller craft fought hard but quantity had a quality of its own and still the missiles came on crashing into the fleets center.

The first quartet of missiles headed straight to an Argentine, choosing a suicide target, the ships dozens of CIWS systems cut them down before they got close but others came and every time a missile was destroyed it was closer than the last one. Finally the Argentine which for some reason had attracted so much attention took a shot, an ASM crashed straight into its belt digging itself in but in the end doing little to no damage. Then disaster struck, disaster marked by a mini mushroom cloud that began rising from the fleets center. An arsenal ships had been struck multiple times and its cargo went up, the single ships held more explosives worth of TNT than a handful of American MOAB’s and the explosion could very well have been a small nuclear bomb. The day had turned into hell but that hell wasn’t over yet.

Inside the HNS Ursil the sound of the fighting outside was clearly audible. The rumblings of the guns and the rocking’s of the missile strikes could be felt. So far no missiles had pierced the armor and none would that day but none need to. A pair of missiles rose up and dived down on the superstructure of the giant ship. The missiles tore into the heaily armored superstructure, the first being defeated by the armor but the second, almost miraculously, finding a way, finding a weak point and blew open a tiny hole in the armor into the superstructure. It wasn’t big enough for a man to fit thru but it was enough to channel the warheads explosive force into the bridge command center. The explosion, confined to a small room, then became stronger and blew out threw the armors from the inside so everyone could see what had already happened, the admiral was dead. No one could have survived the explosion.


The combined fleet had been through hell and during that hell nearly fifty ships had been sunk outright with more damaged, the worst damage ever taken by a Havenite fleet, let alone three and it had been accomplished in a single strike. But the fleet was far from taken out, the fight wasn’t over yet and they still had a mission to accomplish.

Command of the fleet was passed over to Admiral Skomma who had been in the Ursil’s heavily armored CIC inside the ship and so had survived the strike. As damaging as Harshman’s death was it was temporary and under Skomma’s command a counter attack was ordered. It was unknown how much damage had been caused by the thousand FastHawk II missiles launched at the H&K fleet right before the H&K strike but it didn’t matter, this strike was to match, even surpass, their strike in intensity.

The arsenal ships, this time joined by the destroyers and cruisers of the fleet began rippling off their missiles. It was disgusting how many missiles were being thrown around, how much money was being wasted, but it was what had to be done and so five thousand FastHawk II missiles shot off from the fleet. The Fasthawks accelerated getting faster and faster and faster on their way. It was unknown the damage that had been caused to the H&K destroyers and cruisers so they couldn’t be factored out but it was hoped many were already destroyed and so this strike was intended to take out the heart of the fleet. A fourth of the missiles, 1,000 Fasthawk II’s, were designated to destroy whatever destroyers and cruisers were left but the majority were heading to hit the battleships and carriers behind them. The superdreadnaughts would remain untouched by the missiles.

But it still wasn’t over. The three Argentines of the combined fleet brought their guns around to bear. They turned slightly in the water so as to be able to bring the majority of their guns around but still close the range at the same time at an angle. The massive guns then boomed, over a hundred shells just from those three ships went skywards. Everything from massive 25 inch shells to smaller but still deadly 12 incher’s headed for the H&K fleet. The Argentines were aiming for the H&K superdreadnaughts hoping to tear them apart with the massive shells, specially designed for just this job, that would be raining down on them. After the first salvo landed another would follow until either the dreads or the Argentines were destroyed.


Under the sea a different chapter of this battle that had so far remained unnoticed was just beginning to unfold. The submarines screen was beginning to near the H&K fleet but had yet to be detected. They continued moving forward, slowly and quietly slithering their way up to the H&K fleet. A few went low below the layer while others remained high. So far no H&K submarines had been detected but they didn’t want to take chances and so a few UUV’s were launched to lead the way. Soon enough they would be close enough but not yet.



The Skies over Ruska

The bombings had been sucessfull, below them all they could see was desolation at the airfields. Now all that remained was to be done was to go home and celebrate the first days victories. It had been a good run for the EB-9’s and the Valkyrie’s watching them. It was amazing how easy his job had been so far and Commander Moffie couldn’t help but reflect on that. Up to this point not a single Macabean aircraft had challenged his Valkyrie and he couldn’t understand why but now the Golden Throne’s ability to challenge him was severely hurt with the destruction of most of their airfields in Ruska. But apparently the Golden Throne was going to try to anyway. In front of him on his HUD at least seven squadrons of aircraft were showing up brightly heading into Ruska hard. Fuckers. He banked his aircraft around followed by the rest of his squadron and his squadron wasn’t alone, the Macabeans were outnumbered by solid two to one odds over Ruska.

Orders hurried in from Command birds trying to take control of the situation from the safety of being miles away. Targets were distributed out among the Valkyrie’s and then the order to engage was heard. The Valkyrie’s lit up their respective targets and squadron by squadron the missiles rippled away. 384 Divinebolt missiles made their showcase run in this war over Ruska. Everyone knew how good the Macabean pilots were and so no chances were taken, each Lu-05 had four missiles boring down on it hard. The problem for the Macabeans was that in order to fire on the EB-9’s with their own missiles which had a slightly inferior range they would have to continue head on making the Divinebolts mission that much easier. But it the end it couldn’t nor would it stop the Macabeans from launching their missiles at the EB-9’s. The Valkyire’s couldn’t do anything else to save them and so ran to save themselves in case the Lu-05’s decided to get some revenge.

The EB-9’s didn’t have a chance at outrunning the Macabean missiles and so they had to take the punishment as it came in. The missiles came in cutting the distance quickly as they made their way to the EB-9’s. A few were taken down by the mini missile counter measure pods carried on the EB-9’s but well over half still came in striking their targets. The EB-9’s were huge aircraft though and when the small predators came in they just lacked the punch to take down an EB-9 by themselves. Four of the EB-9’s did go down hard, already wounded by the SAM attack earlier but most of the others would live to make it home, although most of them would be out for a few weeks.



The Lu-45’s were able to completely avoid detection as they neared the Rain. The Lu-45’s came as a shock to the pilots, their first warnings being missile launches. The forward Rain, the ones engaging the supply and reinforcement convoys were the ones that got hit. They fired back rippling off many of their own missiles but still most of them were doomed. The Lu-45’s were outnumbered by the forward Rain 4 to 1, eight squadrons to two, but surprise would change the losses but not the outcome. Each Lu-45 had eight missiles homing in on it, two from each Rain, sealing their fate. The Rain suffered heavily though, nearly three squadrons worth of Rain going down to the missiles. The surviving Rain fired off one more missile each at any surviving Lu-45 before pulling back to the safety of home, but a new wing of Rain would take their place in less than an hour. The way things were the eight squadrons of Rain hunting down Macabean Corbulo units remained unaffected by the strike as they were further back from the border and so they continued hunting, looking for Macabean artillery units to destroy.


Finally the Golden Throne had challenged the Havenite air force, finally a true air battle had been fought but that wouldn’t be the end of it. Haven had seen The Golden Throne’s challenge and was raising the stakes. The two EB-9 formations set out, one to Aurillac and one to Mosnoi Bor but now with a bigger escort. Sixty miles in front of each group two squadrons of Rain skimmed the Earth clearing the path of any air defense presence with artillery support. Ten miles behind them and miles in the sky were five squadrons of Valkyries. Further back around the EB-9’s themselves were three squadrons each of Valkyries and F-121 interceptors. This was all on top of the other aircraft already over Ruska doing various missions. If the Golden Throne wanted to stop the EB-9’s they would have the biggest aerial battle of their history on their hands.

On the ground the advance continued but the artillery fell silent except for the occasional battery firing on Macabean AA positions called in by Rain. The assault on both Mosnoi Bor and Aurillac would begin once the EB-9’s had done their work.



Haven, Seat of the Empire

It was a rare sight, all three houses in the same room, and when it happened it attracted everyone’s attention. News vans representing dozens of networks and cities sat crowded outside the massive capitol building. Inside the three houses debated and argued, and finally voted. What was almost as unusual as the three houses meeting was the banning of camera’s inside during the session and so the proceedings were hidden from the world, but not from Senator Daff. Being the majority leader, a true accomplishment in a government as big as Havens, he was in the middle of things, especially when the voting started. Ayes and Nays both rang out, even in the modern high tech world of Haven the old tradition of announcing your votes aloud was kept. There were a lot more Nays then there were supposed to be, and with so many votes to keep track of things were sounding close, way to close. In the end the votes were tallied, electronically ironically, then they were checked and double checked. Then a portly old many stood up on the floor. He cleared his throat before leaning forward into the microphone. “With a vote of 412 to 325 with 18 absent Resolution #38627A&B has passed.” Daff couldn’t help but cheer, the final obstacle had been cleared. “The Free Republic of Haven is now officially at war with the Golden Throne. As of 12 P.M. tonight all Macabean assets and citizens are to be seized. All previous agreements and treaties have been raised until such a time where a new and more honorable government can be put in place in Fedala. With 27B also in place as law the two republics of Sarcanza and Wieger have been officially recognized as free and sovereign nations…..”

The announcement went on for a good fifteen minutes while another official repeated the same thing to the news camera’s outside but the most important parts had been said. While Haven was already technically at war with the Macabees with the support of the President and the Senates Defense committee already but now it was official. Also Wieger and Sarcanza were recognized as free nations and allies of Haven meaning they would get all the support they needed. But most importantly the goal and reason for the war was announced, discreetly as it was, a change in government in Fedala. Be that change be another Macabean or a Havenite wasn’t said but the Golden Throne wouldn’t stay in Fedor’s family.



OOC: done

Admiral Sora sat back in his Tactical Command Station, looking at the various computers. This was his first voyage, aside from the small training trip he took almost weekly in the Imperial Navy. As he sat back, he sipped some tea, Some of the finest in Malatose. In his eyes, everything was going as planned and he didn't expect much opposition from the enemy. In his eyes, Who would impose the Emperor's personal Fleet. He slowly sat back to relax.

As he sat back, a sailor interrupted him. Sorry, Admiral, but we're quickly close to our destination, point. Admiral Sora, slowly opening his eyes, looked towards the direction of the sailor and gave one simple order. Prepare.. Yes, Sir, the sailor said as he quickly ran out and gave the order. As soon as the order was given, the massive fleet came to life.

Onboard, the Deadalus and Tokugawa's the crew quickly prepared all shipborne systems. Most of the missile systems were quickly prepared and armed, ready to strike at any target that came before the mighty vessels. Also the ship's PMTSS, or Phantom Mask Tactical Stealth Systems were activated. The PMTSS was designed to jam enemy RADAR and deal with Sonar and Torpedo Jamming by using mimic and active decoy systems. It truly was an advanced system, capable of suiting the defensive needs of any ship.

Also activated was the Varias Tactical RADAR System. Another Hightech system developed by Malatose for its ship detection needs.The Varias has a total tracking range of Six-Hundred Miles and can track over 2,100 targets at once and fire at 295 targets at once; however, each ship linked up its system for a greater coverage for offensive as well as defensive actions. The Malatosian Fleet truly was a technological marvel. However, ontop of all this, an effective ASW perimeter was set up.

However, aside from all that, the giant Prometheus-class SuperCarriers were also preparing. The massive flight elevators were all working in tandem, lifting up the aircraft to the deck. As the elevators lifted, hundreds of aircraft would be put on the flight deck in a matter minutes. On the deck, was the new Su-57 Vektor Air-Superiority Fighter. It was perhaps one of the most advanced aircraft in Malatose, if not the world and it would soon be used in action. Also, lifted on the deck was Su-63 Fighter-Bombers and AWAC Aircraft.

The Fleet continued to approach the Macabeean coastline, poised and ready for action. Soon, it would begin.

[OOC: Ouch Haven. Ouch.]

The incoming missiles streaked at speeds incalculable to a normal human. Unfortunately anti-missile batteries are not human and the Praetorian V's began to pick up targets from the incoming attack. The amount of anti-missile missiles being fired of blackened the sky, with thousands streaming from every battleship, destroyer, and cruiser. With a counter-attacked expected, it was fortunate that the P-5 batteries were online.

It was unfortunate, however, the amount of missiles being fired in retaliation against the ships bearing the HailandKill flag. The amounts of incoming missiles were streaking fast, and although the Praetorian batteries were putting up a valiant effort it was not enough.

Hell hit most of the ships, even though everything was being thrown to protect them. The first volley of missiles started to crush most of the smaller cruisers and destroyers. The burning of the ships only added to the already blackened sky. Some 23 destroyers were instantly taken out from the massive amounts of missiles fired. The destruction did not continue with the destroyers as many of the cruisers were also hit. The battleships fared better against missile hits, as their armor, and timaron hulls withstood more hits. One soldier would later recall the counter-attack as the "day of darkness"

HKS Zealous
"Admiral, listing has stopped" Said the XO

There was nothing to say in response. The proud admiral had just watched much of his fleet go up in flames. The black smoke billowing from most of his ships was a sign that all had not gone well.

"Can we launch another aerial attack?" The admiral responded

"Aye sir. Many of our carriers put up a good defense.....I cannot say the same for our cruisers and destroyers, many of which now lie at the bottom of the ocean."

"Can we begin to shell the enemy?"

"Yes sir"

"Try to destroy as much as possible"

"Aye Sir"


The admiral knew time was running out before his fleet w as overwhelmed by the Havenites. He wanted to put a dent in the enemy force before the ultimate end drew upon them.

The first part of the last wind, as textbooks in later years would call it, started with aircraft launch. Determined pilots, aces and nuggets, were preparing to damage as much as the enemy fleet as possible, even if their life was taken, they would die for the country. The first planes were shooting off the decks, into the wind. All aircraft were being launched, regardless of whether or not they would have a home to land upon.

As the first planes were being loaded onto the catapults and being readied to fire off their carriers, shells were being prepared to fire. Any ship that wasn't sunk was going to fire. The ships began to zero in targets, the larger battleships and dreadnoughts were taking priority in targets, and the small destroyers would fire after they expended their missiles.


"Admiral, the targets are almost done being zeroed, and our planes are being launched as we speak"

"Good, have the aircraft fly high altitude, and the missiles will streak below them"

"Aye sir, the VLT batteries are almost prepared to fire"

"Give the all ahead order!

The first shots of the last wind started with the Zealous. Her thirty inch-errs began to fire, bellowing shells, smoke and noise into the air. The pounding continued, even as aircraft were being launched off her flight decks, and would continue, deafening pilots temporarily. As the quadruple mounts on the four batteries fired large shells, the missiles began to fire. The dreadnoughts were a marvel of naval power, and thus were illustrated in the three styles of attack it was showing. With the lead SD firing its shells, launching its Principe-III missiles, and catapulting aircraft into the sky, the rest of the battered fleet followed.

The remaining battleships chimed in to add more noise to the thundering group, as their guns began to fire at the enemy. They too could pack a punch with their guns, and the enemy would hopefully be surprised by the large quantity of shells headed their way. The missiles also began to follow the path of the shells as the VLT tubes roared to life, bellowing smoke and missiles.

The worst hit of the fleet, the destroyer and cruisers, began to add their say to the loud shelling, and the screaming missiles. The destroyers began to add small fire from their mounted guns, but mainly they added the SD killers, the sledgehammer missiles, in to the air. The roaring fires of hell came out of their VLT tubes, as revenge. The cruisers, the most ravaged by the Havenite attack, began to fire large amounts of missiles, and it was disturbing how much money was being thrown away in ordinance. With the sky being blackened, battered by shells and missiles, and being filled with the thunderous noise of war, the fate of most of HailandKill's navy lay with the current attack.

Skies over the naval battle

The first wave of fighter, and missile planes, were about to initiate their attack run. The first wave watched large amounts of missiles streak below them, all tracked on radar. The air corps had hoped to pre-occupy all the SAM batteries with the missile attack and prayed that the SAM batteries would not have time to fire upon the aircraft. The leader of the first wave, which contained one-hundred and fifty aircraft, started making the final prepatory checks on his weapons systems.

"This is Bravo leader" He paused to get the attention of his men, and to let the first waves of missiles hit, or be blown away "commence attack. For HailandKill!"

The first waves of bombers, escorted by a large amount of fighters, began to drop down into a vertical descent, while their tracking calculators began to make any final adjustment. The strategy was that SAM batteries would not be able to hit a fast moving, air launched, missile screaming dead vertical. The first wave began to launch the missiles. They ignited almost immediately after falling off the hard points of the wings. The pilots fired, and then streaked upwards towards the sky, hoping to avoid unwanted attention.

With the first wave leaving the scene, the second wave was making its final checks before its attack run. The second, third and fourth waves followed suit of the first one. They all waited for the missiles to hit before starting downwards. What ever remaining ships they saw were targeted, and hopefully reinforcements would come to the ships bearing the HailandKill flag.

[OOC: Response only to Malatose.]

[Under the Waves, 1000 Kilometers from Beda Fromm]
The ELINT submarine remained unwavering five hundred meters underneath the surface of the sea, listening in on sorrounding sounds. They were part of what was called the 'wall', a defensive force based on the single ELINT submarine and the line of sonobouys extending from the coast of Beda Fromm to about two hundred kilometers out, designed to make sure that Havenite submarines did not attempt to move north. There were three ELINT submarines used by the Golden Kriegsmarine, all based off ten upgraded Kilo class diesel/electric submarines that were used as the only diesel/electric submarines during the short conflict with Five Civilized Nations over seven years ago. Because of the release of the Valencias, the upgraded Kilos had gone obsolete and thus they had been converted to ELINT submarines.

Sonarman Diegen Ferneich looked at his screen perplexed as he picked up some strange sounds coming from the west, and he turned to the lead sonarman and said,"Listen to this."

The other man, with obviously more experience, took the headphones and put him on his ears, and looked at the screen intently. Within seconds his eyes widened and he said,"Screws making turns for twenty-two knots, coming from the East." He put down the headphones, motioning for Ferneich to put them back on, and ran his way to the conn, where the captain of the boat was at, running daily testing on the crew. Giving his salute the captain nodded and the sonarman spilled it out,"There's over seventy ships making turns for twenty, coming from the East."

The captain sucked in his breath and thought for a minute, resting his chin on his hand, and then he turned to give out orders to his XO,"Raise depth to two hundred meters!" The XO repeated the order,"Raise depth to two hundred meters!" One of the sailors working with the depth promptly did as told and within five minutes a yell came back from over the bar,"Depth, two hundred meters, captain."

The captain nodded and turned to his XO and spoke in a more quiet voice, "Send this message to the radioman and tell him to release a SSIXS transmission immediately. The HESS-501 Wellington required immediate sattelite reconnaissance of this area." The XO saluted and responded,"Aye, captain!"

The XO scurried off to do his duty and the captain turned back to take the conn, pondering his next move. Karl Inkerneut had fought against Five Civilized Nations in the same submarine, when it was still a combat submarine, so he thought much the same way, and it killed him that he could not engage that fleet since his submarine did not have the torpedoes it use to have. Kriegsmarine naval commanders were extremely aggressive in nature, and the same was true for all of the Empire's armed services. The testament to this was within the War of Golden Succession itself, with massive air offensives against Havenite aerial forces, and the attempt to gain the ground initiative as quickly as possible. Now, he would have to merely sit down, study the sorrounding area, and warn all other units of approaching Malatosian naval units.

It took about three hours for the Targul Frumos naval base, now besieged by Havenite naval forces, to respond with their own 1024 bit encrypted sattelite data spurt, and it merely read that there was a huge Malatosian fleet heading to the Empire's coasts, and that the HESS-501 was ordered to issue a warning to the Malatosian fleet. Consequently, Inkerneut did as ordered, and rose to one hundred meters, and sent out an active ping, which would most likely be picked up by Malatosian anti-sumbarine warfare ships. With that, they sent a non-encrypted SSIXS transmission to the fleet warning it that approaching within two hundred and fifty kilometers of the Empire's coast, the exclusive economiz zone of the Empire, at this time of war, would be an immediate decleration of war, and that the Empire would respond firmly and without hesitation.

With that done, the HESS-501 increased depth back to six hundred meters, turned around, and began to head back home as quietly as possible at 6 knots, making almost no cavitation, and slipping away without notice.

All the while, in Beda Fromm, the second largest naval headquarters in the south of the Empire, a small task force of ships, all of which were indepedent ships, designed to be able to 'added on' to any battlegroup in the case of massive casualties and such, prepared to head out to meet this Malatosian fleet. The task force, dubbed TF-1, was composed of three 'Morsky-Orol' Light Cruisers, a Novikovian design prior to their annexation by the United Kingdom of Azazia, and seven Manstein class Destroyers. The small surface fleet was mirrored under the waves by eight Cartagena class Nuclear Attack Submarines [SSNs], and they would be prepared to give that fleet hell if they continued on their way towards the Empire's coasts. A battle group couldn't be sent because most were going to be needed to deal with the breaking of the naval siege of Targul Frumos, and so the Malatosian fleet would have to be opposed by something totally outnumbered - numbers nonwithstanding, the Empire's forces had a tendency to always pull through, even when the odds were against them.

Battle of Targul Frumos

“Fire in the Bridge contained, damage teams heading aft now.”

Admiral Skomma had somehow been thrust into the position of commanding the biggest naval formation in Havens arsenal. It was just a matter of luck that he had been in the CIC and not in the bridge when the missiles struck, just sheer luck but it kept him alive. He nodded to his XO, “Good, send word to the fleet, all ships are to engage the enemy.” he couldn’t get much more out but that was all that was needed.

The huge guns an Argentine were designed for one purpose, to destroy super dreadnaughts but never before had they been tested on one. It would be the first time in history an Argentine and a dreadnaught went head to head, the only catch was that there were three Argentines and all three concentrated their firepower on the H&K dreadnaught. The guns of three Argentines swiveled around and over a hundred shells fro massive 25 inch shells to 12 inch shells rained down on the H&K flagship.

Around the Argentines the other ships followed suit, the destroyers and cruisers opened up with their smaller 10 inch and 155mm guns instead focusing on the destroyers and cruisers of the H&K fleet. While their shells were to small for a dreadnaught a 10 inch shell would cause havoc on a destroyer, and they also had numbers. During all this the ships continued firing off their missiles but without any central guidance or targeting. Hundreds of missiles rose up without any order and targeted on random ships went out. The battle was losing order and was descending into a slugfest between two massive fleets, the only hope was that the advantage of numbers on the Havenite side would be telling enough to make a difference.


“Admiral, were picking up a massive launch of planes from the H&K fleet.”

“Very well, launch our own aircraft to support our CAP.” Skomma was still in to much shock to be worried or show much emotion. Even when the Ursil shuddered from a shell hit he didn’t move.

The fleets ADV’s were the first to begin defending against the new wave of attacks. They were told to ignore the planes and focus on the missiles as the CAP would engage the planes and so the continued on their job. Built just for this they went about their job sending out hundreds of SAM’s. SAM’s and missiles collided repeating the actions of the morning again and again. The SAM’s couldn’t defeat them all and once again missiles began crashing into the fleets perimeter making it a personal fight, every ship defending itself against the missiles. And again dozens were hit but the rest continued firing their guns and launching off their missiles. Even if the battle was won it would be at a cost greater than any ever paid by Haven.

In the air the fleets fighters were quick to try to get out and meet the H&K bombers. F-121’s and Valkyries alike formed up above the fleet to engage their H&K counter parts once again. People who had never before engaged in combat would become aces by the end of the day.

A hundred and twenty fighters shot out from the fleet to meet up with the H&K aircraft. With the range between the fleets so small they were within range of the H&K aircraft as soon as they took off and so after moving out a few miles they fired. 960 long range Divinebolt missiles shot out to engage the H&K bombers and fighters. Behind them the fighters that shot them followed hoping to cut the range so that they could use their medium range missiles to kill whatever aircraft survived. It didn’t matter, the short range between the fleets worked both ways and the H&K aircraft were able to launch their own missiles at the ships below.

The missiles came in high unlike all the other missiles that had been engaged so far and they came in at a time when the SAM launchers were running low. The ADV’s did their best , they’d already done an amazing job cutting fleet casualties to almost half what they would have been, but they could only do so much. They could only save the fleet so many times but they still tried. They put up their best effort, launching their SAM’s with more Sam coming from the fleets other ships but the missiles still streaked in avoiding for the most part the fleets perimeter and striking the center. The fleets capital ships began taking hits, a massive carrier was sunk outright along with other ships while many more burned. The losses were piling up.





“Conn, Sonar, we are picking up dozens of contact…explosions in the water everywhere, sounds like a major battle is going on up there.”

“Designate closest four targets masters 27-30.”

Captain Parti had managed to get his SSN up close to the H&K fleet along with nine others. They were in a position to turn the tides of the battle quickly.

“Load tubes one 1 thru 6 MAPCAP, 7 and 8 ATT. Open outer doors and prepare to fire electronically.”

He didn’t want to fire to early before the other subs were in position but he had no way of contacting them without warning the H&K fleet of their presence so he decided to wait for a minute. “Conn, Sonar, torpedo launch, we are counting six torpedoes in the water bearing two-two-seven, theirs coming from the Farris.”

“Aye, looks like Captain Paloma couldn’t wait. Match sonar bearing and shoot tubes one thru six on Masters 27 to 29.”

“Conn, Sonar, units one thru six running straight, hot and normal.”

“Aye, reload tubes one thru six MAPDCAP, prepare for snapshot.”

Six torpedoes streaked out from the submarine and headed in to strike the H&K fleet. The six torpedoes weren’t alone, sixty torpedoes in all coming from ten submarines went out to strike the H&K fleet from below. A new front in the battle was being opened up.

Skies over Targul Frumos

The bombers had been trying to escape the hell coming after them, and many of the afterburners were ignited in a furious attempt to run. The alert systems in many of the planes began to come online, signaling the enemy was "painting" them. Many of the rookie pilots started to panic, a measure that would get alot of them shot down; but the aces, however, kept their composure and began to throttle up or prepare counter measures and lead the group. The leader fired off his chaff canister, in an attempt to have the enemy missiles be diverted. Following the squadron leaders example, a domino effect of canisters and flares were shot off in an attempt to drive off the enemy. A good attempt was put up although lives started to be claimed by the screaming missiles. Ejection seats began tossing fire and smoke as pilots began to bail out or be killed.

One random bomber pilot, before being killed, sent a transmission to a friendly craft almost 10,000ft above. The pilot had hoped his message would get off and save the remainder of men. The tranmission was recieved by a pilot flying above, with no IFF squak, or an active targeting firing computer, in an F-22 fighter. Surrounded by that F-22 was a large number of F-22's flying at moderate speeed, and without any squak, or computer on. The plan was to stay as low profile as possible, to surprise resistance, and hopefully claim lives for air superiority. Almost simutaneously active weapons systems and IFF squaks came online, probably doubling or tripling the amount of aircraft blips on enemy radars.

As the enemy Valkeries were doing their moderate number on the bombers, ands the fighters along side them, they were being targeted themselves, by the F-22's flying high altitude cover, and many of the Valkeries chasing the FB-22's were now on the targeting computers of the fighter pilots. The fighters began to lock on, from a distance, with their Phoenix AAM's. The distance between the enemy and the HK pilots was both an advantage and a disadvantage. The first volley of missiles came screaming out from hardpoints when the number of Havenite aircraft in the air was at its peak. After the first volley, many pilots sped up to close range and their computers began recalculating shots. The ominous, brutal dogfight for air superiority was about to begin.

HKS HailandKill

Current reports show more missiles incoming from the enemy. AA systems are working in tandem, trying not to run low at any time and no orders have been given for a counter attack. HKS Zealous was targeted by the enemy and it took many hits before constant shelling had ripped a hole in the second hull. Other shells confirmed to hit the bridge, and a gun battery. The current statis of Admiral Eustice is unknown and contingency plan D is in action. Current command is now yours.

Rear Admiral Thomas Jones read the message from his aide. He was the commander of Shock Carrier Group, and the second in command of the HK armada currently off the waters of Targul Frumos. He was just assigned a hard task, one of filling the shoes of Admiral Eustice, who was now probably dead.

"Sir current reports show a good defense against current enemy missile attacks, but many of the enemies shelling is hitting hard on our smaller vessels. The air attack rages, and no confirmed reports are in."

"Their major weakness is the specific targeting of our flagship. Their probable goal was to create disorder, but thankfully we had a back up plan." The Admiral paused "Keep firing as many missiles as possible from every availible ship, and have our 3 remaining SDs and our remaining battleships continue to spread shelling amongst the enemy ships."


The call went out to fire again, except this time it was from a new leader. The morale of the seamen was getting lower and lower as casualties of men, and silver beasts, were growing. The weary crews started to get to battlestations again, and many a fate in their hands.

The battered destroyers and cruisers started to fire their missiles again creating a haze of smoke added to the burning ships. The Sledgehammers began taking flight once again, to kill enemy ships. This time was different, as their small guns began to fire on top of the missile attacks coming from the ships. The three remaining SDs began to fire massive 30'' shells again, adding noise to the already crazy battle. The SD's also had their missile systems churning, firing off Principe III's. The noise streaking from everyship was deafening to anyone standing on a bridge, or the decks. The battleships began to fire 28'' shells, and since many had survived the previous attacks they would be the most deadly. With many shells and missiles being popped into the air, the battle was intensifying once again, and the fate of the HailandKill fleet depended on the combined aerial and sea attacks.

Under The Waves, Targul Frumos

The Seawolf class submarines had been patiently waiting for days. They sat at the bottom waiting for a chance to prove their mettle. The first torpedo alerts came during a low point, but battlestations were called in the combined 80 submarines. Mike Tonlin was the leader of the pack, and he had instituted a plan, should a massive torpedo attack come.

Many of the subs began to fire off noisemakers, to lure as many torpedoes as possible. The amount of noisemakers and counter measures in the water made the number of submarines seem larger. The enemy torpedoes were still coming, and the ones that had blown past the counter measures hit the seawolves, and sonar operators could hear the bulkheads collapsing.

The response, after the damage was tallied, was enormous. Many of the subs, under Tonlins order, began to fire of their ADCAP MK-48's to the enemy. The coodinates were chosen based on were the enemy torpedoes were picked up from, and hopefully active radar would solve the problem of where they were. Almost a 160 torpedoes were fired, with the lead one coming from Tonlin's sub. After about 100 meters, they switched to active radar, homing in on anything that was below, or above the water.

Now three fronts were raging, and the victor would soon have the upperhand in the remaining war.


[OOC: Nice bit of RPing SH2. Editing complete.]

[OOC: Again, I'm going to take this in chunks.]

Battle of the River Nestor
http://modernwarstudies.net/Maps/fedala.gif

The young private centered the Tagus' eye piece over his right eye, looking through the computer screen, which was relaying the coordinates of the oncoming armor to him. The rebels were finalizing their crossing over the River Nestor, after two days of preparing bridges after the orignal infantry had crossed over. Up to now, Fedor, leading the Imperial Army, had not done anything to oppose their crossing, however, he was quickly changing his strategy, and had ordered certain units foward to harass the crossings. For now, the rebels had to get their armor across, which had explained why they had built the twelve ton bridges over the timespace of two days, using captured Praetorian II batteries and mobile anti-air artillery batteries to protect it from the revived Golden Luftwaffe. However, the Luftwaffe was too preoccupied with the Havenite airforce over Ruska, and hadn't enough time to prepare aerial suppression over the River Nestor. Moreover, the Luftwaffe had plans to deal a striking blow to Weigar elsewhere, not at the River Nestor, which was deemed their climax.

The soldier put his finger over the automated trigger, more like just a button that would 'trigger' the computer which would fire the propellant, consequently igniting the missile and allowing it to beging pouring thrust out of its rear end, forcing it foward and towards that unknowing tank. Without thinking about it, the soldier did just that, and the Tagus anti-tank missile slipped out of the protected casing of the launcher, and made its way towards the rebel T-80 tank, sputtering fire from the back and leaving a thick black stream of smoke behind it. The soldier, as he was trained to do, rolled over into a series of bushes, as his position had just been given away, and he restocked another missile within the tube, and then prepared to change location.

As he did that, there was a loud clonk, and a bright flash engulfed the T-80, sending pieces of explosive reactive armor in all directions. The missile was a top attack missile, which meant that it would hit one of the weakest areas of a tank. When the smoke cleared, and the debris settled on the ground, the tank's turrent lay to one side, and the tank itself was charred black; another victim of this bloody war. All the while, machinegun chatter had perused the area in front of the private, in search of a response, and an artillery shell shrieked overhead, striking a position to the forefront of the soldier, most likely killing more Imperial infantry. The response was just as violent, with counter battery fire supressing the rebel self-propelled howitzers and mortars with a near constant stream of rocket propelled shells. It had been the same for two days. Minor combating. The Battle of the River Nestor had started with a bang, but it had petered out into a series of minor confrontations during the river crossing. What stopped Fedor from just crushing them before they crossed the river?

Perhaps that would never be answered, and in the future it would be studied by generals and fans of history across the world, hoping to figure out what had propelled Fedor to allow Heinrich and Marshall Bietz to cross the river and pose a direct threat to Fedala. But, even now, those who fought under his banner knew that he was thinking of more machinations, and perhaps it was a trap. Indeed, if the entire rebel army crossed, the River Nestor would be behind them, and if those bridges gave out and they were defeated in battle, it meant that they had no place to run. It would be an instant death of the rebel offensive army, and the capture of Heinrich if he did not swim himself across the river. Indeed, it was a trap!

So, Bietz, unknowingly, continued to set himself up, pouring over two thousand T-80s and some sixty thousand infantry over into Fedala, preparing to defeat the Imperial armies and march on to the capital, install Heinrich on the throne, and ensure the full autonomy and sovereignty of Weigar. It seemed to all those who fought for his army foresaw their independence soon. The fruits of their labor were budding, but little did they know that the Fedor I had outsmarted them. The skies were already growing dark, as the saying went, for Weigar, and they had not yet noticed.

[OOC: sorry this has been so slow in coming...
sorry this is so short, Im at work so im typing this while my boss isnt looking...
Barring any RL diasters I should be able to catch up]

-The Approach of the First Expeditionary Fleet-
Days straight at full speed had taken their toll on the Mekugian fleet as it raced across the ocean. Refueling stops had been arranged and periods indecision and nervous, almost paranoid defensive maneuvers had kept the fleet on its toes for several days now, the commanders where tired, the crews were stretched, and the ships had run themselves to an early mechanical check-up and re-haul if they ever made it back to home port.

Heading towards the west coast Golden Throne they had argued with the Lord Admiral about the route to take, of course from satellite feeds the Admiral had pushed for the bold path directly into the fight and cut off both the rebel and Havenite advance as quickly as possible. This of course was not a popular decision, with transport and logistics craft stuffed to brim running low in the water, and with defensive and picket ships running on the wrong end of exhausted the combined leadership voted for a much safer more northern route taking them well outside the combat area and dropping them towards the rather secure former capital of the Empire.

Though safer the fleet was still on the utmost of alert status, the air around the vessels was thick with carrier borne AWACs and Combat Air Patrol this close to their goal they would take no chances.

Below the waves Carina class SSGNs scoured the seafloor like a bloodhound listening for any abnormal sounds that would mean the presence of a combatant, their tubes were filled with Cutlass anti-shipping missile set on seemingly a hair trigger they were out in front and were the first to enter Macabean Territorial waters, though there was some fanfare the somber realization they were just now entering war zone was a sobering prospect.

Onboard the Fleet Carrier Black Star hundreds of Griphon MH-30 transport helicopters and gunships were prepared for launch, with the port so close to they wanted to ensure everything a the port was prepared for what was to be a circus of military equipment. From Macabea they had a secure sea port, and the ability to reach by air cavalry all three hotspots in the Golden Throne, while remaining within the Air defense umbrella of the Golden Throne.

[OOC: Mek, I'll get something up about me meeting your fleet with escorts and such, after I put up the Weigar Rebellion post, a Targul Frumos post, and the Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor post.

*Cough* Vote, and give a five!]

The Battle of Mons Dei [8th Day]
http://modernwarstudies.net/Maps/Weigar.gif
The previous day's firefight had been the first probe of the rebels, attempting to get a feel for the 3rd's defenses, and similar attacks had occured elsewhere, confirming the theory. By now, the Weigar's posted army around the 3rd had dwindled in strength to around fifteen thousand effectives, with the rest either dead, or moving along to reinforce the River Nestor, which was going to need all the soldiers it could get. However, disaster was still in the books for the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Divisionen, as their effective strength had dropped to around one thousand five hundred, with over four thousand dead; the 3rd was officially the most beat up division in the war. There M-Praetorians, already obsolete anyways, and their infantry fighting vehicles, as well as their multiple rocket launcher systems had already either run out of fuel, or had been destroyed in the fighting. Yes, the Be-23s had dropped much food the day before, as well as ammunition, but they had forgotten about the fuel.

Colonel Rodrigen Dartmut, one of the new age citizens of the Empire, with a name that combined some sort of Spanish, Germany and indegenous speak, as opposed to the purely German or Spanish names of others, depending on the location within the Empire, paced back and forth within his command tent. Well, colonel should have been a 'past tense' title, as the aerial resupply yesterday had also given him his new pins for the rank of Brigadier General, and the papers that had officially promoted him to that said rank, putting him in command of the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Divisionen. The first commander had died four days before, when the division had first been encircled, and it had taken Fedala that long to finally inscribe a new commander; ludicrous. Regardless, not that he finally was given control, he would see to it that this division was not damned to an early death.

He had bolstered the lines during the night, and had reorganized the remnants of the division, putting two hundred men on reserve, and the rest on frontline duty. He also ordered the immediate planting of over two thousand ATG-44 anti-tank mines, dropped in during the day by the same aerial resupply mission. It might not have been enough to stop the rebel advance on the kessel, but it would certainly injure them, which in the end was better than nothing.

He stopped his pacing abruptly, and walked out of the tent, pushing the flap out of the way. The two guards immediately moved to attention, slamming their closed right fist on to their left breast and completing a stiff right arm salute. General Dartmut looked over and his face twisted,"Did I not order you two to leave my presence and join the reserve units? This division needs you more than my tent does!"

One of guards looked away, and the other man murmured,"No, sir."

Dartmut's expression was as murderous as it was before and he retorted,"Well now you know! Get moving!"

The two men scurried off at the general's orders, and he continued his way to the frontlines up north, all the time thinking of what he was going to do. He was sorrounded by a force thirteen, or more, times his size, and they were ready to crush the resistance, utterly destroy the remnants of the Imperial forces at Mons Dei. In short, they were savoring a total victory at Mons Dei, and the only thing standing in their way was the dreaded 3rd. Dartmut knew he did not have much time, and if the 3rd was to survive it would have to put all of its energy into the defense, and Dartmut himself would have to be quick witted. The Battle of Mons Dei had reached its climax, and either the 3rd survived, or it did not. Indeed, Dartmut thought today would be the turning point of the battle.

All of a sudden Dartmut stopped as a sudden explosion rung through the air, coming from the west. He turned as quick as he could to witness a column of dirt slamming into the air, and then coming back down, followed by yet another explosion, and then the same vision. They were coming. All over the kessel the rebels had sprung to life, pouring into the defensive lines hoping to just overpower them, and the mines continued to go off. Dartmut swore to himself and began to run towards his command headquarters, about two hundred meters off on a hillside, where he could see the entire landscape and command the battle from there. Suddenly, an artillery round landed square on his position, and there went the second commander of the 3rd. It had been a lucky shot, but that lucky shot had cost the 3rd its moral.

Nonetheless, it would take around four hours for news of the general's death to get out, and so the men continued to fight, unaware that their commanding officer had been slaughtered by a stray artillery shell. The artillery duel continued, but Weigar's artillery had gotten stronger, and the division's guns had been put out of action by midday, including the deaths of over thirty gunners, and the destruction of their machines. Mortars, however, kept up the pressure, although they too were soon put of action. The mines had done their job well, putting out of action at least six hundred of the perhaps two thousand rebel tanks making a presence at Mons Dei; most of them coming from once government operated tank yards, which were designed to hold old tanks for scrapping. Obviously, the task had been bogged down through the beareaucracy of the administration, and now the rebels had their hands on thousands of tanks, regardless of the thousands of losses they had taken in the previous days of Mons Dei. But, with another fourth or more of their armor gone, they had little to waste; to them, their own resources became precious.

Small arms fire continued throughout the day, and this time the rebels did not stop after a few losses. They continued, pouring in the trenchlines of defending Imperial infantry, and had even managed to knock out the entrenched SOV-06s, which had been towed up to the front and placed to defend only with their main gun what they could see. However, the rebels also took heavy losses; perhaps, three for every Imperial dead. But to them that was irrevelent, because once the 3rd was destroyed, they could be transferred to move onto Fedala, where they were much needed.

Finally, by late night, a gurgled message reached headquarters, where sobbing commanders knew their fate, and it read,"All is lost; the north has buckeled. We are surrendering." Two hundred defenders that night put up their arms and walked into the rebel's custody. Mons Dei was lost; the division had felt the deaths of over eight hundred of their men, and with the surrender of two hundred they only had five hundred left. The rebels, all the while, had suffered close to three thousand dead, and nearly the same number wounded. It had been a catastrophe for them, but they had gotten what they wanted.

That midnight the battle again fell silent as both sides back off from each other and prepared for sleep. The next day, the 3rd would find itself in a more precarious position than before; indeed, that night the 3rd would most likely not sleep. Men prayed, men cried, men did things that civilian men never thought of. It was a testament to their endurance, to their bravery - they were heroes. But, alas, Mons Dei was over.

Weigar Uprising
The message from headquarters of plans to devastate the city from the air had sent shockwaves through the air assault group, and Kavallerie had prepared to head out within minutes of distributing that message. It had been decided that the 1st Special Forces Task Force, made up of exclusively Doomingsland's hothead soldiers, would take a different route than the air assault group, as to heighten the chances of success that at least one of the two would make it out of the city alive. More than that, there were just too many political differences between Geisenfreid and Doomingsland, and they just wanted to go their own ways, perhaps to prove the superiority of one, or the inferiority of the other.

The Kavellerie would take advantage of their namesake, helicopters, however, after brief reconnaissance, it had been evaluated that the held intersection was too laden with debris and the bodies of the dead, and that a pack of helicopters could not land effectively in the area, consequently, the Kavellerie would either have to capture a new landing zone, or they would have to make it themselves out of the city, most likely the latter, although the former was always an option.

So, by midnight of the day before, they had begun their oddesey out of Weigar and towards freedom. Most had welcomed the news, although they hadn't 'welcomed' the fact that if they did get out they would die, along with the rest of Weigar. Their hardships began immediately after setting foot out of the protected intersection. Moving quickly the entire group of of now around one hundred men, moved along two different streets, keeping an eye out for each other. However, frequent sniper shots took one or two down, depleting the group slowly but surely. Nonetheless, they continued to advance and if a sniper was spotted they would kill him with a rocket through the building.

However, frequent street fights broke out, killing many on both sides, although understandably more on the freedom fighter's side. Finally, commander of the group, Lt. Col. Albrecht Gunter stopped and ordered his men to secure the street, and to make sure nothing came close to their position. With that done he took out a map and called his radio man over and told him what to relay over to the airfield west of Weigar, still in Imperial hands. The radioman complied and repeated into the communications radio,"Hotel-six, this is Kavallerie, requesting pick-up, over."

A muffled response came over,"Kavallerie, Hotel-six, that's a negative. Your current painted position cannot take helicopter landings. Keep moving three miles north and you'll meet an intersection, and then speak to us again, over."

Dismayed Gunter noded and the radio man simply said,"Confirmed."

The group kept moving, and slowly they prodded through the streets of Weigar, continously harassed by freedom fighters looking for nothing more than the independence of their city and their state. They all thought they were close to their dreams, but how little did they know that their lives were done with. By this time the group's strength had dwindled to about eighty souls, and moral had dropped plenty.

One private, when talking to his comrade said,"Remember the first day we came here? What was that? Ten days ago? It seemed as if all we had to do was arrest some goddamn twat, and we'd be going home. Now, we're in the middle of a fucking war."

The guy next to him laughed and replied,"Yea, that's the kinda shit we get for joining this goddamn service. We're even fucking bigger losers. We're not even fighting for our country."

It was true. The city had been occupied with Waffen-SS, which were technically foreign mercenaries fighting for the Empire. But money meant loyalty, and so, whatever hardships they went through was apparently worth the big money the Empire provided them. The Waffen-SS had grown, and if the Empire was to apply the force of that and the force of its Werhmacht, one would soon understand just how much force the Empire could apply at any one spot; indeed, it was what made the Empire so dangerous to many.

By the latter part of the day they had hit the intersection required, and it was empty of everything, and so they set up perimeter, called the airbase, and got their choppers. By the next morning, they would be gone...but the oddesey of the Doomingslander soldiers would be much more ardouos, and much more interesting...

Malatosian Fleet


The Malatosian Fleet continued to travel at a speed of 20 knots. By now, it had just about completed the standard defensive precautions; thus, leaving each ship within the Malatosian Fleet eerily calm. On the Command Deck of the Prometheus-class Carrier Emperor's Justice., Admiral Sora paced forward glancing at the various tactical computers as he walked by. After completing the first long pace, He slowly turned around and began to slowly pace in the direction he just came. No sailor dared to bother the Admiral during this time. Admiral Sora stopped and looked at his Assitance. What is the position of the Fleet?, he said sharply. Ah, Yes, Sir, We are currently 1,200 Kilometers from Beda Fromm, the his assistant responded. Good, Order the fleet to pick up speed, I believe we are running behind schedule. Ah, Yes, sir, I will do it immediantly.

Admiral Sora, sat back down, to relax. As he relaxed, he was soon interrupted by a lone sailor. Sorry to disturb you, sir, but our ASW Ships have picked up a ping, possibly from a submarine working in the area., the crewmen quickly reported. Hmm, Interesting, Anything else?, Sora Asked. Hmm, yes, sir, they sent us a uncrypted message, we took the time to print it out for your leisure., the crewmen hastily handed the paper to Admiral Sora. Hmm, Interesting to say the least. Put the Fleet in Code Red, possible enemy around us. Also contact the Naval Ministry and tell we need satellite photographs of the area. Launch AWAC patrol, have submarines search for possible submarines., Sora said as he threw the piece of paper aside. Yes, sir, right away.

The once peaceful Fleet was now a hive of activity again. Most of the activity; however, were on the local Aircraft Carriers. One after another, Xenian Airborne Warning and Control Aircraft launched from the massive carriers. Their mission was simple, they would link up to the existing ship RADAR systems for a greater range in detecting enemy Aircraft and Missile activity. A total of five of those aircraft launched. Also launching, were 4 dozen Su-57 Vektor Air Superiority Fighters. Although way fewer than a Prometheus could launch, they would, perhaps, serve as a warning to any aircraft not to get close to the fleet. However, it was unlikely anything could make it within miles of the fleet thanks to the advanced Air-Defenses.

On the various Heli-Pads on the massive Cruisers and Destroyers, the new Mi-9T Multi-Mission Copters were taking off. They flew low and were armed with MADCAP Torpedos as well as advanced detection systems for dealing with Submarines. The main goal of the Fleet at the moment were dealing with possible enemy submarines lurking. Thus, each ship searched with their hull-mounted and towed Sonar systems. The Surface vessels also searched with their Acoustic Daylight Imaging Systems. The Submarines on the otherhand searched with their Ambient SONAR Systems. The Fleet inched closer and closer to Beda Fromm, not knowing what awaited in the future.

533 Bordanza Avenue, Marsa Burth
Sarcanza

Dead bodies littered the roadway up towards the corner street. Nearly sixty men had been commited to the seziure of the intersection of Bordanza Avenue and Ferther Street, and close to half of those men lay smeared across the pavement on the approach towards the objective.

The rest of the platoon was spread out across a string of buildings leading up to the approach. The utter lack of organization was remincient of the skirmishes going on throughout the entire city. Simply put the Sarcanza rebbellion was like a chicken with its head cut off. Yes, they could certainly still cause quite a stir, but in reality the far outnumbered Imperial Troops were maintaing a firm line against the disorganized insurgents.

A loud whistle rang from one of the buildings and suddenly the street filled with gunfire again, another desperate charge about to begin...

Mons Dei, HailandKill line

The HailandKill forces had been sitting without action for days and many of the soldiers were well rested and some were even clean shaven. Many of the weariest soldiers were now well rested, and the 1st Panzer Brigade, with all four divisions, was almost 1900 men, and 740 armor pieces strong. Many of the armor pieces were loaded with shells, but sat idley in their respective positions. Soldiers were getting antsy, and only time could tell when they would yet again erupt into battle.

"Shit man, I could do this for the rest of the war" One soldier remarked to his buddy "Just sitting here. This is a nice country side actually, I could think about moving hear when all this shit clears."

"Definatly" Replied his buddy "Although the land is now battlescarred and pockmarked, but I suppose in time everything will heal. "

Another soldier jumped into the foxhole, surprising the four men who were casually bullshitting and smoking. His faced showed urgency, and the two chevrons on his arm got the attention of the PFC's immediatly.

"Were moving out for an attack" He said "Spread the word boys, were going to load up to hit that rebel line again, maybe even tomorow, with one main assault. Another wave is gonna be following the initial assualt on that main enemy line and hopefully that second wave will be pushing all the way to the river. Were gonna have full armor and artillery support so were in good shape. Load up boys, were going to hell."

__________________________________________________

The whole brigade was preparing for an assault, and men could be seen loading up SOVs and tank crews scrambling to their war machines. The assault was being led by Jimmy Wilson himself, after Captain Ryan was killed in his last failed push. Jimmy Wilson was used to this situation, especially after being in it almost four times. He and his crew were a well oiled war machine, and they were preparing to exact revenge for prior losses, both HailandKill and Macabee. The first tanks rolled out at dawn on the morning of the 9th day, after most men had gotten a goods nights rest. Their direction was northern, as they were coming from the southern, and main line.

The war machine was turning that morning, with many tanks rolling out for front cover. BredtSverd tanks could take an RPG, and SOV-06's could not and a lesson was learned last time, that soldiers were more important than tanks in trench combat, and any soldier that was alive was a good soldier. The tanks fanned out, forming a diagonal line on the plains, with SOVs travelling behind them for protection. This time it was imperative that all SOVs make it safely to maximize the number of men making the assault. The tanks and SOVs were travelling slower than flank speed, so the full artillery attacks from the assault guns would take maximum effect.

At almost the exact same spot that the other pushes had stopped, this push stopped. Tanks began to rake the enemy lines with .50 Cal machine guns creating a macabre fireworks display. HE rounds began to fire on the lines creating brilliant flashes of orange. The firing continued, and SOV's began to pull ahead of the tanks. The tanks continued their deadly fire until SOVs began to unload, with their soldiers screaming into battle. The huffing and puffing could be heard amongst the men as they stormed towards the enemy, and the sounds of battle soon began. This time morale was higher and men were rested better. The initial assault began to take place and soldiers began to furiously attack the lines, with fervor not seen since the very opening shots of the war. The main attacks began with the cover of 15mm MEXAS rounds, and .50 Cal machine guns rounds tearing up dirt and people in the enemy lines.

When the fireworks display stopped soldiers started attacking the lines with their Hali-24 assault rifles and assorted grenades. The charge, or organized chaos, started with a bang, and HailandKill soldiers did not stop in front of the trench, even as men were falling from enemy gun fire, but rather jump into it.

The first group of soldiers making the attack were firing on the run, as they headed towards the enemy. They were killing any rebel standing up and returning fire, but not without taking their own losses. The first group to make it to the trenches were firing as they entered, and they savagely engaged in point-blank fighting. Sargeants and corporals were leading small squads up the trenches, but advance was limited due to fierce resistance. The question was "Is progress being made?"

The ensuing chaos would be determined by the rebel resistance, and effictivenss off the small squads that successfully entered the trenches.

Battle of Targul Frumos

It was a field day, he had gone from only shooting down two aircraft in his career to eight in one day and Commander Colum was loving it. He as bringing up another bomber to fire on when lights started beeping and a sqauking noise went off in his earphone, it all meant one thing, he was fucked. “Shit, Vampire Vampire, where the fuck did they come from.” He brought his aircraft around trying to break the radar lock the missiles had on his aircraft. The F-22’s that had fired on him were now showing up on his radar, a bit to late though. He brought about his F-121 and launched off the last three long range missiles at the F-22’s as did the other 119 fighters but that was all he could do. The H&K missiles slahed into the formations before anyone had much of a chance to respond. Half of the fighters went down hard leaving gaping holes in the different squadrons. The remaining fifty six fighters touched off their medium range missiles as the range closed hoping to a least kill as many of the H&K fighters as they could before they went down. The carriers were doing their best to put up more aircraft but they could only send up aircraft so fast and on top of that they were in the middle of a war zone with shells and missiles and tracers flying every which way, the air battle which at first seemed so promising and looked as if it was wrapped up wasn’t looking good at all. The only bright side was the fact that fighters couldn’t do much to ships but the bombers that could were being shot down so if H&K did achieve air superiority maybe they wouldn’t have the means to take advantage of it.



The sea battle was totally different from any other witnessed in recent history. Other battle had turned into almost a turn based system of one side firing missiles and then the other responding with a breathing period in between, which while it only lasted a few minutes it was a rest. This battle was shaping up to defy the rules of modern sea warfare instead turning into a constant slugfest, there were no breaks or breathers the missiles and shells rained in constantly, the only “breaks” being when the missile fire slacked off while the VLT tubes were loading up another batch.

It was this mess that three battle fleets of the Havenite navy had been thrust into. The casualties rolled in constently, eroding away at the fleets morale. They were veterans for the most part but never had they experienced something this intense. It was this mess that Admiral Skomma got thrust into.

He still sat there half in shock in the CIC of the HNS Ursil. The shudderings of the ship as it took shots and threw some back seemed to not faze him. Then the ship did more than shudder, it rocked as a massive 30” shell struck dead on nearly piercing the thick armor. Admiral Skomma went flying in the CIC and then it all went blank. He shot back up, he didn’t know what happened or how long it’d been. Above him a sailor kneeled violently shaking him doing nothing but adding to the massive headache Skomma had. He shoved the sailor away and reached up to massage his head. When he pulled his hand back it was covered in blood. Groaning, he pulled himself up with the very console he’d just cracked open his head on. He could barely walk he was so dizzy but he was out of the drunken stupor he’d been in. The first words out of his mouth weren’t the beginnings of some brave speech, just, “What the fuck just happened It still took him a minute to get everything together but when he did he was a new man, if only for a day, or an hour. Then things started to change.

New more vigorous orders went out, although they didn’t seem so vigorous at first when word spread to stop firing missiles and for awhile the fleet had to accept punishment from HailandKillian missiles without being able to respond in kind. The guns kept firing though, every ship from the destroyers to the Argentines kept up their fire on the H&K fleet. The Three Argentines all focused on one of the dreadnaughts hoping the combined firepower of three Argentines would take out the dreadnaught. After the first dreadnaught was shot up to bad to pose a threat then they would change targets to another, again focusing all their fire on the one ship. The destroyers and cruisers continued pounding the destroyers and cruisers of the H&K fleet using their numbers to pour three times the amount of “lead” at the H&K destroyers and cruisers than they could fire back. Morale started reaching a new low, it wasn’t enough to just respond with gunfire and it went lower every time a new fireball erupted signaling another missiles strike. But their was a reason behind the madness. The H&K missiles were chipping away at the fleet but losses were slowly going down instead of up as less H&K vessels were around to fire and on top of that the ADV’s had managed, for the most part, to reload their SAM batteries. With that the ADV’s were able to redouble their efforts and fulfill their job of protecting the fleet. For ten minutes this process went on. It seemed as if the battle was being handed to H&K but their was a reason for all of this and after ten minutes they found out.

The ten minutes had been used to reload as many VLS tubes as the ships could and while many were still empty a whole lot were full. Then the ships all fired, they tried to fire as one but it came out ragged, still it was a massive launch. From every ship with the ability to do so missiles rose, they rose in the thousands. The amount of missiles in the air rivaled the amount put up in the massive strike that had been launched earlier, it wasn’t as big but it still was big. The missiles went out streaking across the short range to the H&K fleet, it was a blanket launch, every ship in the H&K fleet other than the dreadnaughts had missiles incoming. It wasn’t enough though, a massive wave of jamming was put up by every ship and all the AWACs birds in the air over the H&K fleet. Their was no doubt that the H&K radars would burn thru the jamming and quickly but it would take time and even if it was only a minute or thirty seconds it was a minute or thirty seconds they didn’t have to target the missiles and launch and with the range between the fleets being so short they didn’t have much time to begin with. And all the while the shells kept on raining on the H&K vessels.





“Conn, Sonar somethings out there, the torpedoes seemed to have struck targets short of the surface fleet…..shit subs, torpedoes in the water holy shit, holy shit. I can’t even count.”

“What! Where the hell did they come from? Launch tubes seven and eight ATT.” Captain Parti and his crew had trained for sub to sub warfare, that was his main job as an SSN captain, to kill other subs but no one had ever envisioned going up against a wall of torpedoes that strong. Two ATT’s weren’t even a against all that.

“All back full, launch noisemakers. Turn those UUV’s on.” The boat slowly fought against all its forward momentum to first stop and then start going backwards. Noisemakers and UUV’s filled the water trying to draw off as many torpedoes as they could while ATT’s shot out to engage the incoming torpedoes.

“Captain, tubes one through 6 reloaded MADCAP.”

“Snapshot one thru six.”

Sixty torpedoes raced out at seventy knots from the ten stricken SSN’s to get one last lick at the H&K subs before they died. Behind them the first H&K torpedoes began striking noisemakers and UUV’s while ATT’s began knocking off some more. It was a hopeless scenario, the torpedoes came on.

“Five torpedoes three thousand yards, closing fast.”

“Engage ASHUM, brace for impact.” The ASHUM turrets of ten subs began sending out streams of rounds that crashed into the oncoming torpedoes but like the CIWS systems of surface ships they weren’t an end all and hulls started collapsing as torpedoes came in. Captain Parti went flying as a torpedo struck the submarine nearly buckling the hull but somehow they survived, succeeded were all the others had failed. Of the ten submarines they were the only survivors. Somehow, by some miracle, they had managed to pull thru, albeit with massive damage.

“Flooding aft in engineering, electrical fire reported in C hallway deck two. Leaks everywhere….fire in forward torpedo room, minor flooding in engine room.” The damage report went on but it all meant one thing, Captain Parti and his men were out of the fight but they couldn’t run, with all the damage they’d taken if they tried to run the noise would draw the H&K subs on them like a pack of piranha’s around blood. So they went down, down below the level and waited, hoping the H&K fleet was defeated and the next ships to come by were friendly.

The destroyed subs had accomplished one thing though, when they died emergency beacons had detached and gone up to the surface announcing to the fleet their deaths, and only letting them know of the presence of the H&K subs. Now the bulk of the fleets SSN force moved forward, thirty SSN’s sleeked thru the waters to destroy the H&K fleet. Originally their mission had been to blockade the coast but they couldn’t do their job with the H&K fleet their, and they weren’t alone, the whole fleet had an underlying mission that the H&K fleet was delaying, a mission of importance.

OOC: H&K what’s left of your fleet? I’m gonna post an ORBAT and casualties later today or tomorrow in the OOC thread, could I get one on you?

Naval Siege of Targul Frumos

[OOC: If you have any problems with the post by all means please express then in the out of character thread. The response to Ruska will come tomorrow.]

Some weeks ago Battle Group November had finished operations around Noddestan, securing a total of three small islands for the Empire, which would have otherwise gone to the forces of Little India and the Kraven Corporation. The small war, known as the War of the Fugue Straits, had by then ended, and November had made its way to its home port, which was Targul Frumos. Unfortunately, the Havenite fleet was currently besieging the port, with Hailandkill's ships and aircraft taking quite a beating from the superior forces of the Havenites, at least in numbers. The situation was continued dire and two crisis emerged. One of them was the Malatosian fleet about a thousand kilometers from the coasts of Beda Fromm, which was about to be engaged by a smaller destroyer group after an ELINT submarine had warned the Malatosian battle fleet to stay away. November was torn apart by either lifting the siege of Targul Frumos, or destroyed Malatose's fleet before it even got close to the Empire's borders. For at least twenty-four hours November stayed inactive, discussing possiblilities within the command center protected by the thick armored belt of the HES Fasting, the single Zealous class Super Dreadnought within the ranks of the fleet.

Grand Admiral of the Battle Group, Dergest von Grief, looked down on the maps of the port and the outlying area of the battle as his executive officer gave him a quick briefing of the current casualty count. Apparently it was true, Hailandkill had taken quite a beating. von Grief cut his executive officer short and pointed at a location on the map,"There."

His executive officer telted his head and gave the admiral a perplexed look and said,"Sir?"

Nodding von Grief continued,"Indeed. Tell our radio man to relay orders I will give you written on a piece of paper. Together, we're going to lift the siege. Dornstad, what is the casualty count of the Havenite fleet?"

The executive officer flipped a few pages on his clipboard and replied,"According to our allies they have 'officially' declared sunk twelve Havenite destroyers, most likely the Cunningham type, and thirteen smaller vessels, of which specifically we don't know which they were. However, this are basically insignificant, although with those numbers and previous numbers of all three Havenite fleets in our heads we can be pretty damn sure that they have around two hundred and sixty ships."

Grand Admiral von Grief nodded and sighed then pressed on,"Alright, relay these orders to all of our ships as well. We will pursue the naval battle in standard formation, with a heavy three tier ASW/ASuS perimeter and a heavy AWACS and CAP perimeter around our core of the fleet, and we will continue around the Havenite fleet and place ourselves directly behind them, in between the three fleets and Haven, cutting off their supply route. We would also have to defend from more Havenite fleets trying to re-open the route, but if we give enough time, perhaps we can destroy the three between us and Targul Frumos, and thus equalize the naval battle a bit. From there, I wouldn't doubt the Empire would be ready to stage continued naval offensives down the Havenite coast, which would most likely settle the war in terms of the ultimate victor."

The executive officer stated his agreement, saluted, and walked off to first relay orders to Targul Frumos, and then to the rest of the ships. Ultimate, the latter part of the previous day, while Havenite and allied aircraft clashed over the skies of Targul Frumos Bay, was an agreement between Battle Group Romeo, currently besieged within the port, and Battle Group November. It would be a cunning plan, although a bit unorthodox.

So, the next day dawned, and as the sun rose, Battle Fleet Romeo stirred. With the sun behind them, ten of the forty Azores class Fast Attack Craft sneaked out of port, while heavy reconnaissance satellites moved overhead. Satellite detection of enemy submarine positions had become very popular for the military, and it wasn't that difficult. Even nuclear submarines left a small wake in the surface which a person from the line of sight of a ship could not see under any circumstances, but to a satellite that disturbance was simply huge. Not only that, but if a submarine was moving it would also kill millions of small organisms which would leave a quick but vast heat signature behind it. From there, a satellite could fire a simple blue-green laser through the atmosphere, lock on the submarine, and relay coordinates. These coordinates were given to the Azores.

An enemy submarine would most likely hear them coming from about twenty kilometers, since they didn't make that much noise, and since they already had the coordinates of the closer Havenite submarines they needn't turn on their active sonars. With that in mind, the Azores closed in, and from a range of fifty kilometers from any given submarine used their specially placed surface torpedo launchers. What had been done was that the standard missile launcher had been easily and quickly replaced with a torpedo tube launcher instead, like a standard ASROC, and this had all be in port, while Haven thought the Imperial fleet was largely dormant. So, each submarine would receive four MT-3 torpedoes, using an underwater pumpjet to propel itself at seventy knots as quietly as possible, using LIDAR, and at the latter stages active SONAR for an accurate hit on any given submarine.

Some thirty minutes after the Azores had begun their hunts the core of Romeo began moving out. The first ship to come out of port was the single Argentine class Galleon and three ADVs, sorrounding it, making sure that Argentine was extremely well protected. Right behind the Argentine, in a line formation, just like that used by the Germans at the battle of the Jutland, the single Zealous class Super Dreadnought came out, sorrounded by three Manstein class Destroyers. The rest of Romeo would wait for another ten minutes before moving out.

Suddenly, out of the blue, a series of missiles whized over the silently moving fleet, towards the Havenite fleet, and radar control in the Zealous went beserk until it was confirmed that a launch had been made by fifty GLI-34 Albatrosses from a range of over two hundred kilometers within Imperial airspace. Indeed, the strike was simply huge, witnessing the quick movements of some three hundred Shockhound Avenger anti-shipping missiles, which within themselves, if used properly, were excellent missiles. Their only drawback was that they were supersonic, and not hypersonic, which made them suceptible to CIWS fire, however, the attack was concentrated for maximum damage. With eight thermite 'wings' the missile had a pre-attack 'soften' scheme, and the final penetration with a 400kg shaped warhead would give it what it needed to atleast provide minor damage to the targetted shipping, while its Reich Metalwerken AXIS RAMjet gave it a velocity of Mach 3.5. The Havenite fleet had three ships it was most worried about, the three Argentine class Galleons, a joint design, most ironically. Each Argentine was targetted by one hundred of the missiles, which even then wouldn't guarantee their destruction. Each Argentine was protected twelve Paramount ADVs, which meant that half or more of the missiles would be wiped out before they even got close, while others would be shot down by close-in weapon systems. Then, even six or seven missiles would only dent the armored scheme on the Argentine, so although it sounded like overdoing it, it was completely necessary. Indeed, the mission's objectives were merely to wound the Argentines so that Romeo and November could simply move in and destroy them quickly. The other two hundred missiles were amongst the thirty Brimstones, hoping to destroy a few, and swound others.

As that developed, the single Zealous in Romeo, coming out, had begun to follow the single Argentine, opening fire on the now hopefully wounded Argentines. The latter had opened all her guns on a single foe, while the Zealous had split her guns evenly amongst the two remaining Argentines, relying on range to engange. All the while, the Zealous released her own missile barrage, filling the skies with one hundred Shock Avengers, Kriegzimmer's anti-dreadnoght missile. The missiles would arc high in the sky, making it hard for the CIWS to engage, and then crash into the decks of the two Argentines, fifty missiles each, with a tungsten tip, eight thermite MIRVs, and then the final explosive, which would come after the penetration of the missile, so that the missile would blow the deck apart, and hopefully rip some of the guns off.

As Romeo sallied November made her move, going in standard defensive formation, sailing in a wide arc around the position of the three Havenite fleets [by at least two hundred kilometers worth of a gap between the two side's ASW/ASuS perimeters] and preparing to place itself in the middle of Haven and here now own besieged three fleets. November wouldn't make an opening offensive move, but it would damn make sure those three Havenic fleets were cut off, putting a lot of pressure on the Havenite commanders. Indeed, it was becoming to look towards a debacle for Haven, which was just what the Imperial High Command needed to inspire the defense against their southern neighbors.

The Siege of Targul Frumos, for ever known as the Battle of Targul Frumos, had reached her climax.

Air Battle over Ruska

The Lu-5s and Lu-45s had a single trump card in this air battle and that was the fact that the Divinebolts were scramjet propelled, meaning they had a mininum altitude. Although the MTAAM-3 Predator also had a mininum altitude the enemies of the Empire had still not thought of the weakness, and that was what it was. Fortunately, the Empire was about to begin to phase out the MTAAM-3, so while for the next two or three weeks the aircraft would be forced to carry the same air to air missile, ergo forcing them to fire at shorter ranges to make sure that the enemy aircraft didn't have enough time to bank and decrease altitude, they would soon have a much more advance and worthwhile air to air missile than their foe south of them.

The commander of the the lead squadron of Lu-5s was the first to react shouting through the communications radio,"Bank, bank!"

The entire eight squadrons of Lu-5s banked and headed for the ground accelerating like no other, while the Lu-45 Hawks, already down a bit, made a rush for it as well. Nonetheless, the AIM-123 Divinebolt NGRAAMs were fast missiles, and a good many of them collided with the quick witted Lu-s, bringing down at least thirty-nine of the aircraft, a good third of the original number, while around seven of the Lu-45 Hawks were shot down, rendering all of the aircraft squadrons relatively useless for the continuation of the air battle. As a consequence, the ten squadrons, or more like the seven squadrons that remained, headed back home shattered with over forty-six losses in the battle, although these didn't amount to the sheer losses felt by the Havenite aircraft, which were about to receive the punch of their life time.

Although the Havenite airforce had punched the lights out of the major cities with EMP blasts they hadn't taken in mind the continous flow of reinforcements coming from the north, and as of yet they hadn't committed themselves to any long term suppressants of the roving columns of reinforcements. Therefore, they left themselves open to the first of a new weapon, the Praetorian II, each armed with eight P.746.B Praetorian surface to air missiles, already widely purchased internationally and acclaimed to be one of the best surface to air missiles in current design. Of course, there was absolutely no way the Empire could field these in huge numbers, but the current situation only warranted needed aerial suppressants against Havenite aircraft as none of the rebel armies had the capabilities for aerial operations.

So, while the Rains were still targetted by dozens of SA-33 Wraiths, the MANPAD firing their advance missiles at the ground attack aircraft, leaving streaks of smoke in the sky, the Praetorian IIs made their opening moves against the Rains, making sure they got the first strike. When first passing the Aurillac forest and reaching Aurillac they had a perfect view of the ongoing air battle and quickly opened fire on the moving Rains and Valkyries, covering the retreat of the Lu-5s and Lu-45s. At least two hundred P.746.B Praetorians flocked the once blue lit skies, targetting the surviving Rains within Ruska. The sight was incredible, and it was evidence of the resurgent Imperial presence in Ruska - a clear sign that the provence would not fall, and Fedor would keep the Golden Throne. All the while, the boom boom of the 155mm anti-aerial artillery guns could be heard through one's body as the CAPMES rounds filled the skies, reaching altitudes exceeding eighteen thousand meters if needed, aiming for the Valkyries. For the next two weeks the only thing Ruska had was its ground defenses, as with the debacle of the strike the Luftwaffe wouldn't attempt another stupidity unless very badly needed.

That need ironically came right after the debacle and the Luftwaffe rolled into the scene again. Huge squadrons of Rain had entered Ruska from the south, picked up by the mobile RADAR units used by the Praetorian IIs, and these were immediately contested by at least three P.746.Bs per Rain, each missile capable of up to 60G turns. The bigger, more important targets were caught on by the OTH-B stations working in Fedala and in the north of the Empire, as well as temporary RADARs set up by ground units in still Imperial Ruska. The grand multitude of 155mm anti-aircraft artillery guns still boomed in the horizon, firing their CAPMES as high as need be, even high enough to hit those EB-9s [the 155mms have a range of about seventy thousand to eighty thousand feet, but have a mininum altitude of somewhere near thirty thousand feet; the altitude set by the pressure fuse on the CAPMES round].

All the while, Fedala had scrambled her own air defenses, which were heavily laden six squadrons of the new air superiority fighter, the Lu-45 Hawk, and these were immediately moved south before those EB-9s could get over their targets, most likely Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor, or heavy army concentrations around there. Flying at the subsonic velocity of five hundred knots they maximized their stealth flying incredibly low. Then suddenly, one could say one hundred and fifty kilometers from the formations of EB-9s, as the Rains were still being heavily bogged down by surface to air fire from both the Praetorian IIs, SA-33s and 37mm to 75mm anti-aircraft artillery guns, they picked up their nose and headed straight for the skies picking up velocity to Mach 3.1, the fastest an aircraft had ever gone in an Imperial operation [one that wanted to survive], closing the distance by about fifty kilometers before anything could realistically react, although most likely the radars would soon read incoming NGRAAMs bearing in on them, but first they got their shot at the EB-9s and Valkyries, putting eight MTAAM-3s in the sky per Hawk, meaning a total of five hundred and seventy-six air to air missiles, most of which were aimed at the EB-9s, not the Valkyries. Indeed, they cared little about the air superiority fighters - they wanted to destroy those bombers before those bombers got over their targets.

With that done, and new readings of air to air missiles coming in on them [these won't count towards this casualty count, but for the next one], they banked and super cruised back down to a very low altitude to keep out of the scramjet's altitude operationability, but still loosing quite a bit of their aircraft. Nonetheless, perhaps, the mission was worth it.

Naval Battle, Targul Frumos


HKS HailandKill
"Shit" Thought the admiral "Those fucks are taking out our biggest ships, and our high brass. Thats not fucking right or fair. Luckily for us we have a good battleship fleet left."

The admiral was dog-tired, as well as most of his crew. They were operating around the clock, fighting in the day and preparing to fight at night. Most of the men were battle weary and fatigued, especially the airmen who were flying missions left and right. The SAM system operators had the worst job, having to track missile flocks never before seen by any HailandKill naval operator. The admiral looked towards the sonar and navigation officers.

"Guys, whats the status on our last attack, both missile and aircraft?"

"Sir, our missiles did some sort of job, but like always the SAM defenses on the Havenite fletts did a good job of repelling the attack. Our shells are going the same job as always, and we might achieve air superiority. "

"Well if we want to survive we must attain air superiority" He paused "Something feels weird, usually the Havenites attack within minutes of our attacks, and so far we haven't tracked any missiles."

"Sir" Said his XO "The first few waves of the air attacks are landing, and being put below deck. What do we do with the next waves?"

"That is not important right now. With this break in combat, get our P-5's restocked and our CIWS systems fully functional."

"Sir?" He said "I thought that the CIWS systems were not going to be used."

"Wrong. With almost half of our fleet burning, sinking, or dead we are gonna have to resort to them. It is important that VLT batteries, shells, and anything else we can scramble are loaded."

"Many of our batteries have been restocked to almost 85% with the current break. In almost nine minutes we have got alot done, and thank god we weren't pounded."

"SIR!" Yelled a frantic radar operator "Holy fuck sir! Massive amounts of missiles inbound! Oh shit, the waves are going for our carriers!"

The first waves were detected almost immediatly after their launch. The unholy amounts of streaks headed towards the already battered fleet was astounding. If any sonar, radar, or missile battery seamen had a cigarette in their mouth, it most likely dropped from their gaping mouths. Calculations were being computed and processed by the computers, and volleys of missiles began firing off. Most of the missiles could be seen streaking towards the carriers of the groups, with deadly missiles also choosing targets amongst the other ships. Alot of anti-shipping missiles were being put up in the sky, creating a good defense, but the amount of missiles almost exausted the Praetorian SAM sytems. The CIWS systems began choosing targets as missiles closed to within 3000 yards, and a grim spectacle of tracers and hot lead began pouring from the systems, creating a zipper like sound. The CIWS systems were doing an average job killing missiles at a good rate, but with CIWS systems missiles could be blown up close to a vessel, easily killing crewmen who were not safely hidden. The volley of missiles was repelled averagely, with the larger ships absorbing shots, although they would list. Any cruiser or destroyer hit with missiles, however, were obliterated in three or less shots. Any safe observer not killed by missile shrapnel from CIWS kills, missiles themselves, or any other hazard, watched hell break loose. The last quartets of missiles headed towards the dreadnoughts, some being picked off.

One missile was picked off almost 300 feet from the control deck of HKS HailandKill. The explosion following blew out all the windows and sent glass shards everywhere. Metal and glass flew everywhere, but miracolously the admiral, his Comms Officer, and his Navigation officer lived. With blood and glass everywhere the admiral looked out on the sea. He saw a good amount of his ships still floating, although many of them were damaged badly. He grabbed the Comms officer, threw him to the side and picked up the microphone.

"Fire off all missiles currently stocked! Get as many aircraft into the air as humanly possible, and have them kill the larger ships! Fight back I say! Fight Back!"

Many of the remaining crews headed the admirals words and scrambled back to their posts. Many of the men began to punch in calculations on their targeting computers that controlled VLT batteries, and the men began to fill the coodinates, and all neccasary angles needed. Men working in the large gun turrets and batteries began to get the angles and trajectories of their large guns in order, so they would wreak the most havoc. The largest group of men, aviators and aircrewman began scrambling to their posts, even amid all the damage and death. Catapults were being readied and aircraft started coming up the elevators. The F-22's were readied with Phoenix and sparrow missiles, while a select few carried Shockbound Avenger missiles. The remaining bombers were anxious to get revenge for their comrades. The JSF-35's were being loaded with a mix of ordinance, and the remaining dreadnoughts were firing them off their six catupults. The carriers followed suit with rate of sixteen aircraft a minute being fired. Following the fiery afterburners, were the fiery missiles. More missiles were being fired out of the already blackened VLT tubes, with smoke trails and debris littering the orange colored dusk skies. VLT tubes fired, went vertical, swiveled and were reloaded, only to continue their deadly cycle. With the trajectories in order, shells began to rocket from the barrels towards the Havenites. Shells ranging from 15" to 30" began to streak off towards the enemy, only to add to the confusion about to come.

With the large amount of planes involved in the second wave, the first wave fighter cover began to peel away from their current fight, but not without letting 20mm Vulcan Cannon fire belch from the underside of their planes. If any pilots had missiles they fired them off, towards the fleeing enemy.

The new wave was led by F-22's flying at 35,000 feet above sea level. They were waiting for an enemy that was already being beaten in the air, but winning on the sea. The larger F-22 variants, the FB-22's watched as the friendly missiles were streaking below them, leaving a wake of fire and noise. The plan was to let the SAM batteries deal with the missiles as "smart" bombs, and TV guided bombs were dropped on the command ships of the Havenite navy. The JSF-35's were firing their missiles and bombs directly at any powerful ship availible, from almost a 90 degree angle to avoid SAM systems and CIWS systems.

The F-22's had affirmed top cover secure, and turned off their active computers, so now no signal was being sent from them. They were going to "jump" anything that would dare surprise the remaining bombers and multi role craft. With top cover safe, many of the pilots prayed the Havenites were not expecting a follow up attack so soon. "Thank God we have alot of carriers in our fleets" Thought a random pilot, who happened to be leading the attack, as he was going through his checks on his weapons. He saw the missils start to get intercepted below him and muttered "It's go time" to himself. Being one of the few FB-22 pilots to live it was time for revenge. He led his men by example and he began his attack run on the first command ship he saw. The bomb was being aimed at the bridge, and surrounding areas, and his computer put the final trajectories on the bombs warhead before it was dropped. The bomb dropped and its fins adjusted it, if it was off course. Many of the other pilots began to follow the same procedure, except on different ships, and when their armaments were expended they hauled ass with full afterburners on, making the best use of the chaos below. The JSF's began to initiate missile launch procedure after the missile attack, but as the shells were crashing amongst the enemy and the water. The first missiles left their hard points and ignited almost half a second later. Their courses were also towards the biggest ships left in the Havenite navy, and many pilots smiled smugly as their missiles ignited towards the chaotic battle. The JSF's pulled 5 G turns as they raced towards the clouds, to aide in any "jumping" of resistance. The fighters waited to obliterate any resistance, as the organized attacks from the HailandKill navy continued.

North of Macabea

The single squadron of Lu-12 Canaries swept through the brisk air, their wings cuttin through the particles as if a knife through butter. All eight aircraft had been sent as escorts for the Mekugian fleet coming from the north, protecting reinforcements to the Empire, and as high priority allies and soldiers they required all the protection necessary. The eight Canaries were just a fraction of all the measures being taken for protection. There were several ELINT submarines constantly patrolling the seas, searching for Havenite submarines or surface shipping that even attempted to raid northern ports of the Empire. Reconnaissance sattelites constantly kept a watch over both the Empire and sorrounding seas, as well as Haven itself. It was to say, almost nothing would be able to get past the defensive measures of the Empire.

As the Canaries approached the Mekugian fleet they sent a hastled satellite databurst over to the flagship, although their signature on the ship's would appear as friendly, as opposed to foe. Nonetheless, it was best to be safe:

Salutations ally,

This message is to warn you of eight specific aircraft coming your way. They are to be deemed friendly. We repeat, they are friendly bogies. They will be your escort back to Macabea, constantly streamlining you with new information. Nonetheless, your convoy is to be considered in the safest waters of the region, with full protection. Nothing, would be able to make it here, regardless, of how many there are. Regardless of all that, welcome to the Golden Throne. Once they are fully unloaded trains will be available to send your men and their equipment south, depending on where your high command decides to put them. We wish to thank you once again for the honor that you are doing our nation in helping us. With both Mekugi and Hailandkill these scoundrels attempting to steal the throne will be thrown back and destroyed. Once again, thank you.

As that was sent through sattelite, the eight aircraft approached even closer, and then they turned to begin circling around the moving fleet, keeping up somewhat of a close air patrol, along with any aircraft the Mekugian fleet had already put up. In the distance, the beautiful Macabea could be seen just as an outline. Buildings designed and built since the 12th century made the city extremely historical and beautiful, and if God willing, the war would never reach the city. But God was willing few times in the brutal history of this Empire.

Battle of Targul Frumos

The SSN Ursuline, once a marvel of modern technology, was now a coffin. The miracle that had let them survive the massive H&K response was now looking like a curse. The damage reports kept flooding in along with the casualty counts, and neither looked to get better anytime soon. It was almost hopeless and even the Captain was down, he stood there looking lost trying to figure out what to do amidst all the reports. Then the phone rang and Parti was given no choice but to answer.

“Hello?”

“Captain, It’s Commander Collin, my damage control team has entered C Hallway Deck. We have the fire is under control….shit, there’s bodies everywhere, at least six dead here, we found Manolo, he’s burnt pretty bad. What’s going on with the med deck? We’ve tried to get him down there but they won’t let us in?”

Parti started rubbing his forehead before responding. “It’s full, there’s no room for more people down there. I’ll see what I can do for Manolo, keep, keep on working”

“Sir, torpedoes in the water, holy shit, there’s at least forty torpedoes coming in hot. Somebody just went active, we’ve been swept.”

“Are they coming at us!.” The Ursuline was in no shape to fight at all, only two of the eight forward tubes could fire and only one ASHUM turret was online.

“Torpedoes have passed overhead, shit, were right in the line of fire between both sides. Looks like the SUBFLT has sortied behind us.”

Parti was able to breath a sigh of relief, but only a short one. While those torpedoes weren’t meant for them, being right in between both sides didn’t dictate a long, safe life for the Ursuline.




Behind them, the torpedoes real targets were moving forward. Over thirty Orca submarines, comprising the majority of the surviving SSN force, if not the entire submarine force, of the task force, were moving in to finish off the H&K fleet. The Macabean torpedoes were a waste of firepower, a complete waste that would see no benefit for the Golden Throne. The use of satellites was extremely smart, a move that Haven would have to learn to do in the future but the Golden Throne was using their advantage wrong.

The coordinates they got where fairly close but it took time, even if it was just a few minutes to process those coordinates and send them to the Azores craft. By that time those coordinates would be just a little bit off, but that wasn’t all. Because they were firing from so far away by the time the torpedoes got there the coordinates would be more than just a bit off, they would be completely wrong. The torpedoes had their own sonar systems they could use to acquire targets and they did use them but they were hampered by the fact that they were looking in all the wrong places. Normally that would be ok, the sonar and lidar suites that the torpedoes were equipped with usually would be able to pick up at least some of the Orca’s but this was a normal situation, the sea was just filled with Orca’s but with the sounds of the biggest naval battle to ever visit Imperial Armies, not only that but the torpedoes would be lighting up the H&K submarines that were right in front of the Orca’s. Any torpedoes that did come close to locking on to an Orca would have to choose between more than a handful of drones. It all led to the same thing, the Macabean attack was a waste of resources, time and most importantly, surprise, all for the destruction of a bare two Orca SSN’s.


The Orca’s worked themselves up to do the job they were originally tasked with accomplishing. Out of each sub five decent sized objects shot out and took up positions in the formation. Each object “became” an Orca, acting like a real submarine moving at 10 knots, exactly mimicking the real Orca’s around them. In seconds the Orca force of 32 submarines had multiplied into a force 192 strong. Then 30 of the real Orca’s fired, 8 MADCAP torpedoes each. The torpedoes went out slowly and silently barely hitting 3 or 4 knots as they maneuvered so it seemed that all 192 “subs” had fired and not just 30. Once that was accomplished the torpedoes shot off, forty torpedoes led the pack at 70 knots while the other 200 torpedoes lagged behind at 45 knots. The lead torpedoes let the world know they were coming, active sonar, lidar, everything went up to try and hunt out the remaining H&K submarines. The hope was that even if the lead torpedoes couldn’t find the H&K subs they would spook them into giving up their positions for the second wave to destroy. But if somehow the torpedoes couldn’t acquire the H&K submarines they would simply move on to strike the surface ships of the H&K fleet which could not hide from the torpedoes.

That wasn’t all. Two of the Orca’s, the two that hadn’t fired weren’t just sitting things out. They were specially outfitted with 5 1,000mm forward tubes. In doing so they had no room for reloads, just what they had in the tubes. The massive tube doors slid open and out of each sub shot out 5 Tempest ultra heavy torpedoes. They were monsters, specifically designed to kill SD’s, made by the Drakans, perhaps the best weapons designers ever to live. Each Tempest had a 6350 kg warhead, and there were 10 of them heading deep into the H&K fleet to destroy the last two SD’s. Haven didn’t have time to wait anymore, with the Golden Throne finally stirring Haven had to get past the H&K fleet quick before they were overrun.


The task force itself, the biggest single concentration of Havenite naval power, was just barely holding on. With the ten minute lull in action a number of SAM’s had been reloaded but they could only last so long. The Macabean missiles mixed in with the missiles from the H&K fleet, combined with hundreds of shells. The barrage wasn’t as bad as earlier ones because the H&K fleet was at half the strength it was earlier and so had that many less VLT launchers and missiles but by that same respect the Targul Frumos task force was down on ships and so had less SAM’s to put in the air.

The days action followed the way every other action went, the SAM’s went up again and again until finally the missiles broke through, and this time it wasn’t just a couple that broke through. The missiles worked their way deeper and deeper into the fleet taking ships down with them as they went until some made it to the core of the task force. That’s when the big ships started taking it, the Argentines had taken hits all day and had ridden through them all, and they rode through these hits. The and shells rocked the Argentines but unlike the smaller cruisers and destroyers the Argentines’ armor turned them away.

Then a different drone appeared overhead, while the SAM’s had concentrated on the missiles they had let most of the H&K aircraft through and now the H&K planes did something that was almost unseen in modern naval warfare, they dropped bombs, heavy bombs on the ships. The bombs crashed in, dozens striking the Argentines until finally an Argentine cracked. The heavy bombs finally forced a way into one of the Argentines breaking through the heavy armor and exploding in the ships innards. Then another bomb and another hit the ship extending what would have been fairly localized damage further around the ship. And then the kill shot came in, a shell crashed straight into the rudder shredding it and stopping the big ship from maneuvering anywhere. Short rang mini SAM’s immediately began filling the sky to bring down the H&K aircraft and gain a sort of revenge for what they had done, even though it as to late to change anything. Around the fleet casualties were ranging near a hundred ships after the last strike.

The response was no were near as heavy, small numbers of missiles targeting individual ships. Missile stocks were dipping low and it would take time to reload off of the supply and auxiliary ships with the fleet. But there was no shortage of shells and literally thousands of guns continued pounding taking naval warfare back decades. The guns were pumping out shells as fast as they could. There would hardly be a gun that didn’t need its barrel changed at the end of the battle but it meant that literally thousands of shells a minute were crashing down around the H&K fleet. This battle had to be hurried and finished.




Two hundred plus km away the Golden Throne was stirring, but it was the Golden Throne, not Haven, whose situation was looking like a debacle. In moving between the three fleets that comprised the Targul Frumos taskforce and Haven, November was putting herself between a hammer and anvil. They seemed to have completely ignored the fact that an entire fleet, the 5th, was moving up to reinforce the three fleets in front of Targul Frumos so in moving behind those three fleets November was putting herself between the three fleets and the 5th fleet. While a Macabean and a Havenite fleet one on one was pretty even odds it wasn’t just a one on one fight, not only would the 5th be able to get all the support it needed from the mainland they were bringing with them replacement ships for the losses that were being taken up north and so had more firepower, and defensive power. Furthermore November would have to split their ASW perimeter three ways, to the north and Targul Frumos, to the east and Haven and finally to the south and the 5th fleet which was steaming north. Which meant that in any attack on November at most there could only be a third of their escort ships protecting the angle of attack unless the Golden Throne wanted to strip the other two sides of defenses, and this was assuming that task force November was only defending three sides and wasn’t watching her fourth side to the west.

It was that last point where the Golden Throne would get hit on. From the 5th fleet two squadrons of interceptors took off but never went high, hugging the sea the whole time. They turned everything off, going in full stealth, and they continued that way until they got under 200 miles from November. It was doubtful they would get detected but even if they did they had the speed to get within range and fire before a SAM could bring them down, and even if they went down as long as they got their shots off their mission would be a success.

After a few minutes another, much bigger wave of aircraft went out. Air superiority fighters and Rain fighter bombers headed west following the same procedure as the F-121’s. Then from the mainland a flight of EB-9’s started flying in heading towards the 5th fleet.

The F-121’s, unlike normal where the load out was mixed, every hard point that could be was fitted out with extended range Divinebolt missiles. That gave the 24 F-121’s a total of 264 Divinebolt missiles. The F-121’s rippled of every single missile when they passed the 190 mile mark knowing full well that in coming so close to November they were probably dead. 264 missiles streaked off into the sky heading for any Macabean AWAC’s or CAP in the air over November. Even though the Divinebolt wasn’t to effective under five thousand feet AWAC’s birds were usually tens of thousands of feet in the air and so wouldn’t be able to make it below five thousand feet in time. Even if any of the CAP aircraft made it to sea level were they were safe it was just as good as a kill, as it took them out of the game for the time being. Below five thousand feet they served no use to November when it came to detecting and targeting incoming threat such as missiles that were close to the sea. Meaning November would have much less warning time if sea skimming missiles were to start heading in.

With Novembers’ early warning gone the real attack began. From the fleet nine hundred and fifty Fasthawk II missiles shot out of their VLS tubes to strike the Golden Thrones fleet. Then from above and behind another two hundred Kraven missiles joined them dropping out of the EB-9’s that had flown in from the mainland. The Kraven was actually an air to ground missile, not an ASM but it would serve its purpose. The Kraven missiles was to home in on the radar suites of the various Macabean ships which by their nature could not be armored. The missiles were mixed, some went high, some went mid level and some skimmed the sea but their targets were the same, they were all destined to hit the southward facing ASW perimeters, to destroy the destroyers and cruisers and fast attack craft that manned the perimeter and protected the capital ships.


That wasn’t the main shot though. From the west the force of aircraft that had taken a huge roundabout route to remain undetected was still skimming the sea when they shot up directly west of November. They let loose their own wave of missiles, two hundred Fasthawk missiles. These missiles all skimmed the sea, and all were going in full stealth. The hope and plan was that with the Macabean AWAC’s either destroyed or below five thousand feet and their attention focused on the thousand plus missiles coming at them from the south that November wouldn’t detect the Fasthawks coming in from the west, the open sea. It was unknown if the Golden Throne had deployed an ASW perimeter to the west, if they did it would further weaken their other 3 sides. If November HAD set up a perimeter to the west then the missiles would target it first before moving on but if they hadn’t then the missiles had a free shot at the capital ships in Novembers core, and if that was so they would do their best to take out the carriers.


OOC: Will get Ruska, anything else later.

Naval Battle, Waters Off of Targul Frumos

"INCOMING!! Yelled the XO HEADS DOWN!"

The high pitched whistling noises or the sound of tearing linen was piecing the sky, signalling the approach of naval shells. The shells began screaming towards the ships, with the CIWS trying to keep up with them. Zipper like noises added to the confusion at hand, and the shells were still piercing the defences. The first volley of shells slightly overshot the remaining cluster, but the severe wake they left violently threw sailors out of place. The next volleys were more accurate and began striking ships, with the smaller destroyers and cruisers being broken at the back with the shells hitting them. Battleships and SD's were taking the shots, but at a deadly cost. The shelling was throwing water and steel everywhere...

Sir, its over Said the XO Preliminary reports show average losses, and we have fires on the D-Deck, but they are under control.

The CO rose from his crouching position, because after his last glass scarring experience, he was not taking chances.

Sir! The Battleships and few remaining destroyers have started a counter-attack!

Excellent. Tell all remaining ships to fire off as many missiles as they can, and where's XFA squadron? That mission is a go.

Sir, we cannot exhaust our missile supplies that quickly! He said XFA will be in position real soon...but again our missiles!"

[i]Its do or die.


It was amazing how Battleships had turned into a multifunctional boat, rather than the instruments of shelling they were designed for. The elusive class battleships had resumed their fire, and the bustle and hum of 28" guns could be heard along the sea. The remainder of ships were battleships and many CO's were amazed at the lack of damage they were causing. The screams of Sledgehammer missiles were heard as they had come flying out of the tubes, screaming towards the same enemy. The missiles were flying out in large numbers, as none were being spared. The blackness that shrouded the CVBG came from burning ships and large amounts of missiles.

The super dreadnoughts began firing their quadruple mount 30 inch guns, and the amount of noise they produced was amazing. The wind and angles were being generated to almost perfection, as this was not the first time that they were fired and the angles and wind were almost the same. The VLT tubes amid and fore ships were firing, with the same intensity as the battleship counterparts, making the same screaming noise as they flew out of their tubes.

More jets were being scrambled off the decks of the carriers, which had put up excellent defences, and more pilots rushed to the air. The constant cycle of switching left most pilots with a max of two hours sleep, but many of them had not felt overly fatigued just yet.

---

The remaining FB-22's that had surprised the enemy with bombs were making an easy getaway as they accelerated to full afterburner. Many of the pilots were shocked to see the plan worked and some ever cheered, but victories in the battle were always short lived. The F-22's that were flying top cover were now letting a fresh squadron replace them, and they met up with the FB-22's and both teams formed a fresh V as they streaked to their seaborne homes.

The next wave was putting the finishing touches on the calculations, and the base of the attackers was JSF-35's, the multi-role aircraft. This time the JSF's were flying at almost 40,000 feet, even above the F-22's that were providing the cover. The plan was to dive on the large ships, dropping two bombs and firing two missiles, and they were going to divert SAM fire from the missiles and the surprise attack.

"Ok, this enemy is not stupid and will put up a good SAM defence this time. Try to drop and fire when the missile attack from the homeland ceases, as SAM batteries will be at the lowest. At 10,000 feet you must pull up and level out even if you have ordinance left." The squad leader said, breaking the silence.

The mission leader of the JSF's hit his stick and began downwards, with his targeting computer fixing calculations every second. As his nose and altitude went downward he could see the larger, command ships, and the plan was to get around the SAM and CIW systems by streaking at a 90 degree angle and dropping the ordinance. As the squad leader was about to fire, the last plane started its dive. The leader fired off his missiles, hoping if a SAM battery was going to fire it would be at the missiles, leaving the radar guided bombs to hit their bridge targets easily. The leader then dropped his bombs and levelled out, hitting his afterburner on full, and the jet streaked into the dusk sky. The other JSF's followed the leaders suit, and it was almost like a domino effect as the chain continued.

XFA was making its approach, being in the air the longest time of the battle. The F-22's were making and approach to the Havenites, but they were planned to detour and make a wide turn and flank the enemy. The XFA was planned to hit the Havenite navy on their side, rather than their front, as every other attack had done. They hoped that the enemy would not expect this attack, and their computers were not lit up yet so no stray emission was going to be given off. The planes were loaded with strictly ASM Sledgehammers. The jets were flying at the speed that left them with the most stealth and they were almost 30nm away from the fleet.

James Rice, specially picked to head this attack left an open broadcast "Final approach time. We will be most likely hitting them when they are preparing to retaliate, and after the last attack from the front we should defiantly have surprise. Come in low, aim for the bridges, and fly the fuck outta' there. Full throttle, computers on. Over and out.

The group throttled up and the pilots were thrown back in their seats as the planes sharply accelerated. The heat would give them away, but closing at 850 knots they could not do much. The targeting computers were putting the final touches, and at almost 15 knots the missiles dropped off the hard points with the attempt to surprise and neutralize command ships. The F-22s streaked over the Havenite fleet and then flew off low. The pilots had countermeasures on hand ready to go.

----

Joe Reedey was watching his radar screen with his mouth agape. There was a large amount of torpedoes in the water, but travelling slowly.

"Ok, they probably are wire guided so we can hopefully get them to steer into noisemakers. The CO said Give me a burst transmission

Aye sir came the reply

The transmissions gave away the position of his sub, but what would happen next would confuse the enemy....hopefully.

The submarines all fired off a noisemaker then pulled a 360 degree left full rudder leaving a knuckle in the water. The subs sprinted at full speed for about 300 hundred feet, fired off a noisemaker and pulled another knuckle in the water. The submarine fleet did the same thing three more times, hopefully leading on the torpedoes. There were multiple targets for the torpedoes, and the HK Sea wolves settled in other areas, firing off their own MK-48 MADCAP torpedoes and more countermeasures.

The torpedoes that made it through the net of noisemakers and knuckles were being picked up by the remaining destroyers and ASHUM guns on all the ships. The bullets were hitting the torpedoes preserving lives. The few torpedoes that got through hit Sea wolves or harmlessly broke through the first layer of the trimaron ships. The battle above continued, and the torpedoes fired in response to the enemy attack, would hopefully break the Havenite subs.

http://modernwarstudies.net/Maps/Ruska.gif

[OOC: That's Ruska, all my men are behind the river. If it's ok with you I have a Morrigan in Mosnoi Bor which no intelligence, except mine, knows about. I know the Morrigan was just introduced, but I want to make this its debut.

Also, the coordinates wouldn't be off. The transfer would be instantenous, and the blue-green laser doesn't lose track of the submarine, in fact, according to the sites I visited it's impossible for the submarine to shake off the laser...so coordinates wouldn't be incorrect.]

And...Mons Dei:

http://modernwarstudies.net/Maps/monsdei.gif

The Second Battle of Mons Dei
It had been three days since the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division had finally surrendered to the rebel forces, and three since Bietz had started to cross the River Nestor, and still, Imperial troops had not respond to either, although Bietz had noted strange movements across the front near the River Nestor, offering evidence that Fedor was planning something. At Mons Dei the Empire had nothing, her armies routed, and only Hailandkill offered a threat to the rebel southern flank and if the rebels were to achieve a much more favourable position they would need to take care of this threat. Unfortunately, although they were outnumbered twenty to one at Mons Dei intelligence had pointed towards somewhere near two million personnel in the Empire ready for a fight in general, so if the rebels even had a semblence of possibilities for victory Haven would need to launch their final offensives towards Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor, tying both the Empire's and Hailandkill's hands and giving the rebels a much needed respite. Nonetheless, Bietz had decided not to take any chance. To this effect he had scraped the bottom of the barrel at Weigar asking Prince Heinrich to move over another twenty thousand men, putting most at Mons Dei, bringing total men at Mons Dei to exactly twenty thousand or so infantry personnel, and even more armour. This would alleviate the rebel situation at Mons Dei a bit, if only a bit.

The Hailandkill offensive three days after the surrender of the 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division had offered some suprise, but not much. Regardless, it proved to be ferocious; nonetheless, they had severely underestimated the strengths of the rebel army. Suddenly, the artillery opened fire providing suppressing fire against the Weigari positions, throwing high explosive shells throughout the front line. The bombarded lasted for quite a while, forcing defending infantry to dig deeper and deeper into their trenchlines and fox holes, prepared over the last half a month throughout the First Battle of Mons Dei and the interlude until the beginning of the Second Battle of Mons Dei. Behind the lines the rebels were using semi-disposal artillery tubes to offer something that even resembled counter-battery fire; the small rockets ejected out of the tubes lighting up the sky as they completed their trajectory towards the Hailandkill artillery which had to be found the classic way - trigonometry. At least it was somekind of response.

Suddenly, the artillery ended and the men poked their heads up for a while, once again, only to see ranks of armour and light armour make their way in columns towards their lines, all of a sudden changing to a broader formation to rake the lines with machine gun fire and mortar suppression. Rebel gunners were brought to the front under the protection of a powerful blacklash on the Hailandkill assault, trying to keep their attention - the men had received several anti-tank munitions from the surrendered 3rd Waffen-SS Panzergrenadier Division and they planned to put them to use. Using the targetting computer the men began to engage the BredtSverts with their newly aquired Tagus anti-tank LOSAT munitions, throwing kinetic penetrators at the Pzkfw. XI tanks. Unfortunately, the Tagus was not replenishible for the rebels, but they would serve for as long as they lasted - and that's all the rebels could hope for.

When the general infantry attack on the rebel lines at Mons Dei began the rebels put up a hefty defense using cross-firing machinegun fire, mortar fire and rifle fire to pin down Hailandkill infantry and armour, trying to isolate them and defeat them sector by sector. Traces criss crossed the frontlines as men fell on both sides - it was easy to say that this fight would not be without blood...

Second Battle of Mons Dei

The rebel response had somewhat shocked the HailandKill panzer divisons, as they had not expected the feriocity of the counter-attack the rebels were putting up. The cross firing machine gun fire had been somewhat deadly, but soldiers learned to either drop to the floor, so the angle of the machine-gun fire would hopefully miss them, or scramble to the safety of the mythical looking BredtSverds. However, hiding behind Pzn XI's was not entirely safe as the tanks were coming under fire from LOSAT rockets, which were either bouncing off the tanks and exploding on the floor killing men around the tank, or punching a hole in the tank, blowing the tank and anyone behind it, to kingdom come.

"Shit! Armor on the ridgeline!" Jimmy Wilson said to his gunner "The incoming armor is bearing one-seven-four, six-hundred yards! Load a SABOT and fire at the lead tank!"

The First Panzer Corps lead tank opened up on the advancing T-80, with a SABOT round travelling at almost six hundred miles per hour. The enemy tank almost disintegrated on impact, and the tank was turned into another burnt out carcass. The rest of Wilson's attacking BredtSverds opened fire on the enemy armor, even as the LOSAT rockets were punching gaps in the HailandKill column. The BredtSverd fire was almost perfectly dead on, creating more havoc, on the already chaotic battlefield

"four hundred and fifty yards! Load a HEAT round!" Yelled Wilson at his crew, "FUCK, It bounced off! Shit he's turning his turret at us, hurry up and load another HEAT round!"

The tank lurched backwards, making a deafening noise to all the soldiers around him.

"Got 'em!" He yelled triumphantly, before noticing the machine gun postions taking down his men.

Indeed the machine gun fire had intensified as the second battle raged on. The machine gun emplacements and crews were being systematically attacked with grenades and small arms fire, but it seemed that machine gun crews just kept coming and re-maning the guns, only to continue their murderous fire.

"Those MG's are killing us!" Wilson yelled as he picked up his transmitter, "KGL-07, this is Wilson, enemy is out in the open! Fire on coordinate grid 673-505! Fire for effect! I repeat enemy in open, fire for effect!"

"Roger." came the muffled response, and it continued with "We took some sort of artillery attack before, but many of our boys were dug in safely and the fire was not too accurate. Losses are minimal, and mostly personnel. Thought you might like to know Jimmy. Commencing attack, over and out."

All the HailandKill soldiers heard it coming. The sound of shells traversing the sky, which also seemed like sound of tearing linen was obvious, even over the thundering tanks, large amounts of machine gun, and small arms fire. The shells started crashing furiously on, or near the foxhole and trenches. Wilson's order came at the time when the rebels were most vulnerable, when they were most in the open, firing on the attacking soldiers. The shells were kicking up dust and sending fragments everywhere. Many of the HailandKill soldiers were alerted by their corporals and sergeants and were safely hidden behind tanks, IFVs and anything else that would protect them from flying shrapnel.

The few soldiers that had entered the rebel trenches ducked when the first shells hit the lines. They had started praying that they would live through the hellish shelling, shelling coming from there own fellow combatants. The soldiers in the rebel trenches began crawling towards the deep trenches, following the lead of squad and platoon sergeants. The men in the trenches, even under the shelling, were finding ways to kill the rebels maning the machine guns. The small pocket of men that had found a hole in the rebel line were causing chaos and death from within, but their losses were growing and not many more men had successfully entered the rebel trenches. With the shelling causing friendly-fire deaths, the forty-five or so men were dwindling in numbers and their effectiveness was being cut down. However, their tenacity, and feriocity had not been knocked down and they still were giving the rebels that discovered them a hellish fight.

The shelling seemed to be slowing up, and the men in the trenches again stood up, and under the command of squad sergeants, the small seven or eight man teams had begun to re-fire on the rebels. The chatter of small arms fire resumed, and each man had hoped that more HailandKill soldiers could reinforce their forty or so men strong attack group. If not reinforced soon, they could be surounded and killed off, one by one. Indeed the shelling was letting up, and soldiers on the plains of battle had begun to leave the cover of the tanks and SOV-06's to get a good shot of the rebels who would emerge when the shelling finally, and completely stopped. Many of the fourteen man squads were in a perfect aiming postion when the dust cleared. At the first opportunity, the men started firing again.

----------
Secondary Attack

[OOC: Mac, this attack is going to be focused on the far west (left) of that map of Mons Dei you put up. It's focus will be on the rear of the line, by the tip of the V shape that your rebel line has formed.

See this picture, click the link, and it should clarify everything.
http://viewmorepics.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=viewImage&friendID=21562697&imageID=317905487&Mytoken=14670267-A7F4-10CA-A39B85E45091984129905088]


Jimmy Wilson was on his transmitter again, ordering a new attack front to be opened. He ordered fifty tanks and four hundred to whip around on the rebel flank all the way to the west. The men began forming up, and were being ferried by SOV-06s and tanks, headed at flank speed towards the tip of the V shaped line that was formed by the battle.

The SOV-06s began unloading when the soldiers were parrallel with the end of the rebel line. The SOV-06s were firing their 15mm MEXAS rounds on the small resistance that had formed, and many of the pockets of soldiers were being pounded by 120mm HE rounds fired by the BredtSverds. Soldiers were coming out of their SOVs with small arms fire coming from their rifles. The assault on the end of the line was somewhat successful as the rebels were being pounded by 15mm rounds, 120mm HE rounds and large amounts of small arms fire. HailandKill soldiers had entered the tip of the trench, but the fight intensified tenfold when the rebels had learned of the attack, and began to counter attack. The fight was intense, and even this attack could be costly and useless if the soldiers did not advance down the trenches further.

Skies over Ruska

The skies over Ruska were still an extremely dangerous place, and now new Macabean SAM’s added in their weight. The problem with the SAM’s was their targets. While the SAM’s were designed for low altitude targets, the Rain were flying below low altitude almost, the Rain were hugging the ground as close as possible, and then some. They weren’t worried about having to fire so there was no worry about being to low, all the Rain were doing was attracting attention, getting the Golden Throne to fire upon them. Every time a Rain was fired upon by a MANPAD or AAA the location was marked and within seconds a few dozens shells would rain in from KAG artillery guns. The Rain themselves weren’t directly hunting Macabean troops and AAA and SAM’s, they were just the means for the artillery guns to get some work in. And because of that they were able to fly extremely low, not burdened by the need to have to fly high enough for any air to ground missiles or bombs to arm because they wouldn’t be using any. And so the grand majority of the SAM’s failed to take out their targets. Still, many Rain continued to go down to MANPADs and AA fire but every time a MANPAD launched or a AA gun fired it signed its death warrant as within a minute or two shells would crash into that position and the area surrounding it. And so the Rain continued to scour Ruska drawing attention to themselves and calling in death to all who paid attention to them.

It was all a side show compared to what was brewing high up in the sky. The EB-9’s were making their trek across southern Ruska over what was now Havenite controlled land. The EB-9’s were playing their own game with the Golden Throne, a deadly one at that, but one that would pay off either way if Fedala cooraparated or not. And as things turned out Fedala decided to coraperate, more than Haven had expected they would.

Fedala sent out its Lu-45’s, which were still in limited supply and most likely would be until after the battles for Aurilac and Mosnoi Bor were over even with the Macabees’ massive industrial strength. The Lu-45’s came in low and slow again like last time but this time they were expected, and while it took a while to find them they were still spotted. The Lu-45’s were spotted barely 180 miles out, or 288 kilometers…from the EB-9’s. That was the kicker, the Lu-45’s seemed to completely ignore the Valkyrie squadrons flying 50 miles in front of the EB-9’s, or 80 kilometers, and so the Lu-45’s had fallen into the trap that Haven had set, in a way Haven hadn’t expected. Haven had planned to destroy Fedala’s Lu-45’s but had expected an air battle between them and the Valkyrie’s, but no complaints would be heard over what had occurred instead.

The Valkyrie’s lit up with a newer versions of the Divinebolt missile, they had been waiting for this time after having to put up with helplessly watching SAM’s pluck Valkyrie’s out of the sky the whole trip. Then the 54 surviving Valkyrie’s flying up front launched, a devastating launch to wipe out the Lu-45’s. Ten Divinebolt missiles lashed out per Valkyrie, five hundred and forty total missiles cut down on their way to the Macabean Hawks just as the Macabean craft slammed on the gas and accelerated to mach 3.1. The distance between the Lu-45’s and the Valkyrie’s wasn’t all that long to begin with but with the Hawks now closing in at mach 3.1 and the Divinebolt’s coming in at mach + speeds themselves it wouldn’t even be a minute before missile and aircraft crashed into each other. Furthermore the Macabean Lu-45’s wouldn’t be able to fire their own missiles or maneuver very much while going at those speeds and by the time they slowed down it’d be to late. Finally, the icing on the cake, three hundred of those NGLRAAM’s had been equipped with RAMjet and not SCRAMjet engines, while the other two hundred sixty were SCRAMjet equipped. Not that it mattered as the Lu-45’s were climbing up into the missiles anyway. Bluntly put, the Macabean Lu-45’s were done for, they were screwed and if any managed to survive the barrage of missiles baring down on them they would have to deal with more squadrons of interceptors and Valkyrie’s flying around the EB-9’s themselves.

All the while the EB-9’s watched. They watched and waited to see just how many Lu-45’s would manage to survive to slow down and launch their missiles at the EB-9’s, but they didn’t just watch, they acted. It was like playing a game of chicken, the EB-9’s instead of turning around and running headed straight forward knowing full well they were probably the targets. They continued on course and opened up their bomb bay doors. 24 of the massive aircraft armed their cargo and began rippling off missiles. Each EB-9 put twenty missiles into the air, for a total of 480 missiles. 300 of those missiles were Kh-96 Kangeroo’s, each missile targeted on a vehicle around Aurillac or Mosnoi Bor. The Kangaroo’s went about looking for tanks and IFV’s mainly but self propelled guns and other vehicles would also be hit by them. The other 180 missiles didn’t have targets, instead bursting open above the Macabean lines. Each of them let loose 6 sub munitions, for a total of 1,080 sub munitions, all of which started crashing down into the Macabean lines. The sub munitions were almost like “smart” bombs, picking out targets below and boring in on them. Self propelled guns, tanks, SAM launchers, IFV’s, mobile radars, command vehicles, they were all targeted by the sub munitions.

The EB-9’s had gotten their punch in, two punches including drawing in the Lu-45’s, but it would be costly. As good as things had turned out some Lu-45’s would survive to slow down and launch their missiles and the EB-9’s were going to pay for what they’d accomplished. It would just have to be seen how many Lu-45’s managed to slow down and launch.

Ruska, The Ground War

For days all they’d done was “march” through Ruska, the whole army had yet to engage any Macabean forces, although nearly a fourth of Ruska was now in Havenite hands. Now, finally, a chance was about to be given to them, the chance to break through and win something big for Haven. The Guard was going into battle. As the missiles from the EB-9’s started crashing into the Macabean lines the battle began on two fronts, to the north around Mosnoi Bor and to the south around Aurillac.


The first tanks and IFV’s began approaching the Styx river north of Mosnoi Bor, by now heavily defended by Macabean troops. They were totally avoiding Mosnoi Bor itself instead striking at the river 50 miles north of the city, the 48th infantry leading the way. Along a five mile stretch of the River Styx 600 vehicles of the 48th, 500 IFV’s and 100 tanks, lined up with another two divisions close behind them in reserve. Seconds after the first missiles from the EB-9’s started crashing into Macabean positions across the entire front another wave of “missiles” rocketed over head. From 100 KAR-45 rocket systems, 1,200 250mm rockets crashed into any Macabean positions within 10 miles of the planned crossing point. Immediately after the clips were out the KAR-45’s moved to new positions and reloaded, waiting for their next opportunity to fire.

Inside their vehicles the men of the 48th couldn’t see for the most part what was happening but they could feel the reverberations from the rocket strikes, the ground was literally shaking under the vehicles for a few seconds, but when the ground stopped shaking the vehicles started. The engines heated up and together 600 mixed IFV’s and tanks headed towards the river. The vehicles all had amphibious ability to an extent and this part of the river was picked because it was shallower and a bit slower than most so there wasn’t a need for bridging just yet.

The 48th wasn’t expecting much resistance, the Golden Throne and its allies had a very large front that they had to protect all along the river, and since they had concentrated mostly in front of the cities it was doubtful there would be more than a handful of units in the immediate vicinity. But just in case the divisions gun batteries lay in wait as the 48th started crossing the river, waiting for any Macabean troops to show themselves. The 48th had to make the crossing quick, the sooner a crossing was made and a bridgehead secure the better the chances of that bridgehead becoming permanent.




Down south around Aurillac the offensive began looking nothing like the one up north. The River Styx was completely avoided as the army swung around the southern tip of the Styx River hoping to completely avoid any H&K resistance. The 8 divisions and 2 armored brigades that made up the Southern Corp planned to avoid Aurillac entirely along with the Styx river, instead swinging around the south and encircling Aurrillac, pinning the H&K army against the river, unless they came out south to meet the Southern Corp.

The ground war had finally started, though not in the way most expected. There wouldn’t be any street fighting or city battle just yet. H&K and Macabean reinforcements continued to pour in and that would be the problem, soon enough they would outnumber the Havenite army in Ruska if they didn’t already and so a new wave of forces crossed the border. A further 9 divisions and an armored brigade moved up into a strategic reserve, moving into place between Aurrillac and Mosnoi Bor, in position to strike either way.


OOC: Mac, I'll talk to you online about the Targul Frumos, and before I post my ground attack, is the front continuous all the way along the river or is it only in front of Aurrilac and Mosnoi Bor?

[SafeHaven2: All responses to you will come out when the Ruska ground offensive is up.]

The Second Battle of Mons Dei
The battle had heated up with T-80s and T-72s being knocked out left and right by the BredtSverts who were also facing relatively high casualties. The Weigari armoured columns put their transmission into reverse gear and began to head back into reserve, avoiding head on tank combat against the BredtSverts. Nonetheless, the lead units still continued to engage the Panzers, putting in hard to come by Soviet 125mm APFSDS rounds into the side armour of the Panzers; the Soviet shell had more mass but was released at a slower velocity decreasing penetration as compared to the American round for the Abrams; regardless, two or three rounds to the side armour of the BredtSvert would knock it out, and the autoloader carousels were mechanically working their asses off to pop the shells in as fast as possible. Suddenly one of the lead T-72s vibrated with a whaaang as a Macabee designed depleted uranium APFSDS round hit in the frontal armour, penetrating through the Kacktus-5 explosive reactive armour, and launching shards of bleeding hot uranium into the faces of the rebel crew, shattering their fragile eyes and rendering the tank useless. The shards of hot depleted uranium slashed through the engine and round compartment setting off an explosion which internally combusted the tank and sent the turret sky high. As the crew was roasted alive by the explosion the turret came back down fast and hard, and it settled next to the tank at the side. With that display of sheer firepower the T-72s and T-80s sped up their retreat, leaving the infantry to fend off for themselves.

Elsewhere, in one of the trenches, the rebel Weigari fought back with a vengeance. The Hailandkillian infantry had attempted to outsmart their opponents by lying prone as the fire suppression coming from the trenches petered out, but they severely underestimated their foe. The rebels may have not been trained soldiers, but they had the fire for independence and they were not fools; in fact, the experience from the First Battle of Mons Dei had been indespensible. As the infantry began to advance slowly towards the trenches, keeping their heads low, light mortar fire caught them offguard, raining high explosive shells over their heads, although the shelling coming from KriGuds afar was making the defense a bit more difficult. Nonetheless, trenches were designed to protect men from shells, and these did nothing different in their jobs, although direct hits did score quite a bit of casualties. So, as the machinegun fire sputtered on the Hailandkillian infantry continued to put their lifes on the line to make it to the trenchline, and their tenacity paid off in the short run, although perhaps events would prove otherwise. They were extremely outnumbered by Weigari rebels, and the in trench hand to hand fighting and fire fights would hopefully overwhelm them in the perspective of the rebel soldiers.

About two thousand meters from a BredtSvert a rebel soldier lay prone, his eyes patiently looking into the polychromatic screen in front of him, providing him with a perfect digital image of what was infront of him and relaying coordinates to the Tagus missile within it. Feeling that he was on target he pressed the electronic trigger which set off the propellant for the missile, which in turn screeched out and began to elevate altitude preparing for a top attack on the BredtSvert at around mach four to mach six. The BredtSvert's close-in weapon system turned to meet the threat and shot it out of the sky. Muttering the soldier quickly had his teammate put another heavy weight Tagus missile into the rear of the launcher and he pressed the trigger again, seconds later, sending another missile forth. This time the BredtSvert didn't have the same luck, and the missile penetrated the weaker top armour, sending shards of heated depleted uranium into the crew compartments within the tank, most likely severely wounding the tank's crew. Nonetheless, suddenly a high explosive round struck near the two man anti-tank team, killing them both in a display of explosives and rendering the launcher and about four missiles useless. However, the two deaths were worth the tank and the four crew members.

So, the fight began to wind down as the Hailandkillian infantry found themselves severely outnumbered and without infantry support those BredtSvert's were sitting ducks. If Hailandkill planned to win the battle they would have to transfer some of their divisions from the south, and by that time it may have been too late for the thousand or so men already engaged at Mons Dei.

Much to the suprise and chagrin of the rebels a flank attack on the trench had formulated on the western tip of the line, jabbing the rebels on the side. Nonetheless, the resistance was no less ferocious with the armour reserve of some twenty tanks moving west to meet the threat, along with the already defending five hundred or so rebels. Nonetheless, some more four hundred were being transferred from the east, hoping that the Battle of the River Nestor would come out positive and the eastern flank held there. The Hailandkillian infantry were still met by an intense display of machinegun fire and rifle fire before they reached the trenchline, and even then they were met by a ferocious counter-attack trying to drive them out of the trenches. Mortar fire had begun to attempt suppression bombardments of clumps of Hailandkillian infantry, but the wear of the flank attack began to show almost immediately.

The T-72s began to engage somewhat later and they at least showed some tactics, avoiding a frontal engagement with the BredtSverts. Instead, they arched for some four kilometers north, avoiding the enemy tanks period, and came up from behind engaging from distances of around seven hundred meters to one thousand two hundred meters. Turning their big 125mm conventional guns they began to plop APFSDS rounds into the rear and side armour of the Panzerkampfwaggen XI main battle tanks, hoping to knock out at least a dozen of them before the tanks could respond and things would suddenly get hard for the T-72s. Nonetheless, although these tankers weren't proffessionaly, the armoured battle developing on the flank would not be an easy one for Hailandkill, that was for sure.

2nd Battle of Mons Dei

Mortar fire, machine gun nests, and rebel ingenuity had all combined to make the most hellish fight of Mons Dei to date; HailandKill panzer soldiers, the second-most elite fighting force of HailandKill, were getting embarrased by an untrained rabble. The mortar fire was raining hell upon advancing soldiers, who had successfully avoided the deadly machine gun fire, and those same mortars were ripping holes in the squads of soldiers advancing on the rebel lines. The men who had not made it into the trench, or were not attacking the trench, fell back behind the rows of tanks, providing them temporary safety. The men who were taking cover behind the BredtSverds had turned into one big support fire team, as they would lean out from the back of the tank, and try to suppress or kill machine gun crews from the behind the safety of the tanks.

Jimmy Wilson saw the futility of continuing this attack, and even though he had about three-hundred tanks left, without infantry support those tanks would be the target of everything, and anything the rebels had. When he opened the hatch on the tank and surveyed the battlefield he saw many of his surviving men hiding behind tanks, firing large amounts of 7.62mm rounds towards anything in the trenches without a HailandKill panzer division patch. He also could faintly see hand-to-hand combat going on in the rebel trenches between the HailandKill soldiers who successfully made the line, and rebel forces. Although the HailandKill men were better trained, the rebel numbers were begining to overwhelm the eighty or so men that made the trench. With most of his fifteen-hundred man attacking group dead, or firing from behind the tanks he knew he had to retreat. One problem of retreating was that the men in the trenches would be unbeknownst to the retreat, and Wilson would accidently leave them behind if he pulled out. There was only one solution that he could think of, which could be deadly, and end in disaster; still it had to be tried.

He grabbed his radio transmitter, flipped up the "on all" switch, and yelled to all his tank commanders to have every available tank to fire on every visible machine gun nest. Nearly fifteen seconds after his command the three hundred BredtSverds began firing 120mm HE rounds at anything shooting tracer rounds at the HailandKill troops; what happened next was legendary.

The men in the trenches were getting desperate. They were firing every available round they had, and yet they were still using their rifle butts to knockout or kill the rebels that got close. Watching the hand-to-hand combat was brutal on the men's phyche; seeing your buddy knife an enemy, or get knifed by an enemy could leave permanent mental scars. To make morale and problems worse, many of the men in the trench saw their fellow comrades fall back to the safety of the BredtSverds, and each of the eighty or so men knew that they were not going to be reinforced. When Plt. Sgt. John Mansini looked out onto the battlefield he did not see a single HailandKill soldier making any attempt to get into the trenches. All he could see were friendly tanks peppering machine gun nests with HE rounds, and soldiers behind those tanks firing at rebels in the trenches. On a second glance he saw a lone figure running towards his position, and this man was obviously unarmed except for a pistol. The man was running as fast as he could with dirt being kicked up around him from the enemy machine gun nests. The figure eventually made it to Mansini's position and he slid into the trench. Mansini saw the patch on his shoulder and he knew it was a friendly soldier, but when he saw the two leutenant bars on his lapel he was shocked. The figure arose, dirty but smiling, and said,

"Leutenant James Wilson, pleased to meet you, but we got no time for formality. I am ordering a retreat back to our lines and I was afraid you guys might get cut off and surrounded. I am here to bring you back with me, so lets get the fuck outta here!"

Mansini was shocked, and pleased at the same time. He motioned to the men around him to get out and follow him. Mansini hoisted himself up and started making a beeline run for the tanks that would provide cover. The rest of the men, about seventy strong, also began sprinting to the tanks. With many of the machine gun nests supressed by fire from the tanks many of the men making their escape would easily make it to the safety and cover of the tanks. Wilson was the last to leave the trench, after making sure all the men were on their way to safety. He got up and ran towards his tank, and was right on top of it before enemy fire resumed. He climbed the tank, and was on the turret looking at the open hatch when he was hit by a bullet. The bullet entered left of his right shoulder and he was immediatly felled by it. He hit the turret blacking out immediatly.

The secondary front was going a bit better, but only marginally. With the T-72's that had surprised the fifty tank strong column now eliminated, the tanks began to fire upon the Weigarian rebels, who were proving quite resilant even though they were outnumbered. The HailandKill soldiers had gained somewhat of a foothold, and if they did not get orders soon, things could get ugly. The six fourteen man squads that were making headway were facing stiff resistance. These squads were paying a price of two soldiers per thirty feet of advance. The commanding leutenant gave the order to stop and many of the advancing men sighed in relief. They now were fighting on the defensive trying to keep the rebels from regaining their lost ground. The BredtSverds were keeping a tight rein on the T-72's that attacked them head on, but small pockets of tanks and anti-tank weapons were wearing them down.

The main assault was safely tucked in at the original HailandKill lines. The panzer division had taken some nasty damage, and they would not attack again. Jimmy Wilson had awoke surrounded by two medics, his tank crew, and a man with a leutenant colonel isignia on his lapel. He would later find out that he was dragged into his tank badly bleeding but alive. He stared at the man with the Lt. Col. rank, not comprehending what happened in his unconsciousness. The Lt. Col. spoke up before Wilson could ask any questions, saying

"Well boy, you been out for a long time"

"How long? What the hell have I missed?" He said, straining to get up

"Easy tiger" He responded "To put it easily on the ears, I am fourth and fifth airborne division commander. We set out for Mons Dei two days ago, with about eight-thousand airborne and about one-thousand IFV's. We are your reinforcements, direct orders from Cromwell himself."

"Uh, uh...." Wilson stuttered, following with silence

"Oh it ain't a bad thing, you even got promoted to captain! We started planning an attack and we need your input, because we want these rebels routed."

"Let's get started!"

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

The final plans were set. The elite airborne units were going to make the attack, rather than the panzer soldiers. The tank units would not get any reprieve from battle, as they again would head into battle. The attack group was four-hundred tanks strong, with the same amount of SOV-06's loaded with airborne soldiers.

The attacking force spread out into a line formation, fanning out and rolling along the planes of Mons Dei. The line formation was about half a mile long from end to end, with tanks leading SOV's. The attack was starting strong with men and tanks, but a lesson was learned from each failed attack that showed that man power was not the most important variable in battle. The KriGud's began opening up with a savage artillery burst on the rebels that lasted about fifteen minutes. The next burst of shells from the KriGuds were smoke rounds, and they landed about five feet in front of the rebel trenches. The smoke began build as the attacking force was headed towards the rebels at flank speed. The attacking group slowed as the visual of smoke came into view, and the thick white smoke probably obscured the attack group from view. The attacking group stopped ten feet in front of the billowing smoke, and SOV-06's began to unload. The white smoke was used to keep the machine gun nests from seeing the attackers, and thus keep them from firing; besides who would fire at something they could not see?

The elite, most well trained men of the HailandKill army began running into the smokey haze. The men were well hidden under the protection of the smoke and were only being taken down by potshots and random machine gun nest sprays. The attackers began jumping, or in some cases falling into the rebel trenches. The rebels were probably shocked at seeing about three thousand soldiers emerge from the smoke. The men in the trenches took no time to begin firing on the rebels with their assault rifles. These men were skilled combatants and they would be superior in close quaters combat. The attackers were spraying their 7.62 rounds at anything that moved and was not a member of the HailandKill army. Indeed this would be a hellish fight.

As soon as the smoke began to clear away the tanks opened up on the rebel armor, creating holes in their columns. The SOV-06s also began to light up heavily entrenched positions along the line. The battle would now take a new turn....

[OOC: I still have to finish this one. Wait untill this OOC note says done before reading.]

Weigar

Marius had gotten little sleep during the night. What remained of Kurez-Schwert was hunkered down in a strategic intersection, occupying several of the few remaining structures that actualy stood relatively intact. The bodies of the slain lie strewn about the streets. During the night, the rebels had launched sporadic assaults on the strongpoint, being beaten back each time with a vengeance. Only one SS-man had fallen within those battles, to the detriment of their foe, who had lost hundreds.

Barbed wire surrounded the makeshift fortress, sandbagged foxholes and macheingun nests were well concealed amidst the charred rubble. However, the men were not preparing for another assault by the rebels. Rather, they were preparing for their own assault. Within a few minutes, the order to charge would come, and the men would arise from their positions and begin the push out of this hallowed land.

Marius was tensely gripping his rifle, staring intently in the direction he was soon to be moving in. He didn't see them, but he knew they were there. He could sense them. He could smell them, with their foreign, infidel stench. And he wanted to snuff them out. He occupied his foxhole by himself, and had already cut away the barbed wire that lie a few meters in front, casting away several bodies that had been entangled.

The sun arose; a red dawn. In the distance he could see the aircraft streaking across the sky and the subsequent explosions that followed their bombing. The land that he was to cross was barren, seemingly flat from the bombardment. Only twelve hours before it was a dense, urban area. Maccabaean fighters had changed that quite easily, and for that Marius was greatful. The land ahead was covered; what was not covered in rubble was coated in blood. There were a few semi-intact building foundations seemingly randomly thrown about the open field that seemed to stretch out into eternity.

That was where his foe would lie hidden. His brothers knew this, too. Their survival was in doubt, yet morale had never been higher. The men eagerly awaited the time that they would die a most glorious death in the service of their adopted Empire.

Marius crossed himself one last time in anticipation for the upcoming battle, kissing the golden cross that hung on his neck. This was probably the last time he would. Then the order came from down the line,

"FIX BAYONETS!" a lieutenant shouted in Latin.

The subsequent swish of metal and clanking of steel broke the silence that had long gripped this hellhole.

All of this ruckuss had caused some poor bastard on the other side to raise his head from the safety of his position, just in time to see a muzzle flash errupt from a sniper. A sharp crack sounded, and the rebel fell over, causing the others in his position, undiciplined as they were, to arise to see what had just happened.

It was this that caused the colonel to give the order.

"DEUS VOLT!!!!!!"

Simultaniously, the hundred or so men that remained arose from their foxholes, yelling and roaring with the force of a million men, and letting loose on the suspected enemy positions as they began to make their way down out of their foxholes. The insurgents had not expected such a bold maneuver, and were caught completely off-guard as 7.62mm rounds ripped through the stone walls that they relied on as their protection.

Yelling ever so loudly, the black horde swarmed down from their hill-top fortress like insects, running like wild dogs down towards their enemies. Mortar rounds began to fall amongst the SS-men as did sporadic bursts from enemy machineguns, causing a few to immediately fall dead, while others, knocked off their feet, sprung back up and kept on charging.

The men let of sporadic bursts, forcing the rebels to keep their heads down. By the time they could realize the significance of what was going on, the insurgents found their positions infiltrated, the Legionaries clambering over the walls, opening up at close range with their rifles and machineguns, tearing into their foes with their bayonets, and continueing on to the next man.

With an unholy effeciency, the armored soldiers tore their enemies to pieces. A Doomingslander fell occasionaly, a bullet through his visor, usualy, while others took crippling rounds to the legs and arms. Wounded, they would drag themselves towards the nearest enemy troops, lighting off their grenades, taking themselves and scores of Weigarens to Heaven, Hell, or Oblivion; whichever awaited.

Marius himself had taken no less than thirty rounds, being hit all over, yet soldiered on through it all, continueing to ram his bayonet into the bellies and throats of his hated enemies. Within a few minutes, the men had overrun the rebel positions, yet continued on, not bothering to secure those positions. For there were yet many more that required cleansing.

Marius had unknowingly taken the lead of the men, spraying into the next rebel position as he dashed across the open ground, running over the rubble and bodies, and plunging over the war-torn walls into an enemy position. Looking up, he saw no less than eight enemy soldiers in front of him. The sheer adrenaline running through him made it seem as if time slowed down as he brought his rifle to bear and squeazed the trigger. The rifle jostled against his shoulder as it spat out a round, hitting the man he had roboticly aimed for between the eyes, blowing the back of his skull out.

He switched targets firing off another two rounds, hitting a second surprised rebel in the abdomen and groin. An enemy soldier attempted to tackle him, yet Marius braced himself in an unhuman amount of time, ramming his blade straight through the man's skull and tearing it out in time to bash a second enemy in the gut with his rifle butt, giving him a swift kick to the temple.

Hearing something behind him, he whirrled around just in time to duck as an insurgent attempted to bayonet him in the back. The rebel, unable to stop, tripped over Marius and tumbled over, soon feeling a searing pain in his chest as twelve inches of solid steel pierced him and was violently torn out.

Breathing heavily, the adrenaline-pumped SS-man looked up at the surrounding carnage, almost unaware of what he had just done. It had all happened so fast. It took a few seconds of idleness for it to come to him. Then he realized something. It had taken him but seven seconds to kill those men. With that knowledge, he smirked and fell to his knees. As mentioned before, he had taken thirty rounds. To the chest. He had almost been bled dry by now. His eyes rolled back and he fell over, cackling uncontrollably as he met death with open embrace, blood filling his mouth.

As passing SS-man had seen the whole thing. He didn't want to leave this body to the rebels, who would probably draw conclusions from the surrounding dead of Marius' actions. Sighing, he slung his rifle across his back and drew his pistol, and threw Marius over his back, and continued on.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[OOC: Post above finished. Bump for Mac.]

Ruska: The Air War
The lead Hawk, commander of the wing Colonel Jench Kesselring, was keeping track of what was going on around him which was made perpetually harder by the fact that there were no advance warning and control system aircraft in the air, meaning the detection range of the Hawk was severely limited to something around four hundred kilometers or but regardless, it would be enough for what it was needed for, quick detection of incoming munitions. It took ten to twenty seconds to finish making their way to the optimum range to use their air to air missiles and suddenly his, as well as others', polychromatic liquid matrix display screens, arrayed all over the cockpit, filled with the signals of incoming air to air missiles. The Hawk's missiles were loosed first; their mission was to down as many EB-9s before they dropped their bombs as possible, and then think about themselves, and they would do this without question. After releasing their missiles the wing broke apart, decreasing altitude rather quickly, going in different directions, and keeping under the altitude of a working scramjet engine, while turning around throughout all of that. Unfortunately, over half of the missiles continued on their trek behind the Hawks, confusing Kesselring for a while but he quickly regained composure and began to relay orders through the communications system, "Kelethna-Berot Six, begin evasive manuevers. Rondevouz over Fedala, over."

The missiles would already have to be confused, their targets spreading out, which meant that some of the missiles would already miss their target, while other missiles would gang up on some targets, and not on other targets, which ultimately translated to that there would be more survivors as opposed to had the entire wing stuck together. The entire minute or less of evasion had been rather hot and when the missiles began their terminal homing and acceleration everything suddenly got hotter. The close-in weapon guns facing either way under the belly of the Hawk in retractable pods stuck out and began to swivel back and forth putting accurate rounds into the incoming NGLRAAMs, taking them out one by one. Nonetheless, they were too fast and most of them hit, although fortunately, due to prior evasion tactics and the guns the damage done was probably not as high as expected by the Havenites. Of the seventy-two Hawks thirty-six were shot out of the sky, including all thirty-six pilots dead, while another eight aircraft were shot down with the pilots parachuting behind their own lines, while another ten were damaged but would make it home, and the rest continued to the rondevouz point over Fedala, marking ten aircraft that would have to undergo massive maintenance, and just eighteen that would make it unscratched. However, the full lot of missiles would still be homing into the EB-9s prior to them dropping the bombs, and so their mission would not be as successful as they thought. An eye for an eye, ear for an ear.

Down low the Rains were seriously underestimating the power of small calibre anti-air artillery who's mininum range was underneath the skimming of the Rains; indeed, they could be used as anti-personnel guns if needed. The SA-33 Wraiths had not mininum range and if shot from a short distance they would simply travel horizontally. The Rains, flying low, and with aircraft above, were on a suicide strike over Ruska and they would see the consequences with the increased number of dead crashing into Ruskan lands. The small surface to air missiles continued to fly into the air, regardless of the artillery backlash coming in. It was cheaper for the Empire to lose hundreds of Wraiths and artillery guns than Haven to lose a single aircraft and potentially a great deal of artillery lash, for those guns would have to be silenced one way or the other [OOC: Detailed in the ground war post, coming next].

As for the Valkyries still in the sky, now with a load lightened, they were engaged just as well, with the moving Praetorian IIs continuing to reload, driving in their logistical convoys. The logistical convoys were also heavily ladened with the necessary equipment to put up larger surface to air missile sites which were going to be put up all over Ruska north of the River Styx, and then transplanted south once the Havenite invasion was defeated and the war saw a major shifting of the tables. The Praetorian IIs continued to fire their P.746.B surface to air missiles that were aimed for the Valkyries, putting three surface to air missiles per Valkyrie, and four P.746.B surface to air missiles per EB-9, knowing how the EB-9s had taken the damage from the MTAAM-3s, and now hoping to eliminate the bomber threat once and for all, even if the lines around Mosnoi Bor would have to take damage first - they wanted to make it clear to Haven that it would be far too costly for them to insert bombers over Ruska, and that control of the air would not remain in their hands for very long.

Nonetheless, the consequence in monetary manners would be witnessed in the pockets of both countries, with the massive expenditure of missiles rivaling any war before seen by any of the respective administrations. Indeed, it was very possible that the number of air to air missiles and surface to air missiles fired was higher than the amount used over Malgeria in the long and fruitless war to support Parthia against the batch of Muslim states. The number of artillery rounds being used on the ground would only serve to underscore the costs of the war, and the naval battle at Targul Frumos would skyrocket the military budget, most likely putting the Empire in depth, while communism rising throughout the world and the closing of potential clients would not help at all. It seemed that the world was spiralling into disaster, and Fedor as young as he was could not miss a good fight; it quickly seemed that the War of Golden Succession would only serve as a smaller front for a much larger war - one that was not too far off. With rising budgetary problems, the scene in international trade, belligerence abroad, the establishment of colonies, the war with Jagada and plannings with Doomingsland, the world began to destablelize suddenly.

But for now, the air war over Ruska would remain just that, and true behold, it was getting hotter and hotter with every passing day. Nonetheless, things on the ground were reaching a critical climax to this particular chapter of the war and this particular front. Events far bloodier than the events in the air were unfolding around the River Styx and that would tell the progression of the war; indeed, it would be a clear cut sign on who God favoured.

[[b]OOC: Response to the ground war, Targul Frumos and Mons Dei coming soon. I'll also have some things on Weigar and the Battle of the River Nestor will commence.]

[OOC: Reading the description to the Kangaroo, the maximum drop height is ten thousand meters, so if you're looking for accuracy [although this part is largely irrelevent] your bombers are going to have to fly lower than that. What is relevant is that even at ten thousand meters those bombers are going to be accessible by the smaller versions of the P.746.A, which is the P.746.B fired by the Praetorian II. Very accessible.]

The Battle of Mosnoi Bor
The bridges up and down the River Styx had been laced with explosives and blown to bits two nights before, offering some sort of spectacle to the men dug in along the lines of defense running south of Mosnoi Bor, then linking up with Hailandkill's men to the west, defending the city of Aurillac. With the shortened front the Macabee military actually had an easier time running the defense of the city since there men were more concentrated, and with the river running parallel to their lines it would be tenfold easier to dislodge any invasion coming south of the River Styx. Nonetheless, it had been a bold move to allow Hailandkill full defense over Aurillac, although it was largely a lie since two security divisions still occupied the city proper, ready to conduct a thorough defense in case of a siege, turning Aurillac into another city on the Volga. However, there was trust within Hailandkill and even without it the fronts were in fact shorter for both sides which would aid indefinetely with the defense of the river line; the latter being the ultimate defensive line for Ruska, which was the gateway to Fedala from the south. So, with the bridges destroyed it would be quite the obstacle for the Havenite troops to begin crossing the river, even if their vehicles were amphibious. The River Styx was no small river and it rivaled the Mississipi in size and length, and in fact surpassed the Mississipi and was much closer to the Nile if one was to also take into mind the length it flowed for through Zarbia, originating from the dry mountains deep within the bordering country. Even if Haven's infantry fighting vehicles could ford it, they would have to rebuild those bridges to pull their main battle tanks and artillery through, and they would not capture a bridge head with just light vehicles; the Macabee military was simply too strong.

The opening Havenite offensive that would formulate the Battle of Mosnoi Bor came after the EB-9s began to drop their Kh-96 Kangaroo air to surface missiles, developed and sold by New Empire. The low height of the incoming missiles made them suceptible to the newly deployed Praetorian IIs and the fixed Praetorian sites, although the ones built by now, low in number, would not reveal their positions just yet. Low above tracers and capmes rounds, sorrounded by light numbers of P.746.B surface to air missiles, filled the skies trashing the airframes of several of the incoming missiles before they hit the ground. Most of the guns being used were low calibre for the low altitude, including anything from 37mm to 75mm, but not the 105s or 155s, or even the 206mm mobile anti-air artillery guns being developed by Kriegzimmer and secretely deployed to the south to provide for some field testing of the piece before they were actually exported widely.

Nonetheless, a vast number of missiles still struck, forming bulbs of fire along the frontlines with their submunitions [OOC: Although the Kangaroo used by New Empire actually carries a 300kg ONC warhead]. Since the missiles were dived amongst Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor the damage done was actually less than Haven could expect, especially since a lot of the behind the line tank parks and such were actually armoured since most of them were permanent fortifications along what was obviously a strategical line in case of invasion, even from Zarbia. Nonetheless, although very little personnel actually died at least sixty BredtSverts were put out of action and around eight of the newer, but less numerous, Arca I main battle tanks, as well as at least fifty to sixty SOV-6 infantry fighting vehicles. Nonethelesss, the damage on the ground was light compared to what the EB-9s and Valkyries' would suffer at the hands of air to air missiles and surface to air missiles looking for vegeance. It was a miracle those bombers even made it through.

The ground offensive began sometime later, opened up by lighter KAR-45 missiles to 250mm rockets, which peppered defensive positions that were more or less fortified. Armed wheeled reconnaissance vehicles outfitted with shortstop were able to stop some of the fused rockets themselves although many of them still hit, spreading opening confusion along the lines and killing perhaps around four hundred or so logistical and front line personnel in the opening minutes of the battle. Nonetheless, Havenite actions later could be called less than witty if one was to go that far because the repulsion would come easy - but then again, river crossings were some of the hardest operations to design, and even the river crossing of the Meuse in 1940 by German troops had been a lucky strike; had it not been for total French stupidity in the upper command echelons the Germans might have never won the war in France.

All the while, light unmanned aerial vehicles, built out of materials that were 'transparent' to radar, monitored the situation from above, while reconnaissance sattelites had already scoped out positioning artillery batteries and such, as well as moving pincers ready to strike. Even while Havenite rocket artillery pounded the river crossing positions Panzerwerfers began to respond immediately by showering artillery batteries, mobile rocket batteries and light vehicle concentrations with 300mm rockets carrying anti-tank submunitions; the Panzerwerfer was infamous for its ability to fire eight rockets in twelve seconds and then reload within two minutes after changing position. So while the Macabee men were desperate to live at least they got some consolidation seeing the bomblets creating sprouts of fire across the river as enemy artillery and rocket artillery were torn apart, as well as light vehicles from infantry fighting vehicles to soft skinned logistical trucks and such. The defending Corbulos kept silent, allowing Havenite artillery to make the first move and thus act in counter-battery fire, taking out additional enemy artillery at will. It was a brave exchange of fire, but even then, the battle would decided by the clash of armoured fists; in this case, Haven's infantry fighting vehicles against a combined army of anti-tank missiles and light/heavy armour.

As the first IFVs began to attempt to ford the river infantry positions armed with the bulky Tagus anti-tank missiles made their first strikes at the incoming enemy vehicles, targetting individual vehicles with up to three Tagus anti-tank losat missiles. Although no infantryman could expect to stop five hundred IFVs from crossing at a single point across the river, they would take out a lot of them, especially since Haven's armour had not made an appearence yet. Regardless, the only defenses to date would be the infantry, as the armour kept back. Haven would have to build a bridge before that armour could begin to cross, and by that time the BredtSverts and Arcas would be ready to throw the IFVs back across the river and upset any plans that Haven could have. And thus, the infantry continued to sprinkle enemy vehicles with anti-tank missiles and as the IFVs got closer they retreated a bit, forming a heavy defensive bulk in a circular formation along the area of the river crossing; it was a containment. The IFVs had put themselves in between enemy armour and the river - they had trapped themselves, and all the while, they had taken immense casualties. All the Empire had to do was to keep it cool, lead them into the trap, and then spring it; thousands of Havenite men would end up dead.

Already, two brigades of Pz. XIs [250 tanks] and a single brigade of Arca. Is [125 tanks] and a single Morrigan [the secret tank] were preparing for the eventual counter-attack. The Morrigan was aptly hidden from enemy sattelite reconnaissance under immense foliage, and from enemy UAVs in the same way. They were massive and they could not stay hidden for ever, but the counter-attack was expected within less of an hour. The image that would remain in the men of Haven would be the look of a mammoth tank - fear. It was only a matter of time.

The Battle for Aurillac

They waited; but mostly they talked about there wives, girlfriends, mothers, girlfriends mothers, jobs, things they've done, and anything else under the sun. They gambled, they smoked, they did anything to pass the time. The war felt so far away, even though the soldiers were on foreign soil, protecting a foreign city. Alot of time had passed since the start of the war and none of the men entrenched had seen action yet. The urge to do battle had worn off with time and boredom set in amongst the men.

Time was the temporary enemy. As time grew onward soldiers lost the fervor to do battle and they grew bored and lazy. Any attack could be devastatingly suprising for them, and prove lethal. Many men grew rowdy and boisterous over the time that there was nothing to do. Tensions rose and friction amongst the soldiers grew over the "nothing" time.

If time was the enemy of these men, then it was also the best friend of them. When the three armies and four panzer corps had first arrived at Aurillac foxholes and command posts were haphazardly done. As time grew on the HailandKill army engineers had thought of ingenious ways to set up defensive positions, and the men even had time to dig an intricate and tricky trench system. All availible wood was scavenged to develop well defended machine gun positions, and many of the men had a deep foxhole to hide in if shelling became rough. Time had given the men time to make a well defended position.

The opening Havenite attack started in the south, in second army's assigned zone. Aurillac was defended by three HailandKill armies, with each army defending one-third of the ring around Aurillac. With each army was a panzer corps, providing the regular infantry with plenty of tank support. The Havenites opening volley surprised many of the men in second army, and the results could be seen in the large amounts of body parts and blood that was scattered all around. During the opening shelling, platoon and squad seargents began to rally up their men to their positions. Many young men had seen their buddies get blown apart from the surprise attack, and after the first deadly minutes these men, being guided by their NCO's, were slowly becoming veterans. The dug in Wolvering light tanks began firing at any Havenite tank, APC, or IFV, their 105mm guns creating loud noises along the trench. The larger BredtSverds, which were positioned behind the regular infantry lines also began to add their noises to the battle, with the 120mm guns blasting away. Havenite infantry had the large misfortune to be on open ground and when they became visible a roar of small arms fire headed in their direction. HailandKill NCO training was worse then officer training, and the reasons were all obvious at the opening stages of this battle. The NCO's were leading the men with great ardor, and even the most fearful privates rose up to fire their Hali-24 assault rifles. Their was plenty of small arms fire and tank shells to greet the Havenites. KriGud fire began coming from Aurillac itself, and the HE rounds on the open fields would be murder on the men. With the losses from the surprise southern attack and the ferocity of the HailandKill counter, the battle would start a gory one.

----

The three generals were assembled in the command post, inside the town square of Aurillac. They began discussing options for a counter-attack. The Havenite attack had only hit one army, which comprimised more than seven thousand men and fifteen hundred tanks. Surely they could hold their own for a while, the generals agreed. The counter attack would comprise of three decently sized attack groups, with one crossing the river, one following it and one making a helicopter attack. A division would be used to screen the river attack, to prevent from envelopment.

---

The first attack, the helocopter attack, kicked off two hours after the Havenite attack on Aurillac, and it was going to be comprised of five, two hundred helocopter landings. The men were from the fourty sixth division of third army, which was on the opposite side of the first Havenite attack. Each landing would bring sixteen hundred men. The first two-hundred helocopters dusted off, and began making their arch shaped route. The attack was planned to avoid possible SAM's and Havenites. The LZ was planned to be twenty miles from the last known position of the enemy. The first wave landed smoothly with sixteen hundred men pouring out from the helicopters, crouching in the tall grass of the plains, awaiting orders. The next wave would arrive shortly, and the commander, leutentant colonel Tim Johnson, thought that four waves should be landed before the attack would be commenced. When the fourth wave landed, almost forty minutes after the first landed, Johnson gave the order to move out and the sixtyfour hundred men were on their feet. The large group of men would have to walk to the best position, but the surprise would hopefully be devasting. After almost a two and a half hour walk the commander had spotted a column of troops. He gave the order to drop to the floor, and like dominoes, the men began dropping. He led the men being the lead crawler, to a small ridge on the plains. The ridge was a lucky find, and Johnson figured it would provide excellent cover. When he made it to the ridge, and saw most of his men in a good firing position he made the first shots. There was a rippling of small arms fire, which turned into a tremendous roar. Any anti-armor equipment brought, such as RPGs and TOW missile systems were being fired at the heaviest vehicles around. The attack on the neck began.

As the attack on the neck began, another attack was also happening. The other half of fourty sixth divison was accompanying third panzer corps in a heavy assault on the Havenite rear. The assault force had the longest trip, making an arched pattern which would entail crossing the river Styx. The group made the crossing of the river over the handful of bridges not destroyed in the opening Havenite attacks of the war, or not destroyed by Macabean engineers. The group was sixteen hundred armor units strong, and twenty-four thousand soldiers strong, with panzergrenadiers mixed in with HailandKill regulars. The attack force had to make a long journey, even though many of the men were being shuttled in SOV-06 infantry fighting vehicles. The long six hour journey was going to be well worth it, with the Havenite flank openly exposed. The first Havenite units on the horizon were immediatly being fired upon by the advancing armor units, the BredtSverds. When the tank commander had decided that the armor was in the perfect position, he gave the halt order. The stopped tanks began firing their shells with great accuracy at any hard-skinned vehicles they saw; tank machine guns also started firing, sending brightly illuminate tracers at the enemy personnel. The SOV-06's in the lead began to unload at points all around the new three mile front, sending troops into battle. This front would most likely be fought on open ground, so losses for both sides could be brutal. The men that left the SOV-06's immediatly ran to the cover of the large tanks in front of them. From the safe cover of the tanks, the men began to fire their 7.62mm rounds at the Havenites. If you were not behind a tank, you were prone in the high grass or open field, firing away madly, praying that you would not be hit. SOV-06's creeped to the gaps between the tanks, firing their 15mm rounds at anything that moved. Men on foot were now joining the battle, hiding behind SOV-06's providing a cover from small arms fire. The amount of men attacking the flank would be critical to success. Their was plenty of small arms fire and tank shelling going on in this new front. This attack, in open fields, could be deadly for both combatants.

The screen, which was covering third panzer divisions attack pincer, was all set. Small foxholes were dug, which would provide adequate cover for the men. A two thirds of forty ninth division was making up the screen, which comprised of twenty four thousand men, and one thousand tanks. Littering the line that the screen formed were various machine gun, and anti-tank positions. The screen was decently set-up and the patient task of waiting began.

As both attack raged, a third was about to start. The last third of forty ninth division was making the attack. They followed the river, about an hour behind the attack group that crossed the river. An hour after the first group attacked, they attacked. The five hundred Wolverines started the new front with their 105mm's firing at anything that was a tank, APC, or IFV. The men on foot behind the tanks followed behind the tanks as the tanks crept forward. The men were using the tanks as cover, but being that their was one light tank per twenty four men, not everyone had the immediate safety of a metal hull. Men not behind the tanks began to fire on the run at the enemy. They would either take refuge in high grass, or go prone and pray for the best. The firecracker-like sound of small arms fire could be heard, and the sound was almost like a fourth of July weekend. Tanks, small arms, and machine guns all contributed to this attack, which was also taking place on open ground.

The three attacks, and main front at Aurillac raged on. The ground war started, and it would be deadly.

[OOC: Heres a pic of the attacks made.]

http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c1/HailandKill09/untitled.jpg

Naval Battle of Targul Frumos
November's defense worked like the defense of all other naval battle groups within the Empire - the fleet was constantly sorrounded by three tiers of anti-submarine defenses and anti-surface defenses and the ships in each tier did their job well, while the birds in the air, comprised of E-3 AWACS and Lu-45 aircraft with their active electronically scanned array radar on their noses, comprising a very powerful mixture of sensory devices, which also included side looking radar and down-looking lidar. In other words, the defenses of November were going to be one tough vault to crack, and Macabee fleets were famed for their ability to turn an offensive into a defensive battle and then win. Indeed, the fleets sent to Kahta had returned unscathed, the fleets in Malgeria returned dented but largely victorious, and November had returned from Kraven with a mere dent, quickly replaced. Who was to say four Havenite fleets would fare any better? In fact, the Macabee military had proved its ability to put up a successful fight against the ordnance Haven sported, so all money was put on the idea that the fleet would be able to mirror the success on land.

In contrast, Haven's position was little better. Indeed, the 'anvil', or the three fleets between November and the Hailandkillian aerial presence were being drilled constantly by constant sallies coming out of Targul Frumos from another large fleet and Hailandkillian aircraft. So, those three fleets could hardly be called an anvil. Their supply route had been completely cut off and their logistics had gone array; in fact, it was just a matter of time before the three fleets were gone, and then it would be two Macabee battle groups set against a single Havenite surface fleet. Havenite had been checked and matched - the climax of the naval war had arrived. If November survived to see the death of the three fleets then Haven was most likely to face a massive debacle in the water and her coasts would be unprotected. Indeed, the entire war in the south was reaching the climax for this year's fight.

So, the strategy would continue. November would stand and take the heat while Romeo pounded the three Havenite fleets as it sallied forth out of Targul Frumos. With that in mind, the progression of November's sector unfolded. A single E-3 was flying high looking over the expansive sea south of the city searching the skies and waters for incoming threats. Suddenly, the screens infront of the pilot lit up with targets flying low at around two hundred and seventy-five kilometers, and soon thereafter more flying higher at a greater distance; they were massive in number and obviously Haven was not planning anything small. As if a message from God the small red darts on the screen multiplied immediately into smaller symbols representing missiles. The pilot of the AWACS gulped and sent an urgent message through the encrypted radio network,"Hotel Six to Papa One, bogies coming low and high, vampires coming high." It took around three minutes for fate to turn its head and the E-3 turned into mere pulp as two or three Divinebolt air to air missiles successfully completed their hit-to-kill mission. Nonetheless, the Lu-45s fared better and dove low, just like their brethren over Ruska were taught to do, which saved their skin for the time being. However, they would let the enemy make their run and then hit them on the return strike, keeping low. The air superiority fighters weren't their concerns, the low flying strike fighters were.

The first wave of fasthawks were somewhat easy to track, except the sea-skimmers which made up about a third of the missiles, but nonetheless, the phased array picked up the high flying missiles rather early and the Paramount vessels sprinkled around the fleet, mainly to protect the Argentine's, fired off around one hundred P.746.A surface to air missiles, while the destroyers and cruisers put up their own defense, all in all having around three hundred surface to air missiles to cover the upper approaches. Those flying at a center altitude were caught next and they too received three hundred surface to air missiles, while the heavy anti-air artillery guns, or the 155mm guns, began to aim for both, filling the skies with capmes rounds, which shred right into the airframes of incoming missiles. The seak skimmers were caught last, at around ninety kilometers distance, and they were immediately engaged by the heavy guns on the cruisers and destroyers and frigates using their long range to beging pouring in capmes rounds in order to 'put down' most of the missile barrage. As the sea-skimmers got closer the smaller calibre anti-air artillery guns, or the 37mms, began to engage. And finally, as all missiles closed in the Conhort CIWS guns began to defend as well, putting up a very accurate line of armoured piercing rounds straight into the warheads of incoming vampires. All in all, the first wave of missiles successfully engaged some radars and even sunk some ships, although the casualty count was limited simply because of the targetting - regardless, the destroyers had over four different radar sensor suits on their ships; it would take a lot of missiles to totally put a destroyer, or even any other ship, in the dark. At least two Seydlitz class Cruisers were outright sunk, with another six or so damaged, as well as four damaged frigates and twelve damaged destroyers, with three outright sunk. Fortunately, by then however, the Havenite attack had lost its suprise.

The suprise attack to the west, composed of two hundred Fasthawk II missiles were caught at around one hundred and fifty kilometers by the shipping, not the Hawks, which were by now sneaking in for their own strike on the now empty Rains which had made the strike. Immediately, a curtain of P.746.A surface to air missiles raged through the sky, engaging Havenite missiles within minutes, followed only by the heated bombardment of anti-air artillery guns and the main naval guns putting tons of rounds into the air. Nonetheless, some of the missiles hit, outright sinking five Azores class fast attack craft, a single destroyer and two frigates.

The return operation would be tenfold what Haven put in. In the air, the Hawks made their strike putting three of the new AAM.176 beyond visual range air to air missiles, with a range of two hundred and seventy-five kilometers, with a larger warhead than the MTAAM-3, offering within itself a better missile. With that the Hawks banked and enter the inner combat air patrol ring around the nucleus of the fleet, prepared to swap positions for others to reform the AWACS perimeter when those Valkyrie fighters overhead were chased away. To that purpose several ships began to engage the Valkyries with P.746.A surface to air missiles which could outrun the Valkyries, and hoping to down the majority of them. This attack had cost the Empire some three thousand lives alone, and the Empire's fleets were out to make it even costlier for Haven - maybe even perhaps destroy all three fleets in one fall swoop, so that they could focus on the fourth.

In between Targul Frumos and November Haven had a total of three hundred and one ships, taking in mind past losses, as well as some other auxilary ships that wouldn't be as important for now. Of these, about sixteen were capital ships, and these would be priority targets. In contrast, Romeo, the primary force to engage these ships, had ten capital ships, and a total of two hundred and thirteen ships altogether. These numbers would be put to good use in the coming hours of the naval battle. Within the bowels of the Zealous class Superdreadnought Grand Durgstaden von Laifsraggen began to make the plans for the expected breakout. The arrival of von Laifsraggen had been a huge moral boost, as the young admiral had proved himself with Kahta, Melgaria amongst others, and he was now the commander in chief of all IADF forces - a feat worth boasting of. His experience and genius would be invaluable to the winning of this naval battle which had claimed so many lives.

He looked down at a grid of the waters of Targul Frumos and the western coasts of the Empire and he put his fingers and three places, saying only,"Here, here and here. The strike shall commence within two hours." It was as if his words were holy; simultanously an air strike and a naval strike would hopefully cripple the three Havenite fleets, which had up to now been expending their anti-air defenses and were cut off from all logistics - if this one didn't, the next one most certainly would.

Two hours later ten squadrons of GLI-76 Kondor multi-role aircraft swooped in from inland while the fleet still positioned itself, carrying six Shockhound Avengers per aircraft, for a total of seven hundred and twenty missiles. In the air, three squadrons of Lu-45 Hawks were providing a screen, heavily laden with air to air missiles. The aerial strike commenced at exactly the time the naval strike commenced with the Hawks firing a total of one hundred and ninety-five AAM.176 air to air missiles at anything that was put up in the air by Haven at the time; coupled with Hailandkill's battering of Haven's airforce over the area the strike would once and for all silence Haven's air umbrella. All the while, the Kondors released every single missile they had at a range of around three hundred kilometers [still over friendly territory], banked, and returned home. There were about six to seven missiles per Havenite Cunningham DDN, as the missiles were only engaging the DDNs - and it was on a hit-to-kill basic - no messing with radars or such; the task was to destroy.

At exactly the same time Romeo engaged first with eight Manstein class Destroyers letting loose twenty Shockhound Avenger I anti-shipping missiles per Paramount class Air Defense Vessels from within the Targul Frumos port, hoping to put those ships out of action since they were what defended those capital ships. Then, the Zealous and the Argentine began to engage the ADVs to make sure they were dead with their main guns while their VLS tubes released a total of sixty missiles per Argentine class Galleon - in total one hundred and eighty missiles. The missile used was the Sledgehammer anti-dreadnought missile - another hit-to-kill mission. The rest of the shipping would be allowed to lull and then destroyed in the secondary attacks. This attack had already cost too much and if one thing went awry it could all be set off - it would be best to wait and see how things went. Regardless, from the current perspective it looked as if things went rather well.

Elsewhere, November put up her defense engaging the fourth Havenite fleet. The Mansteins closed opening fire on anything the enemy had in the air with the long range surface to air missiles. The rest of the fleet opened fire with ten missiles per Cunningham, hoping to destroy most of the protection of that fleet, although most likely not within one strike. The destruction of the fourth Havenite fleet would have to be more surgical than the destruction of the other three, since it was in much better conditions - regardless, not a lot of people doubted the outcome.

[OOC: Casualty report fully updated in the other thread.]

An open communiqué from the Corpse Diplomatiqúe
To: n/a.
Security: none

The administration of the Hanseatic League wishes to point out that the current situation in The Macabees is starting grow out of control - and out of proportions. The IA region is already plagued with tensions of multiple political causes, and therefore this message is issued. For too long Guffingford has not worried about these potentially catastrophic events, since they happen behind Zarbia, a whole nation seperates us from conflict, but these things have a tendency to change fast - and rather unexpectable. We do not like unpleasant surprises.

The Guffingfordian Armed Forces are already on a higher stage of alert than normal, since we expected hostilities to surface longer ago. Nevertheless, Guffingford still wishes to remain absolutely neutral in this conflict. We hope this conflict is not going to touch Guffingford, since you will not like to see some of our unpleasant surprises we throw at you.

With best regards, Kellus Constantine
Minister of Foreign Affairs.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/guffingford.jpg

The Second Battle of Mons Dei
Major Ernhard Verledein squinted into the horizon and then dismissed whatever had flickered into the distance as a mere mirage. It had been a miracle that he had survived the fighting that had occured four days ago in the very trench that he now commanded; indeed, his command depended on the death of the captain who had led the men in the trench, before he received a bayonet to the stomach, which had turned into an almost instant death when the man wielding the bayonet brought it up, smashing his vital organs within his abdomen and lower chest, breaking through the bones protecting his lungs and heart. Nonetheless, the Weigari rebels, now considered a very well led and a very well disciplined fighting force after their victory at the First Battle of Mons Dei, and apparent victory at the Second, had managed to defeat a Hailandkillian force, albeit twenty times smaller than the Weigari defenders. Regardless, very few expected a final victory at Mons Dei. Their ranks had continously contracted, except in the past weeks where reinforcements had gently flowed in with intelligence pointing at increased activity near the area. But with the Revor Nestor about to begin and Imperial forces evidently building around the growing bridgehead there there would be little reinforcements able to replace the excessive losses at Mons Dei, which already numbered near two hundred dead.

Major Verledein looked into the distance once again as he saw another flicker, drawing his attention, and swore under his breath,"Playing tricks on me again." Suddenly, he saw the brief outline of something that looked like a tank and his heart dropped. Turning around he headed towards the radio box and began to scream in news of the incoming offensive - or what seemed like an apparent offensive. But then again, why would enemy armour get so close? He was met with some shock, some denial, and then by shouts of patriotism and a general salutation to the wellbeing of the 'independent Weigar'.

Just as sudden has been the artillery barrage, however, which had caught Verledein off guard and sent him flying to the ground. The rounds hit hard, in front, in back, and in the trenches that made the front lines at Mons Dei, killing dozens and wounding dozens more. The barrage was short, but sharp, pounding the lines with rounds for about fifteen minutes, without the Weigari military able to do anything - in fact, they had captured no factories which alloted them to no additional heavy ordnance, which meant they could not compete with the enemy over the long run. Even Haven had failed to supply Weigar with weapons, most likely because of their plans at Targul Frumos gone awry, and perhaps because they truly were not interested in a victorious Weigar, themselves interested in the Golden Throne. A round hit squarely within the trench about four hundred meters off, killing a group of six soldiers and wounding around eleven others.

His mouth gaping wide open, Verledein looked on, and then snapped to composure. Commanding he ordered all his soldiers down, with disregard to his own life. Throughout the barrage he did not waver, commanding his men to protect themselves in the hardened areas so that the barrage would leave with only minimal casualties under its belt. It worked to some extent but when the barrage was done the Major could notice the devastating effect of the KriGuds - however, it was no more than what had happened four days before and the rebels were still able to defeat the incoming offensive.

He thought he heard more incoming projectiles and he was right, but in the end it was a simple single salvo to spread smoke rounds throughout the front, obviously to mask the presence of incoming men. But Verledein had already seen them. He knew they were there. Now he had to think of a way to engage them. Putting his men on the machine guns and telling them to man the positions with their assault rifles, ready for a full on onslaught, he waited for the first glimps of infantry. He could hear the sounds of incoming armour, and then the lower groan of the engines of light armour, most likely infantry fighting vehicles knowing Hailandkill - something he knew very well since he had fought them in two battles in the same location to date. He opted to use the remainder of his Tagus anti-tank missiles.

Barking orders he directed himself to the anti-tank crews,"Get up you swine! Begin to engage their smaller vehicles - they are laden with infantry!" The men did as ordered and put the digital view of the Tagus to their eyes, relying on the infra-red transmissions to see what they could. If experimentation in space was correct infra-red could actually see 'beyond' the smoke screen, allowing the Tagus a very good chance to actually hit and kill an IFV, and even perhaps a tank. One soldier did just that when the incoming IFVs were still at a full kilometer distance, putting a Tagus missile right on it. The missile shrieked, increased altitude, and completed its top attack task, turning the SOV-6 into shreded metal and ceramic. Vengeance. The barrage of Tagus missiles continued until they ran out. Upon that the guns were thrown aside - perhaps they would find some missiles later after the River Nestor, if Mons Dei survived that long.

Then, the men took battle rifles and positioned themselves to carry a standard defense. From the surviving IFVs one could hear the footsteps of hundreds of personnel stomping off the ramps of the SOV-6 and onto the hardpacked grounds of Mons Dei, packed by the very tanks which attacked the rebels now. As the infantry poured out the machine guns ripped through the smoke screen laying a very wide spray of bullets to wound as much as they could - a wounded soldier wasn't a dead soldier, but more likely than not it was a soldier that couldn't move any longer, and one which would die later. The machine guns continued to engage, their sputtering creating enough noise to make a man deaf if they hadn't already been accustomed to such a cacophony of sound.

The others, with the assault rifles, waited until the infantry began to cross the smoke screen and then opened up on them, putting accurate rounds into their torsos, chests, stomachs and even heads on occasion, killing or wounding as much as they could. Grenades flung out of nowhere hoping to kill as many enemy as they could before they reached the trenchline. But there were enough enemy to make it to the trench line, even if they suffered appalling casualties while they were at it. The trench lines filled with enemy soldiers, over thousand of men [you technically have 3,200 - casualties] and the gruesome hand to hand combat begun. Men tore at each at eachother with bayonets and kniftes, but the rebels weren't stupid. Some of them backed away and then flung grenades into concentrations of enemy soldiers, killing entire batches of them.

The fight for the first line of trenches would not be easy for either side, but at least the Weigari rebels had more trenches to fall back too, and then, of course, the mountain itself. The Second Battle of Mons Dei would most likely prove to be one of the most gruesome, longest and most action packed battles of the war in the north.

The Second Battle of Mons Dei

The tagus missiles and machine bursts through the smoke screen were the deadliest thing seen since the beginning of the battle. Various men that were hit in the torso with random machine gun sprays were bleeding all across the plains. These men were screaming out for someone to save them, and their buddies were often making trips back to the cover of the tanks, with men being dragged by their pack or straps alongside them. Many of the seriously wounded were either dead, or in a surviving SOV-06 getting some sort of first aid. Other men who had just been hit with flesh wounds continued on to the trench, to either get in or get killed by the Weigari rebels.

The trench fighting was getting brutal and gory. Scores of men were killed by grenades, and sergeants were getting hoarse from yelling at them to maintain their intervals. The lieutenants who had survived were leading a maximum of twelve men squads up the trenches. Any rebel who ran away from them to get a better position or lob a grenade was gunned down, with the grenade not going off or blowing the corpse into bloody pieces. The casualty count was much higher than any other attack, but the paratroops were unfazed. The hand-to-hand combat was getting uglier as the time of battle grew on; many paratroops were using their knives to stab any man who got to close, or they pulled out their DAC-91 Doomingsland made submachineguns off of their thighs or calves and shot sprays at them. Grenades were being tossed by paratroops at any cluster of men they could find. Either the grenades being tossed at paratroops were getting thrown back before they went off, or they went off, in which case they would kill handfuls of men.

As the smoke lifted into the sky, tanks could see everything clearly again. The tanks began to open up on any enemy tanks they saw. The tanks were given the order to move up, and slowly they moved, while firing various HEAT and SABOT rounds at the enemy armor. The tanks were inching towards being right on top of the line, which was their ultimate goal. Jimmy Wilson was quite pissed at another failing attack, and he thought if they were right on the line, the pesky machine guns nests could be blown into nothingness. Some tanks began to focus their HE rounds on the machine gun positions in the trenches. The tanks rolled up to about seventy five feet in front of the trenches, and everyman in those trenches, HailandKillian or Weigari, could see the metallic beasts clearly. The tanks machine gunners were close enough to determine a friend or foe and began sending hot lead at the rebel forces. The SOV-06's also began to move towards the line, their fifteen milimeter gattling guns spraying rounds and tracers everywhere. The SOV-06's came around to the sides of the tanks and both the armor and light armor formed a long column.

Jimmy Wilson made a call to the line, and the next wave of four hundred SOV-06s began surging towards the already embattled lines. The SOV-06s laden with troops came behind the protective line of armor that formed seventy five feet in front of the line. The new wave of thirty two hundred men stormed off the back of the SOV-06s and they only had a short distance to run. Any machine gun crew that wasn't knocked out by HE rounds or wasn't busy fending off attackers was putting their share of lead into the ranks of oncoming men. Any man, who wasn’t killed in the short charge into the trench line, had jumped into the trench amidst brutal fighting and confusion. The new ranks of men in the trench were trying to differentiate between friends of foes and as soon as they determined who was who, they started contributing their 7.62mm rounds. The trench was now filled with a lot of HailandKillian men and the men were trying as hard as they could not to bunch up. The close combat became worse off with more men in the trenches, and more flurries of grenades were being lobbed at the enemy. Grenades were also being tossed at the paratroops, and they were working with grim efficiency taking clusters of men down. The Weigar rebels were now in for the fight of their lives as small arms and close combat fights were intensifying, with the HailandKill paratroops learning the ways the rebels fought and also learning how to counter those ways.

Aurillac Offensive

“Target, heavy tank bearing 096, load sabot and fire.”

The heavy tank lurched back as the SABOT round exited the main gun.

“Hit! She’s burning up new target bearing 134, APC, load HE”

Tracer rounds began streaking out, impacting the heavy tanks that had just be taken out. Two tank crewmen who had survived and gotten out of the tanks crumpled almost immediately as dozens of rounds cut into them.

The attack was going well. Unlike the northern army, the southern army whose goal was Aurillac was entirely made up of veterans, and this was just another battle to add to the list. Spearheading the assault on the H&K defenses was a single armored brigade and three divisions, 1,300 MBT, 1,700 APC’s and IFV’s and 50,000 men. They weren’t aiming at Aurillac, rather behind the city but they were being made to work for it, and hard.

The advance wasn’t as quick as it was hoped it would be, the inexperienced H&K soldiers showing up as if they were veterans and fighting like Aurillac was their own city. Whatever the outcome of the battle H&K had won the respect of Havens military. The heavy MBT began pouring fire into the H&K positions. Their heavy 140mm guns and their machine guns searching out H&K strong points and knots of men. Each KAF-90 tank also carried 12 MAT-21 top attack ATGM’s behind the turret and those began lighting off feeling for the H&K tanks, all the while the KAF-90’s continued inching their way closer and closer to the H&K lines supporting the infantry the whole way. Between the big tanks, the smaller APC’s did what they could to support the infantrymen, firing their smaller but quicker guns, shooting up the HailandKillian filled trenches while their own ATGM’s hunted down H&K armor.

It was in this man made hell that the infantrymen had to do their jobs, and it was a hell. Shells cratered the same earth that countless thousands of tracers were churning up. Moving forward in groups, crawling, running, they worked the infantry worked their way up to the trenches. The trenches weren’t to far away but losses were piling up and so the call for help went out. Behind the infantry, behind the tanks and APC’s, four dozen Flail Auto mortars heated up. The 120mm mortars each ported faced skywards and when the final cooridinates came in they started pumping out rounds. The guns lived up to their names, each gun sending out 50 rounds in the first minute, the only reason they had to stop being the need to reload. Almost twenty five hundred 120mm mortar rounds crashed into and around the H&K trenches in a 60 second time span. Then seconds later a new shriek pierced the air, but this time the shells that came in were innocently filled with smoke.

It was through the smoke that the infantry renewed their assault. The smoke would only last so long and so they hustled, they busted their asses’ to get into the trenches before the smoke disapated. Behind them the tanks and APCs continued firing, using their infra red systems to find targets through the smoke. H&K armor still held the highest priority but machine gun nests and knots of men that showed up on infra red were still shot up.



While all this was going on the artillery sat around, having had not much to do until the H&K KriGuds started firing on the attack. The KriGud shells were working up the infantry and so the KriGuds had to be shut up, and so the artillerymen got to go to work. 96 KAG’s located the H&K KriGuds in Aurillac that were firing with both trig and radar and opened fire. For 30 seconds hundreds of shells went out to smash into the H&K gun batteries. For 30 seconds some of the guns got to work before, but then they had to stop and move to new positions.


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Ridgeline Battle

The H&K 46th division had an easy time of things. No body noticed the helicopters till after the 4th wave finished landing its troops and by then it was to late to stop the bulk of the attack force, but there was still the chance to make H&K bleed for its gains.

As the fifth wave headed down from Aurillac in its helicopters 4 squadrons of F-121 interceptors were vectored in by an AWAC’s bird. Helicopters were sitting ducks for fighters, and these wouldn’t be any different, it would become a turkey shoot. 3 Divinebolt missiles, each equipped with RAMjet, instead of SCRAMjet engines, were fired at each helicopter. Each and every helicopter had 3 missiles specifically targeted at it, guidance and targeting helped by two different AWAC’s birds and the fighters that originally shot the missiles ensuring that the missiles would gang up on a few targets. It was more of a slaughter than anything as the helicopters would be hard pressed to maneuver with their bellies full of men.

It was still to late to stop the first four waves but it was expected that they wouldn’t move out just yet, command found out soon enough how wrong they were. The first four waves found themselves looking at a brigade of men making up the southern Army’s reserve. Of the 8 divisions and 2 armored brigades only 3 divisions and 1 armored brigade were involved in the assault leaving a big, fat reserve behind the lines.

Each brigade had 5,000 men, being a third of a division, making each brigade a potent fighting force, but what ensured wasn’t a fair fight at all. In the opening few seconds of the H&K ambush hundreds died in their vehicles. The brigade got cut into bloody ribbons in the first minute, but they fought back. The APC’s of the brigade turned to meet the H&K soldiers and began firing back while the infantry poured out the back. The brigade fired back with everything it could, trying to gain some semblence of order but within 5 minutes half the brigade was on the casualty roster.

The brigade fought on, or tried the best it could, help was on its way. A flight of four Rain fighter bombers swept low over the ground, just high enough to release their weaponry. As they swept over the ridge they released their ordnance, dozens of bombs dropped free, pulled to the ground by the earth’s gravity, but before they hit the ground, still hundreds of meters in the air they burst open and hundreds of ONC bomblets fell out of each bomb, spreading out all over the infantry filled ridge. Each bomb held 500 plus bomblets. The Rain hit afterburner, fleeing the scene after doing their duty.

Watching the ridgeline and the slopes on both sides erupt in fire saved the brigade from completely falling apart, but it was still to late for the brigade to hold its ground and so it began falling back, a mere shell of its former self. But a counter attack was quick in the making. An entire division, one of the divisions that had been held in reserve, advanced on the ridge from its flank right after the bombs struck. The division split, encircling the ridge instead of attacking it directly, since they were mechanized and the H&K infantry on the ridge were on foot it was easy to quickly move out and surround the ridge. The lines were set up a half mile away from the ridge and were manned by the divisions infantry while the vehicles pulled back out of ATGM range and waited in a mobile reserve. A call went up to the ridge asking for a surrender, a surrender that probably wouldn’t happen and so. If within 5 minute the H&K force didn’t surrender or reply another flight of Rain, now 8 instead of 4 planes would strike the ridge, followed by a quick and sharp bombardment by 96 KAG guns.

(OOC: Wanna make up a name for the ridge if you don’t surrender?)


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Second H&K Counter attack

The next H&K attack was spotted from the air before it could develop, that was what they got for not timing their attacks, and for not controlling the skies. 24,000 men and 1,600 armor units was hard to miss and they had commanders screaming before they got near the Havenite rear. As the H&K 3rd panzer and 46th division made its trek across the Ruskan countryside things went into motion to stop, then destroy completely, the H&K force.

Before the H&K force could strike the Havenite rear 240 KAG guns, 20 batteries, opened fire. UAV’s sat over the H&K attack force providing real time footage, and targeting, of the columns of tanks and vehicles. Those UAV’s directed the fire right into the heart of the 3rd panzer and the 46th division. The KAG shells burst apart in the area spraying out anti vehicle bomblets and mines all over the H&K force. Again and again, for 30 seconds the guns fired before moving and opening fire again in a few minutes.

From the air 16 Rain flew over, each dropping 12 bombs. Just like the bombs over the ridge these bombs burst open and out of each spread out bomblets. Though unlike over the ridge there were only 150 ONC bomblets per bomb, making each bomblet that much more powerful than the ones over the ridge. These bomblets were meant for vehicles, and while a single hit wouldn’t destroy a MBT it would disable and immobilize it which was just as good as a kill in this situation. As for the infantry laden APC’s and the light Wolverine tanks, a hit most likely meant a kill.

When the H&K force finally made it to the Havenite rear they met almost the entire reserve of the southern army. 3 divisions(one of which missing an entire brigade from the earlier attack.) and an armored brigade were waiting for the 3rd Panzer and the 46th division. The infantry had done what they could to dig in and prepare, but they only had a few hours to prepare and so there was much in the way of defenses set up, but it was better than nothing.

When the H&K force attacked they would be first running into 40,000 infantry, behind them were 1,300 tanks and 1,850 APC’s. The infantry did the best they could to blunt the H&K attack, they were to suck what momentum the H&K force had left out of them. MAT-21 ATGM’s began reaching out when the H&K force was still over a mile away. A wave of ATGM’s streaked into the sky before angling downwards and cutting into MBT’s and APC’s alike. The 3rd panzer and 46th division continued forward, sucking up the losses, they continued forward before the SOV’s finally stopped and the infantry started pouring out.

As soon as the first ramp went down the call went out, and the shells came in. 20 batteries of guns, 240 guns, opened up with everything they had. Shell after shell shrieked in, forward observers spotting for the guns with laser designators. If that wasn’t enough 50 KAR-45 rocket launchers fired off their full clips of rockets and 600 220mm rockets smashed into the newly exposed infantry. Then three dozen Flail auto mortars, in close support of the infantry began shooting off their 120mm mortars. All of this was added to the mortars carried by the infantrymen themselves. Dozens of little 80 mm mortars began lobbing rounds into H&K infantry knots and groups.

Then the tracers started firing. Men in half dug foxholes popped their heads and shoulders over the edge and began sending out streams of rounds. Heavy crew served machine guns and light squad guns began ripping off rounds in the direction of the 46th infantry. As the H&K soldiers got closer, rifle grenades began lobbing out to clear out knots of men hiding behind tanks.

Before the H&K force could close with the infantry line the tanks and APC’s behind the line started heating up. 900 of the tanks and 1,000 of the APC’s moved out to meet the H&K attack head on blasting away with everything they had. The APC’s began firing at their counterpart APC’s and the light Wolverine tanks, while shooting up infantry with their secondary machine guns. The KAF-90 tanks and M-88 Badger HMBT’s took the H&K heavy armor on head on. The Macabean BredtSverds might have been a bit better one on one with the KAF-90 but the M-88 was designed for this kind of fight, head on head with other modern MBT’s. Even more MAT-21 ATGM’s went out mixed in with tank rounds. Using the main fight as a screen 300 M-88 HMBT’s and 500 APC/IFV’s moved out to flank the H&K force to the west. They moved out quickly hoping to get their before the 3rd Panzer had a chance to re-deploy any of its armor units to meet the new threat. In case they tried 30 Wasp II helo’s struck the flank of the H&K force. Each one of the attack choppers carried 28 AT missiles and two pods of rockets which they started using immediately. AT missiles were the first to be fired but as soon as those were away the rocket pods began lighting off, shooting up light vehicles and tossing around knots of men. This battle was turning out to be the main one, beating out the original Havenite attack in intensity soon enough.



That battle was going to force Havens hand, it was going to force Haven to use its strategic reserve that had just moved up between Mosnoi Bor and Aurillac. 5 of the 9 divisions along with the armored brigade moved south to deal with the H&K counter attack from behind. It took some hours for them to reach the area but when they did they had to go through a wall first. 16,000 men and 500? tanks of the 49th division comprised that wall. They were heavily outnumbered and in what was probably a suicide mission out on their own but it was their job, 16,000 on 75,000. The reserve force moved up planning to break through the thin H&K line but it was looking to turn out to be a tough fight.

2 of the 5 divisions sat back in a reserve in case H&K thought up another flanking attack while two of the other divisions along with half the armored brigade moved forward to break through the H&K line. 700 tanks and 1,500 APCs/IFVs with 35,000 infantry moved up to break through the H&K line head on. The tanks began searching out the H&K armor quick with help from infantry and APC fired ATGM’s. The APC’s guns opened up on machine and anti tank nests while the infantry methodically moved forward. Overhead a flight of 4 Rain dropped by real quick, dropping off their bomb loads, this time a mix of bombs, some FAE and napalm bombs and some cluster munitions. While 100 Fasthawk missiles went out to wreck any bridges over the Styx river in the Aurillac area, effectively cutting off the 49th division along with the 3rd Panzer and 46th infantry.

The fifth and last division along with the other half of the armored brigade tried to go around the eastern flank of the 49th division. They were going to try and get in behind the 49th and roll the whole division up.

3rd H&K Counter attack

A single division was all that was left of the southern army’s reserve. That single division, the last of the Southern Army’s reserve, was forced into combat much sooner than anyone wanted. The third of the 49th division that came storming down out of Aurillac came at a bad time for the Southern Army, manpower was about to become a very big issue until reinforcements could be brought up.

There wasn’t time for even makeshift defenses to be set up, what would occur would be an open, moving battle. The 62nd infantry moved up to counter the 49th in the open field. The divisions infantry, the mainstay of the force, unloaded for the most part and began setting themselves up. All 3 brigades of infantry set up behind the battle, in a fairly large town, Ursuline. ATGM’s and machine guns alike began pointing out from various buildings, their owners watching the mobile part of the division advance forward.

Three hundred of the divisions’ APCs and IFVs moved forward to meet the H&K Wolverines a mile and a half out to give the infantry behind them time to set up and prepare. The other two hundred APCs and IFVs sat in the town’s streets waiting to dash out should things go wrong, while the 100 tanks split in two, half on each side of the town.

The Three hundred APCs and IFVs that went out hit the Wolverines hard, head on. MAT-21 ATGM’s were the first shots fired. The little missiles streaked skywards from the backs of the fighting vehicles before turning earthward and crashing down into their targets. Soon after the first ATGM’s flew off the main guns began firing. The smaller 40mm guns mounted by the KAT-50’s pumped out rounds like a semi automatic weapon, while the heavier KAI-40’s fired their bigger but slower 80mm ETC cannons at the Wolverines. They would give the 49th a fight but they couldn’t hope to win, all they could do was slow them down.

Battle of Marsa Bruth
[OOC:This is a reply to CRs last post and then a recap of what hasn't been role played to date - the battle is about twenty-seven days old.]

Marsa Bruth had turned into a violent slugfest of security troops and the hardpressed airborne division against Sarcanzan rebels, just as adept as the security troops in the street to street fighting. The promised aid coming from Fedala had never come and only the original twenty-five thousand were still fighting in Marsa Bruth, and with the increased casualties the number of personnel was dwindling with only around sixteen thousand men still good to fight, against an increased number of Sarcanzan soldiers, which had raised their ranks from a measly twenty thousand to around ninety thousand, already suffering around eleven thousand or so casualties, in a mere twenty-seven days. It was to say, already a total of twenty thousand dead, or seven hundred and forty per day, and things were only getting bloodier. In fact, as somewhere near a third of the city was already occupied by Sarcanzan soldiers the empire was beginning to strike back and hard as it could.

There were three major locations of heavy fighting. The first was the tractor factory complex near the northern area of the city, with two of the six factories occupied by the rebels and the other four hotly contested by the airborne troopers. The second major battle location was in the center of the city, near one of the most historical Sarcanzan fountains on a hill known as Moent Lidom [Mount of Liberty] where six hundred Sarcanzan souls were executed by the armies of Field Marshall Jacque vin Rester, the Macabee general who had begun a parallel invasion of Sarcanza while Field Marshall Catalan had focused on Soborguntia and Weigar. The final major location remained a university yard packed with anti-air artillery guns air dropped for the division and huge groups of rebels roaming back and forth, charging, flanking, and all in all attacking defensive airborne positions. Indeed, it had been bloody.

The fight in the north, in the tractor factory complex had gone on for the longest as the Sarcanzan rebels had seen it as an early target to convert it to a military factory as fast as possible. They needed rifles and they needed ammunition if they were going to fight a protacted war, and with Haven apparently unwilling to supply them, or Weigar, they would have to do on their own. The raids on Macabee border forts would only go so far in providing advance weaponry and enough ammunition to prove effective for an entire army. A rebel brigade of around two thousand men had struck the factories hard ending in a huge four day room to room battle. The conclusion was the ejection of Imperial troops from four of the buildings, forcing a counterattack the very next day by three companies of airborne troops and two of security personnel, recapturing three of the factories after a very bloody five day fight. For the past twenty-four or so days the battle had included attacks and counterattacks, back and forth, like a seesaw. It was a fucking quagmire at its best, and it was claiming hundreds of lives.

On the twenty-eigth day things were still not better and the airborne held a loose grip over the final four factories. Specialist Gerhard Crezien looked through the scope of his rifle from a small slit in the factory's wall and he swallowed hard, looking for targets. The Sarcanzans had been silent but they had been amassing men, obviously for a counter-attack, and it had come on that day. Crezien was alone, but he was positioned strategically to break up an offensive as fast as he could, dropping bodies before they crossed the open land to the entrances of the factories. There were at least one hundred snipers outfitted through the buildings - the division's finest. Crezien zoomed the charged couple device on the scope to look through the nook and cranies and saw the head of an unwary Sarcanzan rebel, helmetless. Smiling he pulled on the trigger and a 12.7mm round left the muzzle of his rifle at ungodly speeds and entered right under the ear of the other soldier, breaking his neck and killing him instantly.

Quickly, he decreased zoom and went back to general surveillance, returning to his standard duties. He saw a red flag pop up over what seemed like a subterranean bunker, like the ones built lately by Sarcanzan rebels, used as staging points for offensives. The flag grew in size as it popped higher and higher and Crezien saw the outline of the man holding it; a commander. Looking through the scope he prepared for a lucrative kill, but he was too late - another sniper got to him first. But it seemed as if the round had set off a new offensive as dozens of Sarcanzan rebels stood up and began to charge through the open. Dozens soon turned into hundreds, and the snipers opened fire, aiming for those that were most opened and most prone to be killed; after twenty-seven days they had training and the accuracy that most snipers envied. Dozens dropped as the snipers put in three rounds a minute, hoping to cause massive damage. Unfortunately, snipers could only do so much as the men still rushed foward drawing considerable fire from assault rifles and light airborne machine guns.

The crossfire of assault weapons brought down entire packs of Sarcanzan rebels, but like always, they kept on coming ignoring the rising casualty count. Soon enough they hit the entrances and the usual room to room, staircase to staircase fight began with packs of airborne troopers and security personnel putting up stiff resistance. As the rebels packed through the doors rapid shotgun fire brought them down in couples, causing massive damage, but still they came. For the next twenty-four hours it was a hellish fight, and more likely than not the battle would continue for four days, as it did, claiming the lives of thousands upon thousands of soldiers on both sides. It was insane.

The battle at Moens Lidom had gone much the same with hundreds of dead bodies strewn across the mount. There was so much death that it had begun to smell, but most were used to it. Light artillery had pounded the rebels into a defensive position for the last three days and it had continued into the thirty-second day. The rebels would have to eliminate the artillery if they had any hopes of recuperating the crest of the hill. The security personnel within themselves were on the same training level as their foes, but with the artillery coming from other open areas of the city they had an advantage over the Sarcanzan rebels. Nonetheless, at least it was a simplier fight than that at the factories.

The university grounds were just as bloody and a platoon of airborne personnel trudged through one of the halls of the aeronautics section of the huge university which had students from the Empire, Zarbia and Riptide Monzarc; it was a local cesspool of foreign and libertarian influence. The platoon commander, Lt. Jerik Dienrad twisted his face as he stepped on something that made his boot slush through the floor and he murmured,"Son of a fucking bitch, not again. Sergeant light it." The sergeant ran up and flashed the light on it. Dienrad laughed and said,"What the hell? Another arm." They went on, continuing through the corridor and suddenly a sharp rang came from afar and a bullet hit near the concrete wall.

Dienrad ordered his men to rush foward, turning on their flashlights on the rifles, illuminating the area, and the firefight began as usual. The crack of rifles could be heard throughout the entire building and in the end the reconnaissance platoon began to walk back knowing that they were probably outnumbered, and leaving a single soldier dead on the floor and another man wounded with a bullet in the shoulder blade; he would most likely get a permanent ticket to the local field hospital. But this was another example of the warfare in the university; slow, methodical battles which saw platoons against platoons hoping to gain corridor by corridor.

And in general, all three areas of fighting were bloody, and whoever one the majority of the fights would most likely gain the city, which thus explained the resistance put up by the airborne and security personnel - a fight to the death. Marsa Bruth had become a manifestation of slaughter.

Marsa Burth, Sarcanza
Day Thirty-Two

[The Factory District]

The battle had lasted four bloody days, and during those days there was little change in the makeup of the factories. The rebels had managed to overtake two of the factories, but oon the third day a concentrated attack had left one of the complex's decimated, forcing the Sarcazan rebels to retreat. The two other factories already under Sarcazan control had been stripped nearly clean by this point -- they simply couldn't wait until the area was cleared. Inside the factory itself those immovable pieces of equipment would be operated as long as possible -- creating a heavy stream of smoke out of the damaged smokestack.

Nearly five thousand men had been lost on a piece of land no more then a mile wide. Macabee casualities, while not nearly as high, were certainly high enough. The Sarcanzan rebels had long ago turned towards subturanian bunkers -- where they could find safety from Macabee snipers. Now, they would turn that basic concept into a strategy. They would leapfrog forward with their poor trenches until they could close the distance to the other bunkers -- then the Macabee forces would be utterly over-run, unable to engage the Sarcanzan units before they overan their postions.

There was a steady flow of supplies coming out of the now operating factories in Provokorahh, and rumors of heavy weapons and armored vehicles began to circulate the lines. Surley they could never hope to match the Macabee units technologically, but with enough of their own crude artillery pieces made of lingering, outdated Macabee designs they could counter that disadvantage with numbers.

[Moens Lidom; The Crest]

The fighting at Moens Lidom had long ago gone far more conventional then elsewhere in the city. Unable to move without being targeted by roving snipers the rebels had been forced to move building to building, a slow endeavor. It was here the majority of Sarcanzan snipers were located -- it was the safest place for them. They could overlook the entire area and engage enemy snipers, or preferably, exposed units. The large urban enviorment made it far more favorable then the Factory District.

The slow building to building combat was simply moving forward too slow. The change in strategy was rather obtuse -- a rouge Macabee shell had cut a service road in Sarcanzan lines to deep it had penetrated the concrete, exposing the extensive sewer system below. From there it was a simple matter of connecting the dots -- within two days nearly nine-hundred Sarcazan's were scouring the sewer systems, making their way towards known locations of enemy guns. If the fighting in the University was tense in the dark lighting and small coordidors, the fighting in the sewers would be nothing less then horrifying.

[The University]

The University was pherhaps a more important battle then the Macabee forces were aware of. The rebels had long ago secured their capital at Provokorahh, and they now had a steady flow of supplies and materials out of the city. However, the Macabee technology there was far from cutting edge -- they needed more advanced plans. As such, small platoon sized units would scour the areas, targeting as much information as they could find. After driving away the oppoistion, they would loot the labs, stealing computers, palm pilots, cell phones, and any other bit of technology they could get their hands on. Indeed, the University would provide the funding, the equipment, and the plans to keep their campaign alive. Already having raided the most ovbious locations -- areonautics, engineering, computer sciences -- they now turned to other sectors, the kitchen for one.

A platoon of men marched slowly down the dark hallways, their lead scouting sporting a pair of old, commercial night vision googles. They would make their way to the kitchens, and then loot all the food they could get their hands on.

Battle of the River Nestor
Bietz looked over the rapid, blue river with his binoculars studying the battlefront. Although Fedor had ordered sporadic probings into his crossing army, even threatening to throw the entire Weigari rebel army back across the river he had done nothing at such a full scale. In fact, Bietz looked upon his men digging in ready to build an even greater array of bridging for reinforcements and logistical considerations. Eighty thousand infantry and near two thousand tanks were arrayed in front of him prepared to drive across the Imperial Provence and take Fedala, hopefully ending this dreaded war once and for all. Elevating the binoculars a bit more he looked at the quickly growing figures of Imperial troops lathargically digging in and preparing for their own defense, he assumed. Over three mechanized infantry divisions and a single armour division, outfitted with the legendary, but yet unseen, Arca. I Ausfva. A 'Cougar' Main Battle Tank. It was yet another advance by Macabee engineers, which were some of the best designers of armour in the world, but it had yet to see action, and even where it was outfitted first - Jagada - it still had not seen combat. The River Nestor and Jagada would be its debut, but Bietz failed to tremble. The BredtSvert was also famed to be a killer yet his men at Mons Dei were cutting them to shreds; he had no doubts that the saviour of Fedor, his new toys, were merely paper tigers and that the fire in the rebellion would be enough to utterly destroy the meager presentation of arms in front of his own rebel army.

Keeping the binoculars stuck to his eyes he picked up the communication radio talk piece and put it to his mouth. Studying the front a bit more he began to relay the fateful orders who all were waiting for,"Begin the attack." With that he put the talk piece down and silently, within his mind, began to prey to God that his generals remembered what they had spoken of for the past week, designing a plan of advance that would smash through the Imperial wall in front of them and hopefully open the road once and for all to Fedala. It was a two piece offensive, with a faint towards Dzamiin and the main attack coming a day later down the road to Fedala. Dzamiin has always been held as secondary objective if Fedala was too heavily defended and the Imperial command knew it, and so would be keen on defending it - another loss of a city would be a massive morale drop, especially with the loss of over a third of Marsa Bruth in Sarcanza already.

He could see the 1st Armour Division setting out before his eyes, keeping in a very wide formation to avoid an Imperial counterattack smashing it, and around it some ten thousand infantry began to pack up and leave, some on foot, others on trucks, providing quasi-mechanization within the Weigari army. They moved fast, and they would knick the Imperial front somewhere six kilometers ahead. The others took over the positions and prepared for their inevitable operation that would begin the very next day. He sucked in his breath, held it for a while, attempting to calm his nerves, and then released. The River Nestor would settle the war, at least between Weigar and the Empire. If Fedor failed in the defense Fedala would fall, which meant Weigar would be independent and Prince Heinrich of Dienstad would become the third Emperor of the Golden Throne in the Second Empire. Hopefully Fedor would be hardpressed in the coming days. The battles of Mosnoi Bor and Aurillac were heating up, and the Malatosian fleet was looming off the coast, their only foes three cruisers and some destroyers. Fedor would find himself under too much pressure, collapse, and the Empire would crumble - left ravaged by infighting factions for the golden throne. In the end, Weigar would be independent, and that's all that mattered.

The infantry division hit the right flank of the Imperial lines first, hitting it at an angle head on for the most part. Two battalions arched to hit it on the flank itself and thus envelope the line, while the armour made a wider arch to hit in the rear. The enemy mechanized infantry division, however, put up a stiff resistance.

Captain Derik Versien was hard pressed looking for a safe corridor to put his company through and thinking he had found one to the Imperial defenses he ordered his men to charge. Suddenly, machine gun rounds sputtered from a distance and he found his company pinned to the floor by two crosshatching heavy machine guns. Slowly his company crawled foward, their charge slowed down to a casualty heavy trudge. Versien stood, trying to get his company to move faster screaming,"Move! We're all going to get killed here!" His men were too petrified to move faster; the product of untrained rebel rabble. He sighed and pulled back the company for a rest, radioing his brigade that the company would no longer participate in frontline duties, which would have gotten him sacked had Weigar not been in such dire need of trained command personnel. But he was right. His company had suffered eighty percent casualties. It was a slaughterfest.

The other infantry companies that had hit the enemy lines didn't fare much better, taking rather strong casualties and being forced to pull back when the flank attack was underway. But by that time the Imperials had reinforced the line with another infantry battalion, ruining the hopes of rolling up the line fast. The armour itself had encountered its own problems, getting hit really fast by a single brigade of the new tanks which had proven their effectivity. The lead Cougar, commanded by Captain Jerad Cristinie, was hit in the glacis by a heavy Soviet sabot and the round dug in but was fractured, saving the tank and the crew. Traversing his huge main gun on the electromagnetic ball bearings he yelled through the intratank radio, "Fire sabot!" The carousel had already loaded the round and the sabot was shot out at ungodly velocities penetrating the explosive reactive armour on the T-80 with ease and throwing hot shards of depleted uranium into the face of the crew, and heating the ammunition, causing an explosion to rip through the T-80.

He ordered the gun traversed again, this time against a T-72, and he ordered another sabot into the turret armour, penetrating it once again, sending the T-72 in flames and guaranteeing the death of the crew. He didn't notice his comrades in arms also firing at the enemy - just his own tank. But he did notice when the enemy armour began to pull away, knowing that their own casualty count had been too heavy, and a penetration on a Cougar had been rear. In fact, later casualty counts would put total tank knock outs at thirty-six Weigari tanks and only three Cougars, a ratio of twelve to one.

Field Marshall Bietz murmured,"Fuck." His feint towards Dzamiin had been defeated the first day. He would have to recuperate his strength in that sector and relaunch the offensive the next day while postponing the eventual offensive towards Fedala. But he would put his heart into breaking that defensive line and ensuring the succesful feint, and perhaps capture, to Dzamiin. All the while the Weigari soldiers disengaged and began to slowly pull away, formulating a defensive formation about three thousand meters south of the Imperial lines, reforming their units for the push the next day. Obviously, Nestor would not be as quick as the First Battle of Mons Dei.

Malatose Imperial Fleet

The Imperial Fleet continued to move forward at a brisk speed; However, that all changed when the RADAR began to pick up an advancing force. "Sector 5.4.1, possible enemy advancing." "Intensify Air Patrols, I don't want anything to get through" yelled Captain Papillion as he stood on the Flagship Emperor's Justice. Behind him, Admiral Sora slowly walked up, and he glanced at the various computers and sighed. "Damn, I wasn't expecting this type of a welcoming party. "Captain Papillion jokingly replied "Admiral, sir, they're only giving up the red carpet treatment." Sora laughed and glanced over to the command bridge, "Report".

"Enemy ships now in Sector 4.3.0. They are closing in at a significant amount of speed." Admiral Sora stared at the forward tactical screen for a minute, contemplating in his mind. He hadn't expected such a bold move, if anything he suspected the nation to try to sue for peace, rather than risk another conflict. Nethertheless, the problem would be dealt with, in the most brutal of fashions. "Initiate Delta-Base Zero" Sora said and he slowly turned around to go to this crew headquarters. Captain Papillion had never heard of such an order being given in all his years of service in the Imperial Navy, but he had to obey orders.

One after another, the alarms on the ships sounded. Crew ran to their stations and began to type the coordinates into their computers. Inside the VLS Tubes, the typical High Explosive ONC Ordnance were removed and replaced with Two Kiloton Nuclear Warheads. Rarely had The Empire use Nuclear weapons in a Fleet engagement but times had changed, and the Fleet now acted according to new Doctrine.

As the Fleet neared the enemy vessels, they fired. The Daedalus and Tokugawa ships each fired their SS-N-54 Nuclear tipped missiles. Each ship was covered in a white plume of smoke as they launched forward, quickly turning into sea skimmers. The missiles raced forward, protected by flickering skins, blurred edges and a special RADAR jamming system, which would be activated at the last moment. Captain Papillion slowly looked at the viewing window, waiting for the possible outcome.

Havenite-Zarbian Border

The large semi truck sported a logo just as large on both sides. The Logo proclaimed the truck to be part of C & L trucking, a company that over the last few months had started doing plenty of business across the border in Zarbia. Much of it was honest commerce, goods really did legally change hands on just about every shipment but this one wasn’t so honest.

Zarbia and Haven had been allies since before anyone could remember, Zarbia being Havens first true ally and as such the border wasn’t all that tight. Haven was now using that to its advantage, though in a way that wasn’t meant to hurt Zarbia but their common neighbor to the west. This shipment was just the first in a wave of shipments that would do so.

The semi pulled up to the border checkpoint early in the morning. Since it was so early there was hardly another car on the road, but in a few hours that would change, all four lanes would be packed, bumper to bumper as people made the commute across the border, now only a single car waited behind the big semi. Almost every week a C & L truck crossed the border at this point at around this time on around this day, and so this truck just fit right in.

The driver, Dominic Sanzen, had a haggard look, stubble was beginning to form on his face, the result of not shaving in a few days. As he rolled down the window to speak to the border guard he picked up his hat for a seconds, scratched his head lazily then yawned before taking his cigarette out of his mouth. He nodded slightly to the guard and gave him a friendly Hello before automatically pulling his papers out of his dashboard compartment, all of which had the name Louis Feld, as Dominic Sanzen did not exist in Havenite databases. Even with the borders being as open as they were a small stack of papers had to be handed over to the Zarbian guard but in the end the man still walked around back. A last minute prayer went through Doms’ head as he watched the man disappear behind the truck. The Zarbian guard smartly opened up the back and found a wall of boxes facing him, all proclaiming to be brand new T.V.’s. He reached up and opened the top box, having to jump up to get a peek inside and sure enough he found a T.V. Just then the car that had been waiting behind the truck laid on the horn, the driver obviously ticked off. The guard thought of telling the man on the horn a few things but decided to wait as he closed the semi’s door and waved Dominic on. The next car up would receive hell from the annoyed guard, but the man inside was expecting just that, he had done his job and he watched his counterpart do his in the semi.

Dominic drove on heading north to the border with Sarcanza, it would be a day and a half drive. Behind the first two rows of Television sets were more boxes, but those boxes carried guns. Machine guns, grenades, ATGM’s, a few MANPADs and mortars, some body armor and plenty of rifles and ammunition, all for the Sarcanzans. His wasn’t the only truck making the journey, half a dozen other trucks crossed the border that day, and another half dozen would in two more days . Every truck would carry a load of supplies for the Sarcanzans who had fought so long and so hard against a superior foe. Weaponry wasn’t the only thing making the journey, in small groups, the men and women of the 5th ranger regiment also began making the journey. 1,000 men and women of one of Havens best trained and equipped regiments slowly trickled north over a period of two weeks. They didn’t bring weapons with them instead having the weapons brought along in the semi’s.

To the south a supply sub, a converted Leviathan, made the journey to Wieger. It took the long roundabout route completely avoiding the battles around Targul Frumos and so hopefully avoiding detection. The Sub carried on it just over a thousand ATGM’s and thousands of anti-vehicle and anti-personal mines for the Wegerian rebellion. Hopefully it would be enough for both the Sarcanzans and Wigerians to hold off the Golden Throne for just a little bit longer, perhaps even cause the fall of Marsa Bruth.

Along the Coast of Targul Frumos

Two Maiden Class submarines had followed the once glorious armada that engaged the Havenite naval power. They silently bided their time, monitoring the hellish naval battles above them. Their aircrews had waited in the metal confines of the submarines, itching to fly, wanting to spread their wings. Ever since the start of the Aurillac offensive the generals had been in close contact with the submarines and eventually a plan was formed. The Maiden classes emerged from the water, coming to a full surface. Water shimmered around the metallic hull, as the hangar/hull doors opened up revealing the ships flight deck. The flight deck was abuzz with action and scrambling pilots. The new GLI-04 Falcons were being prepared for take off, their internal bays filled with bombs and various air-to-ground missiles. The first twelve planes from each sub lifted off, their VTOL nozzles directing them upward. The next twelve planes were being hurried to the flight deck, and those too took off about twenty five minutes from their friends. The teams met, flying at low altitude, cruising just below mach 1. The Falcon's IR suppresants made it hard to detect at low speeds, and because the plane was designed with no right angles and a LIDAR absorbant paint it would be damned near hard to pick the multi role aircraft up.

With the Havenite navy now surrounded by Macabee vessels, much a do breathing room was given to the survivors of the brutal naval fighting that occured. Even though many of the sailors could now relax ,the pilots were not getting a reprieve, as flight decks on carriers and superdreadnoughts soon were roaring to life with F-22's being loaded, and then shot off the decks. JSF-34's were also being shot off the decks of the dreadnoughts, and a sizeable force was assembling for a new mission.

The Battle for Aurillac

The battle for Aurillac itself was producing large amounts of bloodshed for both attackers and defenders. The insane amounts of Havenite ordinance had created a Fourth of July fireworks display from hell. The amount of mortars, tank rounds, and tracer rounds was creating the bloodiest, most hardfought battle HailandKill had ever fought. The BredtSverds that were not entrenched were taking a beating from the advancing Havenite armor, but the smaller 120mm guns were firing like crazy, getting off more rounds due to their smaller bore size. The tanks were firing into an oncoming wall of armor, and damage had to be done or else the HailandKill soldiers would have to retreat to the secondary lines. Many tank commanders knew this and did the best they could to speed up their firing rates, with some success. The combination of third army and third panzer division had thirty-one hundred armor pieces, twenty-nine hundred of which were still alive. The wolverines that were entrenched turret high, were relatively unscathed due to the fact they were entrenched well enough to give them plenty of cover. The Wolverines were firing like mad, their 105mm ETC guns furiously searching out Havenite armor and APC's. The noise from both BredtSverd and Wolverine fire was defeaning to the frontline soldiers.

Parts of the trenches that third army, and third panzer division were defending were turning into mass graves rather than firing positions. The Havenite ordinance had taken its toll on the men, and the original seven-hundred thousand plus fighting men was steadily growing downward. Many Leutenants were killed rallying up their men through all the death, shelling and haze that was battle. Many men seeing their leaders getting killed to try and rally up and save them, at the expense of their lives, had a profound, poignant effect on the men. The small arms fire that came from the trenches after the mortar rounds ripped into the trenches, was enormous. Dropping the most amount of Havenites was now not only a source of bragging rights, but pride. The non-commisioned officers also began to organize what soldiers lived through the first attacks, and firing became more organized than previously. Grenades came flying in droves from the Killian soldiers in the trenches, with the main target being clusters of Havenites, and the grenades were thrown with the utmost of intent to kill. The SOV-06 IFV's were firing their 15mm gattling guns at groups of incoming Havenites, with tracer rounds exquisitly lighting up the battlefield. Surviving Wolverines and BredtSverds began adding their co-axial and individual machine gun fire into the ranks of men advancing on the trenches.

Then the smoke rounds came crashing into earth. At first the whine of shells forced the men to duck into their foxholes and trenches, but heads emerged when no visible explosion was seen, or heard. The smoke threw the men in the trenches off guard, but LT's and SGT's realizing what was about to happen, became hoarse in the throat yelling out the command to fire into the haze, and prepare for close combat. Small arms rounds began to be fired into the wall of smoke, with many men hoping their rounds would find Havenites on the other end. Thermal imaging in the tanks and IFV's helped keep track of everything advancing on the trenches, and constant messages were relayed between tank commanders and radiomen. The tanks and SOV-06's could still see the advancing men and armor through the smoke and their constant shelling, and machine gun fire kept up. The amount of lead still pouring from tank machine guns, and SOV-06 gattling guns was amazing to any observer not on the recieving end of it. When word had spread that the Havenites were soon going to emerge from the smokey haze, many men took careful aim into the smoke. When the Havenites did emerge basic riflemen were firing precision shots at the opportuned targets they saw. M-60, and M-260 SAW, light machine gun positions opened up, with each nest concentrating on sections of men, which made their fire deadly and effective. It was a blessing that many MG nests were well protected when the attack started.

The KriGuds withing Aurillac itself took some light losses when the KAGs reigned in on them. Many KriGuds were either dug in, or in a hollowed out building when the enemy artillery came crashing to earth. Any of the KriGuds that were in the open were sorry when the shells came flying into their metallic hulls. The KriGuds continued their attack on the Havenite infantry, opening up with HEF (high explosive fragmentation) on the open ground.

The GLI-34 Falcons were streaking low, and over the horizon, picking out their final targets by video camera, rather than radar. Their stealth perks, and smooth flying kept them off the radar, or at least they the pilots had thought so. The Falcon's came streaking out of the sun and when they had came flying over the main Havenite armor attacking Aurillac, their bombs fell to earth within a matter of seconds. The pilots were using their bombs to maximum effiecency by taking out any clusters of tanks they saw. The pilots, now known to the Havenite AWACS, banked and made another pass, but this time they opened up with their auto-cannons on IFVs, APCs, and light tanks, along with any personel they happened to find. The twenty four planes disapeared as fast as they came, streaking into the sun towards a new enemy.

2nd Killian Attack

Fuck.

This was the thought of many men that happened to be making the attack on the entire Havenite reserve. Alot of men were shredded in the artillery attacks, and the fighting force was more of an attack group than a force. Even through brutal losses the men were attacking with ferocity. The Killian force had the armor advantage, and they were using it to full advantage while they attacked. The BredtSverds were lighting up enemy tanks with their 120mm cannons, but the Havenites were causing a fair share of losses amongst the Killian armor. The burden of taking out knots of men fell upon the large amounts of attacking SOV-06's, which happened to performing their task with efficiency; their gattling guns were spraying plenty of hot lead at the men in the foxholes. The Killian armor and light armor was doing its job the best it could, and considering the mammoth damage that helicopter and artillery attacks had wreaked on the armor, they were performing well.

The men were also fighting with a fire in their hearts, using tanks, burnt out hulls and anything else as cover. The men were spread over a distance, and small squads had been the most effective attackers so far. These squads of fourteen to twenty four men were being effectively led to fight the Havenites. The small squads were advancing on the foxholes, using hit and run tactics, as they running from tank to tank. Many squads that did not have the luxury of tanks for cover, were using the high grass as cover. The squads in the grass were popping up from their concealment and firing, then moving, popping up, firing, and moving again. This pattern continued, with small arms fire coming from the barrels of the rifles as the men advanced. Grenades were also being tossed when the Killian attackers popped up to attack. The men knew that this was an uphill battle and they only need to bide time to draw the reserve off for the counter-attack at Aurilac itself.

The shield, comprised of 24,000 men and 1,000 tanks, were taking a beating. The men of fourty ninth were fighting back best they could, and they were using their foxholes to maximum advantage. Many of the machine guns brought along with the men of the shield were hammering away at the advancing infantry. The thousand light tanks were firing away at any armored target that presented itself. The 105mm ETC guns were formidable opponents, even though they were of a small bore. The large amount 105mm's being fired were creating a loud thunder, heard all along the battlefield. The men in the shield were firing large amounts of 7.62 rounds at the advancing infantry, only ducking to reload and cock their weapons. The line was like a rubber band, it bent in some places, but was rebounding back in others. The men, even though outnumbered had the advantage, because the attack was occuring on open ground. The open ground attack was proving plenty of bodies to shoot at, and the Killian forces were using this advantage to maximum effect. The shield could not hold forever and soon it would collapse.

The next forty-eight GLI-34's came out of the sun, and again targets were chosen before ordinance was to be dropped. The GLI's chose heavy armor as their primary target, when they dropped their bombs. A few AGM's were also fired at the Havenite reserve armor, making the amount of tanks the boys on the ground had to face less. The Falcon's banked and came at the personel on the ground with their cannons blazing hot lead and tracers at any target that presented itself. The Falcon's made a second turn and opened up on the enemy in the foxholes, putting holes in the line.

3rd Killian attack

The resistance was lighter than originally expected, and the 12,000 men and 500 light tanks were advancing through open ground with minimal casualties. When the first Havenite attack hit them, many of the APC's were unloaded upon with 105mm rounds, effictively taking the them out. Many of the enemy rounds fired at the exposed HailandKill soldiers hit the infantry, and many men dropped from gunshot wounds. The smaller enemy 80mm and 40mm guns fired at the Killian armor mostly bounced off the Wolverine's hulls, but some rounds had success, penetrating the tanks and stopping them dead. When the head on attack was defeated by the Wolverines, some decent damage had been done on the Killian forces, mainly in personel. The tanks and men advanced to the town, but the small front stopped outside the town outskirts. The Wolverines opened up into any building that could possibly provide the enemy with cover or give them an advantage. The constant shelling on the town kept up while many of the men were waiting behind tanks. Many soldiers were staring at the town for at least an hour and a half when they heard the heavy thrum of helicopter motors over the thundering tank fire. The leader of this attack had been on the radio all day, and finally his request for reinforcements was answered. The LZ was about 7 miles from the men on the outside of town, but the three hundred UH-60's dropped their men and returned to Aurillac. The three hundred Blackhawks brought parts of 48th division, with the rest of the men coming up on foot, and on SOV-06's, along with some more light armor.

With a new amount of men, the commander, colonel Steven Roberts gave the attack order. With Wolverines pounding the town with HE rounds, a small attack force of 48th and 49th comprised of 200 tanks and 4800 hundred men were making the first entrance into the town. The tanks led the way into the small town, their turrets locating any machine gun position that presented itself. Small pockets of firefights began to break out all along the town, with the Killian men taking cover along walls, houses or rubble. The attackers fired on whatever they saw, and light tanks also began using their turrents and machine guns to the best extent they could firing at enemy tanks and infantry.


Ridgeline Battle

The battle took an unexpected and grim turn after the initial success of the attack. The sixteen hundred men that could of somewhat helped the men on the ridge had just been blown out of the sky by RAMjet missiles. The fight along the ridge had remained strong, even though the attack force was now surrounded and losing men. The infantry was using the ridge to the best effect, and its cover, and slight upward slope had saved many men. The small arms chatter kept up strong on the Havenites, and machine gun emplacements that were finally deployed open up. When the machine guns roared to life, they were being fired at pockets of men that attempted to get up the ridge. Anti-tank weapons were being fired all across the board at anything that looked menacing to the men of the 49th. The battle was growing fierce, and like rats backed into a corner the 49th was fighting hard.

The surrender oppurtinity was never heard, but it did not need to be. The men were going to fight to the death if it came down to it. Luckily for the 49th, reinforcements were on there way, in the form of Second Panzer Corps. Deploying second panzer was a risky move, especially since it took away sixteen hundred tanks and eight thousand elite soldiers from Aurillac. Paired together with the other two thirds of 48th, along with the 49th light armor that had originally stayed behind, a large armor battle was about to break out. The tanks followed the same path that avoided the Havenites. When the armor and men attempting to reinforce 49th began recieving frantic calls from the division they knew that they were close to the fight. The tremendous amounts of armor and elite troops opened up on the rear of the Havenite encirlement when they were in range. The large amounts of armor had stopped moving to fire more accurately and deadly, and the large column of tanks opened up with 120mm, and 105mm rounds. Any armor they saw was getting cut into by almost 3,500 armor pieces. The armor had created a line almost a mile and a half long, with many columns extening horizontally as well as laterally. The armor waited to see the results of their bombardment.

The GLI-34's that had just come off their attack run on the main Havenite force, came down looking for the encirlement. When they found it, they streaked downward guns blazing. Their cannons targeted anything from armor to personel. The Falcon's made multiple passes, each deadlier than the one previosly. When the damage was done, the Falcon's turned and headed towards the sea.

Skies over Aurillac

Their were three layers of fighters flying towards the enemy Havenites. One layer, a group of JSF-35's were flying at a low altitude, a low speed, and they not excessively manuevering and trying as best as could to stay off the radars of the enemy. The JSF's had been given the task to take the out the KAGs pounding Aurillac and the men on the ridgeline. The first 36 planes streaked over the KAGs pounding Aurillac at about mach 1, dropping their high explosive rounds at large clusters of KAGs, pre-chosen by video camera, rather than radar. The JSF's made a few passes on the KAGs their cannons firing at anything that moved.

The next round of JSF's came out of the blue sky, dropping bombs on the 96 KAGs pounding the ridge. They had followed the same flight pattern as the attack that was made on Aurillac, and many pilots were convinced they came in very stealithily when they made their attack runs. These pilots also made a few passes with their cannons and when they had rained their carnage on the enemy they streaked off towards the sea.

The second layer was flying at about 27,000 feet, cruising below mach 1, with their IR suppresors working furiously to keep them off of all respective radars. Their targeting computers were also off, and almost nothing was being emitted from the planes as they cruised. The F-22's that were flying protective cover had the painstaking duty of waiting for the enemy to show themselves.

The third layer of attackers, a group of 48 F-22 raptors were flying at 38,000 feet, with their powerful active radars furiosly searching the airspace above Aurillac. The Raptors had the task of hunting down the AWACS that were giving intel to the Havenite ground forces. The F-22's thought they had found the AWACS on their radars by the distinctive signature they recieved on radar. Whatever they found was fired upon by phoenix missiles and sparrows. The AAM's came streaking towards what the pilots thought was the AWACS.

Operation: Samurai
Inn, Jagada

The Macabee-Jagadian Colonial War waged in secrecy on a far off contienant. This conflict had been dubbed by the military planners as the Colonial Front, this being said due that Jagada would soon be widening her war with the Macabees. While the mass media in Jagada hadn't been informed about the current invasion of their province of Essah. Though Remington knew even before the Macabee artillery shells started to reign down in masses. He already had a plan in mind, one that wasn't supported by his military advisors, even from Field Marshall York who was currently bogged down in surpressing a Communist uprising in Willink and was only replying via satelliate. The plan was known as a 'grey plan', a plan with no clear or realistic objective, it was a plan that had many small objectives which would be troublesome to the military planners. This wasn't some four point invasion, where troops stormed up the beaches all over the Macabee coast, this involved politics.

Jagada had never fought a war for greed, it wasn't how the Imperium ran itself. Though this operation, Operation Samurai, had 'greed' practically wrote all over it. There were two things Jagada needed to protect in the Macabee Imperium: Fedor I and Kriegzimmer. While Kriegzimmer had been very generious and not stopped producing weapons for the Grande Armie, the fact that a change in government or the defeat of Fedor, didn't nessecarily seem promising to Jagada. One scenario Jagada had run threw was if Weiger marched into Fedela and captured the capital, and won the war. While this weakens the Macabee power it does one thing. The Weiger Rebels might realize just how important Kriegzimmer is and decide to destroy Kriegzimmer or forcifully move them into Weiger. That would mean a broken Kriegzimmer, something the Religious Imperium wasn't going to allow. Another scenario was if the brother of Fedor won and decided that Kriegzimmer's actions of selling to the governments enemies (most noteably Jagada) would see the Armament Conglomerate as a threat and nationlize it. This in turn would mean Jagada wouldn't be sold any more equipment and weapons. Again, not something Christiandom was going to allow. The ordeal with Fedor was different, the Religious Imperium depised his social policy towards abortion, but understood that in a situtation like this, compromise was needed. Fedor's policy towards the Religious Imperium would need to change in the future. Both Imperiums had similar ideals, both regonized the threat Damien Dreadfire and Automagfreek presented (or at least it seemed like they did) for example. Should Fedor be ousted any new government wouldn't look very kindly upon Jagada due to the Colonial Front and may even align with Automagfreek--something the Emperor wasn't going to allow.

The objective was clear--to an extent. Jagada would offically support the Weiger Rebels and the Sarcanzian forces. Jagadians troops would land in the Macabee Imperium and begin supporting both rebel forces (directly or indirectly). They would drive hard and deep into Macabee terrirtory and attempt to limit damage to Kriegzimmer (threw capturing them). The idea was to force Fedor to come to the table for peace--with Jagada at least. The terms of such a surrender were clear and already made up. The Macabees would have to surrender parts of their colonial land to Essah. That truly was all the Emperor wanted. Beyond that Jagada could influence the rebuilding of the Macabee Imperium and attempt to form some kind of alliance with them--albiet that was getting ahead of reality. Though at the same time, Jagada had one more secret objective. It was secret because it was unsure weather the Religious Imperium would have to actually go threw with it. It was the objective to betray the Weiger and Sarcanzian rebels in order to saved Fedor or Kreigzimmer or both.

A war for greed this most definantely was. Though a war that needed to be conducted, to advance Religious Imperium interests. While the military planners were annoyed they at least had talked Remington out of mircomanaging the war. Remington had wanted to take such an active role that he would essentially be in control, his mircomanagement would have spelled doom if it had not been for York talking him out it. With the Emperor out, the military planners had got to work and in the city of Inn the ships were being loaded. At least ten aircraft carriers were being sent, along with several Battleships, Dreadnaughts, and even a few of the Jagadian-Class Super Dreadnaughts (generic, with what you would expect a normal super dreadnaught to have). Planes were being landed upon the aircraft to be taken and thousands of troops, number at least One-Hundred Thousand(100,000) were preparing to ship off to sea. These were only the first of many, by the time Jagada had been involved for half a year, close to a million troops would be involved. A logistics nightmare, yes, but something Jagada was planning on. The Jagadian fleet had with it, a convoy of armed merchant ships, this merchant fleet had close to six-hundred ships in it. Its armaments were very weak, but they at least had them on there. All they carried was food and ammo and equipment for the war. Of coarse all this wasn't needed, not even close. But the food could be sorted and perserved and the ammo the same. By the time a million men were engaged these supplies would help sustain them. It would also provide some much needed assistance to the Weigeri and Sarcanzian rebels. The food was quick-meals and thus they rarely went bad or sour so long as they were upkept as much as possible.

The fleet also had its own tempoary set of docks, it would take longer for them to fully get it set up, but once they did it was only a matter of time before the fleet was fully unloaded. Though the financial cost behind this operation was enormous. Billions upon billions of icons were poured into the supplying and preparing to maintain a long and difficult war. The three-trillion icons which had been in the government waste (surplus) was being thrown solely into this project--save about a hundred billion icons which went towards the Colonial Front. This was a monsterious task and Admiral Bradley (a naval hero during the War against Norris) and Air Marshall Hughes (a air force hero during the War against Norris) were in charge of their aformentioned branches of the Military. A widely known Field Marshall Cunningham was in charge of the ground forces (Grande Armie).

Within the army a new battlesuit had been developed (it was the first finished and safe designs of the JABS "Chainmail") and was already given to the troops, most of them had already had advanced training in the suit and knew exactly how it worked, while others had basic training (which would allow them to survive combat if they kept their mind straight). This battlesuit was known as the JABS "Automail" (http://media.teamxbox.com/dailyposts/halo2bios/04odsts.jpg). It wasn't very expensive to produce if you compared it to the 'Chainmail'. It had the same technology the Macabee 'Samson' had. One could say it was a copy, but at the same time it wasn't. The Macabee 'Samson' had very widely used and publicly open technology which Imperial Ordinance had taken into account when creating the 'Automail'. Now the Crusader wielded these suits and allowed them to manage to rival the Macabee Samson, which in the Kriegzimmer cataologue had stated the Macabees would soon have widely used. With lack of foreign orders and Imperial Ordinance being a nationlized armament corperation it was able to produce (prehaps a bit faster than Kreigzimmer) 'Automail' armor in mass amounts.

The stage was set and soon the War for Golden Succession would become not just a Macabee, but a Jagadian problem.

Macabea, 6:30am, Day 38-

It had taken nearly twenty seven hours to re-arrange the fleet into a somewhat organized manner for the debarkation on men and equipment. And every available port open to them was taken by the Republican navy almost overwhelming the civilian and military contractors working the docks, though it was no secret that the Republican Navy was arriving its scale and organization on such a grand scale was awe inspiring. LST and LSI’s as well as other convoy ships too numerous to mention line up and unloaded their holds as quickly as possible, as other small tugs both at home in macabre and shipped in from Mekugi were utilized to their full extent to have all lanes running smoothly and most importantly quickly.

Beyond the harbor the Fifth and Seventh Fleet formed a protective crescent around the port city their massive hulls nearly acting as breakwater and providing much needed air defense until such time as mobile units rolled from the deep and cavernous hulls of the convoy ships. The tracks of M6 CTEL’s rumbling down the ancient cobblestone streets as the thunderous sound of light and heavy tanks headed outwards to pre-designated rendezvous points, merely the beginning in what would be three major pushes towards the hotspots of the golden throne.

By both a work of great co-ordination and a bit of luck the port of Macabea was darkened as thirty B-30A ‘Aethra’ Supersonic Strategic Bombers passed overhead heading for three major airfield pre-designated for their specific use, the B-30’s were fairly new in operation but they had already proven themselves in many a local and border protection operations, and were here to again prove their worth as a lethal and stealthy means to destroy an enemies will. Back in Macabea nearly the entire frontline force of the Third Expeditionary unit had left their transports, well rest if a bit cramped from the ride, one hundred thousand men, Including the elite Third Dragoons marched through the city streets of Macabea towards their assembly points, well within the protection of the empire. Though almost al of the infantry was either Mechanized or Motorized, the march was refreshing for the men who had spent nearly the last month on a boat with little where to go but back and forth, they were as many would say board and quite ready for battle, or in truth any excitement

In public parks, local squares, and the outskirts of towns the M6 CTEL’s stopped and deployed their hydraulic jacks leveling the vehicles as the massive tubes on the sides and rear of the vehicles erected towards the sky. Though originally designed to carry large Tactical Ballistic SSM’s these vehicles carried Firedart and Fox Dart air defense missiles in such great quantities and with the ability to intercept ICBM’s cruise missiles or even high altitude Strategic bombers. Macabea being that it was now the port of operations was secured Light tanks and towed artillery were set up to secure the city from infiltration or attack, atleast until such time as the expeditionary force could move forward to the front lines.

It was safe to say that the Mekugians had arrived.

Airstrip Alpha-Bravo/Gamma/Delta, Near Macabea, 7:25 am-

The large Supersonic Bombers slowed from their cruising speed at nearly two times the speed of sound, their automated wing tips adjusting to the slower airflow to generate the most lift as the flight crew lined the aircraft up with their landing strips and began confirmations for landings at the Macabean airfields.

“Alpha-Bravo, this is flight Bravo-One requesting landing clearance and storage authorization. Confirm, Over.”

The quickest way to a man's heart is with Chuck Norris's fist.

[Anyways, I'll do this the usual way, one post at time. Cheers!]

Second Battle of Mons Dei
The fighting for the trench continued strongly through the day, and then through the night, and line commander Carlech Gregorn saw all of it, and he himself fought in the thick of it. He had been in from the beginning, fighting for his dear life against infiltrating Killian soldiers, putting as much as he had into the fight. He had dreaded to kill, but when it began he didn't think about it much; in fact, by now he had killed at least a dozen or two dozen men, and he was left unaltered. It was illfated that so many innocent men would be so bloodied by war that them and the next generation would only see the aftermath of such death. The future nonwithstanding, thousands of men continued to pit each other against the other, and dozens of men fell to the ground. Every man could be considered a hero that day, some more than others, others less than some. But all were, nonetheless, heroes. Gregorn's vision was tapered at the ends, as he saw nothing around him - just targets. A grenade went off sixty meters from him killing two of his comrades, but he paid no heed. Quickly, he charged and ran his bayonet through the abdomen of an unsuspecting enemy soldier; and that is how the fight continued for all. The smell began to protrude from the trenches, latharghically spreading over the terrain like some evil chemical gas. But no one cared. Bullets rang out right and left, and men were taken down like flies, but yet no one cared. To the peons at the bottom it was just a way of life, and to the bishops and knights at the top, it was just a game.

All the while, the Killian armour, which had been the receiving end of a beating, had moved up, almost right up to the trench line, and this offered the rebels an opportunity of a lifetime. As the dirt at the edge of the trench lifted in a hail of gunfire coming from the tanks and light armour the men lifted themselves and under the support of the remaining Tagus anti-tank missiles they charged for their lives, while they left others in the trench to continue the brutal fight for control in the sector. Using their grenades they slipped them under the tracks of tanks, and then jumped up on the turrets and put grenades down the hatches, while their comrades around them were torn to pieces by the high rate of fire coming from the heavy machine guns and light machine guns all around them. Unfortunately, there was no rebel armour support to speak of, and there wouldn't be. They were no fools. They were under no illusions. They would only engage if they had a chance to survive, and that was if they had a clear shot at the side or rear armour of the BredtSverts.

However, fortune was on the rebel's side, as Gregorn, the man who had fought so valiantly, came to his senses and saw the butchery before him. Running back to a line command post he took up the radio and began to yell through the frequency, "We need light mortar support!" He received no answer and then he noticed the black, steaming bullet hole left at the bottom corner of the box and he swore under his breath. Rapidly he changed positions again, heading to the next box and this time it was fine. Giving his orders he could hear the shriek of inbound mortar shells, and as he turned around he could see the sparks and explosions of the light mortars hitting the area around the armour. They were no high explosive shells, however, they are all smoke shells, designed to cut the field of visibility of those armoured vehicles, allowing for a more successful infantry counterattack against them. Then he looked back over his shoulder to see a rising red flag over the crew of the secondary trench and he held his breath. Yes! The Weigari flag! Reinforcements.

Indeed, they came like gods, quickly making their way over to the first trench while the smoke continued to pour out of the canisters. All gripping their Ak-74s they seemed like a pack of scared children, and true enough, they were all weary of the combat going on. All were afraid of death. But they were commanded by a very good leader, Colonel Forsié, and as he held the flag ever higher he chanted, 'and for God did we die for Weigar! And for independence did we die for Weigar! For every dead Weigari, ten Imperial scum shall line the floor! For every dad Weigari shall Weigar be one step closer to freedom! The only way for freedom is through blood! And when your children's children ask who their grandparents were, your chidlren will answer that their grandparents where the men who established a free Weigar!' The men behind him gave a chilling hurrah as they rushed into the trenches, attempting to overwhelm the Killian soldiers from behind. For all their training, would tired Killian soldiers be a match for fresh Weigari fighters? Common sense dictated no.

So, as the mortars continued to fall, as if rain from the sky, and the smell thickened with every dying mortal, and the gods above merely looked down and smiled and pitied the men who died in their name, the carnage grew. For all the heroism, all the idealism, what was the purpose? What point was there to die in battle for freedom if you were to die anyways? What freedom would you have? Shackeled at the river Hades, one tends to think twice. But perhaps those who have not experienced death have not experienced true freedom. It was largely irrelevent in any case, for such poetics had no place in a war like this.

Forsié made his way into the trench and was instantanously slashed in the leg by Killian blade. His face twisted in horrendous pain and thundered, "You sack of wine!" Turning around he unleashed his own sabre, produced in the forges of Weigar herself, and marked with a heron on the hilt. He cut through the man's neck, slashing through his spinal chord in one fall swoop and then he sheathed the sword once again and pulled out the bayonet. Seeing a group of Killians he again took out his blade and charged his way there, but they had already seen him. A bullet went through his shoulder, stopping him for a mere second, but he went on, and another bullet hit his stomach, but he was unphased. Charging his put the sword in the first one he found, but his sword was broken against the trench walls when he attempted a slash but missed. Grunting he took out his pistol, but was hit in the leg, bringing him to his knees. Still shooting, a bullet finally treversed right between the eyes, exiting through the other side, and he fell silent once and for all. Such wasted heroism.

Elsewhere, the brutal battle in front of the trench still continued. Man pitted against machine. Thus we see the superiority of the machine over flesh and blood. This last assertion was true in all but the rarest cases, and some might call this a rare case; where a commander was willing to put enough men into the fight were a win was inevitable, but done with rather ill taste. Indeed, if this turned into a victory it would be pyrrhic at best, and all would always remember the foolish Weigar. Men clamored over dead bodies, scaling the sloped armour of tanks and infantry fighting vehicles alike. Packing explosives down muzzles, pushing grenades down hatches, taking off the tracks off the tank; they found ingenious ways of stopping armour, but for every tank put out of action, ten Weigari soldiers lost their lives that day. Was it worth it? To Weigar seemingly so. Perhaps in retrospect they would change their minds. Perhaps.

And in the midst of smoke and blood gods were born...

Communiqué to Hoogenbosch
The Empire of the Golden Throne has promised that the war shall not be dragged to Guffingford through the Empire's voluntary actions. With that said, we strictly respect Guffingford's neutrality in this war and will not do anything to compromise said neutrality. Regardless, there seems that the are certain factors that are beyond our control. Unmanned flights over Western Zarbia seem to indicate that Haven has completed some sort of 'Ho Chi Mihn' trail through Zarbia to Sarcanza. Whether or not this has been put to military use is unknown, but we are investigating. Should these convoys carry military goods to Sarcanza they will be destroyed, even if they are in Zarbian territory. There is no way we will allow those goods to arrive at Sarcanza, knowing that Zarbia will use this as a reason to enter the war on Haven's side. Something that as of now we cannot afford. We are deeply interested in Guffingford's position should this happen.

Regardless, we undertand that Guffingford's administration has some intents of their own. Therefore, as we have been quasi-allied since the founding of the Second Empire I propose we capitalize on this alliance. In other words, I propose something that has never before been proposed between our two nations. A mutual defense pact between Hoogenbosch and Fedala; one which would entail the defense of the other in case of war. It is to say, should Zarbia suddenly become hostile, in any form that may come about, both our militaries would cooperate in the quick neutralization of the country. With this said, imperialism is not out of the question.

I eagerly await your reply. I have not much time. The rebels are beginning their final drive towards Fedala and every day I have found myself deeper in the defense of my capital. There is no doubt that the battle which will one day be dubbed the River Nestor will come out to an Imperial victory, but I do have grounds for fear. Malatose. Haven. Zarbia. Jagada. Death knocks at my doors and I reply without fear, but for how long can I resist? Is this a fateful pact between brothers, then? Regardless, may we drink to the blood of our foes when this ordeal is over.

Fedor I
http://www.nationmaster.com/wikimir/images/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/f/f5/180px-Emperor_charles_v.png

Battle of Marsa Bruth
The slaughter went on. Within the fight for the factory the Sarcanzan offensive began to peter out, forcing them to slumber back to their starting locations. Soldiers of the airborne division wiped the grit on their face and gave a sigh of relief as they earned themselves some hours of rest. Some hit rock hard against the floor as they fell asleep, rifle at their side. They deserved it. After loosing hundreds of men and killing hundreds more, a man required some rest, and men like these required more rest than hours - forty-eight hours or more of non-stop fighting was not something was easy to endure. Sniper fire rung out through the buildings, but no one paid heed, but rather kept sleeping or resting, as some wearily watched the remnants of the rebels returning to their starting point. Some others groaned, knowing that within two hours they would be scrapped together and sent on a counter offensive to take the other buildings. That was how this fight was won; blood, sweat and tears. It was rather cynical, but warfare was infamous for its ability not to care for those who fight in its name.

The subsequent counter-offensive went rather well. Three companies of airborne personnel were scrapped together, with the support of four attack helicopters that belonged to the division, but were rarely used because of the urban enviroment and threat of rocket propelled grenades. However, the gasless men of the airborne division would need all the help they could get. To that effect they had been reinforced in the rear by four light 105mm howitzers ready to pummel any area that needed the pummeling. A sharp crack followed a shell lobbed about five thousand meters into one of the factory buildings. To the horror of the men it simply collapsed, no longer able to withstand the pressures so much fighting had given it. The men glumly continued, lathargically marching through rubble and trying to hop over the bodies of dead Sarcanzan soldiers, slaughtered by machine gun fire and sniper rounds. One man stepped in the intestines of others, but he had seen so much that he no longer cared.

The strike leader, Major Victor Careth, stopped and put his fist in the air. The three companies, somewhat spread out also stopped. He sniffed the air, much like a dog, and then said, "They've left for the most part." Nonetheless, the thick, black smoke continued to pour out of the smokestacks on top of the factories, meaning there was something there. The major called in all his company commanders and they circled around him. Quickly he ran through the steps, "OK, we're going to hit the remaining two factories as quick as we can running these fuckers out. The faster we hit the less time they have to react. We're going to free this area of the rebel scum once and for all; they need us elsewhere." The others nodded their agreement all they all had visible faces of gloom.

The small scale counterattack continued and the two companies split, one taking each factory, while the third stayed outside incase of Sarcanzan reinforcements arriving. The third company dug in quickly, using rubble and dead bodies to cover their positions and setting up machine gun nests in areas to crosshatch the fire, while riflemen kept a look out, flanked by snipers. The first company hit the first factory fast, while the second company took a little bit more time. Gunfire rung out through the hallways and the shouts of the dead and the barking of orders conflicted with each other forming a hodge podge of noises around the area. One platoon was having a hard time taking out a large concentration of defenders within one of the reactor rooms and they ordered in artillery strike. Two 105mm shells smashed in through the wall blowing it all to smithereens and taking the defender's lives with them. Slowly, but surely, the two factories began to revert back to Imperial control.

Elsewhere around the factories probing units had found the new location of rebel soldiers; underground bunkers interconnected allowing them to come up wherever they were needed, including behind Imperial lines. The general strategy to deal with these bunkers when found was to call up a man with a flamethrower, put him underneath extreme covering fire into the bunker, and allowing him to send his seven meter tongue of flame into the bunker, setting of some charge and sending it sky high. It would take weeks to root out the rebels in this part of the city, but finally the Imperials could claim that things were going their way.

At Moent Lidom things were also getting better, although by no means less bloody. The rebels had decided to end their rather poorly planned charges across the hill as they were met by withering fire and heavy artillery support. And thus they decided to go house to house, building to building, cellar to cellar, and more importantly, sewer to sewer. Indeed, fights were turning into battles between six or less men, and fights for the buildings were getting harder. In one instance a single security machine gunner kept a constant spray of bullets on the door, ripping apart at least four rebels. A grenade almost put him out of action, tearing apart his leg and severing his left arm, but he continued to fire while he screamed in a pit of pain and rage. He was finally killed with a second grenade, shreding off the left side of his face. From the staircase additional rifle fire poured into the incoming rebels and finally the attack was repelled, although no doubt they would try again later.

The sewer fighting wasn't going much better. After a few rebel attacks through the sewers the Imperials had finally gotten the picture and had sent platoons to hold 'lines' in the sewers as well. Flamethrowers poured their napalm into the wide archways of the Marsa Bruth sewer systems and when the flame was put put all the men could smell was burning dead, all they could hear was the screams of those dying and all they could see was the charred remains of their enemies. It was utterly gruesome.

The university fighting continued as it was with corridor to corridor, lecture hall to lecture hall fighting. In the kitchens a platoon rested for a bit, eating any of the food that was left. Suddenly, a rebel platoon opened the door, all of them talking gleefully. When they saw each other they instantanously began to point guns, but it was obvious that if they shot all would die. The platoon leader of the Imperial army said, "You leave now we all live. I promise your safety in leaving this room."

The Sarcanzan leader nodded and replied, "Truce."

The Macabee answered, "Truce."

With that the platoon backed out and went looking for another kitchen while the Macabee men went back to their original task - eating and resting for the upcoming fights they were to be pitted in.

Naval Raid of Feathermore Trench
The eight Cartagena class SSNs traced the wake of friendly shipping on the surface, keeping their distance at one hundred kilometers south of the task force of light cruisers and destroyers. Keeping at zero bubble and at a depth of two hundred meters they mirrored the velocity of the task force knowing that the cavitation coming from the ships on the task force would catch sonar's eyes more than their own cavitation. Nonetheless, the relative velocity was little, and even then, the ships had stopped about five hundred nautical miles away from the Malatosian Imperial Fleet when it had shot out its warning. The LAMPS had made some sort of low altitude advance warning and control system, lacking the aircraft to do it, and TF-1 continued to monitor the location of Malatosian warships. Inside the Mosrky-Orol, named after the class of ship itself, radar operations were estatic as new foes popped into the screen. Captain Benjam Corus looked worried and he murmured, "This is no ordinary fleet." He was right.

The radar operator's face turned to stone, petrified, and he slowly wobbled his finger towards the fall down display. The captain followed the finger and his eyes slanted. Suddenly he began to bark orders, "Lidar, tell me what those are as soon as they come within proper range!" He snapped around and began to run towards his control room where he would have to make some quick decisions. No doubt the other ships had sensed the incoming missiles as well, but he could see the HES Warspite slowly turn her keel to face another direction. A muffled voice came over through the intra-ship communication network, "Lidar based off the LAMPS has noted a nuclear/chemical composition. Split the fleet." Captain Corus' face turned white, but he regained composure and continued to yell out orders, "Turn right keel eight-zero degrees! Plot course seventy-six degrees! Flank speed ahead!" His executive officer repeated the order, and the sailor below did as well. Soon enough the ship had turned and was heading full speed from the other ships.

Normally, under nuclear attack the ships would split apart to avoid mass destruction out of a single blast. Nuclear presence was determined by the foward-looking lidars on the LAMPS, or just by conjecture noticing the vampire's speed and acceleration issues; a slower missile meant a heavier missile, and when the missile was normally fast one could deduct that there was a problem. The captain held his breath as the ship rocked back and forth. Three P.746.A surface to air missiles were fired in quick succession leaving a thin white plume of smoke behind them. He could already see that the other ships had done something similar. Maybe they would get through this after all...

Unfortunately he was wrong. Of the five Sunburn missiles, one had made it through the particularly heavy anti-missile defense the task-force was putting up. It was at its terminal mode, sea-skimming just above the surface of the water, burning fuel faster than a Chevy truck and roaming at ungodly velocities. Unfortunately, the Morsky-Orol and her sister ships did not have any close-in weapon systems, as the maker Novikov had evidently forgotten about them. The destroyers did but they were too far off to be of any service. The nuclear tipped missile exploded two hundred meters from target, after it had been armed, sending a massive shockwave, followed by an equally gigantic red ball of flame. The closest light cruiser was immediately torn apart, shreded out of existance. Another light cruiser had its bow torn off, claiming the lives of that ship's crew as well. So far from home the ship would most likely sink - and telling from the explosion none of the crew members were alive. Only the Morsky-Orol survive, some of her crew dead, others badly burnt, an entire foward gun torn off from its turret.

During the primary wave Captain Corus had fallen to the floor. He was helped up by his executive officer who looked unalarmed and he put his hand on the man's shoulder while saying, "Go to the radio room. Warn Beda Fromm about this. We will need some reinforcements." The XO nodded and ran off. Corus would have to direct a counter attack, and he had no nuclear weapons of his own.

The seven Manstein class Destroyers sprung to life, as well as the Cartagenas, and as the Morsky-Orol began to retreat from the scene, already badly damaged, the Mansteins would put in a punch to be remembered. The primary concern was the AWACS, and so the Mansteins put seventy-five P.746.A surface to air missiles to deal with that threat. All the while, their verticle launch systems were releasing Principe III anti-shipping missiles one at a time, forming a black, thick net of smoke on top of the ship's foward deck. The skies shrieked with the entrance of missiles and soon Malatosian hulls would bend to the power of the Av.36 heavy weight torpedo which the Principe III carried. An eye for an eye. With that, the Mansteins didn't plan to stick around for another nuclear attack, and they left the Cartagenas to fend for themselves, following the Morsky-Orol, tail between their legs.

Regardless, the Cartagenas would stay. Unmoving, silent and fully armed they prepared to deal a blow to the Malatosian fleet from close quarters. They gave off almost no magnetic signature, no sounds; there was no way the enemy would know until it was far too late. Over head the crew members stuck in the water slowly died... a breed that had been born to die for the Empire, it seemed.

Marsa Bruth

The sounds of war echoed through the city. Firefights could be heard flaring up then dieing down in mere minutes. Never a beautiful city, now Marsa Bruth looked like hell, hardly a building didn’t bear a scar, and the battle was just beginning to reach its climax with the arrival of a third entity. Dominic Sanzen, Colonel Dominic Sanzen, stood over top of a large satellite photo of the city taken a few days before. Standing there, the only thing that gave away was his humanity to the Sarcanzens around him was the fact that his helmet was off. The rest of his body was hidden under a M-185 armor suit, something that made him look like an alien from a movie or a soldier of the future. Of course the first questions out of every Sarcanzen soldiers mouth that they saw was if they’d be getting some of that armor to and the answer always brought a grin to their faces.

That wasn’t Colonel Sanzens’ worry anymore, his new worry was kicking the Macabeans out of Marsa Bruth. Of the 1,000 men, and women, of the 5th Rangers, only a little over 200 had arrived, the rest being in transit through Zarbia not due for another two days, and so the planned offensive would have to wait a few days. In the meantime all Sanzen could do was see to it that the weapons that arrived daily were distributed properly to the Sarcanzens and that they received the proper instructions. It was basically his chance to relax for a few days, but that relaxation got cut short quick when the radio burst to life with calls for help from the factories. Sanzen only acknowledgement of the radios’ squawking was a slight nod of the head. “Suit up, we’re going in a bit early.” His helmet went back on and all signs of humanity left, to the onlookers he was a machine, a machine surrounded by machines.

A full battalion, a little over a hundred men, moved out to reinforce the factories. Every man was in his own armor suit making it look as if they were futuristic soldiers to the few civilians left, the only thing they lacked were lasers. The battalion broke in half, one half heading to each factory. Sanzen personally led one of the groups while his second-in-command led the other. They stopped just short of the factories. The sounds of battle resonated from inside, deafening in its intensity. Snipers and machine gunners set up in vantage points overlooking and flanking the factories.

As the sniper teams and machine guns set up Sanzen nodded to his second in command and watched him rush into the factory before standing up and dashing into the one in front of him. Instead of bothering with the back door he kicked it open, never breaking his stride, and burst into the factory. The sounds of battle that had been deafening from the outside were deadly now. A group of Sarcanzen soldiers whipped around when they heard the doors crash open and brought their guns to bear. Before they could shoot Sanzen yelled out in a booming voice he still held from his days as a Sergeant, “Get the FUCK out of my way!” He still kept his stride running right past the Sarcanzens, who were to shocked to shoot him. The battle inside the factory was deadlier and more intense than any of the war, at least any that Haven had witnessed. Sanzens’ R-32 ATAR shot up to his shoulder as a Macabean soldier leaned around a piece of machinery to fire at the Sarcanzens. Sanzen finger tightened around the trigger before squeezing it all the way back and sending out a burst of 6.5x50mm BMCP rounds that tore into the Macabeans midsection, exploding upon contact, tiny fragments shooting every which way inside the body. What normally might have been a horrible, crippling wound, was instantly fatal and the man dropped to the ground immediately, really thrown back to the ground from the force of the bullets. Sanzen then swung his rifle around and out of the small, detachable launcher below the barrel shot out a thermobraic grenade. “Move your asses, this is my factory!” Sanzen was seized with a frenzy and he charged forward firing as he went, his men, and even the Sarcanzens following his example. A few streets back 10 80mm mortars set up and let off a quick fusillade of rounds that crashed into the Macabean positions before quickly packing up and getting out of the area to a new position.

The Macabeans were fighting back hard though and already Sanzen had seen two Rangers, two of HIS Rangers, go down, hard. Still the surprise, suddenness and ferocity of the attack would hopefully be able to throw the Macabeans back before they could respond. The Macabeans had been fighting poorly armed, and untrained men, now they were fighting some of the best of the best, and they had had no warning that the Rangers were coming. What had begun as a small counter attack was hopefully going to develop into a full scale offensive to take the other factories as the 2nd battalion with Sarcanzen support moved forward to support the attack if the attack had some success.

Whatever the outcome of that small scrap things were looking better than ever for Sarcanza. Zarbia had just authorized, secretly, the shipment of increased amounts of supplies to Sarcanza. Already trains, filled to the brim with weaponry, were traversing across Zarbia. With this new ability to use trains and aircraft even some armored vehicles, albeit older models, began making the journey. Along with all of this a second Ranger regiment was making its way to Marsa Bruth. Sarcanza was destined to be a free nation.

South Wieger

They had set out a little over a week ago and now they finally had arrived. The SSN Akron was loaded chock full with weapons, specifically ATGM’s and mines with some MANPADs being provided. The sub was designed to carry supplies, it was originally meant to carry extra missiles, torpedoes, food and other supplies needed by submarines on extended missions but its design served this new purpose perfectly. It would take hours for the sub to fully unload but the Wiegerians could hardly complain, Haven had come to their side, and the ATGM’s and mines would work wonders when it came to throwing back the combined Killian and Macabean assaults. And the Akron was just the first, another sub just like her was a few days back with a shipment very similar to this one.

Second Battle of Mons Dei

The battle for the trenches was getting bloodier and bloodier as the combat grew fiercer and fiercer. Fighting grew passion-less as time went on, and soldiers were not killing because they wanted to, but because they had to. Many of the surviving men had entered rookies, and already they were seasoned veterans. The combat in the trenches was chaotic and organized at the same time, with Killian paratroops operating in six to eight man groups, moving from firefight to firefight. Many of the most elite Killian soldiers were killing rebels left and right, and only bullets and grenades were dropping the Killian paratroops, as any rebel who got to close combat range recieved the business end of the paratroops rifle. However, the rebels were putting up a hard fight and the six to eight man teams were moving over enemy and comrade corpses alike, with small arms fire from both rebels and Killians adding more bodies and dogtags to be accounted for. Alot of small arms fire was being traded between rebels and Killian soldiers in such a tight space and even though the Killian men were fighting with tenacity, ferocity and ardor, the amount of rebels fighting with a fire in their heart was starting to overwhelm them. When the mortar fire came in, it only mixed up the sides worse, with both sides getting kill from stray shrapnel.

Leiutenant Colonel Tim Johnson was in a six man group, moving down the trenchline. He and the privates he was working with were moving towards the thick of the fight, and they were working for every foot they advanced. LT. COL. Johnson was using his Hali-24 assault rifle, with a bayonet on the end of it, just in case anyone got too close. He was firing his rifle non-stop, shooting two or three bullets into any rebel he saw, and he only stopped firing when he had to reload. The same story was happening all along the trenches, with men only stopping their fire to reload or change weapons. All of sudden Johnson was surrounded by rebels, and three of his group went down, their young bodies showing fear as they fell to death. He reacted quickly tossing a grenade their way, but he was the only man alive after the rebels and his men were killed. Many grenades were being used in the trenches, and many knots of men, both rebel and Killian, were being peppered with metal fragments. The attack was getting pointless, with Killian men winning the close combat, but being overwhelmed by bullets.

The tanks were having and interesting time, if that was how you were to describe it. Many Weigari men had rushed the tanks, only to be met by a hail of machinegun fire. Even though many rebels were being shredded by fifty caliber rounds, the small number of rebels who had made it to the armor were doing a number on the tanks with ordinary grenades. You could say the rebels were having moderate success with all the tankers they were killing with their grenades. Indeed that had been the greatest problem so far, because many rebels were effectively killing tank crews with the grenades tossed down tank hatches. Those grenades, tossed into the turret, would go off before any one in the tank could escape, effectively killing four men, and making the tank a metallic coffin. When the tankers began to fight off the attack on the armor with their turret mounted machine guns, they noticed a new problem.

The red flag was obvious to all the tank crews and SOV-06 gunners. When the tank commanders saw the charge on open ground, many were stunned to see rebel reinforcements, and a few seconds lapsed before tank commanders regained their composure. When the tank commanders realized the charge was actually happening, they started screaming at their crews to mobilize and start firing. Jimmy Wilson's tank was the epitome of what each other tank was doing; he was barking orders and yelling out distances to his gunners below as they fired HE rounds at the men charging across open ground. He felt his tank lurch backwards, and saw an explosion turn a squad of men into blood and body parts. Many of the tanks were churning out plenty of rounds a minute causing the same type of carnage Wilson was witnessing. Wilson grabbed the radio, and began yelling coordinates and specifics to his artillery support and when Wilson said "enemy in open! fire for effect!" and recieved the "over" confirmation he opened his tank hatch and got onto his turret machine gun. He then began to fire hot lead at the charging rebels.

Everyone heard it before they saw it; the whine of shells traversing the air was loud and obvious, even over the shouts of men and tanks. The shells began to land in and around the charge, and even veterans were sickened with what they saw happen to anyone caught by shrapnel and explosive. The paratroop training never trained COL. Johnson for the horror show he was witnessing, and he thought that to himself as he was watching the shells fall. He saw the reinforcements come over the hill and he knew that the Killian men had to evacuate the trench or get surrounded and eventually killed off. He started running past the individual fights, and began alerting any Killian man he could find. He ended up running down the trenchline yelling at his men to retreat while firing at rebels. Alot of men heard his call and began to climb out of the trench, while adding heavy suppressing fire, and sprinted the fifteen feet to the safety of the tanks. Johnson had been past the heavy fighting zones, and alerted many of his men to escape. Alot of men who had not been alerted retreated also, after seeing their compatriots run to the tanks. It was now Johnson's turn to escape, and as he was about to climb out he saw a rebel charging at him with a bayonet at hip level. Johnson reacted quickly enough slamming the butt of his rifle into the mans forehead, snapping the neck immediatly. He caught a glimpse of six Killian men surrounded, fighting rebels at close quaters. Johnson ran towards his comrades, his rifle blazing. He created a single exit by his shots alone, and ushered his men out of the trench. The rebels retaliated equally, not in blood of men, but blood of rank, and Johnson was surrounded. He shot himself out of rifle ammo, then switched to his DAK-91 submachine gun. He was spraying his 4.8mm rounds at the rebels when he was struck in the shoulder. He dropped for a second, and like jackals sensing the kill the rebels closed, bayoneting him to death.

Jimmy Wilson was the commanding officer again, after watching another high officer die. The tanks were now pounding the rebel trenches with HE rounds, with the utmost of intent to collapse the trenches and kill Wiegari soldiers. The paratroops began to man the fifty caliber machine guns atop the tanks, and tracer rounds illuminated the night. The zipper like sound of gattling guns was heard, and the men immediatly knew the SOV-06's were adding their 15mm rounds to the fray. Many men were behind the tanks, firing on the trenches from the safety from a metal wall. The paratroops were using their rifle skills exceptionally, and now that they could aim from the safety of the tanks, they were putting precise shots into any rebel that had their head or torso popped up. It seemed that this was the way the battle was going to be, a distanced rifle fight, along with continuous machine gun, gattling gun and tank fire.

The Battle of Marsa Burth -- Day Forty Six

[The Factory District]

There was hardly any industry left in the so called 'Factory District'. Relentless artillery barrages and over a month of intense urban combat had left the area decimated. The stench was overpowering. Men's effective combat time was no more then several hours under these conditions, and for that reason the Sarcanzan Command had decided to utilize their curde subterranian network to regularly rotate troops on a three point system. That is three teams of men, with two on duty at any given time. For the Macabee command it would exploit one of their main weakeness -- low manpower. With constantly alert men, albeit less trained, the playingfield would be more then even against the overtired Macabee troops.

However, the Sarcanzan Rebels, now equiped with a wide arrary of Safe-Haven weaponry would be able to employ the same strategies of the Macabee soldiers. Indeed, the Airborne Troopers became aware of this evening of the playingfield when an ATMG colided with one of the Macabee occupied factories smokestack, sending both the smokestack and two Macabee snipers plumetting over two hundred feet.

[The Crest]

The building to building urban combat would prove tedious but effective compared to previous strategies. With the advent of flamethrowers into the mix however Sarcanzan rebels turned to the use of forward observes using high powered SafeHaven observation equipment. Buildings found to contain too many hostiles would now be aggresivley assualted and counter via the use of high explosives -- salavaged from an Imperial Minning Collective recently looted.

In the Sewers the Macabee troops would face the first rebels clad in Macabee Battlesuits. Salvaged from Provokorha these troops had finally managed to work out the systems on the suit to a usable level and were quickly deployed into the Sewer systems where they would be able to make the largest difference.

[University]

It was here however the Sarcanzan rebbellion would make its thrust. The vast majority of Haven Rangers would be directed towards this close urban combat -- each platoon of Rangers supported by an entire company of Sarcanzans. The Sarcanzan High Command was ready to commit close to a third of their combat force to the complete capture of the university, and the precense of new Sarcanzan Light Armor compliments (simple old Macabee AFV chasis mounted with light machine guns and gunhole ports) would show this commitment.

[Back to Basic]

In Provkorha the once sleep city had suddenly become the center of Sarcanzan industry. In the outer suburban distrcts close to a hundred thousand Sarcanzans would be trained, another fifty making their way west towards Sidi. It would seem that if the Sarcanzan rebbellion was to fall the Imperium would need to fight and win at the place where the rebbellion had first started.

Second Battle of Mons Dei
[OOC: The new equipment dropped off by Haven will make its debut at Mons Dei in the next post.]

The rebels had successfully repelled a second attack on their trench lines, although they had suffered rather heavily because of it. Even though enemy armour was almost continously under attack from infantry they seemed to not care as they turned their guns to engage the reinforcements. It was rather strange as they worried about others, while Weigari infantry continued to put tanks and infantry fighting vehicles out of action. As the scarred reinforcements piled into the trenches the Killian infantry were moving out, while some isolated circles fought for their lives, but in the general overview the rebels had won another fight for the first trenchline. The light mortars were still hitting the tanks with smoke shells causing their line of sight to drop considerably, meaning in other words that their rounds were largely innacurate, while the men moving up were largely invisible. The same went for the retreating Killian personnel who were caught in the thick smoke of the screen and were soon under intense pressure from suppressive fire coming from heavier mortars to the rear. Indeed, the explosions and the smoke screen would cause so much confusion that the blood running from Killian bodies would make up for the dead rebels in the trenches. It was a slaughter, just like the rest of the war.

Not only that, but the men still running laps around tanks, dropping 'nades down their hatches and gun barrels found themselves face to face with retreating men, although the smoke screen had more or less impared their vision as well. The result was utter chaos. Men found themselves up to par with others and sometimes rebels died, other times Killian infantry died. Nonetheless, those smoke shells continued dropping from the sky and Killian tanks and infantry fighting vehicles. By the time the fighting was over in front of the trenches one would most likely find a mass of dead Killian and Weigari fighters, as well as knocked out armour and infantry fighting vehicles left and right.

Indeed, as the mortar rounds stopped coming and the smoke began to lift one could see the foward trench packed with soldiers pointing their rifles towards the tanks. Their eyes sagged after tiring fighting but they all seemed rather suprised. Smoke continued to slowly pour out from darkened chassis, destroyed by a grenade down the hatch blowing the unprotected autoloader (a feature that was improved with the advent of the Arca. I Ausva. A). Infantry fighting vehicles lay with their tracks blown off and their top guns wrecked beyond belief. The bodies of dead Weigari fighters lay side by side with their dead foes, killed in a very bloody, hot and sharp engagement. Bewildered Killian soldiers couldn't get over the fact that they had basically left the trench only to find themselves in a violent competition near their own tanks. In fact, for the first time in days the battlefield fell silent as both sides paused to reconciliate what they had just witnessed. Thousands of men lay piled up in the trenches and the area before and behind it, both Killian and Weigari; it was a shame - a waste of innocent blood.

But the fighting soon came again once the men had regained their composures. Rifle fire from the trench caught many of the retreating Killians as the latter attempted to find cover behind the tanks. The tanks themselves began to shell the trenches which resulted in more mortars falling from the sky. Light mortars dispelled smoke in order to cause the tank fire to become less accurate, while heavy mortars hit between tanks in order to kill hiding infantry. It was all a hodgepodge bombardment of death. In the trenches logistical personnel were trying to dig out the dead bodies and throw them over to avoid disease. It was all very, very gruesome.

Carlech Gregorn, line commander received a call through the radio from the headquarters behind the lines, and putting his ears to the transmitter he listened carefully, "You are to lead the reinforcements and your men on a general offensive. You will receive another battalion of men within the next five minutes. With this you should have enough men to push out of the trenches and finally push the tanks off our lines forcing them to reconsider their strategy for the continuation of this battle."

Gregorn sat in amazement and he asked, "Who's the commanding officer?"

The reply simply stated, "You are. Congratulations on your promotion to Major." Gregorn scorned them internally. They had promoted him because he was about to die, and instead of loosing another valuable officer they would charge him with the task of suicide instead. It was god awful that armies worked this way, but they did, and although he hated it for that he loved Weigar too much to put down the offer. He simply nodded his head and replied through the radio, "Roger that."

As the smoke rounds continued to obscure the vision of the Killian soldiers and the heavy mortars were causing more destruction the reinforcing battalion came from the second trench as quickly as possible dropping into the trench. All the men began to press against the south wall of the trench and Gregorn held his breath. Without further hesitation he took his whistle and blew it, and suddenly around him the other officers did the same. As tank shells continued to pound the area the troopers lifted their bodies over the trench wall and began a wild charge. Mortars continued to suppress anything that was in the open, and vision was still obscured although the light mortars had changed to a regular high explosive round. Tank machine gun ripped through the first bodies of men, but there were simply too many to hold back. As Weigari soldiers kept falling a bigger multitude kept moving while firing their guns at will against defending Killian soldiers. One of the officers barked, "For Weigar!"

Behind the trench, the men were being juggled. The second and third trenchline were filled to the rim with reinforcements taking off the line elsewhere. It was expected that the counterattack would fail, and when it did there would be little to reinforce the first trench line with - but their task would be completed; to kill as much as they could and to unhinge the Killian initiative.

2nd Battle of Mons Dei

The retreating paratroops had indeed run into bands of rebels still attacking the Killian tanks. What ensued when the Killian soldiers realized that they were enemies was utter chaos. Killian paratroops opened fire on the rebels on top the tanks, and the rebel body count grew in those first few minutes of fighting. Small arms fire erupted from the Killian assault rifles and it had killed many of the rebels on the open tanks instantly, and any Wiegari soldier that attempted to run had his body riddled with 7.62 rounds; after the trench fight there would be no more mercy. Potshots were coming at the retreating paratroops, crumbling men and adding more casualties to be accounted for. When the last of the rebels were cleared from the tanks, the Killian death toll had grown even further due to bullets coming from both the trenches and the rebels on the tanks. After the hectic, and brutal firefight the Killian paratroops got themselves safely behind tanks, SOV-06's and any burnt out vehicles that stained the battlefield. The men were waiting behind the tanks for something to fire at as gross amounts of machinegun fire was being shot at the trenches from tanks and SOV-06's; the tracers from these vehicles lighting up the darkening sky. Many Killian paratroops, who were now safely behind tanks and SOV-06's, had stood up and had their rifles aimed at the trench just daring any rebels to pop their heads up. The rebels that did show their face, or some sort of bodily target had rounds accurately fired at them, most of which, hit and dropped the target. Any Killian paratroop not behind a tank, had crawled into the high grass of the planes not flattened by the treads of tanks. The men in the high grass snaked their way to a good firing position and waited, some men even setting up light machine guns.

Jimmy Wilson was manning his turret machinegun, which he aimed primarily at the trenches. His tank crew was firing massive amounts HE rounds at the trench, but it seemed that it was of no use. Many of the tanks had been doing the exact same thing as Wilson had, and this time it was no different. Indeed all the surviving two hundred and fifty tanks were belching HE rounds and machinegun fire. Wilson turned his head and looked on his left side for a second, and in that second he saw a three man squad turn into a fine bloody mist. When he stopped firing his machine gun out of shock he heard the high pitched screams of mortars, and loud explosions they made as they tore up the earth and man. While the mortar fire was devastating his men he looked around and saw many, if not all, the men behind the tanks clutching their helmets, rifles and the man next to them with apparent signs of fear on their faces. When the smoke rounds fell to earth and started to fill the battlefield with hazy white smoke, he knew exactly what was going come next. He started yelling at his fire team to get his tanks thermal imaging on, and he also told them to get on the radio and tell the rest of the tanks to do the same. Before he left the tank he simply said "be right back"; he climbed out of the metallic safety of the tank because after he saw his men disheartened and scared by the noise and death of the mortars he knew he had to do something. After he climbed out the hatch, he jumped off his tank, running through the mortar fire trying to rally his men and get them to stand and fight. Many of the men, seeing this man flailing his arms and screaming obscenities at them, had stood up behind their protection and took aim once more. After this successful tirade Wilson returned to his tank and while panting heavily he called for artillery support.

It was pure luck that the KriGud fire started when the rebels had decided to leave the trenches. The shells were crashing in and around the trenches, and many of the paratroops thought that they were glad not to be on the recieving end of that. Many of the tanks, with their thermal imaging on, could see fuzzy outlines of men running across the open fields, and all the machine guns on the tanks began to open up on the Weigari rebels. Even if the fuzzy displays were not enemy infantry, the massive amounts of machinegun rounds being fired was bound to hit something. Many of the paratroops, now aiming into the smoke had begun to fire in the same direction that they saw tracer rounds flying towards. Because the tracer rounds from tanks and IFV's were visible the small arms fire was headed in a somewhat of a good general direction. With all the bullets and shells crashing in the smoke, the paratroops were suprised to see rebels come streaming out. The paratroops fired everything they had at the incoming rebels, this time taking well aimed shots. Flurries of grenades were being tossed at the incoming rebels along with the volley of bullets.

That was the typical fighting, but that was not happening all across the plains. Sergeant Clint Mansell was crouched in the tall grass, his position obscured in the growing darkness. He had twelve men around him, one manning a light machine gun. When he saw rebels running in front of him he gave the order to fire and all twelve men popped up and opened up on the rebels. The same thing was happening all along parts of the field, with men ambushing the attacking rebels. The rounds put up by the men in the high grass was amazing to see. The fight was currently cut and dry, but it would turn chaotic and ugly soon enough.

The Battle of Marsa Bruth
And so the carnage went on...

The fight at the factory still raged after near two weeks of constant fighting. The general counterattack had successfully put all remaining factories under Imperial control, neutralizing that sector of the fighting and allowing men to be transferred south to Moens Lidom and the University. The only men left to defend the factory were some fifty or so snipers and three companies of airborne personnel, with a tactical reserve of a single company of security personnel protecting two batteries of 105mm howitzers which could focus their firepower anywhere promoted Lt. Colonel Victor Careth wanted. That man himself was sitting one a fallen piece of rubble that had been detached from the sturdy concrete walls of the factories, most likely by an artillery rounds, and he lit a cigarette as it stuck out of his mouth. His executive officer, Major Leín Jords, sat next to him, his arms strung out in reflexive positions. Taking a drag Careth almost swallowed the smoke but a couple of seconds later he returned it in an eloquent patter. Turning to his partner he suggested, "So, what are you going to do after this mess clears up?"

Jords laughed and turned away looking to the horizon. He gave a final chuckle and he replied, "I don't suspect I'll return hom from here. Most of us are going to die. But I suspect that if I ever do I'll go home to my wife and never let go of her again."

Careth shook his head and retorted, "That's no way to think!" He turned away as well, putting the cigarette back in his mouth, taking another drag and then went on, "Yea, you're probably right. So far no reinforcements have come, and it's already been a month. Maybe Fedala forgot about a little place called Marsa Bruth?" He laughed a bit at this thought and then looked bleakly to the horizon, as if trying to study the future. In his mind though all he could think of was bitch.

Jords turned to look at the Lt. Colonel and he let out, "No you're ri-" He wasn't allowed to finish as a sniper round went through his right temple and out the center of the back of his head. Careth screamed, "Shit!" Jumping to the side he rolled into a somewhat protective covering and began to bark out orders and questions, "Move men, man those machine guns. Get a sniper to track the shot! What the hell was that?"

He was slightly confused. No men of his own companies would mistake the Major for a Sarcanzan but the rebels didn't have snipers. Or if they did he hadn't been forewarned. Another crack was heard and a low yelp followed it marking the death of the person who had just shout at Jords. Lt. Colonel Careth rose up and began to run to the area of the death, his Hali-21 in the palm of both his hands, and he stepped into a pile of rubble which led to a staircase that once connected the bottom floor and the top floor of a worker's house. Running up the flight of steps he made his way into a small room and there he saw the body. Kicking it over he saw the markings of Sarcanza. Shit. Elsewhere, noises of a firefight began to pick up and he looked through the window. The Sarcanzans were making another attack against one of the recently taken factories. He looked closer. Some of those weren't Sarcanzans. Turning around he made his way back down the stairs and then out, keeping low out of visual sighting from the Sarcanzans hitting the first factory.

Upon reaching his station he took the communications radio to call down an artillery strike, shouting, "Etach-Kartuma Six, Bloc Nine" Within seconds he could hear the shrill shriek of incoming rounds and he whipped his head around to witness Sarcanzan bodies flying through the air. He jumped over the sand bags that protected the radio outpost and began to run towards the factory building, gun in hand. A few potshots were taken at him but most were of poor accuracy and those that weren't missed by only a hair's length. He made it into the rear entrance of the factory without too much trouble and began to take control of defensive operations there.

He heard some sort of explosion outside that wasn't the artillery and looked back through the backdoor that was now plugged up with machine guns just in case any of Sarcanzans decided to get smart. One of the smokestacks of the other factories had been destroyed by some sort of rocket and he soon saw another one streak through the sky. Rockets. He turned back around and yelled at no particular person, "Tell me where the fuck are they getting these things from?"

A scranny lieutenant had the answer, "Sir-r, some of those aren't Sarcanzans. They're Havenites. Seems as if they infiltrated through Zarbia." Careth looked bewildered. Havenites? Oh what the hell, an enemy was an enemy.

Stiff resistance continued, with the artillery booming from the oustide and the Sarcanzans and the Havenites would be forced to pull off from the attack. It would be far too costly for them and the airborne defenders were already too well entrenched. Nonetheless, gunfire continued well into the night and then into the next morning. Obviously, neither the airborne troopers or the Sarcanzan soldiers wanted to give up the battle. Regardless, the Empire still had the upper hand in the fight for the factories.

At Moens Lidom whether the rebels had battelsuits or not would matter little. The Imperials had adopted a strategy of just using flamethrowers to clear the underground sewer system. Or like the grunts called it, 'burning the fuck out of 'em'. What the Airborne troops would do was to put a series of sensors concealed in the walls of the sewer system and glassed over with a fire resistance thermoset, and when that sensor caught anything moving it would alert what could be considered an outpost, which would merely use a huge stationary flamethrower to destroy anything trying to walk through the sewer system, and in that form the sewers were pretty much off limits for the Sarcanzans. At the top things were going a bit worse as the Sarcanzans continued jumping from house to house around the crest of the hill; nonetheless, the crest still flew the Macabee flag and that's what mattered. Moens Lidom would not fall until that flag fell.

The university was turning more and more conventional as the Sarcanzans were bringing in heavier ordnance from Prokhorovka, as well as Havenite rangers. The Macabee artillery had been moved up to this area although in rather light amounts and they would revert to destroy anything moving in the open campus as opposed to the buildings, with snipers tracking movements outside the buildings. Within the buildings the security personnel had largely replaced the airborne, who had been moved north, and they were putting in very stiff resistance. It would be safe to say that it would take a while for Sarcanza to root out the resistance from the university, and even more to root them out of Marsa Bruth...

[OOC: I'll get the introduction to the Gates of Hell later; then the River Nestor; then an update on Weigar; then a reply to Mons Dei.]

Targul Frumos

The combined armada of three fleets had fought as hard as it could for a very long time, gutting a large, combined, Killian fleet in the process, but they had fought for to long and to hard, the fight just couldn’t be sustained any longer. The combined three fleets started edging away from the fight, slowly at first, but they began picking up speed and soon enough they began fleeing at full speed from Targul Frumos. It was all to late to save the fleets from what was probably the deadliest attack yet.

The Macabean and Killian missiles, thousands in number, accomplished what no other strike to date had, the crippling of a Havenite fleet, a first in the modern history of Haven. The SAM launchers were running empty and were in the middle of reloading from depleted SAM stocks, even so the number of SAM launchers was greatly reduced. It wasn’t until the missiles were barely 80km away that an effective wave of SAM’s went out to greet them, and by then everyone realized just how screwed they were. Amazingly hundreds of SAM’s were able to go out and greet the missiles but many, many missiles broke through. Thousands of CIWS systems filled the sky with tens of thousands of rounds. The fleets received more punishment then they had through the whole battle. The fleets destroyers suffered the worst, for some reason it seemed they seemed the brunt of the assault. The missiles headed deep into the fleet, weaving there way into the fleets core. They ignored the heavy cruisers and arsenal ships, flew past the carriers and headed straight for the massive Argentines. Along the way their numbers had dwindled, fire from all the ships they passed up took its toll and they still had to pass the ADV’s picketed around the Argentines. The anti-SD missiles bored through all the fire their electronic eyes keyed in on the Argentines. Firing as quickly as they could, the Argentines CIWS systems tried to put up a last ditch effort to hold the missiles off but they still came on. Missiles began striking the Argentines, slicing through layers of armor, violently rocking the ships in a way that many on board feared they would roll over.

Out of the smoke and the explosions rode three Argentines, three beasts, three hunks of twisted metal and debris. They had survived, just as the fleets had, but just like the fleets they were ruined. They floated, and could fight…to an extent. The fleets had survived the last assault, but at a cost, the butchers bill included dozens of ships. The fleets were in no shape to fight, and against a fresh and new enemy they wouldn’t last long. Luckily the Killian navy was in no better shape or else the three fleets would be done for. The three fleets headed east at full speed. To the north was Targul Frumos and to the south was November, but to the East was land. There was a sea(OOC: No idea what you want to call it? That little nook between Ruska and Targul Frumos.) That sea bordered the edge of Havenite territory and Ruska, and the Ruskan coastline was in Havenite hands. While there weren’t any major ports or harbors, which was what the fleets really needed, they could make it to the Havenite coast and hug their way south along the coast, the only problem would be November, November was in position to head straight for the coast and smash the fleets between her and the coast. November was the problem, Romeo and the Killians could be kept from pursuing quickly, but November had position.

So the three fleets, or what was left of them, limped away as fast as they could. They continued firing at the Killians, firing as fast as they could with everything that they had left. If the Killians had a chance to aggressively pursue them then it wouldn’t matter what happened with November. All the guns left in the fleets fired again and again at the Killian ships as long as they were in range. The three Argentines concentrated on a single Killian SD, although the combined firepower of all three Argentines was barely more than what two healthy Argentines could dish out. Still, it was hopefully enough to put one last Killian SD down, especially since the SD had taken the brunt of their shelling for a while now. A final salvo of missiles a few hundred strong went out to finish off what ships the Killians had afloat. But all money was on events under the sea to save the three fleets from pursuit.

The Tempest ultra heavy torpedo was a massive beast of a weapon, and as such very few were carried. But the few that were, where amazingly effective at what they did. Designed with a massive warhead specifically with the idea of breaking the backs of the massive SD’s riding the waves now days. The 6350 kg warhead the Tempest sported surely had the power to do just that. 200 of the beasts, most of what the fleets had with them, slid into the water as the ships fled the area. All 200 headed straight for the Killian fleet. With the size and power of their warheads, even id the Killian ships took them out with ASHUM turrets the ships were done. The warheads were big enough that if it got close enough that ASHUM had to be used the warhead would still collapse the hull of the ship it was targeting.

The Tempests weren’t the only thing entering the water, as the fleet fled thousands of mines began dropping behind them. IF the Killians, or even Romeo, wanted to pursue the three fleets they would have to do so going through a thick belt of mines.


The last hope for the three fleets was the Orca sub force that was still actively engaged with the Killian fleet. The remaining Killian SeaWolfs had given up their positions in a fruitless effort to take out the Orca’s. There were only 32 Orca’s in the area, giving the Killians a slight numbers advantage, but their were 192 targets for the Killians to deal with. That meant that there were no more than two torpedoes per “target”, and while most of the “submarines” had no defenses, the Orca’s did. The Killian torpedoes wiped out over a hundred of their targets, but of the Orca’s themselves only a single one went down do to the fact that barely a couple were aimed at each one.

The Killian submarines were now showing up bright on Havenite screens having first given up their positions by sprinting full speed then firing noisily. The Orca’s, all 30 that were left, opened up each of their 8 forward tubes and launched. 240 torpedoes went out going as fast as they could straight at the few surviving Killian submarines. Each and every Killian sub was targeted by at least 5 torpedoes, some by even more, the targeting done easily since the Killians had given up their positions. In firing the Orca’s committed the same sin, their position was just given to the Killian subs, but the Killians would have to survive the onslaught coming at them to take advantage of that favor.




November, the problem. While the crippled remains of the original three fleets fled to the east and to salvation, the fourth fleet had its plate full with November. Novembers’ immediate response to the attack on it was expected. The F-121’s sped away at full speed easily escaping as they were already near the max range of the SAMs but the second strike group was in more problems. The Valkyrie’s immediately responded to the Hawks’ fire launching back 4 Divinebolt missiles at each Hawk with RAMjet engines. Behind them the Rain made their escape as best they could speeding back to the 5th fleet but they were to close to make a clean get away. 11 Rain and 6 Valkyrie’s went down to the Hawks’ missiles.

The wave of Macabean missiles that followed was picked up quickly by the AWAC’s birds over head before they were blotted from the sky by Macabean SAMs. The destroyers and perimeter ships launched off a wave of SAM’s to meet the Macabean missiles and those SAM’s chopped the missile count down by more than half. More SAM’s quickly followed before the last missiles came into range of the CIWS systems and the gun batteries of the ships. Tracers and shells knocked missile after missile down but plumes of fire still erupted from multiple ships. 16 of the 40 Cunningham DDN’s were sunk outright, with more damaged but the response to November would be even greater.

November had to be crippled, quickly. There wasn’t much say about it, it just had to be crippled. To cripple November the destroyers, frigates and cruisers would be eliminated. November had 48 Mansteins, Seydlitz’s and Clauswitz’s left, of which more than 22 were damaged to one extent or another. Those 48 ships would be on the receiving end of all the firepower the 5th fleet could muster.

The first missiles out of the fleet were SAM’s, long range SAM’s began targeting any Macabean craft over November. As soon as those were away another wave of missiles followed. Two Hellfire arsenal ships in the center of the fleet unloaded and a total of 720 FastHawk II missiles went out to engage the Macabean ships. Each missile had a specific target, so each frigate, cruiser and destroyer flying the Golden Thrones’ flag had 15 missiles specifically coming right for it. Following close behind another 200 rose up from the fleets cruisers, these missiles would target any cruisers, destroyers or frigates that survived the first wave.

From the mainland 5 squadrons of EB-9’s roared in. Surrounded by fighters of their own the EB-9’s stopped 225 miles from November and let loose their own salvo of missiles. Another 400 FastHawk II missiles let loose, kicking off on their way to November. They were calculated to strike 25 seconds after the missiles from the fleet struck, hopefully the SAM launchers would be either running low or reloading on stores. These missiles struck whatever was left of the three perimeters. It was in this massive, three tiered strike, that Haven hoped to cripple November, from the outside in. The strike would destroy November, not in a long shot, the capital ships weren’t even targeted, but if all went as planned it would strip November of its defenses and much of its strike capabilities.




The Ruskan Skies

The EB-9’s had gotten their missiles off but they weren’t out of trouble just yet. The Hawks’ missiles were detected coming in fast, to late to be avoided. The EB-9’s turned around as quick as they could moving pretty fast for the massive craft that they were. There wasn’t much hope of outmaneuvering the missiles before they crashed in so they had to be out muscled. SLID pods began erupting from under the wings of the EB-9’s spraying back dozens of mini missiles that began intercepting incoming AA missiles. The Macabean missiles weaved their way through the SLID’s and began exploding next to the EB-9’s spraying them with shrapnel. The EB-9’s, the huge aircraft that they were, could take loads of punishment and still limp home but their threashold for punishment was only so high and EB-9’s started going down. Eleven of the beasts crashed into the ground while twice that number went home bearing scars of one degree to another. The mission wasn’t as successful as first hoped, but they had managed to take out half of the existing Hawk force in Fedala, which might or might not turn out to be a major factor in the upcoming days.

The Valkyrie’s didn’t manage to get off the hook either. Because they were over Havenite controlled land, as all land south of the River Styx was in Havenite hands, they had ample warning time and ample space to react to the incoming SAM’s. The Valkyrie’s dived to the ground and split doing their best to confuse and get away from the Praetorians. Their own SLID pods erupted when the SAM’s got to close, spraying out dozens more mini missiles. Most of the Valkyrie’s walked away from the incident but ten Valkyrie’s wouldn’t make it home, bringing eight pilots down with them.

North of the River Styx the Rain pulled back and for the first time in week the war in the air was silent. For 24 hours no plane crossed the boundary line that was the River Styx. For 24 hours the skies were quiet, quiet in preparation for the biggest air offensive of the war to date.

Haven and Fedala alike both maintained massive air force’s, thousands of craft sat in hangers and on tarmacs across both nations. They had never been needed before, ever, but now with things looking bad at sea and with problems erupting around Mosnoi Bor something major had to be done, a major blow had to be dealt, something that could be splashed on the front pages of newspapers across Haven. And so the air force began took a respite, and gathered itself.

They gathered themselves for a massive strike. For 24 hours nothing happened, the only planes in the sky being recon flights and air superiority fighters. In 24 hours at dozens of air bases sirens rang out and thousands of men and women ran every which way. Dozens of squadrons of many different kinds of aircraft, some that had yet to see action in this war, began forming up.

The first planes over Ruska other than the numerous fighters constantly patrolling the skies, were as always the workhorses of the Havenite bomber force, the EB-9’s. Just a single squadron, flying high at 65,000 feet, everyone looking at a radar screen within hundreds of miles had to know thy were there, not that anyone would be able to stop them from doing what they were sent to do. Since all of Ruska up to the Styx was in Havenite hands they could position themselves kilometers behind the Styx over Havenite territory but still cover all of Ruska with their fire. Any Macabean fighters that wanted to engage them would have to fight through belts of fighters, and newly moved up and positioned SAM’s on the Havenite side of the Styx.

From 65,000 feet the EB-9’s began unloading Kraven missiles, perfectly calm knowing they were safe and untouchable where they were. The Kraven missiles they fired were aimed at permanant Praetorian sites newly set up in northern Ruska that had either given up their position by firing the previous day or had been spotted by satellite intel, they were also targeted at any other mobile SAM’s that had their radars on, actually they were targeted on any radars on period. The squadron of EB-9’s, 12 massive aircraft, sat up high, floating, firing off their Kravens, they didn’t fire all of their Kravens in that first salvo, they still had plenty left over and every time a Praetorian battery that hadn’t been spotted turned its radar on it would be on the receiving end of a number of missiles. Once the squadron ran low another would take its place, in this way northern Ruska would be kept clean of a radar and SAM presence for the day and the air campaign the day held in store.

With the EB-9’s constantly pounding any SAM’s or radars in Ruska, they where effectively forcing Fedala to depend on its OTH-B facilities in Fedala itself to detect incoming raids, and then on its AA presence and possibly some fighters to fight off raids. The OTH-B was a wonderfull system, even used by Haven, but it could not be depended upon as your sole method of detection, and as long as the EB-9’s pounded Ruska with their Kraven’s and Fedala didn’t do something that’s all the Golden Throne would have to depend on.

Still no aircraft crossed the River Styx, instead from silo’s on the Havenite border 400 Wolverine cruise missiles rose up. The missiles were designed by New Empire to be stealthy, using systems such as Athena and Flickering Skins, systems that both Haven and The Macabees could normally defeat, but any Macabean radars in Ruska were under constant assault and the OTH-B, all the way in Fedala could not, and would not, defeat the stealth systems and features on the Wolverines. So the missiles rose up and went out, staying fairly close to the ground to make detection even more difficult in case some Macabean radars somehow managed to survive. They headed north, not stopping as they crossed the Styx. The missiles were each guided into different supply and reinforcement convoys coming south. Convoys full of troops and weapons, convoys carrying new Praetorian batteries, filling the roads of Ruska from side to side. The Wolverines didn’t worry about AA fire as the AA gunners wouldn’t know they were coming unless they had warning, and unless Fedala detected them with radar the gunners wouldn’t receive that warning to prepare and to fire. Each Wolverine shot up as it neared its target and splayed open dishing out 1,000 lbs of sub-munitions on the convoys below. The sub-munitions had a limited guidance, each looking for a vehicle with its sensors and slashing down at it.

Finally, aircraft began moving up across the border into Ruska. Eight squadrons of Rain crossed the River Styx and headed north. They flew low, lower than the Wolverines, and they to didn’t worry much. The same thing with the radars applied to them, even more so in fact as they were equipped with even more stealth systems than the Wolverine, and so flying low to the ground the OTH-B array in Fedala could have fun trying to detect them. They didn’t worry about Wraiths or AA fire much as the men with Wraiths and the A gunners wouldn’t know they were coming until they shot over head and by then it would be to late. The only real threat was Macabean fighters, and that threat wasn’t forgotten. Ten Valkyrie and three Su-52 squadrons waited for the Golden Throne to send up its fighters, further back a further seven squadrons of F-121 interceptors waited to pounce on incoming Macabean flights.

So the Rain made their way, confident in victory. They headed to the dozens of convoys heading south to the front, many of which were already shot up from the Wolverines but they would now be destroyed. Each Rain carried with it two AA missiles, two Kravens in case somehow a SAM site was live in their path, and a full load out of bombs. They carried a variety of bombs but they all had the same end result, the killed. The rain, in three’s and fours began striking different convoys, being they convoys of reinforcements bearing soldiers and vehicles or convoys full of supplies like the Praetorian convoys. Eight squadrons, 96 aircraft, struck hard. It had been just 30 minutes since the first EB-9 took position over Ruska, the Air Campaign was still young.


While the bombs were still falling on different convoys more planes continued to cross the Styx boundary line. Four more squadrons of Rain and four squadrons of QF-27 Sabre’s, all the while Kraven’s continued to come in from EB-9’s, pounding any SAM sites or radars that deigned to pop its head out. The Rain, in groups of six, headed to different tank parks and troops concentrations behind the lines. They were to bomb such concentrations and tank parks, and in the case of the tank parks they had brought with them deep penetration, bunker busting bombs to destroy the bunkers the tanks hid in.

The Sabre’s were new to this war, though they had existed in Havens arsenal for years. The Sabre’s were special because they were unmanned, they had no pilots which was why they were picked for this mission. They had to make their way al the way to Ruskas’ northern border, and the River Tarkus that marked said border. Not many were expected to make it home and so they had been picked as they carried life inside. The Sabre’s made their way, quickly, hugging the ground the whole way. Hoping the lack of radar and SAM, and the commotion above from the air battle that had to be brewing by now would be enough to mask them from detection on top of their stealth systems. Once they were a few miles from the Tarkus River they would shoot up and drop their guided bombs that would make the last few mile journey themselves. The bombs were targeted on the many bridges that spanned the river, the bridges that had to carry supplies and reinforcements south. The Sabre’s, their jobs done, would fly home as fast as they could, maybe with a bit of luck a few would make it.

The days fighting wasn’t over yet. One final strike was to come in, an hour after the first EB-9 took position. Before the next strike though new waves of fighters flocked north from Haven to Ruska, by now the air battle had to be red hot and these new fighters were to ensure that the air battle remained in Havens hands for just a little bit longer, just long enough for one final strike. That final strike was comprised of just one squadron of EB-9’s. They flew as low as they could and as stealthily as they could. They carried bombs, the only missiles on them being a few AA and Kraven missiles in case a threat showed itself, but their main load out was bombs, lots and lots of bombs.

They didn’t have far to go, aiming straight for the frontlines on the river Styx. They were hoping that by now any Hawks’ not dead and still flying had expended their missiles on the hundreds of other targets in the air, and if any Hawks still had any ammo left that the Valkyrie’s around them could hold them off. The EB-9’s that made it to the area where the 48th was crossing the river opened their doors and out of each came 80,000 lbs of bombs targeting any Macabeans within 10 miles of the 48th division, including the Macabean tank divisions that had moved up. They were the last one to strike, the last part of the Air Campaign, the campaign that would either break Havens air force or lead it into a new era of victories.

(...)From the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,

Although we watch this situation in utter disgust we cannot do anything to ease your suffering. Guffingford already is faced problems of our own. We cannot help you out, and it pains my heart as the ink is drying on this message. We feel for your soldiers and your innocent people, but these words are like a candle: destined to suffocate in the endless rumble of war. Still, we have heard of various rumors indicating that Zarbia is going to change the course of this war, somehow. If they do, we cannot allow to let this war so near to our borders and therefore we are obligated to intervene.

Please note that this shall only happen if Zarbia attacks you, and if the Stevid tensions persist. Two nations bordering us is a very uncomfortable thought to say the least, and knowing we can deal with both, Zarbia has priority. If you have any requests for us to open up a diplomatic channel between the rightful government of The Macabees, the rebels and the opposing force. It it truly a shame our two nations do not border each other. If we did, then your suffering could be decreased significantly since our arms dealers could sell you much needed equipment for reduced fees. But such is not the case, unfortunately. On behalf of the whole Guffingfordian administration, we wish you good luck.

Signed, Kellus Constantine, the Cabinet and the Parliament.
The Government of the Hanseatic League of Guffingford.

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Zarbia
The prototype of the GF11 Archer UAV cruised over the Zarbian border using its transparent skin to get through Zarbian radar sensor screens, which weren't too well built regardless. The camera zoomed in on Zarbian military stations which had seen an upsurge of personnel in the last days although they were all rather formed up haphazardly. The Archer didn't want to bring attention so it continued east. It had one purpose and that was to scout something that had become to be known as the Havenic-Zarbian trail; the concept has sprung when reports had come from Marsa Bruth of intruding Havenite ranger units and there was only one possible explenation of how they had arrived. The small bird flew somewhat high to avoid visual sighting from the ground, gracefully cutting through the thin skies of Imperial Armies. She was a beauty and within hours the Archer would be put into mass production to see combat against Haven, Jagada, as well as any other foe that dared contradict the word of Emperor Fedor I.

It continued the flight for about forty-five minutes before it stumbled upon something of interest. The camera caught a convoy of moving trucks, course headed north, and it sent the information through a sattelite data link. Ground controls in Eastern board subterranean army bases knew they had found their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Ordering the Archer to begin making runs around the convoy, taking photographs, they sent a fax to the General Staff immediately telling them of their find; it would give a cassus belli for not only to force another ally into the war [Guffingford], but to land grab while they were at it - Zarbia would be there target. Additionally, it would severe a vital link between Sarcanza and Haven, and even if Zarbia somehow wrestled its way into a treaty, Haven would not be able to resupply Sarcanza.

The Empire had the evidence needed. It had the means. The war would expand anew.

Ultimatum to Zarbia
The increasingly fascist police state of Zarbia has been caught red handed in their schemes to slice Sarcanza off for the Empire. Although we suspect greater works at odds we will not side off into superflous accusations. The only accusation we bring forth is the allowance to Haven for the continous flow of goods through Zarbia into Sarcanza. It has been well known that the Empire has cut off the border with Zarbia to avoid interpolation between indegenous populations of Macabee Sarcanza and Zarbian Sarcanza. Zarbia and Haven have utterly disregarded the foreign policy. For this we cannot stand; Zarbian belligerence and machinations are not tolerated.

Therefore, we offer forty-eight hours for the Zarbians to severe all relations with Haven [SafeHaven2] and to cease the convoys of military goods and personnel to Sarcanza. Furthermore, Zarbia must cede Zarbian Sarcanza to the Second Empire of the Golden Throne.

Unless these three tasks are not completed within forty-eight hours, war will come. Unfortunately for Zarbia, it will come as their own fault - Zarbia, of course, being the belligerent. Don't be fools.

Fedor I
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Rear Imperial Headquarters - The River Nestor
Fedor was slightly down that day, learning that war with Zarbia was inevitable while the battles of Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor were still not sure victories, and Malatose seemed closer to Beda Fromm every day. Packing around him were generals from various fronts, all garbed in the imperial white uniforms with a double headed imperial eagle woven into the chest of their buttoned jackets. Fedor's eye had caught on one general, however; it was the commander of the forces in Sarcanza. Fedor understood his plight, but hopefully it would all be solved today. The general looked rather gouche, his jacket not fully buttoned up and his hair a mess - it looked as if he had not had a rest for ages. Fedor wasn't faring much better, but as an Emperor he had to look his prime always - nonetheless, the uncertainties conjuring around this very river in the epic battle for the defense of Fedala were taking their toll on the seventeen year old royal. The others were talking amongst themselves and Fedor caughed to catch their attention. Quieting down they did as suggested and began to form around a wooden table holding a rather large map of the Empire and of neighboring states. Fedor hesitated for a bit and then began, "Ruska. There are somewhere near two million Killian personnel and two hundred thousand Imperial personnel here. I take it no further support is necessary unless a loss at either Aurillac or Mosnoi Bor is obvious. Correct?" One of the commanders nodded and he continued, "Beda Fromm. The command for overall generalship has been given to Field Marshall Valié Concort, congratulations on your appointment." Concort nodded his thanks allowing Fedor to go on, "Under your command will be two armoured corps and a single mechanized infantry corp. Should you need more I will allocate more of our strategic reserves, but I trust you will not. If we can stop a Havenite army with a similar number we can stop a Malatosian army, especially one on a fleet that has just dared to expend nuclear ordnance on us. They will live to regret this decision."

Some of the generals gulped and one spoke up; it was Field Marshall Forutien Gerth, executive of the overall commander of Dienstadi, a mostly logistical post. He said, "You are not suggesting the escalation of nuclear war? That's preposterous."

Fedor shook his head, "What will you have me do? Allow them to slaughter us, and do nothing in return? Speak no further you old fool; I do not have time for petty arguments on such obvious matters." He really was tired. Had he been in a normal state of mind he would have never thought of dismissing his generals like such. The other man was taken aback but he shut his mouth. Fedor went on, "Sarcanza. I have allocated two armoured divisions and three mechanized divisions to that front. They are deploying to Sidi Rezegh under the command of Colonel-General Garet Vien. He will be tasked of opening the Gates of Hell." Again the general gasped. The only man to have ever successfully stormed the Gates of Hell was Emperor Atmos III, almost four hundred years ago. How could a lowly general do so again? The Gates of Hell was a long valley between two mammoth walls of an equally gigantic canyon. It was flanked by wide desert mountains. The only way to enter Sarcanza other than by sea was through the Gates of Hell. Normally they were open, but in times of war they were closed, and they were perfect defensive positions. Fedor went on, "Yes, I know, it will be difficult. But it is certainly doable."

The commander of Sarcanza spoke up, "And Marsa Bruth? I am loosing up to a tenth of the airborne division per day. I cannot possibly survive at those rates."

Fedor inquired, "You have twice as much security personnel, no?"

The other man shook his head, "Yes, but they are worthless for anything more than a quick defensive block. I cannot hope to win the battle with just them. I need reinforcements; another airborne division."

Fedor nodded, "Agreed; I will see what I can do." The general murmured his tanks and backed back in behind the other generals - his spotlight at an end.

So, it was the gates of hell. The men destined to complete what had only been done once - arguably under a demigod - were already setting up in Sidi Rezegh, the gigantic trains barely fitting into commercial train stops, their guns depressed to a point where they would not rip overhead checkpoints. The Gates of Hell. Indeed. This would truly be epic.

Marsa Bruth

There were now two regiments of Rangers in Marsa Bruth, 2,000 fighting men plus officers and logistics. That number was actually down around 1,900 fighting men after the past few days of fighting but the Rangers had made those losses count, making a good showing of themselves. Not only had a second Ranger regiment arrived but tons of supplies were coming in daily carried both by truck and by rail north. Tens of thousands of rifles, grenades, modern ammunition, mines, body armor, mortars all sorts of equipment. Now, with the use of the rail net to bring supplies up even a few, 8, attack helicopters had made the journey along with a number of older armored vehicles that now waited for orders from the Sarcanzens.

The recently arrived 6th regiment was busying itself in the University. A little less than a 1,000 Ranger’s plus officers and hundreds of Sarcanzen allies slowly moved through the Universities’ buildings. Clearing them out one at a time. For some reason the Macabeans had replaced their crack Airborne troops with low level security troops and that only made the job of the 6th regiment easier. The Rangers moved from building to building, clearing them out one by one. Every building that got cleared out became a strongpoint, snipers and machine gunners on the roof and peaking out of windows, looking for any Macabeans to show themselves in other buildings or on the campus grounds. 80mm mortars were brought up and they began firing on the Macabean artillery guns near the campus and on any reinforcements that tried to move forward.

At Moens Lideom, 300 men of the 5th Rangers, moved up to help the Sarcanzen’s. They didn’t bother going into the sewers, instead joining the fight above, going house to house on their way to the hills crest. Here they had heavy Sarcanzen support, including many Sarcanzens outfitted with modern Havenite body armor and equipment. The fighting got dirty here, in many cases being face to face. Men were inches away from their opponents as they wrestled for control of inconsequential houses, only to move on and do the same thing in the next house on the street.

The final 7 battalions, little less than 700 men, of the 5th Rangers were still at the factories though, waiting opposite of them for the chance to take them back. Colonel Sanzen, the commander of the 5th had taken the control of the factories personal. He had been repulsed once with heavy casualties, but that just made him want the factories even more. He had brought up 7 of the 10 battalions of the 5th Rangers and hundreds of Sarcanzens just for this purpose. Sanzen had also seen to it that the Sarcanzens he brought along were as well equipped as possible, giving them the best of the equipment coming from Haven. Colonel Sanzen swore he would die before he let those first two factories stay in Macabean hands, a promise that would be fulfilled before the battle was over.

The attack was opened with a bombardment. Almost two dozen mortars opened up on the two Macabean 105mm batteries behind the factories. They sprayed a mixture of rounds on the gun batteries, HE and flechhette rounds to wipe out the gun crews. Another dozen mortars opened up on the factories themselves, the shells crashing in on the men inside. Snipers opened up, picking off anyone daring to show himself, even if for just a few seconds. Then Sanzen stood up and yelled over the regimental ComNet, “Forward, get me my factories!”

Sanzen was one of the first to go forward, firing two grenades from the tube under his rifles barrel into the factory while mortar rounds impacted the ruined buildings before jumping in himself. Around him the Rangers of the 5th and their Sarcanzen allies dived into the factories. Sanzen filled an airborne soldier with two bursts from his R-32 before working his way through the factory. Something struck him in the side throwing him to the side and knocking his R-32 out of his hands, if it weren’t for his body armor he would be dieing. It took him a second to realize what had just happened but by then the man had put another round into his suit, this one piercing right under his left shoulder. The man gripped the trigger again but nothing happened, and before he could drop it Sanzen tackled him to the ground. Sanzen hit the man in the face, drawing blood before the man kicked him off of him. The man pulled out a knife and stuck it in Sanzen’s already bleeding shoulder drawing a cry of pain from him. He grabbed the airborne soldiers hand, forcing the knife to stay in his shoulder as much as it hurt him while he pulled out his pistol with his other hand. Sanzen pressed the gun up to the mans stomach before he realized what had happened and then it was to late, Sanzen unloaded half the clip into the mans stomach and chest cavity. Sanzen shoved the man off of him and ripped the knife out of his shoulder, he quivered as he stood up wincing in pain. His vision started blurring but he could still make out shapes of Macabean airborne up ahead and he raised his pistol finished off the clip before collapsing from a loss of blood. Around him the assault continued with out him. Three depleted companies of airborne wouldn’t be enough to hold the Rangers and Sarcanzens, back not this time. Men on both sides fell, the factory fighting was viscous, but the advantage was with Sarcanza and Haven.

The Battle of Marsa Burth -- Day Fifty Three

The Sarcanzan Command was starting to feel the effects of their failings in tactical situations earlier in the battle. The Battle of Marsa Burth would serve as crucial experience for the generals of the newly budded Army -- it truly had not been an army until several weeks prior. What was once a mass of flesh was slowly becoming an experienced army. Fifty days in the tight and hectic urban combat was just as good as fifty days in basic training -- at least as good as any sort of training the Sarcanzan Army could have hoped to produce initally.

Needless to say the crude intelligence network had finally relayed the message to the Sarcanzan High Command of the mass collection of men and materials in Sidi -- no doubt Ferdor hoped to pass through the Gates of Hell. The man must of thought himself a god. A force one third in size could defeat anything Ferdor would amass. Nonetheless it was important to remain vigilant in this respect. While no men would need be pulled from Marsa Burth -- indeed, if anything more would soon be committed -- some of the Havenite supplies would be transfered to that front. They would link up with convoys leaving from Provkorha and the far reaches of the province and head towards the gates. Already construction had begun to renew the areas defences. Hundreds of years of defences were amassed in this area, ranging from decaying forts to dated military installations. If the Battle of Marsa Burth was a river of blood, The Gates of Hell would be an ocean.

The battle throughout the city would continue to intensify. Rather then continously pour men through the city a force of newly arrived men, nearly ten thousand in strength, would make their way around the northwest half of the city in a large sweeping motion. They would then begin their assualt on the rear half of the city in an effort to silence the Macabee guns. In reserve lay the newly arrived gunships. They would strike under the best possible circumstances, taking the Macabee force by storm. No doubt there eyes were focused on the ground, not the sky. By the time they managed to realise the rebellion had aquired helicopters there would be no one left to command the Macabee Army. Indeed, the best way to finish off the resistance was to cut the head off the Imperium at Marsa Burth...+

Operation: Samurai
Off the coast of Sidi Rezegh...

It was night as the men of the Religious Imperium prepared for their invasion of the Empire of The Golden Throne. The men were nervious, that was very clear. Then again, the carnage of this war was shown daily on the Jagadian International News Station, and the military commanders had told the troops what to expect. They told them how the Killians charged full force with bayonets into Wegeri trenches and fought a bloody and brutal hand-to-hand battle. They explained that such would happen to Jagadian forces. Thats why all men held their bayonets dearly. The leader of this, Field Marshall Cunningham stood like a father figure gazing out from the brigde of his command ship, the Super-Dreadnaught JGFS Silencer. So far so good, he thought.

The operation was simple, the carrier based aircraft (numbering about five-hundred) would launch from the carriers and attempt to catch the Macabee costal forces off guard. He knew that since few Jagadians even knew about the Macabee-Jagadian Colonial War, that in turn few Macabees would know. That war hadn't been going on very long (less than a day acutally). With not even a hint that the Jagadians would even be in this war, Cunningham hoped to catch the Macabees sleeping or at least drunk.

The first phase of the operation would begin. An airstrike would begin soon. Though as they planes prepped for launch a group of about inflated and quiet landing craft left the main ships and began to glide towards the coastline, using the darkness has cover. In these boats where the Phantoms. Unlike the Phantoms which had been massacured during the opening stages of the Colonial War, these troops were equipt with the more expensive verison of the JABS "Automail" (http://media.teamxbox.com/dailyposts/halo2bios/04odsts.jpg), they had the JABS "Chainmail" (http://img.engadget.com/common/images/6684703157179904.JPG?0.5872584624859513). The Chainmail was close to being restricted to the Phantoms due to its extremely high costs (not nessecarily due to technology, but complexity). The Phantoms being sent here has the 'Chainmail' while the ones which were massacured in the Colonial Front had only standard kevlar and such.

Once the troop transports began to make their final appoarched. They used all their skill to avoid any mines or obstecles which may have been in their path. The planes on the various carriers suddenly came to life and in a matter of minutes, close to a hundred planes were on their way to assault the Macabee coast line. They came in low and quick, using sateliatte images to plot where the Macabee pillboxes and major defensive installations would be. These would be the first to be attacked, and with be attacked with Bunker-Buster bombs. By doing this, hundreds of bunker-busters were being dropped over the Macabee coast line. The Fighter-Bombers, known to the Jagadian troops as the "Neverwinter" flew as low as possible to avoid all possible radar. Their attack was to be silent and swift. Though that was not all, one of the planes had attached it was a FAE (Fuel/Air Explosive) or more commonly known as a Fuel-Air Bomb. It swooped in to what satelliate and other intelligance would call the heaviest defensive areas. It dropped its FAE and quickly retreated.

As soon as the raid was over, regardless of its success or failure the Jagadians Phantoms, numbering about five hundred (500), exited their landing craft once they reached shallow water and immiedately rushed up onto the beaches. They had predicted the Macabees to be in utter confusion and wouldn't expect a landing this soon after the air attack. They immiedately rushed up the beaches and attempted to jump down into the pillboxes and beach fortifications with bayonets fixes and themselves ready to fight. They didn't expect that many Macabee troops.

Though before the Phantoms even came in for their final run, the main invasion force was on its way. Totaling about five-thousand Crusaders all in 'Automail' suits. As soon as they hit the beaches they followed the same plan the Phantoms did: advance and force back the Macabee troops. This beachhead was desperately needed in order to assure Jagada's presence in this war.

North of Mosnoi Bor, Styx River Crossing

River crossings weren’t easy, and the 48th found that out quickly. The Macabean rocket fire cut into the reserve divisions waiting to cross. Almost six dozen armored vehicles were taken out by the rocket fire along with four batteries worth of guns and numerous logistical vehicles and men. The rocket fire also managed to take out a bridging unit waiting for a chance to go to work. The 48th wasn’t hit directly by the rocket attack as they were already in the water but they would soon be feeling the effects of the attack when they needed the reserves and some support.

The 48th would have to make it to the other side first. Even as the first IFV fully entered the water Tagus missiles were coming in from the far side. The Tagus’ began taking out the IFV’s and APC’s before they were even a forth of the way across the river at a rate that was completely unacceptable. From their starting point three batteries of Flail auto mortars, 36 vehicles, began punching in cooridinates designating the opposite river bank. The Auto mortars swiveled their 120mm mortars around and began pumping out hundreds of 120mm mortars, they were called auto mortars for a reason. They fired for thirty seconds, ripping the opposite river bank and the exposed Macabean infantry it held apart before switching positions real quick and doing it all over again. Overhead a wave of heavy 250mm rocket, 144 in all, exploded over the Macabean side of the river spraying the men below with thousands of tiny sub munitions.

From the Havenite side tanks and infantry gave covering fire to the force crossing the river. Machine guns and snipers firing at any Macabean troops they could spot while the 100 tanks of the 48th that couldn’t make the crossing blew away Tagus launchers and knots of infantry with their main guns and machine guns. While a machine gun rounds might not kill at this range it would certainly wound someone bad enough to take them out of a fight. Light 80mm mortars, the kind that were carried by infantry units in large numbers much like the Soviet army of old, began lobbing shells over the river adding to the hell brewing on the river. All this firepower was meant to suppress the Macabean infantry on the other side so that the 48th’s vehicles could cross, and the fire did just that saving countless vehicles and lives. Still, under 400 IFV’s and APC’s survived to climb the far river bank but when they got on land they took out their loss on the Macabean infantry in front of them. Their guns, now able to finally fire back, cut into groups of Macabean soldiers. IN front of them the mortar and covering fire from the Havenite bank walked inland with them, following the fleeing Macabean infantry and doing its best to kill as many of them as possible.

The IFV’s and APC’s began discharging their infantry loads fighting men, and 11,000, 4,000 less than what had originally set out, of the 48th began securing a bridgehead, albeit a bridgehead not as big as first envisioned. The 48ths vehicles, the IFV’s and APC’s kept on going once the infantry was out, they struck the fleeing Macabean infantry hoping to catch them before they could set up a new defensive line further inland. The 48th needed to expand the bridgehead before Fedala realized what was happening and things bogged down, in doing so the 48th would probably gut itself. Immediately, once the 48th was across, engineers set upon the River Styx and five spans were started. The engineers raced against each other and against the clock to get the spans across, the first one wouldn’t be finished for almost an hour but in the mean time the two divisions that had waited in reserve started sending across their own infantry and IFV’s to secure the bridgehead before a counter attack could be mounted.


Aurillac

A wall of smoke was all that saved Captain Guillermo’s eyes from being blinded by the muzzle flashes up ahead. He led his men forward running into the smoke, firing off grenades from the tube under his rifle barrel as he ran. All around him though his men were dieing by the dozens. The advance was stalling even with the smoke shield, there were just to many Killians manning the defenses and not enough Havenites moving forward. Insane amounts of tracers and bullets cut through the smoke randomly, hoping to hit somebody, and with so many making the journey across the smoke they were getting many, many hits.

Guillermo continued forward though leading his men. He had reached the edge of the smoke and once there he hit the ground, tracer rounds from a nearby machine gun nest stitching the air he had just occupied. Guillermo brought up his R-32 and put two 20mm grenades into the machine gun nest silencing it and its crew. He could see to his right a platoon of men that had reached the same point he and his men had but were pinned down by heavy fire from the trenches up ahead. Looking back Guillermo yelled, “RJ, put some fire in those trenches over there!” The man he was yelling at quickly kneeled down and set out the tri-pod to his machine gun. He began spraying the trench in front of the platoon to their right while the another man loaded his grenade launcher and in quick succession put four 20mm grenades in the trenches. The entire squad then joined in, filling the trenches to their right with fire. The platoon of men that was pinned down seemed to get the message and charged forward. Guillermo’s squad hadn’t gotten them all though, and grenades and bullets flew out of the trenches cutting down men in the already depleted platoon. The Havenite platoon was on a mission and wasn’t going to be stopped this time, the lobbed their own grenades back and fired from the hip before diving into the trenches. Seconds later the sounds of battle ceased to come from that stretch of trenches and a Havenite arm reached up and waved to Guillermo and his platoon.

The Havenite platoon returned the favor to Guillermo and his men throwing grenades into the stretch of trench in front of him as Guillermo rose up and led his squad forward. A hail of bullets met them immediately throwing two of Guillermo’s men back down permanently but the squad continued forward. A wave of grenades silenced the gunfire from the trenches and Guillermo jumped in. The trenches were filled with bodies, the trenches had become coffins for countless Killian soldiers including over a dozen right around Guillermo. A pair of Killians still stood, swinging around to meet the new threat that had appeared in front of them. Yelling at the top of his lungs Guillermo charged the first one gunning him down but he wouldn’t be able to reach the second one. The second Killian brought his rifle to bear, drawing a bead on Guillermo’s chest and started to pull the trigger before a man landed feet first on his head sending the burst wildly into the air. One of Guillermo’s men had jumped into the trench right on top of the Killian and he along with Guillermo wrestled the Killian down and tied him up. Guillermo was proud of himself, grinning from ear to ear, he had just secured a prisoner, although he had no idea what to do with him.

He marched down the trench to the right to meet up with the platoon that had helped him reach the trench, bringing his prisoner with him. “Captain, I take it I have you to thank for saving my ass.” Guillermo couldn’t tell what rank the man held, his uniform was so dirtied but he could tell he was an officer, and one higher up than him so Guillermo saluted awkwardly, even as bullets whipped around them. “Put you hand down Captain, were going to combine forces and move down this trench to help clear it out, ok?” “Yes sir,..” Before Guillermo could say anything else in reply a call came over the radio. “All units, pull back, All units pull back, a general withdrawal has been ordered, all units are to pull back away from Killian trenches.” All of it had been for nothing, thousands of Havenites and even more thousands of Killians had died for basically no purpose, except to have some more blood flow. Guillermo punched the trench wall almost breaking his hand, he had lost many men and now all they were going to do was pull back.

All across the line the men began falling back, it was actually pretty easy for most men. Guillermo was an exception, not the rule, most units had not made it to the trenches and so didn’t have far to go to get to the AOC’s and IFV’s that would carry them home. Having survived so long there wasn’t a point in letting them die while they were trying to escape so suppression fire was stepped up. The Flail auto mortars fired opened up on the Killian trenches while the IFV’s and tanks continued to fire all they had at the Killians. Now though 100 KAR-45’s touched off their 250mm rockets, sending up a total of 1,200 250mm rockets that exploded overhead of the Killian trenches dishing out tens of thousands of tiny sub-munitions.

The Killians weren’t the only one on the receiving end of shells, and that was something that was starting to get on the nerve of infantry commanders. Killian shelling was doing more damage than anything else and it kept coming. And so more and more KAG’s were assigned to the destruction of the KriGuds, before finally 300 KAGs and 36 KAR-45’s were firing on the KriGuds. The KAG’s were using a mixture of rounds, HE shells and heavy penetration shells to dig into and destroy the buildings and defenses the KriGuds were hiding in, but it would be the KAR-45’s that would send out the biggest single blow. Each KAR-45 fired 12 massive 250mm rockets with HE warheads, 432 HE 250mm rockets crashed into the Killian KriGud positions in Aurillac. That was enough firepower to flatten whole blocks of buildings in one fell swoop concentrated on the Killian guns.

Even as the Havenite attack force fled, the tanks and IFV’s going backwards at full speed so they could continue firing at the Killian lines, just as they were getting away from the carnage of battle the Killian jets dove in. Their bombs and missiles left a swath of burning hulks and scrap metal on the ground. Dozens of vehicles, just on the edge of safety, were wiped out. But the Killian planes made the biggest mistake of their lives when they turned around for another run, this time the men on the ground were ready and countless MANPADs rose up to meet the Killian jets head on while countless more chased any Killian jets that still survived. A single flight of F-121 interceptors was vectored into the Killian jets. The four F-121’s waited to see how many died from the MANPAD’s before finishing off any survivors with their own missiles.

The infantry divisions dug in to lick their wounds and prepare for next time. The armored brigade would get no such rest, they were sent immediately to the battle developing around the Ridge.

2nd Killian Attack

The Killians were on a suicide mission, charging into a force twice their size. They kept coming though, moving forward through the fire. The men in their half dug foxholes stepped up and just kept on firing, picking off the attacking Killian infantry. More and more infantry began setting up and firing their MAT-21 ATGM missiles at the Killian armor and SOV’s that were fully exposed on the open field. Between and just behind the infantry foxholes the tanks and IFV’s continued firing, making sure he Killians couldn’t get to the infantry line. The tanks main guns picked off Killian armor as quickly as they could find them, the light skinned Wolverines were no match for the heavy M-88 Badgers. The tiny 105mm shells dented and bounced off of the Badgers’ armor, but the Badgers massive 155mm main gun would tear a Wolverine or SOV apart, even a near miss with a HE shells would mission kill the light Killian vehicles, and the 40mm coaxial gun the Badgers also carried was designed specifically to take out SOV’s and the like while the main gun focused on heavier targets. The heavy BredtSverds were a different matter, their guns could and did pierce the heavy armor of the M-88’s, and because of that most of the firepower was focused on the heavier Bredtsverds. The infantry and IFV’s aimed their ATGM’s at the BredtSverds hoping to take them out of the equation. All the while artillery fire continued raining in, 25 KAG batteries, 300 175mm guns, continued pouring in the shells. Most of the shells were normal HE, but now with the Killian infantry out of the safety of their SOV’s, Flechette rounds started raining in. The flechette rounds would burst open meters above the ground and shoot out thousands of tiny flechettes that would shred apart any human within a certain radius of the shell. 48 Flail auto mortars along with dozens of tiny 80mm mortars continued lobbing in their HE mortar rounds.

It was all a show, what was really to defeat the Killan attack was the counter attack that had been developing on the Killian flank. The flank, already weakened by the attack from 30 Wasp II helo’s was now being rolled up by 300 M-88 Badgers and 500 APC/IFV’s. The Wasp’s, once done with their missiles and rockets, opened up with their guns, tearing up SOV’s and Wolverines alike with their armor piercing rounds. All of this was to cover the flanking force. The M-88’s and the IFV’s began charging the Killians from the side, trying to roll up the whole Killian attack. Firing at the weak side armor of the Killian armor even the smaller 80mm and 20mm guns carried by the IFV’s and APC’s had good chances to penetrate. The flanking force wasn’t to stop at all, speed was what would make or break the counter attack, they had to continue, dive deep into the Killian attack and spread chaos and mayhem before the Killians had a chance to try and pull back and reform. And so the flanking force just kept going, even if it meant leaving groups of Killian infantry still alive behind them, those would be mopped up by the Havenite infantry. While the flanking force attacked the flank, the main force that had been on the defensive got up and attacked the Killians from the front so that the Killians couldn’t just turn tot y to deal with the flank attack. While the attack was going on loudspeakers called for the Killians to surrender telling them that they would be treated well and that the bridges over the Styx had already been destroyed leaving no chance for escape.

In the air, the Killian jets would be engaged before they reached the 3rd panzer. AWAC’s craft and newly built radar sets in Ruska picked up the Killian jets on their way to the battle. Immediately F-121 interceptors were vectored in to intercept them. Dozens of Divinebolt missiles locked onto the Killian jets and fired off. The Killian jets wouldn’t be allowed to interfere with the ground war, not while Haven controlled Ruskas’ skies.

49th’s Shield

“Stolt, take us back a quarter mile.”

The heavy M-88 Badger began moving back, edging away from the Killian screen. The whole attack force began moving backwards, the infantry moved completely back out of the battle while the tanks set up position a little over a half mile away. The Badgers stopped at a half mile, staring right at the Killian screen. Then they opened fire, their massive 155mm main guns belching out simply massive shells. The little under 700 Badgers began targeting the 49th’s armor. The light Wolverines would be torn to shreds by the Badgers main gun fire, even from a half mile, while at the same time the Wolverines tiny 105mm guns would barely scratch the heavy frontal armor of the Badgers. Wolverines were not main battle tanks, they were not designed for this kind of role and the Killians would soon find that out. For 10 minutes the little under 700 Badgers pounded the Wolverines, tearing them up and trying to destroy as many of them as possible.

Cling. Even if the light Wolverine shell didn’t penetrate it still gave Reuben a massive headache every time one struck. “Fucker, target, Wolverine 036, tear him a new one.”

BOOM! Reuben’s Badger lurched back as another shell streaked on to the Killian line. F or 10 minutes they continued like this, simply pounding away at the lighter Killian armor before finally after 10 minutes the call came through over the units ComNet, “All armor units advance by company, light armor follow up, infantry to the rear.” Reuben yelled out, “You heard him Stolt, get us moving.” The Badgers moved forward, charging the now badly weakened Killian line. Right behind the Badgers were the APC’s and IFV’s, they hid behind the Badgers thick hides while firing off some MAT-21 ATGM’s over the Badgers to take out any remaining armor units. The infantry was kept out this time, there was no need to risk their lives.

Reuben could see bulbs of fire erupting on the Killian line, hundreds of heavy 175mm artillery shells were crashing in from 240 KAG guns. The KAGs were doing their best to wipeout as many Killians as they could and make the rest keep down. Reuben let his main gunner take care of any surviving Wolverines with the main gun while he took control of the secondary armaments. The Badger was also equipped with 40mm gun for taking out APC’s and a 20mm gun for clearing out infantry, and Reuben began firing both off. He switched the ammo feeds to the 20mm, so instead of bullets it started spitting out 20mm grenades, and he slowly worked those grenades up and down the infantry filled Killian line. He wasn’t the only one doing it either, the Killian lines were being filled with firepower fro the heavy Badgers, HailandKill was going to be regretting using Wolverines as MBT’s and no the heavier BredtSverds.

To his left Reuben spotted the rest of his armored brigade, the 6th armored. The other 500 Badgers of the 6th along with 100 KAF-90’s from an infantry division came down to attack the Killian flank while Reuben and the main force was bearing down on the Killians from the front. Reuben let out a yell in the confines of his Badger realizing what was happening and continued firing.

The tanks were going to literally run over the Killian line, killing all they could in the process. The IFV’s and APC’s behind the tanks would stop in front of the lines once the tanks were past and just pound any surviving infantry that didn’t surrender while the tanks turned around and did the same from behind. Any Killian armor still alive held first priority. Loudspeakers soon began calling out for the Killians to lay down their arms and surrender telling them that they would be treated fairly.

Battle for Ursuline

The light APC’s and IFV’s did their job, they fought hard but most importantly they lost just like they were supposed to. As they retreated, the Killians followed them right up to the towns outskirts before stopping, the Killians couldn’t have helped out 62nd infantry any more than they did, they played right into the plans of the 62nd. The Killians had just been caught in an ambush. The 62nd’s tanks, which had been placed on each side of the city, waited for the Killians to advance up close to the city, opening up their sides to the tanks. Then, the 100 HMBT’s, 50 on each side, fired. Each tank was zeroed in on a different Wolverine, each Wolverine that was targeted was done for. The heavy guns on the HMBt’s were more than enough to shred the Wolverines to pieces. As the tanks on the flanks opened up, the APC’s and IFV’s that had been fleeing turned around and with 200 more APC’s that had waited in Ursuline they charged back out firing their MAT-21 ATGM’s. From the town itself infantry began firing off their own MAT-21 ATGM’s at the Killian armor. The Killians had to choose between engaging the APC’s and infantry in front of them or the armor to their left and right, even if they turned to meet the armor they would once again learn the hard way that Wolverines were not meant for tank to tank combat.

Ridgeline Battle

The men of the 46th lucked out. The 63rd infantry, which had been the one surrounding the 46th and the ridge they sat on, sluggishly pulled back when word reached them of the massive Killian force coming their way. No one wanted to pull back but they didn’t have much choice, it was that or get destroyed by the Killian rescue mission. They did leave a present for the Killians, they surrounded the Ridge with thousands of mines, anti-personal and anti-armor mines alike were sprinkled all over the landscape. If anyone on the ridge wanted to get off, or anyone from the rescue force wanted to get on, they would have to test their luck in the minefields. While they pulled back, laying mines as they went, they got to witness the biggest show of their lives. Eight Rain fighter bombers made one pass over the ridge, each bomber dropped 12 FAE or napalm bombs that erupted, covering the ridge in a wave of fire. The 46th Killian infantry might have been saved from encirclement but not many would live to enjoy that fact as the ridge became covered in fire. As a sending off gift, a minute after the bombs had struck, 10 batteries of KAG’s from the 63rd division fired 5 volleys each at the ridge and whatever survivors remained on it.

The massive Killian rescue force was avoided, the 63rd infantry met up with the 4th armored brigade fresh from the offensive at Aurillac, and they both continued pulling back, the Killians would be allowed to come further and further away from Aurillac. All the while the Killian force was to be pounded as long as they remained in the open.

60 Rain, five squadrons, covered by two squadrons of Valkyrie’s came out to engage the Killian armor. Haven still controlled the skies over Ruska and until that changed Haven was going to use that to its full advantage. The Rain flew high over the Killian rescue force, GPS cooridinates verifying their position. Each Rain let go of four canisters, the canisters free fell to the ground before bursting open and letting out 10 anti-armor munitions each. Each munition had its own sensors, they detected the heat given off by the vehicles below and locked onto to it, their fins guiding them down right on top of their targets. A total of 2,400 such munitions sped downwards. The munitions were completely silent and painted white to blend in with the sky so that when they struck it would be a complete surprise.

Skies Over Aurillac

After the first Killian jet raid during the retreat from Aurillac that had proved so devastating, the AWAC’s birds over the area had started paying attention to the coast. It proved worthwhile, the flight of Killian jets was picked up, or at least most of it. The top flight of F-22’s showed up brightly and the low flying JSF-35’s also got picked up, but the mid level of fighters remained undetected. Immediately, F-121 interceptor squadrons were vectored in to deal with the new threat. Three squadrons of F-121’s came in to deal with the low threat, rippling off enough Divinebolt missiles to have 3 targeted on each JSF from 150 miles away. Up top another two sqaudrons dealt with the high flying F-22’s putting up 3 Divinebolt missiles for each F-22 while mobile SAM launchers joined in launching their own missiles at the F-22’s from below. All the while the middle layer went untouched, and undetected.


OOC: Obviusly not done yet..but in other news I'm like 200 words short of 33,000 IC words posted on this thread, don't think I've ever written that much in one rp.

Northern Sidi; Jagadan Invasion
"What the hell?" The coastal sensor operators whistled at the sight of at least a hundred fast moving aircraft coming in towards Sidi Rezegh. They looked slightly perplexed as nobody had forewarned them of the fact that there was someone in the vicinity with the ability to even launch so many fighters at once, especially coming from the north. Nevertheless, they were there and the information was already distributed amongst the coastal batteries. The one looking at the screen still shook his head and turned to his partner, "We're in a war. How the hell can they expect to just make a bombing run against a country with some of the most hotly contested real estate in the world."

The other man nodded in agreement and put in his own words, "And how the hell did we miss that fleet?" He was absolutely correct. The only way they couldn't have seen that fleet is if that fleet was still pretty far from the coast - even at four hundred nautical miles the Empire would have engaged it by then. Nonetheless, the aircraft had forewarned them and there would be certain sattelite manueverings overhead to catch the details on the fleet. Regardless, both men were still wide eyes as those aircraft kept moving in; and they saw the missiles...

...the huge Praetorian batteries were quickly pushed to the surface. It was hard to believe that something so big could be hydraulically pushed so fast. The underground chambers which stored the Praetorians were even larger, but that just came with the design principle. The heavy turreted launchers turned to meet the vectoring of the incoming aircraft and seconds later they began to unfurl death. A loud scream was met by an even higher pitched screech, and then left the missile followed by a dark cloud of smoke. Seconds later a second missile left, and in succession until a quarter of the battery was gone. Likewise, batteries dotting the coast began to engage the incoming aircraft with their own missiles. Soon enough, those fighters would find out just how dangerous it was to attempt a raid on the Macabee coast - it seemed as if they had no studied the effects of the Macabee aerial defenses in Ruska. Hundreds of P.746.A surface to air missiles left their holsters and shrieked through the air towards their foe. It would be mere seconds before engagement time. The fact of the matter was that even at sea level flying fighters had to cope with advance warning and combat systems flying overhead keeping a constant look out; and the same principle of the higher the ground the better applied to aerial warfare. Those fighters were mince meat.

The warnings worked two ways. Immediately after the first signs on radar GF11 Archer unmanned aerial vehicles began to fly over the coastlines, fearing land raids and such. Nothing was expected soon but it turned out their expectations were wrong. On the beaches below a five hundred man team quickly disembarked. According to the television feed coming from the Archer flying at around four thousand meters [ca. 13,000 feet] they seemed rather suprised. They were met by no mythical force; no beach defenses. It was simply to difficult to man every single part of the coastline - it was far too large. They would have to fight their way inland, however, as they already had been found. Unfortunately for Jagada, the main invasion force had been found as well - making their way inland - as had their navy in general.

Immediately, first battalion from one of the mechanized divisions in Sidi Rezegh, preparing for their lung into the Gates of Hell, began to redeploy north, with a second battalion kept on alert in Sidi Rezegh as a strategic reserve in case more men were needed. They left north in their alloted SOV-6 infantry fighting vehicles, prepared to engage whatever had just landed on the beaches. Commanded by Lt. Colonel Andrev Feredei they were a strong group of men and they showed no hesitation as the armoured cars bumped along the roads headed north. They had seen war all their lives - death was nothing new to them.

Southwards, nearer the subterranean airfields in Mandalay, sixty GLI-34 Albatrosses began to taxi towards the end of the runway. They were covered in the dark of the underground bunker, but suddenly the huge reinforced concrete doors snapped open allowing a flash of lucid light to illuminate the enormous aircraft. Throtteling the engine the first pilot and co-pilot directed their bird out and soon enough they were followed, allowing the entire three squadrons to readily fly northeast fifteen minutes later. They were armed to the teeth with air to surface missiles, ready to engage those incoming landing craft headed towards the beaches. They never reached even close to the coast. From a range of two hundred kilometers they began to drop their deadly equipment, putting over two hundred and forty air to surface missiles towards those poor, poor landing craft. As the missiles free fell the aircrafts turned around and headed back home after their short mission. All the while, the missiles' boosters kicked off and sent the missile and the high pitched engine south northwards. Soon, the waters north of the coast of the provence of Sidi would flow red.

To the east, Battle Fleet Tango began to leave the extension of Arras. Arras was an inland city, but much like Athens, it had its port on the coast as an extention to the city. Tango was based there, while December was based in Macabea. Macabea was designed to specifically sit in reserve to protect Dienstad, and so Tango was sent for the job of engaging the Jagadan fleet. It seemed as if another naval battle would soon begin....

...the war was only getting bloodier with every passing day.

[OOC: I would also say that this would be four or five days after the beginning of the colonial war. Realistically, it would take that long for your fleet to arrive even close to my country. But, for the RP it doesn't really matter - when I make the history it'll be four or five days later.]

[OOC: I am going to take this in pieces, so bear with me. When I am completely finished I will post a "done" at the bottom.

The Battle For Aurillac

The Havenite ferocity still was shocking to most of the Killian soldiers defending the lines. The Killian soldiers were fighting back with equal amounts of gusto and the amount of small arms fire that was expended in the first part of the battle was enormous; more than had ever been fired in the history of HailandKill. This part of the battle was no different, and each individual soldier was firing off as many 7.62 rounds as there was targets presenting themselves. The Havenite attackers storming through the smoke had waves and waves of bullets coming for them, but yet they came and came. When the Havenites reached the trenches, many Killian infantry had their bayonets already fixed to their rifles and thus, when the Havenites decided to jump in, bayonets came out to meet them. Standard HailandKill practice was to have men crouch in their trenches, and pounce at the enemy that decided to enter their foxhole. This time was no different, and soldiers waited to put their training to use.

When the Havenites entered, all hell broke loose. The sudden influx of soldiers into an already crowded scene caused more confusion that most of the men could comprehend. Many Killian infantry had been able to use their bayonets on the attackers, but the overwhelming numbers of men entering had rendered their bayonets useless; the Killians could not lunge at every target that presented itself, and if they could, another enemy had a free shot and kill. When the Killians realized that the bayonet strategy was not going to work effiectively small arms fire began erupting within the trench itself, and small bands of soldiers formed up to fight the Havenites. These groups of Killians that were forming, were moving from fire fight to fire fight efficiently cutting down the Havenites that were split from their squads, or cut in two. Although the bands of men were doing their number, plent of Killians were being dropped by Havenite small arms rounds.

Private Kelsey Graffe was one of the soldiers in a small roving band. He and his longtime army buddies were firing at any Havenite they saw, and his rifle was making alot of noise for all the rounds it was firing. When Graffe and his buddies had come up against a sizable group of Havenites, grenades were lobbed, effectively cutting down the men to a number that small arms fire could take care of. This scene of close combat small arms fire, and grenade throwing was occuring all through out the trench, with the bands of Killians attempting to defeat the Havenites. The Havenite groups were fighting back as hard as the Killians, causing plenty of Killian men to drop with gunshot wounds and start screaming for their mom.

When the Havenites decided withdrew, many of the Killians were surprised to see the enemy retreating. When Graffe heard the screams of mortars exploding overheard he ducked down into the part of the trench he was in. The small fragments were peppering his helmet, and body, but his adrenaline kept him from feeling the brunt of it. Graffe was ducking when a platoon sergeant yanked him up and threw him towards the machine gun to his left. It's crew was killed, but the gun survived to fire again, and Graffe was manning it, firing large amounts of heavy fire towards the retreating Havenites. Many of the machinegun positions were being remanned as the enemy retreated, and they were adding even more gore and carnage to the bloody battle. The mortars were having slight success, if any, on the men who were in the trenches. The men in the trenches were safely tucked away in the earth, and only the unlucky were getting hit. The mortars started claiming lives when Killian NCO's began to rally their men to rise up and fire. The Killian infantry had rose, while taking nasty losses from mortars, and began to fire at the exposed Havenites.

The tank commanders were having their targets easily presented to them when the Havenite infantry began to enter the trenches. Many Wolverines were firing their guns at any APC's and IFV's that were on the battlefield, while the heavier BredtSverds were concentrating on the Havenite tanks. The roar of tank fire had drown out the small arms fire because of all the shells being fired at the enemy. The overall tank force had been relatively unscathed, because most of the tanks were dug in, and the tank commanders were grateful for that fact when enemy rounds came crashing close by. Through out the battle arrel flashes continued firing at the Havenite armor and light armor and when the Havenite enemy had started to retreat over the open fields, tank machineguns began to fire simultaneously with the main guns. Tanks were throwing more tracers and heavy fire at the retreating enemy than that the whole infantry combined. Indeed the armor was playing a vital role in the battle and defense of Aurillac.

The planes that had made the second strafing run were living to regret it. The Havenite shoulder fired missiles, SAMS, and anti-air pods were creating many small blips on the Killian radars. Pilots knew they could shake smaller, less accurate missiles, but the shear number of missiles coming in was nerve rattling. Nonetheless the pilots began dropping heat flares and chaff to lure off the missiles. Enough counter-measures were deployed to save a few planes, but not the whole group. Missiles came screaming into wings, engines, and anything else that presented itself. Pilots were ejecting, only to fall into Havenite hands, and some pilots chose death by fire that to be captured. The few surviving planes attempted to limp off by firing their afterburners and gaining as much altitude as possible.

2nd Killian Attack/Shield

Attacking into a force larger than yours most often means suicide. The men who crossed the river knew they would eventually lose, but they kept up their fight to stall the Havenite reserve for the main forces at Aurillac. The fighting was ugly, gory, brutal, and any other phrase that could accuratly describe death. Many men were dropping like flies trying to get close to the foxholes, and even though they were advancing, the losses were appaling and crippling. The small arms fire had decreased but it kept up. Many soldiers were still trying to kill as many Havenites as possible, and they were doing that job well; atleast well enough until they died. When the mortars came in, that was it. The men attacking were blown to shreds, and if you did live long enough the sight of your buddies getting blown to a gory mist it would scar you for life. When the mortars started ripping into men, the attack officially ceased. Men turned around and starting running for their lives, tossing down their weapons and any other heavy gear. Wolverine crews were firing to the bitter end, taking down as many tanks and infantry as they could. Their fight was useless, and without troop support they were fucked. The fighting Wolverines were cut into when the troops started to retreat and now tank carcasses were being added to the battlefield. Every man, tank, and IFV was running in retreat. The attack on the flank had created massive casualties for the Killians, and many men on the flank were dead or surrendering. With the flank collapse, everything else fell, like a twisted game of dominoes. The men on the flank followed their retreating buddies, and everyone prayed the sheild held, so they could escape over the river.

The sheild was not holding, and in fact it was probably the worst of all for them. Many soldiers had been blown to pieces by tank and mortar rounds, and the weakness in the line was showing even to the Killians themselves. The Wolverines were trying to fight off the armor advancing, but the enemy's larger shells were murdering them, cutting down their numbers significantly. The combination of armor and men losses was the almost the final straw. However, the last straw for the men on the line was when the men had seen Havenites advance through the murder holes the Killians were putting up. This sight of seeing Havenite after Havenite drop from small arms fire, while they advanced over their own dead had shown the men the Havenites were determined to eradicate them. With most of the Wolverines burning thick smoke, both sides knew that nothing was there to stop the Havenites, and finally, after intense fighting the Killians broke. They broke, and they ran, many faster than they had in their lives. The men on foot could not outrun armor and soon enough scores of men were surrendering to the enemy. Many of the soldiers had tossed down their weapons and waited to be herded up; many men prayed the Havenites would not flat out kill them or cruelly abuse them.

When the retreating men from the attack had made it to the shield, they saw the area overrun with Havenites. The retreating men knew that they could not escape with their lives, so they too began to surrender. Many of them were unarmed as it was and all they had to do was put their hands on their head and kneel. They too waited, and prayed the Havenites were not cruel captors.

The Battle For Urseline

The initial Wolverine attack was not going well. The enemy armor had surprised them and the tanks were tanking murderous losses. The Wolverines were engaging scores of Havenite infantry with their HE rounds, and many buildings were turned to rubble after taking a hit from their 105mm guns. The Wolverines were persisting to take out the infantry, even though they were taking nasty losses. Burnt out hulks began to stain the town, as the enemy armor started to badly damage the attack. The remaining Wolverines headed backwards, to avoid the shots from the flanks. When many of the Killian armor had been moved back safely, they began to peg at infantry firing AT rounds with machinegun fire and HE rounds.

Infantry fighting was faring a little better, but not much. Many of the Killians were taking positions in the towns buildings and firing at the Havenites in the open. Light machine guns were getting set up in certain buildings, and their heavy rounds began to chirp into the already loud fight. Small arms fire was most of the noise, and it was coming from the confusion on the ground. Many Killians were hiding behind rubble piles and popping up to fire. Many ground teams were using supress and flank tactics, pinning the enemy down and moving to fire on their sides. The fighting was also spreading to the buildings as groups of Killians began entering buildings with guns blazing. Grenades were being tossed into windows and groups of Havenites behind walls. The fighting was multi-story fighting as the battle spread throughout the town.

Two, two-hundred, groups of Wolverines along with six hundred men mobilized from the main assault group outside of Urseline. The two teams split off, and headed for the sides of the town where enemy Havenite armor had flanked the first Killian assault. Both teams avoided the city and the fight completely to get to their firing position. The team on the west entered the city and immediatly opened fire on exposed armor and Havenites. The six hundred men spread out and attacked the city guns firing. The men attacking on foot began to set up firing positions in buildings and behind rubble and added their small arms fire to the new fight. The attackers were rippling large amounts of small arms fire at any exposed Havenite. The team on the east did exactly the same thing as the west team, and now both sides were attacking the flanks.

Ridgeline Tango Oh-Six

The advancing armor also saw the fireworks show on the ridge, and it did not slow them down at all. Contrary to the Havenite belief this was not a rescue mission, this was an attack force. The 32,000 men advanced on foot behind the 2,100 tanks even though the napalm put some fear into the men. The bombs dropped surprised the force, and plenty of men and armor were destroyed in those first seconds. The survivors of the strike, which wasn't long, advanced, even though some nasty damage was done. The men continued to the ridge and when the first mines went off, word spread like wildfire and the attack halted, and was circumnavigated. The mines didn't matter to the attack force, and pretty soon engineers were clearing the mines out. Some of the attack force began to dig in near the ridge, while other waited for the mines to be cleared to dig in. Wolverines began prepping for defense firing. The ridge was going to be fortified well.

Forty Minutes After The Havenite Withdrawal

The forces at Aurillac had survived a Havenite attack and many men were now seasoned veterans. A counter attack was being mustered, and the commanders of the Aurillac forces already knew the divisions that were going to counter attack. First, Third, and Eigth Divisions were preparing to make the assault along with First panzer corps. They were alerted as soon as the Havenites withdrew, and many NCO's were being briefed on the attack plan. With all the preparations falling into place the men were being mobilized into SOV-06's and tanks were climbing from their trench positions. The contingency plan was working great, and the generals were counting their blessings that it was working so far. Ammo and grenades were being rationed from depots in Aurillac and soldiers were making the final checks on their gear.

The attack started exactly an hour after the Havenite withdrawal and men and tanks sprang into action. The attack front was covering a fifteen mile front, with each division covering five miles of front. The sixteen hundred Bredtsverds of first panzer spread out over the plains, their heavy treads matting down the ground. Mixed in and behind the Bredtsverds were Wolverines and SOV-06's with men packed. The three divisions were moving across the plains at flank speed, searching out for where the Havenites dug in. The first tanks got the visual, and the tanks stopped. The tanks began to target any armor they saw, and pretty soon sickening amounts of tank rounds were fired in those first minutes. The combined heavy and light armor of three full divisions and a panzer division were putting up alot of rounds at tanks and the foxholes. The combined six thousand tanks were peppering the temporary Havenite lines while the SOV-06's pushed on, their 15mm gattling guns searching for human targets. The IFV's were pushing through the enemy AT rounds, and when they had gotten close to the lines they unloaded. It was scene to see, with many of the men running out of the IFV's straight into enemy fire. Many of the Killians were firing as they ran the fifteen hundred foot distance to the Havenite foxholes. Plenty of the attackers were using the high grass to fire and move, fire and move. Small arms fire joined up with the 15mm gattling gun fire as the Killians advanced through the thicket of hellish fire. Plenty of grenades were being used on the Havenite foxholes and the Killian attackers had full intent to overrun the Havenites.

Private Graffe was one of the men unloaded in the first few minutes, and he ran into hell. Small arms fire was zipping by him and he saw many of his buddies drop with bullet wounds. He was firing as he ran, being led by the same sergeant who threw him on the MG at Aurillac itself. He was running for his life, and paused in a small thicket off grass. He caught his breath and lobbed two grenades at the Havenite foxholes, only twenty feet in front of him. He moved to another thicket and met with nine men from his company; these men fired off a few aimed rounds and ran to the foxholes, and Graffe followed them. With the trenches mere feet in front of him he was firing like mad, trying to kill off as many Havenites as he could. When cleared out the trenches in front of him he jumped into the vacated foxhole and started firing from there.

The same story was occuring all along the front, with massive amounts of men overruning the smaller sized Havenites. Killians were using empty Havenite foxholes against them, and from those foxholes they popped off rounds at the Havenites they saw. While this fight started, the Killian tanks kept on firing on tanks and APC's they saw.

---

On the ridge, many of the men were dug in, and the attack force was doing it's final checks on ammo and gear, making sure everything was distributed evenly. When everything was complete the entire dug-in attack force split into two assigned groups, and one half consisting of sixteen hundred tanks and fifteen thousand men. This force was making the attack into the Havenite side, where the divisions making the attack from Aurillac were attacking. The attack group of sixteen hundred tanks, and fifteen thousand men started on their way to make the attack, but first they had to deal with the Havenite sixth armor advancing on the ridge. Many of the men attack were on foot behind the tanks, moving along in division and company size formations. The tanks picked up the Havenite armor, and the attack force halted, with the men behind the tanks taking immediate cover on the plains, or behind a tank. The first roar of tank fire nearly deafened all the men outside the tanks, because indeed the combined fire was loud to an unprotected ear. The Bredtsverd 120mm ETC cannons were firing rounds as fast as possible, with each Havenite tank being targeted by atleast three tanks. While the tanks were firing their rounds like mad, the men waited for any infantry they could gain sight of. If any infantry had presented themselves, they were targeted by small arms and met with a hail of rounds. The attacking force fired at the advancing Havenites, and waited for close quaters combat to ensue.

Skies Over Aurillac

The F-22's flying high altitude ran into a snag as they furiously searched for the Haven AWACS. The Havenites were expected, but not in such great numbers, and these pilots, mainly veterans from Targul Frumos planned on a dogfight. The pilots began to fire off heat flares and chaff in large quantities to distract the Havenite missiles, but the formation was still cut down. The rest of pilots jinked the missiles off of them with last second turns, and loops, and then prepared for their attack. The Killian F-22's cut their speed to let the Havenite aircraft overtake them and did a low speed loop-de-loop, jumping on the tops and rear of the Havenite F-121's. While in the superior position the pilots opened fire with their autocannons in close range. When the F-121's that were still speeding ahead of them left cannon range, scores of AAM missiles were fired at them.

The JSF's were jumped, and they took a beating. Scores of planes were downed immediatly, but the JSF pilots ignored the losses and continued to their bombing targets. The pilots hit the accelerator to full throttle to try and outrun the Havenite aircraft. Any surviving pilot that successfully outrunned the Havenites continued to their bombing runs.

[OOC: Done. Kinda eh, but I honestly did try.]

Havenite Controlled Pre-War Macabee-Havenite Border
The white Tango et Kartuma model X8 slowly made its way through the terribly long line of cars. They were all war refugees, escaping from the pains of living in territory infested by Havenite army personnel. In other words, escaping crime, the constant threat of artillery bombardments, rape, amongst other small thins; they would most likely return after the war, but most knew that this war was no ordinary brushfire conflict. Within the X8 was a bearded man, heavy built, with his wife in the copilots seat and what seemed like two teenage sons in the back. The entire family was silent, but so were the others. It was a solemn idea to leave one's country to a country that had so wronged them, but with the current case it was the necessary path. It had taken an hour to make even close to the border stations, where Havenite military police were checking documentations and cars. It was all very slow, with the Havenite guard keeping a very tight control of what came into their country - namely, making sure there was nothing illegal. The bearded man rolled his yes and slammed his clenched fist into the driving wheel and barked, "Damn it!"

His wife turned to look at him and she soothed him, "Don't worry Leoniech, we'll be over the border soon where we can forget about the war." She shook her head and looked back out the window.

Leoniech didn't mutter another word until his car was right up to the booth and the Havenite soldier asked for his passport and other identification. He provided them and the soldier asked for the same from the rest of the family. It was all provided. Leoniech Carither, 49; Amma Carither, 43; Leoniech Carither II, 17; Dunover Cartiher, 19. The guard passed them back the documentation and asked politely, "Step out of the car." The family did as they were told and gathered up in front of the X8. The guard motioned for his team to run over to the area and start the routine check. First they opened the truck, and upon seeing a stack of luggage and papers they took everything out until they hit what looked like the bottom of the truck. Lifting that they saw the spare tire and then put the fake carpet flooring back over it, apparently satisfied that the X8 looked like every other truck of every other car. They continued searching through the car, but found nothing important except ten thousand Reichmarks in a metallic briefcase. The guard whipped his head around and barked, "What is this?"

Leoniech responded in kind, "What do you expect my family to live off? I am a wealthy man, but there is no way I will reach my bank accounts in the middle of this war if I'm trying to reach them from your country." The soldier found his argument persuasive enough, nodding and putting the briefcase back in its spot. Nodding some more he said, "Load everything back up in your trunk. You're good to go."

Leoniech muttered some words of dissaproval and put his family back in the car. He made his way to the trunk and began to load everything that had been undone. First he took a look at the carpet and took a look at the tire and he smiled. Then he put the carpet back in its spot and everything on top of it. Closing it he made his way to the driver's seat, started the car, and sped off into Haven; they were home free. They were expecting a seven day drive to the capital city of the country, Haven; but they had everything they needed. Ten thousand Reichmarks, a 12.7mm sniper rifle inside the fake spare tire, a baggy pair of jeans filled with rounded grenades, and a folding rocket propelled grenade launcher. Leonich turned, "Amma, IINSA is going to enjoy this."

They were IINSA employees. Agents destined to be government sponsored terrorists. They were to be the first crossing the border. Within the time it took them to prepare for the strike thirty-four similar teams would have already infiltrated the border headed for the same location. Their task was to take the war to Haven's home and show them how terribly cost innefficient this war to them would really be. But they weren't the only part of the operation...

... somewhere two hundred nautical miles off the coast of Haven an ELINT submarine carved out from the inside was carrying six GF11 Archer UAVs. They would be picked up by an extremely well paid truck company that normally supplied New Empire equipment to the Havenite army. Instead, they would work as mercenaries, taking it to what would soon be a command post in the mountains outiside of Haven the city. In short, there would be a sort of miniwar within Haven, that Haven would have to contend with soon enough. In the end, it would tear up their logistics and provide a behind the lines resistance to the Havenite armed forces, impairing them when the expected counter-attack at the River Styx began. Within the next two months enough armament would seep into Haven, through the waterbound sieve, that it would seem as if the entire Macabee army had someone transplanted itself within the country.

Other than that, some three hundred to four hundred agents would be operating within the country, some already there for the past ten years, to look for potential greviences against the government. It was to say, they would attempt to begin a revolution which would turn around the situation in Haven and allow for a quick hammering blow into the country from the River Styx. In short, they would do everything possible to make it easier for the frontline men by inspiring fear within the population and through persuasion in order to instill a spirit of revolution. It would all cost millions, and there was a chance of failure. The IINSA mission in Guffingford was an utter disaster, with the entire team found dead, and it was hoped that IINSA could preform somewhat better inside their southern neighbors. There was a lot of trust factor going into the operations.

The claims presented by the Macabean administration are nothing but blatant lies and propaganda. We see these accusations as an aggressive attempt to justify the imperialistic actions of the Macabees towards the peace loving people of Zarbia.

The demands included with the ultimatum are ridiculous and will never be accepted. With luck, the headstrong leaders of Macabea will come to their senses and halt their foolish drive for power.

Signed,
General Armando Cortazar

*****

Although conflict with the Macabees was not certain, the Junta would not take any chances. The Sarcanzan panhandle had caused border tensions in the past but never before had it amounted to anything serious. A clash between both Zarbian and Macabean forces was now imminent, the kettle had finally boiled over, spilling the horrors of war over to drown Imperial Armies. While there were troops stationed around the border separating Zarbia from her neighbors, there were simply not enough to halt any major offensive presented. Adequate defenses were not present to protect against the western war machine or Guffingford, staunch ally of the Macabees and potential enemy in the ensuing battle.

Quick to recognize the Guffingford problem, diplomacy was given yet another try. A small, simple telegram, lacking the formality of usual messages, but diving straight for the point, was all that stood between a two front battle, something Zarbia could not risk.

*****

TO: Hoogenbosch, Guffingford
FROM: Cidade de Prata, Zarbia

As we all well know, the current mood in Imperial Armies is uneasy at best, due to political confusions and other tensions. We would like to calm the minds of both the Guffingfordii (?) administration and people by assuring them that no military action will be taken against the nation of Guffingford as long as the same courtesy is returned to Zarbia.

Signed,
Felicio de Oliveira
Minister of Foreign Affairs

OOC: I know its not an amazing post but I've been busy all day and just wanted to get this shit rollin'. Let's have an awesome rp, alright?

From the Ministry of State

The parliament of Guffingford has decreed that an absolute state of neutrality persists between both respectable nations of The Hanseatic League of Guffingford and Military Junta of Zarbia. However, we cannot stress this enough: if Zarbia is forced to go to war with The Macabees than Guffingford cannot uphold its neutrality any longer. This is a one time guarantee; should any attack in any shape occur, then a declaration of war shall be delivered to the Zarbian governing body the same day.

Guffingford is obligated through various treaties to aid The Macabees (and vice versa) in the event of a direct attack whether it be offensive or defensive. There's no hidden clause in these treaty to go around or escape this. We warn Zarbia not to go ahead of themselves, and not to provoke The Macabees. The situation in Imperial Armies as it is right now, already very volative. Must we remind you the already ongoing tensions between Guffingford and the Royal Navy of Stevid? Rethink your actions carefully.

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/guffingford.jpg

[SIGNED] Maximillian Kalba,
Head of State to the Hanseatic League of Guffingford

OOC: Zarb, I think a seperate thread for the Guffingford-Zarbia front would be best.

Skies Over The Golden Throne

The jet-black plane flew slow and low over the wartorn country, and all of its systems were shut down; this plane was being flown manually, and with great care to stay off all enemy radar. The plane, built for special infiltration, had its IR supressants working furiously, and the lack of right angles was a blessing. The plane had a special cargo, the president of HailandKill, and the destination was Fedala, for a conference of sorts with Fedor the first. The plane approached Fedala slowly, and only when ten miles out transmitted "This is Seahawk one, approaching Fedalan airspace. We request permission to land". When the Fedalan tower gave permission to land, the plane came down slowly and gently. The plane hit the tarmac and immediatly slowed. When the plane was in a full stop, the president de-boarded and headed for the truck waiting for him. He entered and waited for the truck to head to its destination.

The sole Macabee diplomatic attaché in Zarb [City] watched as the triple team of Zarbian diplomats walked into his enameled office. He was unperturbed and failed to give the slightest hint of being nervous, quite proper to his character, and he ever so slowly opened his mouth to greet the entourage of personnel, "Please, take a seat. I would offer you some coffee or tea but I fear that there is not much time for petty conversations.'

One of the Zarbians waved it all off and retorted, "Just give us what you were told to give. Perhaps, one day, we will see each other at peace again. Hopefully, it will be one where your capital is not crushed under the heel of Zarbian military might."

The Macabee man gave a short laugh and responded, "Yes, well, only fate will tell in the end, no?" He reached for his briefcase and laid it on the oak table to his forefront and flipped the locks open. He snatched out six sheets of white paper and gave to each man in front of him two. He finished the conversation with, "I assure you that by the time you're done reading this document I will be long gone. Hopefully, Zarbia has a bit of etiquette left in its politics and will allow my staff to leave your country unharmed. If not, oh God, do I pray on the souls of your people."

He closed the briefcase, stood up, adjusted his tie, and left the room. Two guards standing outside promptly closed it, without locking the door, and the one diplomat stopped in his footsteps to hear, with quite a bit pleasure, "Dear God, they had declared war."[/i] With that, the attaché continued striding down the hallway and then to the elevator. This latter machine took him to the roof of the embassy, where a civilian helicopter was already spinning its rotors. The Zarbian air control had already been warned of several helicopter flights from the embassy to the international airport, where a Macabee jet passenger airliner would be waiting for the diplomat and ninety-nine other officials. The guards would stay in the embassy until the end, and they would surrender; hopefully, the Zarbians would give them safe passage to the Macabee frontlines - if not, they would end up in a prisoner camp ... or worse yet, executed.

But to them the horror of that would not even be one-tenth of the horror experienced by the three Zarbians in the man's office, and then the horror expressed by the Zarbian administration, and finally, the horror which would have to be endured by those poor Zarbian personnel guarding the frontiers. We do not have to visit a madhouse to find disordered minds; our planet is the mental institution of the universe. - Johann von Goethe

Declaration of War to Zarbian Government
Exactly forty-eight hours ago an ultimatum was issued to the Zarbian government, where upon the Golden Throne presented the Zarbians with quite enticing, and should we mention fit for the crime, guidelines to devolve Zarbia back into the state of neutrality. These included the cession of Zarbian Sarcanza to the Empire, and the complete halt on Zarbian and Havenite supplies flowing into Imperial Sarcanza. Unfortunately, the Zarbian administration has flung our ultimate back into our faces, establishing it as 'blatant lies and propaganda'. We will not, for one minute, allow for such a barefaced insult! For years, even under the reign of my grandfather, I have witnessed a constant and devoted attempt to undermine Imperial power in Sarcanza. For once, the Empire is threatened by multiple foes and characteristically Zarbia takes the chance to capitalize on the situation. I, Fedor I, will not stand for such diatribe - not now, not ever. Not only have you refused the words of the King of kings, but you have spent your forty-eight hours latent in your luxurious palaces.

So, let this be the historic day in which the Empire finally unsheathes its sword against an enemy so vile, so evil, and so Machiavellian. I, Fedor I, speaking for my Empire, declare unconditional war on the Military Junta of Zarbia. May finally the sword of Arádia, ancient god of war, strike down upon those that seek harm over the holiest of all Empires. And should his goal seem elusive, may the forsaken find the path, for no goal can escape for too long. With the help of the immortals, no matter the sin I have cast over myself for claiming the vigilance of multiple deities in the face of the sold God, my grandfather and I have struck down foe after foe, unperturbed by resisting forces. It is now your turn, Zarbia, to feel the martial brawn of the Golden Throne.

Cower. Bend. Cry for your mercy. It shall not be given. You have pulled a string too many; walked too far across that intangible line. And finally, to offer you some sort of consolidation, in advance of your pending debâcle - although, rather inversely quoted - for those about to fight, I salute you. May God be on your side and not mine, for only his force will be able to put an end to my rampage.

Fedor I
http://www.nationmaster.com/wikimir/images/upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/f/f5/180px-Emperor_charles_v.png

Battle of Targul Frumos
Grand Admiral von Laifsraggen peered through the photonic telescope on the bridge of his Zealous, as he witnessed the retreat of three Havenite fleets. He pondered to himself his next moves. News from November was not good and they had received quite the pummeling, but the Havenite fleets were sure to move to the East, right into the Bay of Madrasa. He could either support November, and thus make sure that his rear is secured, or he could finish off three Havenite fleets once and for all. It would take some witty manuevering, and if November did not smart up in the coming days then it all could very well turn into an enormous debâcle; something the Empire could ill afford, especially after such blatant propaganda, already exclaiming Targul Frumos as the first victory over the Havenite invaders. Laifsraggen continued to stare into the contraption and then he backed away and turned to his executive officer, "Order all officers of all capital ships to the mess hall within forty-five minutes. The future of these waters rely on punctuality."

The XO snapped to attention, saluted and responded briskly, "Yes admiral!" With that, he turned as well and began heading to the radio room where he would order for a satellite transmission to be sent immediately to all sorrounding capital ships. The smaller shipping would receive their orders through a satellite transmission fax later - small time captains were not given priority for the drawing of battle plans.

South of the now calm seas of the Bay of Targul Frumos, November emerged wrecked from what had been a very hard attack on the fleet from the Fourth Havenic Fleet. The response on the earlier strike was ferocious and it had come from both the air and the sea, but like always, November was ready. Nonetheless, November was loosing the battle and if it continued the way it was the only plausible outcome was a complete Havenite victory, although rather pyrrhic. The loss of sixth of the main Macabee kriermada was inconceivable, and it would take years to rebuild the lost shipping - even at the rate Kriegzimmer was manufacturing at, having thousands upon thousands of square kilometers of factories in foreign territory. But the admiral of November, Admiral Dier Ferst, was no fool. He too immediately called a council of war within November, hoping to settle the battle for Targul Frumos once and for all. He was under no veil that it would take hard work and much blood, but he was certain that victory could only be reserved for the Empire. A loss of the seas would be the loss of Ruska, and possibly the War of Golden Succession. Ferst made his way to his cabin where he had a stock of maps, and then with these he quickly walked to the officer's mess room where he would explain the sequence of events for the upcoming days.

Beforehand, he had witnessed the destruction of at least two-thirds of his smaller shipping. The fight had been atrocious, with a wall of surface to air missiles meeting foe and clashing in the dark skies, while the chainguns that made the Conhort close-in weapon systems sputtered. The defense had been textbook, just how most naval officers had expected it. There was a certain lack of originality in Macabee naval tactics, most of focusing in on missile defense systems and missile offensive systems. But, alas, as Targul Frumos was showing, the victory belonged to that who could call on the most resources; the only reason those three fleets were leaving the area was because November had cut off their supply routes. In that form November had done its job, but now, it was loosing. Things were going to get tricky, but to this very hour Ferst was scheeming with Laifsraggen over the continuation of the battle.

In November, Ferst met with his officers and greeted each one of them - they all had a solemn facial expression - and he put the maps over the center table top and provided the ice breaker, "Battle damage report?"

One of the captains spoke up, "First and second tier of defense suffered the heaviest, while the third tier suffered quite a bit as well. There are twenty-two Mansteins, eleven Seydlitz, eight Clauswitz, twenty-nine Azores, and sixteen other assorted ships assured as sunk. Ergo, there are thirty-two ships left capable of perimeter defense, while about a fourth of those are suffering from major to minor damage. In terms of capital shipping, we have suffered minor damage on a Raus and major damage on an Invicible, after the previous attack scored some hits, and this one got a few stray shots. All in all, the future of November seems rather grim."

Ferst thought for a second and then took another good look at the map. He paused and then resumed, "Certainly. Thank you captain." The captain nodded and backed away, allowing Ferst to press on, "Night is conquering day. The moon has been reported to be as a quarter moon to almost no moon, meaning there will be little visible light. I have already ordered the captains of our surviving ships to bring in the third tier as close as possible to the capital ships; said manuever should be completed within ten minutes, allowing them a full three-quarters of an hour to finish the task. That said, November will be bearing north-northwest within three hours, to a position about fifty nautical miles south of Romeo, which is going to proceed East, after the retreating Havenite fleets. It is unknown how the fourth Havenite fleet will react. Either way, both Laifsraggen and myself believe that we can turn this battle into something rather indescicive to a complete and utter victory over the enemy maritime power. It is to say, the Empire will rule the seas in this particular part of the world."

Another captain spoke up, "I can assume that Romeo is going to try to bottle up the three Havenite fleets in the Bay of Madrasa?"

Ferst nodded and responded, "Indeed."

The captain then followed up with, "And if the fourth Havenite fleet bottles them up as well? It will seem like a seaborne reenactment of Alesia."

Ferst shook his head, "Remember captain, we are not out of the fight yet. Haven and her admirals have a tough choice. Either November, or Romeo, but they cannot have both."

The other captains didn't seem to have any more commentary and so Ferst polished the planning with his captains and then dismissed them. There wasn't much risk in what he planning to do. Either he stayed put and died, or he would attempt to outsmart his opponent. The latter seemed like the more lucrative idea. He waited for the three hours to pass, and when time came he put on his admiral's cap and prepared for the defining moments of Targul Frumos, the first and largest naval battle in the war to date.

Under the cover of darkness it would be impossible for the enemy to achieve visualization of November, and even then, the smaller ships, including the surviving ASW/ASuS perimeter, were already pouring out a thick black screen of smoke to cap the entire approaches of November to any direction in which the fourth Havenite fleet faced. The thick smoke would mask radar and most types of light or laser detection and ranging, while infra-red detectors would not have the range regardless. Using the smoke screen the capital ships began to bear north-northwest, as ordered, at twenty-eight knots. The smaller ships followed closed behind, keeping up an active rear guard against any attempts to penetrate the defenses while the fleet was on the move. All the while, the rear guns of the Zealous and of the Argentine, two massive ships, were using small radar-transparent GF-11 Archer unmanned aerial vehicles to pound the fourth fleet throughout the manuevering. In essense, the very next day Haven would find that its elusive foe was gone, and that so were a few of its ships. The waves rippled around November as the boom of a cannons continued into the night. It was time to turn the battle into a pure naval battle; one which would test the wits of all relevant commanders.

Meanwhile, on Romeo Laifsraggen was already speaking to his captains, "...will more south-southeast. The three Havenite fleets are bottling themselves up in the Bay of Madrasa, who's only outlet is not controlled by November. However, November will soon be west of us, meaning that unless we don't hurry the three fleets will find their outlet empty of our shipping. We cannot allow those three fleets to escape. Should they be destroyed we have effectively neutralized Haven's maritime threat and we can focus our navy in the eastern approaches to Imperial Armies, harassing the Hitmen armada, and to fully blockade the Havenic coastline. To this effect I have decided to further the specialization of this fleet and we will no longer be using the standard tactic in this battle. The thirty Mansteins, and fifteen Seydlitz with an equal number of Clauswitz, will be cut up into squadrons of equal numbers each. We will not cower behind our missiles; we will destroy the Havenite fleet where it stands."

Some men gulped and one brave man stood in outright defiance, "We have never done such a thing. What makes you think it can pull off a victory now? Our defensive nature at sea has saved us countless times!"

Laifsraggen laughed, "Our fleet has only been battletested twice; the first against an idiot, commanded by myself, and the second, again commanded by me, against a far inferior foe. No naval battle in the history of mankind has been won through defense. Six Spanish armadas were destroyed by offensive sweeps; I will not stand opposed to a doctrine developed by the greatest admirals in history, Drake and Tromp. Victory will be ours."

And again, his word was gold, and the captains broke and returned to this ships to carry out the orders discussed. With the Azores in the lead, testing the waters with their equipment and MIDAS, they would destroy the Havenite mind field little by little, while the three fleets retreated further and further into the bay they were headed into. From there, Romeo would fully blockade the entrance/exit of the bay and hopefully destroy the three fleets, or at least force them to surrender. All the while, the mainland teemed with activity as aircraft prepared for flights into the Bay of Madrasa, where they would pummel the three fleets into submission.

Even now, the Elusive class Battleships, the sole Zealous class SuperDreadnought and the sole Argentine class Galleon were putting lead into the enemy's hearts. The Elusives were focusing on the minelaying ships, putting salvo after salvo into their small crafts, while the Super Dreadnought focused on the larger capital ships making a run for it. The Argentine, of course, began to aid the Killians in their own defense, showering the three enemy Argentines with withering fire. Hopefully, the spirit of fight in Haven would peter out sooner than later. But, nonetheless, Targul Frumos was finally coming to a close as most thought...

Battle of Mosnoi Bor [and the Air War]
The battle had intensified, both on the ground and in the air. The fact remained that no war could be won by air offensives soly, however, that did not mean that the aerial offensives undertaken by Haven were not in any way ferocious, because indeed they were. In fact, the months of aerial campaign over Ruska had probably claimed more lives than the ground war and the war at sea combined. There was no question that Haven was getting smarter in its operations; the fact manifested itself on the battlefield. However, so was the Empire, and engineers for the past two months had toiled over a brand new design. There was no hope that this new design would be fielded in enough numbers to make a huge impact before two years, but the prototypes were to get first hand combat over Ruska. These were the Lu-27 Condors. They were the most state of the art aircraft in the world, and proven to be so, and the only aircraft to come close to hypermanueverability while moving at hypersonic velocities. It was to say, they could enter a battlezone and leave without the enemy being able to respond in time. Unfortunately, as said before, there weren't sufficient numbers of them to turn the tide, but the propaganda and psychological values of the Condors were immense. Therefore, a single squadron of the third prototype of the Lu-27 were sent to Fedala. Through the grace of God they would see combat the day of the huge Havenite raid.

For all the stealth that Haven had so 'sold' on their aircraft, the external hardpoints loaded with rocket pod launchers would ensure that whatever aircraft carried them would show up like christmas lights on a radar screen. In fact, it was one the major reasons why Kriegzimmer had decreased payload, getting rid of the external hardpoints - the decrease in radar cross section was worth it. But that was irrelevent; what was relevant was that an entire squadron of EB-9 heavy bombers and some sort of low flying strike fighter raid formation were raging towards positions north of the River Styx. The Praetorian II mobile batteries were mostly within the cities and villages, their signatures concealed a bit, but there was no doubt that Haven knew were most were. Just as well, the twenty-four hours of aerial respite had also allowed them to build some impromptu Praetorian batteries throughout the river's front and behind; the standard surface to air missile battery could be put up in four hours. And behind these, the twelve Condors were already in the air, along with what would be a massive aerial defensive operation undertaken by the Laerihans [air force] to finally prepare the air for what would be the definative ground operation that hopefully would finally give the initiative to the Empire. The other aircraft would have to hit after the Havenite raid; the Condors would hit before.

The pilots of the aircraft did little talking as their ramjet-turbofan engines burned blue at the velocities they were turning. Indeed, the blisks were having a hard time keeping up with the rotations required, but they weren't meant to last multiple flights; the blisks would most likely have to be replaced after a second flight, and since this was a prototype, probably after the first flight. Squeezing every drop of fuel they had the Condors continued chugging at Mach 5, speeding towards the high flying squadron of EB-9s. They entered Havenite controlled airspace within seconds, and seconds later they were about seventy-five kilometers from their targets. Suddenly, from their internal hardpoints, they released a total of twenty-four AAM.176 air to air missiles. Just like their surface to air missile counterparts they were designed purely as hit-to-kill, or in other words, they wouldn't rely on blast fragmentation as much as they would simply plough headlong into an enemy aircraft, which made them especially dangerous to lumbering targets. With that said, the Lu-27 Condors each mechanically shifted their nose canards and peeled off, making a wide one hundred and eighty degree turn around to head back home. Their pilots would receive a full twenty-four leave; no man could endure such flight for a long time, not even in their austronaught designed G-suits - it was simply inhuman. Nonetheless, they would leave an impression on the Havenites that would shock the home front.

As if to add insult over injury one of the missiles was inscripted with, 'See this? This means not welcomed'.

But, alas, like always some of the EB-9s survived and their vengeance was sweet. What they dropped were Kh-97E Kraven air to surface missiles. Told by their vendor to be some of the best anti-surface to air missile batteries in existance, able to engage even those moving. However, the truth behind them was much more bleak, for they held no real advantage over a standard anti-radiation missile. Regardless, they would so quite some damage. Beforehand, though, the skies blazed up as the usual smoke signature of surface to air missiles trained the actual missile into the darkening skies. The Praetorian IIs continued to fire their P.746.B low altitude missiles at incoming low flying aircraft, meaning anything between ten meters and forty-five thousand meters of altitude - they would pair up, three per aircraft, two per missile. The bombers were met by withering fire manifested into two P.746.A high altitude, long range surface to air missiles. The 'massive' Havenite aerial offensive would not have as much fun as it originally planned to have. Even as their offensive airpower was pounded back over the River Styx, their advance warning and airborne control system aircraft had been targetted as well by the resurgent power of fixed surface to air missile batteries, pouring their P.746.A surface to air missiles at them. Havenite fighters were targetted as well. As the common refran went, 'no stone was left unturned'.

All the while, some of the missiles fired by the enemy were pounding ground installations, including some of the new Praetorian batteries and some of the Praetorian II vehicles. The skies lit up with the bulbs of bright explosions, supplemented by the streaks of light following the CAPMES rounds fired from low and high calibre guns, pounding the skies into submission. Thousands upon thousands of anti-air artillery guns made sure the skies were hell for Havenite aircraft - both low flying and high flying. Haven would be shown who ruled the skies tonight, anything that tried to fly behind the River Styx and thought it could make it was terribly wrong. Northern Ruska was probably the most defended area in the world at that point, with already two months of battle witnessed within its geographical borders.

South of that, the battle for the river crossing over the Styx had intensified with a showering of rockets on Macabee defensive positions. Havenite armour had begun to engage targets at long range and it was very likely that their tanks were superior to the Pzkmpf. XIs. The country didn't have enough time to replace all BredtSverts with Cougars, but at least three fourths of the tanks were the newer Arca. I Ausfva. As, chosen over their partners the Ausfva. Bs for their larger guns, even though rumours had it that an Ausfva. [variant] C was already on the way in manufacturing. Captain Versutis Cernt was in such a tank but he was told to stay put while the infantry continued to move up to reinforce those that had died. The landings would be opposed every step of the way by packs of infantry using Tagus anti-tank missiles to hunt down infantry fighting vehicles. But soon the infantry would become rather superflous as well. As soon as the ground began to shake...

From behind a smoke screen the nineteen meter high superdreadnought of the land emerged as a conqueror. Its massive 380mm gun, a full fifteen meters long, held by titanium suspension and swiveled on electromagnetic. Suddenly, it shuddered as a huge sabot escaped from the muzzle at ungodly velocities and shattered right through the lower glacis armour of a Havenite main battle tank. The newer Cougars began to huddle around it, protecting it with all their might, while self-propelled anti-air artillery guns had set up heavily around it to protect it from overhead bombs and Praetorian IIs from long range threats. The Cougars took care of the IFVs from a distance, and even engaged some of the enemy tanks with their absolutely massive 140mm electro-thermal chemical guns with the added power of an internal coil. They were far superior to anything that was produced by New Empire, and the Morrigan ultra heavy battle tank continued to pummel at artillery and tanks across the river.

Behind them more tanks and infantry prepared themselves for a final push to throw the Havenites back across the River Styx, but that would have to wait a few more hours until everything was set up just right. If plans did not go awry then the Battle of Mosnoi Bor would end in days and Haven would be in a fight for its life...

[OOC: Yea, yea, yea, I got lazy at the end.]

Battle of the River Nestor
The young rebel platoon commander silently crawled through the brush until he opened a gap in the last bush, revealing the emplacements of an entire Imperial armoured squad. He turned his head and motioned for one of his anti-tankers to come up, and the other man did as ordered, placing the mouth of the grenade launcher right through the gap and placing his right eye on the sights. The commander then retracted his arm and patted the gunner on the back of his shoulder. The gunner grimly looked at his prey and then armed the rocket using a small blue button on the computer panel of the old Soviat rocket propelled grenade design. The commander, turned around, waited for the shriek of the rocket, but it never came. Instead, he heard a shriek, and then an explosion, which would claim the lives of his entire platoon. Indeed, two high explosive shells were immediately lobbed into the general area, ending what was in fact three days of lull in the battle for the Nestor. For what had been twenty days of battle abouts, only around eleven could actually be called as such. Fedor did not want to anticipate rebel moves and so held his grand counter-attack at bay while he studied their offensives a bit more, and Bietz did not want to lose his men in a stupid offensive towards Fedala. To this end he had even cancelled the attack on Dzamiin, deciding to just focus all his efforts on destroying the Imperial army which blocked his path to Fedala. When this army was gone he would have free reign on eastern Fedala, and more likely than not, Fedor and his Empire would crumble.

But he had not foreshadowed such a stiff defense; the army he met on the banks of the River Nestor was not the same as the one he had crushed at the First Battle of Mons Dei. Indeed, his dreams were being shattered in the face of superior commanding on the part of Fedor, and superior personnel in almost every respect. Not even the zeal his men had could serve them for a higher purpose in the face of the resistance put up by the Imperials. Bietz, in short, had been bested and he would be hardput to reverse this setback.

He had twenty thousand men to pressure the Imperial right flank, hoping to bend it backwards over a good days worth of fighting. The task was to begin the day's offensive with a suprise strike on the armour, but that had failed for the most part. The battle at the right flank became more of a quagmire more than what was invisioned earlier. The entire battle soon turned into the same, with the majority of the rebel army pitted to break the defense of the Imperials. Even the armour which they had savoured was put into battle, and then destroyed by newer Imperial models. The army they had met at Mons Dei was gone - they were fighting the creme de la crop. Bietz had begun to believe that God had not meant for this rebellion to turn out victorious, and he began to grow reservations of his ability to continue the campaign.

The offensive continued well into the twenty-first and twenty-second days, however, as Weigar had pressured Bietz to use every last gasp of strength he could conjur. But it was to no avail; the Imperial defense was merely too strong. Bietz fell back as he heard the shrill shriek of artillery pounding his lines, and vice versa. The Laerihans, thank God, had not been particularly active along the rebel front, putting most of their strength to deal with pentrations along the River Styx and the soon to come Zarbian offensive. Even considering that, it made his eventual defeat all the more obvious; Fedor did not regard the rebels as a large threat, he could tell. The empire's armies were turning elsewhere - Bietz was a joke. The Weigari general began to think that it would have been best to never begin this mess. Soon enough the War of Golden Succession would be one fought by international powers, not national rebellions. If Weigar failed so would Sarcanza. The only chance Weigar had was if the River Styx was broken and Fedala fell to Havenite armies; even then, potential independence was iffy - Fedor would not stop if Fedala was captured. He would only end his fight for his throne when he was killed.

Bietz rose from his chair and took a seat at the wooden desk in the middle of his command tent. Licking his papers he took another slip and placed it on his desk. Grabbing for a pen he then began to write, beginning with 'Regretfully, the Nestor is not ours, and for such a defeat I can only consolidate whatever honor I have left by introducing the application for resignation from the Weigari Army, and hopefully being demoted and sent to fight with the rest of the men, on the front lines. It is obvious that I no longer have the gusto and abilities to command a field army to victory. I have let down my people.'

Elsewhere, Fedor was looking over the command man and explaining the next day's counterattacks to finally destroy Bietz' and his men. But then another man took his attention away. Fedor turned to meet the new figure and smiled, greeting him with, "Ah, President Revello, so nice to finally meet the face behind the man."

The Killian president gave his own greeting, in Dienstadi of course, and Fedor continued, "You are about to witness the planning of the most glorious victory in the Empire's history. Beginning tomorrow Fedala has been free of rebel scum and soon enough we will cross the Styx back into Weigari territory. At the rate we have established, the city of Weigar should be back into full control by the end of this month." He paused to recollect his thoughts and then went on, "So, how fares your battle at Mons Dei?"

The victors had finally met.

Fedala Internachnal

FEDALA, the Empire - The sound of rebel artillery and gunfire whines down tonight after twenty days of not so constant combat (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=439156) on the banks of the River Nestor. General reports released by the administration seem to be rather positive on the outcome of the battle, and Hailandkill, the principal ally in our war of succession, has hinted at the same form of success at Mons Dei. In the light of these fast forming victories His Imperial Majesty, Fedor I, has released an official decree which outlines the steps and policies of the Empire within the context of prisoners of war of rebel descent. In a very general overview the decree is rather laxing in the amount of harsh measures that some were expecting. In fact, the impression which the decree gave within Fedala was largely negative. Most people have continued to reiterate their contempt for the rebels and have called on Fedor to instate harsher forms of punishment. To date, Fedor has outright denied them.

Specifically, Fedor has declared that all rebels that surrender at the River Nestor or Mons Dei to personnel of the Empire will be imprisoned for the duration of the war with Weigar; in other words, until Weigar surrenders it's attempt at sovereignty to Fedala. Upon said surrender they have been promised their immediate return to Weigar as ordinary civilians. For rebel soldiers that fail to surrender before the end of the Battle of the River Nestor, they will be imprisoned for a full five years post-bellum for reconstruction duties throughout Weigar, and then released. For rebel personnel who do not surrender willingly within the time specified for amnesty for a given battle, or five days from the beginning of engagement onward, the punishment will be a lot harsher. The imprisonment in that case is stated to last for ten years for recontruction throughout the Empire. In no case is there chance for prior release.

In the face of a lack of international treaty which specifies the rightful treatment of prisoners, Fedor has promised that all those prisoners of war under Imperial command will be treated as standard criminals, with three meals a day, showering, and clean clothing, amongst other things. In other words, the men will be treated as humanely as possible.

Many liberals, including rebellious nobility, have casted said decree as fully propaganda, pointing towards the Empire's law, which legalizes all types of torture, except extreme physical torture. Rebel commanders have flung the decree into the face of Fedor I, promising that the rebels will not surrender until Fedala is under the rule of Prince Heinrich of Dienstad. Nonetheless, security personnel have already begun the contruction of temporary holding pens for the expected onslaught of rebel prisoners.

In his latest public decree Fedor responded to all criticism:

This decree is to offer rightful citizenry of the Empire the chance to reconcile their positions. It is no doubt that the men who fight for these 'generals' were conscripted and forced into service. Under my decree they have no fear of undergoing treatment which in all reality they do not deserve. The decree has no chance of being repeleased or ammended. It is to the word of the Emperor, it is the word of G-d.


Still, harsh criticism ensues, attempting to persuade Fedor I to ammend the decree with more 'fitting' punishment. The majority of the nobility have yet to respond - there is still question of the loyalty of the nobility which has not yet allied itself with Prince Heinrich. But, alas, it seems rather irrelevent as Fedor has refused to amend the decree, and so the expectation of prisoners in the coming days persists.

Carolus Viern

Near Macabea, 9pm-

Alpha-One-Hotel you are go for launch on runway three….

Alpha-Two- Indigo you are go for launch on runway four…

Alpha-Three-Juliet you are go for launch on runway one….

Beta-One…

At several different airbases stationed around Macabea the foreign Mekugian air traffic controllers rattled off direction commands in order to keep the bedlam of war more organized and orderly considering their general distance from the front lines. Till now Mekugi had not struck out, it had bided its time to the definitive frustration of their allies and surprise to the hostile nations surrounding the Golden Throne. It was not to say that the mechanizations of war now firmly entrenched in the theatre anxious and heavily prepared for what could be a very long campaign.

As the air traffic controllers finished their strong of command directions they stood and watched the runways below, the massive air complex was filled to the brim with Mekugian Air Taskforce personnel. The large black Darkcloud Supersonic Strategic Bombers roared to life as they were each cued to begin take off, they had been waiting patiently to take off as many further craft were already in holding positions around the complex. It took nearly an hour for all the craft of the first Mekugian offensive to refuel by air just north of Fedala and then head at just over the speed of sound low level flight towards the current Havenite push.

The plan had thus far worked flawlessly. With their speed, stealth and low altitude the chance for early warning was reduced heavily it was to be a rather large surprise one that though most likely would not either suspect or be able to recover from easily. The scenario quite literally was the definitive ‘hail mary’ a deep strike without warning with serious collateral effect. The planes were still well within the safety of macabean controlled land and even the air war had been surprisingly held back from this area. The air over Atbarah was serene and the effect of thirteen swept back triangular craft made quite a stir to all those with ears as the supersonic craft passed into the city limit windows as the dark craft passed over in the dead of night. Spreading out from their individual echelons the crafts gave themselves ample airspace before doing the one thing the craft was purpose built to do, the one maneuver that distinguished it from all other supersonic bombers…

It pulled up… steeply each plane pulled back on the stick and drove high into the air the large overbuilt craft shuttered and whined in protest as the pilots were pushed heavily into their seats. The craft performed admirably and climbed quickly burning of speed as the craft in sequence dropped below the sound barrier their noses towards the moon as they climbed still higher.

25,000 feet…

30,000 feet...

35,000 feet…

40,000 feet…

45- -

The crew strained to hit their proper controls as the craft now safely at a speed at which the craft can launch its ordinates they turned towards their targets and released their ordinance with their nose still climbing. On the belly of each craft the dual rotors turned and ejected the black stealthy sub-projectiles out into the harsh nights sky. Sixteen car long munitions left the belly of each craft each with their own special destinations. The Darkclouds themselves continued the banking turn still on the safe side of the river Styx and began heading back towards home to get what little rest that could still be had that night.

The same could not be said for the now free falling projectiles that left the craft, reaching 35,000 feet they seemed to come to life, the angular stealthy forms deployed their own set of swept back wings and began to glide silently their wings and tail surfaces deploying with a barely audible click, the semi-penetrating 3,000 lb warheads carried in each were programmed to strike at the backbone of the havenite push. Logistics, water, fuel, munitions these were all the things that were needed to run a war, but more so than that… supply dumps and convoy trucks were easy enough to replace, being so close to home such a matter would be trivial at best.

No, these were headed for much harder to replace items, bridgeheads, some well within the havenites home territory, factories close to the border and in truth just about nay facility that even looked like a fuel refinery was enough to bring precision guided glide bombs down on it in force. It was true that front line intelligence was lacking but collaborated information with the Golden Throne as well as regular satellite imagery had helped pick out the most potentially devastating of not most delaying resources that would force their supply lines farther south or simply starve out the army at the front… it could be said that either alternative was acceptable…

Though on their initial release there was little that could be said for stealth of the mass of munitions, it was so tight one could say that it would be a simple manner to track, however once the munitions began adjusting to their own paths and trajectories; the lack of an IR source such as a cruise missile and their relatively miniscule mass while flying sub-sonically without any acoustic signal made it extremely difficult to track, and engage let alone actually stop them. This did come at a cost however even with the speed of launch and the height of release they were limited to about 25 miles into the Havenite border, a gamble of course but one that could prove to be profitable…

Summary-
-13x B-30 Aethra Supersonic Strategic Bombers of the 'Darkcloud' division
--25x 2000 kg bombs per craft (51,000kg)
total 325 Munitions

River Nestor

The president had made his way to the bunker where Fedor was planning the attack on the Weigari rebels. Revello was abit intimidated by the large amounts of Macabea generals in the room, and for a split second his eyes showed his quick moment of anxiety. When he was finished making his observations of the room, he quickly strode over to Fedor, whom he could see was busy planning. Revello was looking his sharpest, he did not want to give a bad first impression; he was dressed in his generals battle uniform from the days of the old republic. In those days Revello was one of the highest ranking and most clever generals, and he would of rose to be the next dictator if he hadn't led the rebel army in the Killian first civil war.

When Revello had finally got to Fedor he saluted in customary Killian fashion. He then gave his greeting, and answered Fedor's first question with, "I cannot wait to see this attack. Would you mind if I observed you, and maybe make some input?"

After Fedor responded to him, Revello then said,
"As for the battle of Mons Dei, I haven't been up there yet but I plan to visit after our conference; also at Mons Dei I also plan to help out Jimmy Wilson, who I've heard is doing well. While were on Mons Dei, I would like to know how you feel about how my soldiers have been doing at Mons Dei. It is not my country so my opinion does not matter, and I also plan to help stage attacks so your input would be valued."

Revello then waited for Fedor's response.

Meeting at the River Nestor

Fedor nodded and failed to respond for the first minute. He turned his attention to one of his generals and murmured something about the River Nestor, and then turned back to President Revello. He gulped and finally adressed the man's question, "Frankly, the preformance of Killian men at the First Battle did not give a good impression. In fact, they failed to break through to the SS Divisions, leading to our defeat at said location. Intelligence reports from the Second Battle are no better, with the rebels holding up really well." He stopped for a second to let his ally suck in the information.

He then continued, "Regardless, it seems that the army there under a... let me think... Wilson. Yes, Jimmy Wilson. It seems that the army under his command -him being a junion officer rather irrelevent- is faring better and prisoners caught on the Nestor transferred from that sector have reported that the first trench will buckle soon. Meaning, at least there is some kind of advance." He cut himself short, and allowed the other man to give a response of some kind, without slicing too deep into the man's nationalism and expectations. Fedor had just told the man his men were doing piss poor. But then, Fedor remembered more, "Ah, but yes, your men seem to be doing quite well at Aurillac, and I suspect a dual victory at said city, as well as at Mosnoi Bor. Something that will set back Haven and the rebels alike, and allow for the eventual end of this war. It will also officially allow Fedala to rest safe, and give me better opportunity to bring the war on Zarbia, now that we are officially at war."

While Revello began to answer, Fedor studied the man. He was dressed as a general, and Fedor knew his history quite well. Indeed, the man was much like his grandfather. A general turned leader, only his grandfather had turned into an Emperor and had fought, not for the rebels, but for the Empire - technically. Regardless, there were many similarities between both President Revello and both Jonach I and Fedor I. And for that, Fedor I admired him. Fedor too was dressed in the white Imperial dress suit of generalship, and he had always been a man for the army. In fact, he suspected that was one of the principal reasons Jonach I chose him as his heir, instead of his father, Prince Heinrich of Dienstad. The two men would have much to speak about in the coming days, especially on the treatment of rebel prisoners and then the war with Haven, and finally the war elsewhere, including possible naval intervention in the East, after Haven's fleets were gently at the bottom of the sea. Fedor would also make public to Revello that he planned to march to Haven's capital, raise it to the ground, annex much of the borderlands for the Empire, and coerce Haven into a dependent. In short, he would begin his work on becoming the most powerful nation in Imperial Armies, which would bring him one step closer to becoming the most powerful nation in the world. It was to say, he would become a regional superpower, and a very large international power.

Fedor pondered to himself whether or not the Killians would follow Fedor to the end. But alas, it was a far off notion, and he first had to produce some kind of an heir. His new wife, Queen Sophie, the second most beautiful woman in the world, after Queen Hypolita, the wife of Emperor Jonach I, had seen much of her husband since their marriage, but Fedor promised that when the Nestor was over he would return to her - if fortune had it their way, to have a son. But for now, Fedor focused on his newfound friend, President Mark Revello.

Meeting at the River Nestor

The president listened deeply to Fedor's words. His face did not change expression when Fedor had said Killian soldiers had not fared well in battle and his face stayed stone solid when Fedor complimented Wilson. He was not too hurt, as he expected this response. When Fedor finished Revello responded,
"Ah, I truly appreciate you speaking freely. It is refreshing to have a man who does not sugar coat things. As for Mons Dei, you have my word that when I arrive those rebels will be defeated with utmost of haste. "

Revello then listened to Fedor speak more about Wilson, and then Aurillac. As Fedor spoke Revello looked him over and was impressed with his appearance. He looked over Fedors numerous ribbons and medals and he knew that he was dealing with a very organized and smart fellow. Revello's thoughts then ran over to Targul Frumos, and the back to Aurillac. When Fedor finished on Aurillac Revello spoke up saying,
"Ah yes, some of my best generals are at Aurillac and I hope their work and destruction is pleasing to you. After the defeat of Mons Dei I plan to head to Aurillac and command my forces their. It has been a long while since I have been in battle and I cannot wait to engage in it again. After I suggested that Killians cross the river, I have yearned to join my forces; you see that was my first major war decision since the Killian civil war and I admit it felt great. After we defeat the Havenites I plan to lead my men into their capital, if you haven't already of course. Others and, I myself, see me as a fiercly loyal person and I believe that an attack on allies such as The Golden Throne is like an attack on HailandKill itself, and Haven should get the appropriate punishment."

Revello cleared his throat and spoke again, "Ah, how is your marriage going? I am terribly sorry I could not attend. At that time some tinpot dictatorship was waving around its nukes, and it was by luck that my capital was not fragged in nuclear holocaust."

Meeting at the River Nestor
Fedor nodded and smiled. This man had initiative and had bearing, and Fedor liked that. He was, indeed, certain that Revello's presence at Mons Dei would speed up the engagement there. Then again, with a pending defeat at the River Nestor it would take a complete fool to lose at Mons Dei. Fedor responded first to the matters dealing with the war, "Satellites have traced more and more Havenite armour pouring in from the south. They will either engage at Aurillac or Mosnoi Bor. If we defeat Haven there soon, however, they will be planted there and a third battle will erupt. The Havenites are a resourceful enemy, nonetheless. With that said, I really can't see a victory at Haven's capital by the end of this year. In fact, I see much death ahead of us, although fortunately, the death and destruction will centralize in Haven, not the Empire."

Stopping he prepared to deal with the marriage portion, "The marriage went perfectly. I cannot complain about my beautiful wife, for she is the new Helen - I would send my thousand ships to the farthest corner of the world if need be, for her. Nevertheless, it's unfortunate to hear that there are nutcases that would still use the nuclear bomb as a weapon or terror. The Empire has only been hit once by a terrorist, and that was in Dienstad a few months ago. But nothing came of it."

He stepped back and began to turn around when he said, "Please, follow me" With that, he led Revello out of the bunker and into the open ground where a squad of tanks preparing to meet up with their company were sitting for a rest. Fedor gave a smirk and turned to the gaze of Mr. Revello. He pointed towards one of the metal beasts and announced, "This is the fabled Arca. I, Ausfva. A. The first variant. The second variant was meant for the Truit Republic. Rumours have it that a third is in developement; one which will make the Arca. I the most advance and powerful tank in the history of armoured warfare. Even with this variant, we have a leg up against Haven. Hail to the new generation of mechanized warfare!"

The tank crew, as ordered, then started the engines, and about a minute later rumbled off towards the frontlines where they would meet with the rest of their division. Fedor then waved Revello back into the command post while saying, "So, what do you think about our war winning weaponry? And let me show you the plans for the evolvement of the River Nestor." Below, his generals and attendants were already preparing the maps required to show the leader the planned offensive which would end the Battle of the River Nestor.

Meeting at The River Nestor

Revello listened to Fedor's words, they contained much truth and wisdom. Revello was very glad he had decided to come to The River Nestor to meet this man. When Fedor had finished on the Havenites, Revello gave a quick thought of Aurillac and its current force standing there before he said,

"Ah, well if the Havenites decide to engage at Aurillac they will find plenty of Killian armor to deal with. If I am correct the Killians should defeat the Havenite at Aurillac in about six weeks. We have fought back their initial attack, and if the generals have played their cards correctly we should be establishing a new line a few miles from Aurillac. But let me not bore you with boastful battle statistics, as it is usually not what I do. "

Revello had listened to Fedor's words on his marriage and he was deeply sorry he could not attend. He also thought how lucky Fedor was to find a women that would make him happy.

"I am happy for you that you have found a wife you would so willingly dispatch a thousand ships for. I cannot say I am in the same situation, in fact I am worse off. Many women find me to be, how shall I say, rough. It seems I swear and fight to much, and that I am much to boisterous for women."

Revello smiled after saying that, because to him it was a fact he thoroughly enjoyed about himself. Age would not hold him down, nor would a women. He followed Fedor to the open ground, and his eyes fell upon the tank sitting on the battlefield. When Fedor had looked at Revello, Fedor would have definatly seen the awe and respect in Revello's eyes.

"What a beautiful tank." Revello said, If we had these babies in the old republic, I might of overthrown the dictator much sooner. I cannot wait until we can get these into production over at HailandKill Arms, as they would make our mechanized divisions so much stronger. Hail to the new generation of mechanized warfare."

As they made their way back to the bunker and were chatting Revello answered Fedor's question with,

"Kriegzimmer is an amazing company, and I am mostly pleased with the amazing products they design. I cannot wait until I get to fire their assault rifles at Mons Dei. To be completely honest I have only one complaint. The Wolverine light tank, to the best of my knowledge and intelligence, has not been performing well in tank-to-tank combat. I understand that they are only light tanks, but even in stronger numbers they take a beating."

He finished his statement and then looked over to Fedor. He never liked putting things down, but he was an honest man and answered the question the best way he could. When the two men had entered the bunker again, Revello was pleased to see the battle charts. He began looking them over with great care, and when he noticed something new he asked about the strategy. To him knowledge was power, especially in this game, and any more knowledge can wield a person more power. Revello looked over it again, and made one slight suggestion, and then he was finished.

Meeting at the River Nestor
Fedor nodded and responded, "Our own Wolverines only saw limited action at Mons Dei. They too were knocked out, but repordetly they preformed well. I have no doubts, however, that Kriegzimmer will look over the faults and release an improved variant. In fact, I'll speak to Harbinger when I get a chance."

He showed Revello the principal strategy at Nestor, "A division will strike in the northern sector, with a sister armoured division hitting in the south. We will then cross the River Nestor at these points," pointing to two drawn bridges on the map. He went on, "With that established, the two divisions will effectively cut off retreat, allowing us to fully destroy the rebel army with a general offensive." Fedor stared at the battle map before turning to the other man. He finished off with, "The offensive begins tomorrow morning."

Meeting at the River Nestor

"Ah, I thank you for listening to my complaint, and I cannot wait for the variant to come out."

Revello paused and listened to Fedor explain the River Nestor attack. When Fedor finished he said,

"It seems like a sound plan, but where does it leave Mons Dei?"

Battle of the River Nestor
Fedor responded to President Revello's question and then turned to show the man the broad strategy for the progression of the war. From there to the end of the day the two men made small talk, speaking on past war experiences. Fedor was more interested in Revello's generalship during their civil war and it became largely apparent that he was not speaking to a simple minded commander. Revello was a truly experienced soldier that knew command. For some reason, that made Fedor only more curious on what Revello would think of the next day's fighting. However, by six in the evening Fedor had to cut the conversation short, "Mr. Revello, I must leave you now and get some rest. Tonight I will have a long night working through paper work and ironing out the needed strategies for tomorrow. I expect you will meet me here at three in the morning? It will give ample coverage of the beginnings of the end at the Nestor." With that the two parted ways until the morning thereafter.

At three in the morning the two met at the command post and Fedor looked at his comrade in the eye, "Prepare to feel like you haven't felt since your days as an army general!"

Suddenly, one could hear a high pitched shriek through the air, and the titanium screens of the bunker flipped open to reveal the battlefield in front of them. Television screens throughout the building were screening parts of the battle that could not be witnessed by the human eye. Nevertheless, the subsequent flash and boom of artillery shells hitting their targets could not be missed. The ground around the bunker, and the bunker itself, shook with each salvo hitting their respective targets. 'Boom' after 'boom' after 'boom' continued methodically for the next thirty minutes, and the entire time the two leaders crouched silently, as if avoiding the shrapnel of rounds that were hitting ten kilometers in front of them. It was an atrocious bombardment, but soon thereafter the battlefield again lay quiet.

The ear piercing silence, however, was soon shattered by the shrill yells of screaming soldiers beginning their offensives. In the southern prong, the 3rd Arca. Division hit with a vengeance, spearheading a general offensive and followed by two infantry divisions. The lead tank was soon to engage rebel positions, putting high explosive rounds into packs of infantry. As expected, no rebel armor had made a presence on the field, instead held to the rear for future use, in desperation. Nonetheless, the fighting was hard, with the armor making mediocre progress over the first few hours.

In the north, two armored divisions had begun the task of puncturing the flank of the rebel army, which had formed after their failed attempt to capture Dzamiin. They were to make substantially more progress than their comrades down below, reaching the River Nestor by the end of the day and cutting off around two thousand rebel soldiers north of them. It would prove to be a spectacular victory and it would lead for the eventual victory at the River Nestor. All the while, the Laerihans continued to make tactical strikes upon rebel positions, giving an awsome show of airpower. Under such pressure the rebels were quick to buckle in certain areas of the battle. But regardless, one could not suggest that the fighting was not difficult.

At the command post Fedor was particularly erratic, shouting orders to his generals through satellite communication radios. One of his chief of staffs began to argue with him soon after, "Your Imperial Majesty, with all due respect, we must deploy all possible armor to break the back of the rebels today!"

Fedor shook his head and retorted, "No! We must not force the rebels back across the river. First, we need to cross and cut their retreat; then we can mop their forces up."

As if to establish his point, news from the battle had indicated that the northern prong had begun the establishment of a series of bridges to begin driving the armor across the River Nestor, effectively putting them into the rebel rear. Infantry squads on inflatable craft had already created an ad hoc bridgehead, preparing the defenses while the bridges were built. At this Fedor smiled and turned to Revello, "It is set, friend. The bridges should be ready by tonight, and so tomorrow morning we can begin to move divisions over to the other side of the river. With that, the true massacre shall begin!"

The rebels were on their deathbed at the Nestor...

[OOC: I took some parts into my own hands. Hope it doesn't matter.]

Second Battle of Mons Dei
Admist explosions of incoming artillery, and inbound machine gun and assault gun fire, the Weigari counterattack continued. Men poured out of the trenches, Ak-74s in hand, and responded to the Killian fire with their own. The heavy mortars to the rear continue to suppress Killian machine guns, mortar fire and heavy concentration of rifle fire with their own high explosive 80mm to 120mm mortars. The flagrant display of red and orange was dazzling to the human eye, and this was only furthered by the sporadic presence of tracers zipping through the almost black smoke. All of this supplemented by the sheer presence of the noise caused by the defilade of fire. It was remarkable. The Second Mons Dei would go down as one of the bloodiest battles of the war, possibly claiming the most lives in a single hour than any other battle. But this fact did not stem the bloody tide of incoming Weigari fighters, bent on routing the Killians from the field.

The light mortars pounded the earth with smoke rounds, and soon enough the entire battlefield simply became a huge cloud of black smoke, perpetually fed by incoming light rounds. Simultanuously, heavy mortars smacked Killian positions in general with incoming high explosive rounds. So, as the slaughter kept up, the Weigari infantry poured through the smoke, bayonets at ready, slashing anything in their way. But they too took losses from the brute display of firepower from the Killians. Dozens of soldiers went down with every stride. One man took up to two hundred bullets before he was allowed to his the floor, his brains diffusing throughout the crisply burnt grass.

Carlech Gregorn pounced his way through the field, yet not a victim of withering gun fire. Finding one Killian at a range of merely fourteen centimeters, he took his rifle and stabbed his foe. Pulling it out, he stabbed again and this time slashed upwards to tear apart the man's organs. The Killian was dead in seconds, and so Gregorn continued on his war path. He was under no impression that he would make it out that day, and so he only prepared to kill as much as he could. The others did much of the same.

Colonel Forsié was put in charge of the general attack, but he had stayed behind in the trench, commanding a single battalion of engineers, who were rigging the first trench with explosives. They would be rendered to be unseen by the human eye, and so when the field slaughter was over, and the Killians could see that the first trench had been completely left behind, they would rush to take it and begin their offensives against the second trench line; their first wave would be brutally massacred in a brilliant display of high explosive bomblettes. Not merely that, but the grass between the second trench and the first trench was already ridden with mines, and only a single corridor, wide enough for one man to pass abreast, existed - in order to allow the engineers back through, of course! It was all part of a general defense of the second trench line; the first trench line had obviously been lost, even though the Killians had pulled back. The second trench line had also been outfitted with all the anti-tank ordnance delivered by Haven in their clandestine resupply tasks off the Weigari coast. If the Killians found it hard to take the first trench, the second trench would prove their undoing.

All the while, the fight near their tanks continued. The men were at a point where the tanks were no longer a potent force. Indeed, if they opened fire they risked killing their own men, or knocking out their own tanks. Soldiers clambered in the smoke up the slope of the tanks, pouring grenades down their muzzles or down their hatches to kill the crews. This was no less brutal than the fight in the trenches before. Dozens, if not hundreds, of men were cut down on both sides. If this was to mark the rest of the battle it would seem that all twenty thousand rebels were to die before Mons Dei could be claimed a victory by Hailandkill.

However, the attackers soon began to waver in the face of ferocious resistance. Soon turned to run away, but they were cut down by Killian and Weigari alike. Most knew they were forced to their deaths, and so they fought as if they had nothing to lose. The Killians may have better training, but they did not have the zeal of the Weigari in their hearts, and they did not have the notion that if they did not succeed they were dead men regardless. Within this context, if would not be hard to imagine that the average Weigari soldier actually fought better than its Killian counterpart, especially with the heavy fire support giving from behind the lines. But alas, in the end it all failed to matter; admist the cries of the wound and silence of the dead, men fell, men perished. The clash of arms soon fell silent. The counterattack had failed. As an omen, the mortar bombardment ended soon afterwards.

When the smoke cleared the scene was atrocious. Few packs of Weigari soldiers still stood, and if they did, it was with their rifles on the floor and their hands up. Perhaps around forty Weigari soldiers would surrender that day - the rest died. The once green grass was either black from the fight, or red from the blood, and it was clear that hundreds, even thousands, had died in the few hours of battle that made up that portion of Mons Dei. Killian soldiers grabbed at their eyes, crying. Even Weigaris shed a tear or two. Not even the most stubborn man could hold in his tears that day. From the foward trench, Colonel Forsié looked at it all, and he bellowed so that Weigari and Killian could hear alike, "Let all men who survived this day, survive for another. I call a truce for the night, for the day, and for the night again, so that we may recollect our dead." The Killians could do nothing but agree.

That night witnessed the largest fire of the war. As counted, a thousand two hundred and seventy-three bodies were spread across a pit, and then lit afire. The smoke would be a gruesome sacrifice for G-d. To that, Forsié, strategizing for the actions of the day battle was renewed, said, "Mons Dei. What is this mountain? Mountain of God? If this is truly blessed by Him, I can only say that the future of mankind is bleak indeed." How true his words were to be...

Second Battle of Mons Dei

The carnage, the death, the smell, the body parts, and everything else created the worst sight that any of the men had actually seen. Many of the veterans could not help but vomiting or crying when they had seen what battle with the Weigari's had done to their men. The worst part was that many men knew that they would have to return to battle and witness the same carnage again. Jimmy Wilson was the most deeply affected because he led the men into this and he would not be able to forgive himself for this carnage. He knew that they had to defeat the rebels and he started to pull himself together and walk around to his men. Slowly but surely ammo was being redistributed and wounds were being treated and many things were done to make soldiers combat ready again. Many troops in the general Killian line were moving up to take the deserted first line rebel trench, and many KriGuds were also moving up behind the men. Before the trenches could be taken officially, they had to be checked for traps. Three twelve man teams began to head to the deserted trenches to look for traps. Night began to fall and the men in these teams could see the large fires burning at the Weigari camp and the smell ofburning flesh put shivers down their spine. Their awe stopped when a Killian engineer was blown to a red mist by a trapped grenade. These men had to work meticulously through the night, while the rest of the men slept. Their work was done by mid morning with almost a third of the engineers killed by traps. By the afternoon the trenches were full of Killian men, with the remaining tanks and SOV-06's behind the newly occupied Killian trenches.

The rest of that day was devoted to organization and distribution of ammo and food stuffs. On the morning of the second day since the cease fire the Killian soldiers awoke to the thundering of KriGud fire. The KriGuds were concentrating their fire on the second trenches that were packed with men and their 125mm shells were crashing in rapid succession. The noise was thunderous to the men in the trenches and it only got worse when the BredtSverds adjusted their guns and also began to fire on the enemy. While the guns were firing two four hundred man teams were setting off to do a preliminary attack on the rebels, and they set off in a hundred SOV-06's. The first group hit the mines first, and the explosive shrapnel ripped through the SOV-06 like a knife through butter. When a few more IFV's went over mines and blew up, the entire group retreated back to where the came. All the while the artillery fire continued on the trenches. More engineers were being moved to the minefield and they continued their work long after the artillery fire ceased.

-------

When everything was finished and most of the mines and booby traps were disarmed, men started to organize for another attack. The original four hundred men teams were re-organized in their SOV-06's for an probe attack on the second line rebel trench. The first fifty SOV-06's headed for the tip of the rebel trenches at flank speed; their bellies were full of panzergrenadiers and airborne units. Both the elite units were mixed now, and it did not matter if they were seperated now because they were both veterans and they both were full of nasty losses. An artillery barrage started on the tip and it rained in heavy. The combined fire of tanks and KriGuds was causing alot of havoc on the rebels, as both types of vehicles were firing HEF rounds. The SOV-06's were almost at their targets, and the top turrets began firing 15mm rounds on the rebels. Tracers began to light up the dusk skies, and it was almost a fireworks display with all the SOV-06's firing in unison. The SOV-06's stopped and the doors dropped down, and soldiers began running down the ramps. Many of the men ran out firing their rifles from their hips at any target availible. Muzzles jumped with rounds exiting, and small arms fire began making the firecracker like noise of a developing small arms battle. The first hundred men immediatly charged into the trenches with their bayonets drawn, and when they jumped into the trenches they began firing on the rebels or stabbing them at point blank range. The chaos ensued in the trenches and the Killians were fighting as hard as the rebels were, because the Killians were fighting for revenge. The lust for revenge and the Killian training was aiding them in the fight for the second trench. The next wave exited from the SOV-06's and those men ran to the trenches but they didn't enter them. Those men stood at the edges of the trench and began firing at the rebels. Many of those men on the edge of the trench were aiming carefully so they didn't hit their buddies. Soon after the battle started the sound of grenades was heard all along the trench. Killians began using grenades on clusters of men and their effictiveness was heard by the screams of the dead.

The second attack of four hundred men was going to occur on the tip of the rebel lines where both the south and the west trenches met. The V shape this part of the trench made was going to make it a tough objective to take. A barrage of artillery fire also occured on this part of the rebel trench and many of the SOV-06 drivers saw the results of the artillery in red mists and flying bodies. This wave of SOV-06's now ceased to move, and the soldiers inside heard the zipping noises of 15mm gattling guns. The SOV-06's were firing on the rebels with their concentrated machine gun fire and this section of battle also had many tracer rounds zipping about. Private Steven Thompson was one of the airborne soldiers inside the SOV-06's making the attack on this particular part of the line. He heard the SOV-06 machine gun fire above him and the anticipation to go was killing him. Suddenly the door dropped and he felt himself being shoved out by the sargeant behind him. Immediatly he started running towards the rebel lines, and he saw rebels shooting at him and his buddies from their trenches. Thompson began to fire at the rebels and he was surprised to see one of his bullets strike a rebel in the heart. He kept running to the trenches but suddenly tripped and was immediatly prone. Thompson did not realize he was accidentaly leading the charge and when he fell the rest of the first two hundred men went prone also. Thompson began firing his Hali-24 assault rifle at the rebels from the high grass he was in. The same situation started to erupt around him. Killians were using the grass as cover, and they began to take aim and fire on the rebels that were giving them a good killzone. Tracer rounds from small arms fire began to light up the darkening sky and they were directed at the rebels. At this time in battle many of the Killians were now prone and firing sickening amounts of small arms fire. The small arms fire was now being joined with 15mm rounds from the SOV-06's that could see the enemy. As the battle developed Killians began to lob grenades at the defenders who were hiding in their trenches. The battle was filled with the chatter of small arms and the booming of grenades.

[OOC: Not done yet.]

The Battle of Marsa Bruth - End Game
On the sixty-seventh day of siege the city lay silent. It was like an omen from God, and to that degree the people, for the first time in two months, began to walk out from the city, picking up what they could from the rubble. Some dropped down on their knees, crying, while attempting to take all the destruction in. Most of the citizens, upon view of moving Sarcanzan rebels and Havenite special operations personnel, shied away, incapable of understanding why they had brought such destruction in the first place. Most of the security battalions were formulated by Sarcanzans, and so their death also meant the death of many sons and daughters from the city. The rebellion was certainly not supported in Marsa Bruth, and it showed immediately. The people closed their doors to the rebels and to Havenites alike, and the newly chosen mayor, although not noble by birth, as were most governors, had pleaded for the rebels to leave the city, issuing a promise that they would not return allegiance to the Empire. It was going to take much rebuilding to get Marsa Bruth to what it had once been.

The last days of the battle had been violent. The University was one huge blood bath. Airborne personnel and security troops were sprawn across the floor, their guts distilled and difussed throughout the area, and their dead bodies pumping out the blood that it could. It was a mess, and it had claimed thousands of lives. The men who survived emerged shaken, white flag in both hands, attempting to avoid pot shots and looking for foes to surrender to. One man, a lowly private, looked at his commander and said, "This war will not end soon, will it?"

The commander looked back, a bit irritated, and asked, "Why do you ask? Are you already so willing to be rescued and then thrown back into combat?"

The soldier shook his head. He looked away and then responded, "No sir, it's just that if this war continues for much longer my family risks death. Who knows how this will expand. Not too long ago it was just the Empire, Weigar and Sarcanza. Now it's Haven, Zarbia, the Killians, Kriergorgrad, Guffingford and others! At this rate the world will partake in it."

The commander smiled, evidently soothed, and in a very trembling and sad voice he retorted, "This war will never end. The Empire will win. I can assure you of that. But what then? I assure you that the rebels will not just lay down their arms. I do not doubt that the rebellion will last an eternity. That is how it has always been."

"I suppose so." The soldier nodded and silenced himself. But he could not stop himself from breaking the silence, "Do you have a family sir?"

The other man looked at him and nodded, "I used to. I will not be seeing them for some time."

The soldier was about to respond, but he stopped himself when he saw the faces of dark Sarcanzan rebels. The two parties failed to greet each other and silence ensued. Finally the commander handed over the flag and simply said, "We surrender."

At the factories the situation had improved, and the factories remained in the hands of the Empire until the end of the battle. Unfortunately, the surrender in the University and the overruning of the artillery at Mons Lidom, had forced them to reconsider their position, and by the end of day sixty-seven the five hundred men were long gone, marching on their own westwards, hoping to find some sign of Imperial life. Even there conversations flared. The two nominal leaders of the march, Field Marshall Gunter Bien and General Georg Ternat, planned the march together as the column progressed. As they all stopped for the night, outside a local village, Bien unrolled a map infront of Ternat and bluntly said, "Three thousand bloody kilometers. How in the name of God do you expect these men to traverse three thousand fucking kilometers?"

Ternat nodded, "I don't." The anabasis had begun.

But, as a whole, Marsa Bruth had begun. The battle had claimed a total of thirteen thousand six hundred Imperial lives, and upwards of thirty-two thousand rebel lives. Apart from that, it would stain the Empire's history for millenia to come. Two cities had been lost in two months; how could one expect the rest of the campaign to go? The Sarcanzan rebels, obviously, had the upper hand.



The Gates of Hell
Colonel Vien took a deep look at the ravines and canyons that produced what was forever known as the Gates of Hell. The only man to open these gates was Emperor Atmos III who had conquered the region thousands of years before. He popped his head back into the Cougar and took the communications radio and said abruptly, "Proceed." With that, he placed the com back on its perch and opened the top tank hatch once again to look around. He could see a squadron of tanks leading the way and he kicked one of the inner walls to tell his driver to speed up. He did not want to miss a single part of the action. The opening of the Gates was going to be a relatively simple procedure if it all turned out right. The two armoured divisions would proceed into the canyon, supported by a single mechanized infantry division. The other two divisions would have the more tedious job of scaling the cliffs and mountains and slowly fighting their way through the rebel positions, clearing away for the taking of the canyong itself. It would be a rather slow process, but technically it was better than all other possibilities. As if to reinforce the point, the Laerihans had promised indefinate air support in order to bomb the rebels back into their caves.

If the operation succeeded, Vien would be the first man to open the Gates of Hell since Atmos III, and that was not a small feat. Many claimed God had forged the Gates of Hell as just that, and had them protected so that no mortal man that aimed for war could ever trespass them. Within that context, some believed Atmos III to be God himself, or a fallen angel who had succeeded in a revolt against God. Although Vien would not aim for the same conclusions put alongside his own name, it indeed was a lucrative nametag, so he thought. But all of this was largely irrelevent.

Vien crawled back into his makeshift headquarters. The gun had been replaced with a fake cannon to make room in the inside for a single large room, where three generals sat, including Vien, and for a seperate compartment designed for the driver. All the systems, of course, were taken out too. Vien looked at his compatriot, Major General Vincien Foruj, and he said, "What are you thinking about?"

Foruj gulped and answered, "Failure."

Vien shook his head, "We are one of the most powerful militaries in the world. We have never seen failure."

Foruj laughed and retorted,"And Marsa Bruth? Mons Dei? What are those, victories."

"Bah, you are a negative personality." Vien was not kidding. He would not tolerate defeatism in his ranks. He continued, "Reconsider your position. I will not host a general that does not think he can win this battle. I warn you now and here, reconsider."

For the most part, they remained silent for the rest of the ride. Soon enough darkness overwhelmed the spearhead of the tank movement. They were entering the Gates of Hell...

New Trade Deals Avert War Time Budget Declines

FEDALA, Second Empire of the Golden Throne - After the fear of recession due to the atrocious impact of the Weigari and Sarcanzan rebellions, as well as the Havenite destruction of southern Ruska, there has been a brief sigh of relief as news of recent political and trade deals foreshadow signs of a spurt in economic growth. This has returned some foreign trust to the Macabee market, plagued by a lack of commitment from foreign industry, and a shutting of doors after the sudden attempt to export the principles of absolute capitalism. Regardless, there has been a sudden 'clearing of the skies', and budget figures for the next year are not expected to be so glum. The sheer amount of new industry and merchant relationships evolving are thought to be enough to provide what can be regarded as an economic revolution in the Empire. In fact, the new deals and promises should be enough to offset the losses of the war for a short while, and promote enough growth to pay off the rebuilding of war torn areas of the Empire, including southern Ruska, Weigar and Sarcanza. In light of this, the Empire is also attempting to locate other world leaders to expand trade relations with them as well.

Nations that have opened their mercantilist doors to the Empire included Casari and Spruitland, while trade overtures between the Empire and Guffingford, Kriergorgrad, Hailandkill have only increased. With the recent decision of Emperor Fedor I to clearly state his allegiance to Hailandkill in the Torontian debacle trade is also expected to pick up with McKagan and Halberdgardia, as well as other Saharistan War Coalition Nations, as a sort of pay off for the words of support issued to the international community. In fact, this rise in trade is so apparent that the open ports of Macabea City, Beda Fromm and Corza, have never seen so much activity since the beginning of the war. It is thought that should the War of Golden Succession end soon, the conclusions will only be a subsequent epic growth in the nation's economy. Something that is quite ironic for the circumstances.

There is also much speculation of trade in the colonies, especially with the establishment of colonial settlements north of Tordesillas [Macabee territory in the Hogsweatian colonies]. However, there are also indications that events have turned quite hot in the past days, especially with growing tensions between Tordesillas and New Xharnia for control over the channel that seperates the two. The incorporation of the Jagadan colony, after the collapse of the Jagadan government under pressure of a failing war with the Empire, has only serve to fire the superiority complex the Empire has held over their particular area of the colonies. Things look especially bleak as Sarzonian personnel have been acting up along the border of Doomingsland and the Voltarum, in the colonies, making some skeptics believe that the triumvirate will be forced to act in accordance with Woodstock Pact actions.

Speculation of war set aside, the economic boom is a suprise to all. Even with the large exports of Kriegzimmer, one of the largest conglomerates in the world, and the recent aquisition of overseas territory for Kriegzimmer factories, one would think that the war would offset any economic success. Fortunately, that has proved incorrect so far, although many doubt that this success will hold up for long. But, alas, it has been a don from God, especially with news of a failed friendly football [soccer] match against Casari in Choybalsan, ending in a one to zero match. All the while, the skies continue to flash with the sporadic explosions of artillery shells that have marked the length of the War of Golden Succession. Some good news can come as a miracle to those who have suffered in gloom for a long while.

Derik J. P. Vielan

[OOC: Sorry, random post under this name. I thought I could spice things up, as well as introduce my puppet, and soon enough another territory of the Empire.]


Rebellion Reaches the Ears of the 'Lost Kingdom'
News of the Sarcanzan and Weigari rebellion has finally traveled to the region of Haven, where once Imperial provence Gerfaanlich has happily resided since it's official break off into a seperate republic during the Great Civil War. The Senate has expressed its support behind the rebellions, issuing a decleration of alienation to Fedala, sighting Fedor as an 'instigator to a most oppressive regime.' The Senate has also announced that it will begin the action of neutral trade with the 'recognized' states of Weigar and Sarcanza; this includes trade of armaments. Fedala has responded with a vow to sink any and all Gerfaanlich shipping that attempts to run supplies to the rebellion. In fact, from the battle lines, Fedor has issued his own decree stating that is he 'had declared war on Zarbia for allowing Haven to supply Sarcanza through its territory, it had no problems annexing a rogue state." This issue has sent riples throughout the Second Empire and Gerfaanlich alike.

In fact, Gerfaanlich has taken the threat to heart and has begun the immediate mobilization and deployment of its armed forces. The Republican Armada has also been put on high alert, deploying it's navy along the coast, while mobilizing its principle fleet in the principal port city of Pripayit. The Senate offered a final decree stating that "Gerfaanlich would have no problems defending itself against the greatest threat to the continuation of its independence from the Golden Throne." They followed up by saying that "Fedor is a dying breed of absolute monarchies, attempting to keep his throne modern through the institution of extreme capitalism, that will see his demise through the eyes of a victim of dialectic progress." Fedor, in return, achieved selling his point of view, accusing Gerfaanlich of "increasingly communistic principles and expanding evidence of socialism."

Regardless of actual threats and retorts, the two nations, both on poor relations since Jonach's rise as first emperor of the Second Empire of the Golden Throne, and the self-proclaimed 're-union of the throne', seem on the verge of belligerence. This, as proved by past events, seems to indicate impending war, which would imply that Gerfaanlich would enter in the War of Golden Succession on the side of the rebellion. Ironically, changing the course of the war not to succeed to the throne, but to completely eliminate the throne. Nevertheless, the War of Golden Succession is an ever growing conflict that had at one point engulfed the Hogsweatian colonies, the region of Imperial Armies, and now the region of Haven. World war is what's next...

It had been nearly five months since the first whispers of rebbellion in Sarcanza. What had begun as a loose strung terrorist organization had quickly manifested itself into a a full flegeded rebbellion. Flying under their own banner, operating their own intregate military, and engaing in limited international relation (albeit secretly) the Sarcanzan Rebbellion was quickly growing in complexity. Indeed, in many aspects the Sarcanzan Rebbellion was just as complex as the Weigarian front.

Boasting a fortified chain of command and a newly established head of state the Sarcanzan Rebbellion was entrenching itself into the land of Sarcanza. The crown would turn its eyes towards Sarcanza now. A victory at the Gates of Hell would ensure a general victory. In comparison both the Battles of Provokohra and Marsa Burth would pale.

The ovbious tactical importance of the Gates of Hell had always been known to the Sarcanzan Command, however it would not be until the advent of a more organized command structure that the reality of the situation had been addressed. For several weeks a steady supply of Havenite materials had been pumped into the region. In addition to the subterrainean fortifications -- a keymark of all rebbellions -- the Sarcanzans would take advantage of a millenia of strategic defences.

The Macabee High Command would ovbiously be aware of the situation -- and no doubt have a means of defense against such a basic form of warfare -- but the Sarcanzan would turn to their foremost means of defense, the high explosive. The nature of the Gates of Hell made rock a weapon for any defender, and as such it would come as little suprise when the pass would become sealed. Nonetheless more time was needed for preperations. The Sarcanzans would seal the Gates of Hell as much as they could -- forcing the Macabee troops out of their vehicles if they wanted to quickly engage the Sarcanzans.

Elsewhere eight small gunships began to take on fuel. The border outposts of the crown would fall under a flurry of force -- Ferdor would not hesitate to utilize aircraft. It was only a matter of time before he unleashed his arsenal against Sarcanza. They would need to aquire as many air defence systems as possible.

Second Battle of Mons Dei
After the time allotted for the truce was over the men again huddled into their trenches, spurred by the noise of the first trench going in flames once the Killians had attempted to prove it, checking for defenses that were left behind. For the next hours and the next day after that it seemed as if the Killians were being slowed down by the sporadically placed mines between the first trenchline and the second trenchline. Men were awoken with the sound of an anti-personnel butterfly mine throwing a group of Killian engineers into the air. Riflemen and machine gunners took frequent potshots at working Killian engineers, claiming dozens of lives, but overtime the Killians were able to clear most of the lines except those closest to the trenches, since there was no way in God's name that the Killian engineers would get that close

So, when the Killians first probed the lines that morning they were the receiving end of a host of anti-tank missiles, which although not the Tagus by design, were those supplied to by the Havenites, which were not inneffective by any meanings of the word. The IFVs were pelted by rockets as they advance, and once those men were unloosed from their bowls they too began to receive the heat from incoming bullets. Before that, the men had protected themselves from the artillery in their trenches, so they were ready for a fight when those Killians first came. The crack of rifles welcomed any Killian that dare get close, and those that were able to get into rifle distance of the trenches had to risk their lives crossing the remnants of a very well placed minefield, littered with improvised anti-tank and anti-personnel mines [HEAT and HE, respectively]. But no matter the effort, Weigari soldiers went down as well; but there was no doubt that the Killian casualty count would be much higher than that of the foe. It was just the natural course of events; it was a world war one style battle, and the Killians were on the offensive. Weigar would not lose without taxing their toll in blood. When the second wave of Killians came they received the same welcome - a hail of bullets. The Killians would not enter the trenches with a mere four hundred men per wave.

Elsewhere, the battle continued in much the same way. The SOV-6s were taking heat from anti-tank rockets, while light mortars, rifle fire and machinegun fire were cutting Killian soldiers into ribbons. But just as well, in the trenches blood flowed high, and some men stepped in pools of the substance as they changed positions to find new targets. But there was no doubt that the Killians would be faced with an abhorrent number of dead and wounded. The taking of the second trench would be just as hard as the taking of the first trench. That they could be assured of.

Behind the trenches, while the fighting continued, packs of men had begun to pile sandbags high, creating makeshift engagements. All the while they began to roll up the Havenite 57mm high velocity anti-tank guns, providing for another wall of defense incase the Killians decided to throw their armour into the fray. Behind that, short trenches were being dug up for battery pits, lining it all with dozens of shells. The Weigari rebels had been provided with a battery of forty 155mm howitzers, along with ammunition for a week, hoping to receive more and more as Havenite submarines continued dumping it on the Weigari coastline. Unfortunately, none of it could be shipped to the River Nestor since it was just too far away, but it would be shipped at Mons Dei. Even if the Nestor was a defeat, the Weigari would make sure that the Imperials and their imperialist allies found it expensive to revert the war to an offensive into Weigar. To that effect, there was even more construction being done on the mountain of Mons Dei itself, where a last ditch defense of the battle area would be done if the three trenches were broken through. The mountain itself would prove to be quite the obstacle to overcome.

In the rebel headquarters General Bietz had just arrived from the River Nestor, leaving the other front for news of dire necessities at Mons Dei. Prince Heinrich of Dienstad was left in command of the army at the Nestor. Bietz saluted the other generals and said, "What has gone wrong?"

Most of the generals kept quiet, and only one dare speak up, "We are loosing this war general." He said this solemnly, and Bietz could not find it in his heart to accuse him of defeatism.

Bietz responded, "We must make the best of it." He knew the man was right, but he knew that he could avoid total and utter defeat if he played his cards right, "Heinrich believes he can still achieve a breakthrough to Fedala, but he has forgotten the original intent. That is, to break through Mons Dei and immediately move on Fedala. We acted too slow, and Fedor was able to amass an emergency army in our direction. The Nestor is lost as well. Our task here is to prepare for the inevitable. We will make our stand at Mons Dei and draw as much blood as possible. Mons Dei will be known as a bloodbath." He waited for the others to take this in, and then he pressed on, "I have sent several of my comrades to the villages of Weigar. An army of two hundred thousand will be raised and supplied by Haven, our newfound allies. This army will meet the Empire and her allies at another battle. At that battle Fedor will remember Mons Dei. With that in mind, perhaps we may sue for peace with favourable terms."

One of the generals shook his head, "And if not?"

Bietz looked at him and answered, "If not, may God be on our side."

All fell silent that day...

Battle of the River Nestor; Northern Bridging
The bridging was complete, and the armour could begin crossing the river. The engineers and the soldiers protecting them had been hardpressed to save their assets in the face of continued rebel offensives coming from the south. Fortunately, Bietz had placed all his reserves on the east bank, making it easier for the Empire, but nonetheless difficult. All counterattacks had been defeated, but the cost had been high, including at least thirteen tanks in the night's worth of combat, and over one hundred infantry. The rebels, as always, had experienced worse, but for them it was an everyday occurance. The attacks had been particularly ferocious later on, claiming dozens of lives, but in the end, the bridges had been saved. Four bridges in total spanned the River Nestor, the raging waters now silent underneath the hulk of premanufactured steel. Almost immediately thereafter, the two Arca Divisions began to cross the rivers once again.

On the river itself, however, three rubber craft were quickly making their way upstream. They were loaded with soldiers garbed in black, carrying older rifle models, and whispering in the winds to each other. The teams crawled up the river using their motors and soon were in sight of the first bridge. One man rolled up his mask and grinned and turned back whispering, "We will do the first bridge." With that, the crafts continued north, against the current. But they were spotted quickly. One of the Cougars turned its heavy barrel towards the ship and let loose a cannonade, which was off mark. Heavy rifle fire erupted from both sides, and slowly it took its toll on the open rubber crafts. All three were punctured and sunk, with all hands dead. Another attempt to blow the bridges had failed.

The crossings continued as if nothing had happened, and within four hours the two divisions - a full one thousand tanks - had crossed to the other side, providing with ample firepower in the rear. Together, the armour headed south, bridge by bridge, and suppressed the rebel defenders, and then destroyed the bridging. By the end of the day the rebels were completely closed in on the east bank of the Nestor, and their path to the rear had been destroyed, while their logistics had been cut off. They were a dead army.

To the south, progress was slower. The single armoured division could simply not penetrate the rebel lines, while the infantry were being caught up in heavy firefights, bogging them down and in the end forcing them to pull away. It was the same situation as at Mons Dei; the rebels could simply group enough firepower in one area to shrug off an attack. It was both frustrating and demoralizing. Artillery continued to rain down on the rebels, but to no avail. They were dug in like moles, and it would take a while to dig them back out - a while and blood. The armour had been shaken down from five hundred tanks to around four hundred and twenty-five when the day was over, especially due to a local counterattack spearheaded by rebel T-72s. The T-72 contingent had been utterly beat back, but nonetheless, the Cougars had suffered just as well. The day ended with no more than a kilometer of advance, and with the Imperials bogged down, forcing them to pull back and sit tight for the night. The offensive would have to resume in the morning.

The news of the night's stop quickly arrived at headquarters, where both President Revello and Emperor Fedor I sat, looking at the progress. The databurst arrived in the midst of their conversation and when Fedor read it, he began to rage. Standing up he said to Revello, "There comes a time when a general is needed at the frontlines. Come, and we shall lead together."

Revello looked confused at first and asked, "Lead what?"

Fedor responded,"The Imperial army of course! Bietz is cut off! Tomorrow is the time to strike! Who knows what the day can bring us; rebel reinforcements destroying my armour on the other side of the river and rebuilding the bridges? The time has come for victory. From here we will ride to Mons Dei, and finish the rebels there. Weigar is only a simple step thereafter!" And so the two left by truck, preparing to arrive at the headquarters of the 3rd Arca Division. They would resume command thereafter and lead the division the next day into combat. Fedor would win the battle...he would transcribe into mythology.

For that night the war settled in that area, allowing the wolves to howl once again. The moon burned brightly onto the Earth, and those that slept under its light, slept tight. But the next day, blood...

glorified bump...

Second Battle of Mons Dei

The four hundred man teams lay under heavy fire and enemy resistance. Many of these men were slaughtered in the first few minutes of fighting, but the rest of the survivors were fighting tenaciously, fighting only to live. The small arms fire kept up amongst the survivors, picking off any rebel that decided to pop their head up. The constant sound of the 15mm chainguns from the SOV-06's could easily be heard from both the Killian and rebel side, as they were laying down some thick fire.

At the old rebel first line, Jimmy Wilson was monitoring the flailing attack with his binoculars. He was sad that he had lost so many men without much progress, and these thoughts were definatly plaguing him. As he watched the teams run into thick machine gun and mortar fire he noticed the rebels gravitating towards the two positions. With that in mind he thought that a huge attack down the middle would crack the second line. But how many men would that take? How many more lives? Wilson knew that he would have to lose many a men, but he also knew the results would be great.

Wilson gathered his men up, or mostly the surviving leaders and NCO's to plan for the all out assault. He explained to the leaders that every man, APC and tank would have to assault the rebel lines. He explained as simple as possible that they would go straight up the middle and break the line. From their they would flood the trenches and when the rebels retreated every able man would shoot at them as they fled. The simplistic planning was done, and now the attack would form, and the plan would trickle down to the lowliest private.

Men started to form up in the SOV-06's, tank commanders were setting up their targeting systems, and IFV drivers started praying. Everything needed to go right this time. The first part of the plan was enacted when the KriGud crews began taking wind speeds, and started calculating their firing angles to get the shot on the rebels just right. The second part of the plan started when the KriGuds opened up with HEF rounds on the rebels in the trenches. The rounds started falling on the rebels with hellish accuracy, churning up dirt and men. KriGud crews were keeping the fire steady, with many of the men scrambling to get the next round loaded. A few smoke rounds were mixed in with the KriGud volleys to cover the Killian approach.

Under the cover of hellish artillery the SOV-06's set off to the rebel lines, with wheels turning at almost maximum speed. The rebels wouldn't exactly see them or hear them for the time being, since they were getting drilled pretty hard. With the SOV-06's churning up the grass and burning towards the enemy, the tanks rolled out next. The tanks had four men on top, to keep any rebel bastards from getting close enough to grenade the hatch. The SOV's almost made it to their destination when the shelling stopped. It was eerily quiet on the battlefield for a few seconds before the loud firing of the 15mm gattling guns awakened every living thing in the radius. The smoke rounds obscuring the rebels lines would be the only thing preventing the rebels from not being blinded by muzzle flashes; the smoke also helped the Killians in another way because many of the rebels with exposed body parts would not know bullets were flying at them until it hit them.

Under the intense cover, the doors dropped. Simultaneously about twenty-five hundred men hit the ground running. The attack front was spread along two miles of the rebel trench, and with many of the rebels gathered to the ends where the prior attack had been, the middle was spread thin. Many of the Killians started running into the direction of the smoke, firing their assault rifles from their hips as they ran. Killian bodies started littering the field as the initial daze wore off and rebels began firing. With more experience, NCO's were leading their men more efficiently into the trenches, creating a smoother attack.

Staff Seargent William Smythe was one of the leaders in the attack. He stormed off his SOV-06 and immediatly made a beeline for the smoke infront of him. He felt the recoil of his gun as he pulled the trigger, and he also heard the clit-clat of small arms fire erupt from his muzzle. The small arms fire turned into a roar as he ran, and he noticed many of his compatriots doing the same as he was, firing and running. He had his full platoon behind him as he ran towards the trenches. He lobbed a grenade, and upon its explosion he jumped into the trench. He immediatly shot the first man he saw, leaving only a confused expression on the dead mans face as he fell. He immediatly opened fire on the next cluster of men, and as his men started getting into the trench he started directing them. Even men he did not know he grabbed by the collar and screamed at, it did not matter who you were, it mattered who and how many you killed. The combat in the trenches became more intense as the surviving runners made it to the trenches. Now the sudden influx of many Killian soldiers would hopefully create a win.

Jimmy Wilson was in his tank at a range where he could hit the enemy and the enemy would have hard times shooting him. He was waiting for a target to present itself before he fired. Waiting inside his loader was a HE round aching to be fired. When the mortars and machine gun nests finally opened up Wilson gave the order to fire. Like a cruel domino effect, one cannon was heard and then the rest opened up like a twisted symphony. Many commanders were pounding machine gun and mortar pits with their rounds. Every BredtSverd was firing at the enemy, their crew wishing them dead with every shot.

The battle for the second trench had begun.

The Second Battle of Mons Dei
The fighting at the two breakthrough points of the Killian offensive continued ferociously, but with a stream of replacements the rebels were slowly finding themselves in yet another position of local superiority, especially with fresh replacements of their anti-tank ordnance, coming from Havenite submarine blockade runners. Every day more and more ordnance was supplied to Mons Dei, and Mons Dei had priority - the Nestor had been cut off, it was a lost hope. But Mons Dei was still open, and the battle was still hotly contested, with thousands of lives lost on both sides. It had turned, more or less, into a quagmire for Killian armies, and it had not proved to have the same fluidity as the first battle, or as the River Nestor. Instead, it had the semblence of a first world war battle, where the offensive slowly poured men into defending trenches. To the Killians, that would be devastating, and the battle had already taken its toll, with at least an estimated two thousand or so men dead at the first trench, at most likely even more at the second. They would have a third, after that, and then, finally, the mountain. It did not look good, and morale wise it was very plausible that their men were loosing the heart to continue with this war. It would, no doubt, turn into the Killian Vietnam. However, it was not a bed of roses for the rebels either, and with a breakthrough envisioned by the Imperials at the River Nestor, the survivability of the battlefield looked even more gloomy after every passing day. But in the end, as said before, victory was no longer a priority. The offensive war had been lost, Bietz and Prince Heinrich no longer held doubts, but the defensive war was still in dispute. To win, they would have to tax every centimeter of land lost, in blood.

That began to show at the second trench, at the two first battle points, as Killian soldiers clumped, as they would inherently do. They had attacked a sector, and they had found themselves outnumbered, in a trenchline; naturally, they would clump to localize manpower, which was a natural tactic. All aggressive animals did it as second nature; for example, wolf packs. But, this time it would work against them. Instead of wasting valuable men in attempts to clean out the trenches, the rebels simply pinpointed heavy mortar strikes on certain clumps, killing dozens of foes in single strikes. It was no more than a murder, a slaughter.

One rebel soldier had stepped out of the trench and began to make his way to the third trench, where he would request reinforcements and resupply. Cutting his way through brush, shell holes, and barb wire, along with other booby traps, he finally jumped into the third trench, where he was greeted by a colonel who briskly commanded, "Your business?"

The man stuttered, but responded nonetheless, "Resupply sir? We need it dearly. We're holding them off, but they keep coming."

The colonel nodded and asked, "How does it look?"

The soldier shook his head, "The blood runs to my ankles."

Meanwhile, the third Killian local offensive had begun, this time against the rebel center. As always, the Killian artillery had begun the offensive with a massive barrage, both forcing the Weigari soldiers to keep their heads low, and warning them of an impeding attack. The infantry huddled down, deep within their trench, avoiding the scraps tossed around after an artillery shell had struck nearby land. In the unfortunate event that a shell hit straight into a trench, a group of men would die, and then be replaced, while the trench walls sagged under the pressure of explosions and fire. One of the scariest experiences of any soldier was to be under direct artillery fire. In some cases it would persuade him to surrender. And certainly, many did, but not enough to tell the end of the battle. Men sweated, men bled, but when the Killians came, the returned with hell on their side.

The artillery barrage suddenly ended, allowing the wounded to scream to their hearts content, unerving those still alive and well. The howitzers to the rear, supplied by Haven, had already begun to open fire in exclusive counter-battery fire, hoping to put Killian artillery out of action in a localized effort. The Killians could no doubt have an advantage in artillery, but the idea was to localize the effort so that the Weigari could simply have specific superiority in some secluded areas, and allow them to prevent small time defeats in order to provide a staging point for a strategic victory. And so, the forty guns ripped apart battery locations for Killian artillery, that had no previous experience against rebel artillery, meaning they would be caught unawares for the time being. All the while, heavy mortars were firing armour piercing munitions over the tops of the SOV-6s. They were no more than improvised explosive devices, turned into mortar bomblets, but they were cheap, and they worked. Weigar was turning over to low cost, low technology, but high yield weapons, and so far, they were working. Otherwise, they were firing smoke rounds of their own, right over the trenches, preventing Killian soldiers their sight, while defending machinegun emplacements ripped apart their ranks as they crawled out of the rear of their vehicles.

Unfortunately, the Killians had chosen a strategic spot, and they had been correct in their assumptions. With reinforcements flowing to the other two locations, it would be difficult to provide local superiority in terms of personnel. They would attempt to offer other solutions, but for the time being, the center was the new sector with the most pressure of breaking. In any case, the rebels had a few aces up their sleeve, and they would play out as the battle continued. Nobody would say Mons Dei would be easy. And it showed as the Killian men began to pour into the lines, tattered with machinegun spurts, and bloody from the wicked rebel response. The rebels here began to approach with a different defensive posture. Indeed, instead of trying to force the Killians back out, they retreated through the maze of the line, allowing the Killians to pour in. They would take potshots at the Killians moving through the trench, and then find a new location to fire from. With that said, they were maximizing profit and minimizing cost. Apart from that, light mortars would fire improvised cluster munitions, similar to the anti-tank munitions, that would pepper specific spots of the line, over the heads of unfortunate Killian troops.

All the while, more resources poured in and gave the rebels more at their disposal. The Weigari Independence Army, although facing a debacle at the River Nestor, was certainly not dead yet.

The Battle of the River Nestor
Both Fedor and Revello sat anxiously in the bowels of a stripped out Cougar, looking over the map of the area, and Fedor raised the photonic camera to get a good view of his sorroundings. They were sitting within a giant bush, which was seperated from the Weigari lines only by a hastily placed minefield and barbwire, which seemed to offer the rebels a brief respite from the almost constant push and pressure from Imperial armour the day before. While the north had been a suprising success, with the rebels now almost fully cut off, the south had gone much slower, and the resistance experienced was even more brutal. In short, the southern advance the day before had not been up to Fedor's expectations, and although he dared not divulge the information to his newest friend, the President of Hailandkill, he was in a race to finish this battle, faster than the Killians could complete their victory at the First Battle of Mons Dei. Politics always entailed competition, and a war in which two powers cooperated did not mean that competition between the two had ceased. There was a low buzz coming from above, and he smiled, then turned to Revello and said, "It begins."

The skies grew dark with the shape of dozens of formations of low flying aircraft, all GLI-76 Falcons. It was the Laerihans! The first time during the war that they had lent a hand in the ground warfare. They struck fast, dropping tons of bombs on the Weigari lines. One could hear the consequent explosions like a crackle, as the anti-personnel submunitions hit the ground and exploded one after the other. The tank chassis in which the two leaders were seated shook, but all the passengers were unpeturbed, already accustomed to the horrendous life of war. As soon as they had come, the aircraft left, although they had promised that their aircraft would be available for use in the operation throughout the day. But, they had done their job, and well.

Taking the radio, Fedor ordered, "Engage!"

The spearheads of the armoured division pushed through the barbwire as it was child's play, although once they began to roll over the mines their tracks began to be blown off, many being forced to sit and pray that a rebel anti-tank munitions didn't hit it. Machinegun fire sputtered from both sides, but for the most part the mines and barbwire had been cleared by the armour, protected by the massive flailing scorpion whips on their forefront. The loud clang of explosive hitting metal was largely superceded by the noise of so many tank engines. Suddenly, a tank divulged a fiery round at trenchwork about ten meters from it, sending a pile of dirt into the air, and leaving only ruin.

Within minutes the armour had cleared the little defenses put forth, and Fedor could see the mechanized infantry move in after them, mopping up whatever the tanks had left aside. Fedor ordered his own tank foward, to follow the lead, and the driver did as he was told. Moving quickly, they could witness the other Cougars blasting rebel strongpoints into Oblivion, and overhead the drone of singular Laerihans aircraft aiding in the offensive. Finally, the essense of Imperial Strategy had manifested itself - combined arms. The armour continued quickly, experiencing some slow downs, but nonetheless, for the first two hours, a steady advance. Fortunately, they had failed to encounter Weigari armour just yet, but they understood that the rebels still had a few broken chassis laying around, after the previous day's defeat.

Suddenly, one could hear a clang!. One of the Cougars began to tremble, and finally the inside cooked off - a rebel penetrator had probably hit the autoloader. From his flank, Fedor could see the emergence of dozens, if not hundreds, of rebel armour, all of them firing on the move. The Cougars immediately responded, as trained, and they began to move faster, attempting to close with the enemy tanks, and therefore expose only their front armour. Their huge 140mm main guns swung at the right angle, and tank after tank shuddered, as round left the barrel, leaving a flaming reminder at the tip of the muzzle. Black smoke had filled the battlefield quickly, and visual sight was impossible. Instead, the tanks would have to rely on their foward looking infra-red sensor suite, and hope that it would be enough to catch an unlucky foe. Despite his visual constraints, Fedor could hear the continuous noise of clangs, booms and ding. What seemed like an enternity was over as soon as it began; some twenty minutes later the only thing left, when the smoke cleared, were the surviving Arcas, and the rebel tanks that had not been knocked out were long gone.

Fedor swore, "Son of a bitch." Grabbing his satellite transmitter he sent an urgen databurst to logistics - "send maintenance crews, immediately!"

The ambush would cost the offensive at least three hours, if not the attack, but the rebels would pay for it. Pulling himself out, Fedor left the tank, accompanied by Revello, through the top hatch, and he began to scour the battlefield - looking at the damage done to his armour, and then to the rebel armour. Another soldier approached him and saluted. Fedor saluted back and inclined his head, allowing the other man to speak, "Privdo Jak Luís, sir. I am here to escort you through the battlefield."

Fedor shook his head, "Nonsense. You are a soldier, protect the area. Tell your commander that I refuse service."

The soldier nodded, saluted again, and then released, leaving Fedor behind. With that, Fedor continued his trek, not saying a word to Revello. Finally, when he seemed satiated he turned to his partner and said, "A bad day. Not as bad as yesterday, but bad. The rebels aren't stupid, it seems. But we will finish this encirclement tonight."

Revello looked around him, "And if maintenance isn't fast enough?"

Fedor looked glum, "It will be fast enough."

He was partially correct. By the end of the three hours all immediately replaceable tanks had been fixed up to mininum standards for combat, while another eight had been pulled out and taken back to headquarters, where they would be railed back to Fedala for a complete reservice. Another twelve were irrevocably damaged. As a comparison, the rebels had lost well over thirty-five tanks, none of them repairable, since they had not ended with the land in their hands. But, the division went on with what it had. It had to reach the River Nestor by night, or else they risked allowing Heinrich and his Weigari army a front capable of fostering his escape. The Laerihans had began to hit doubly as hard, forcing the rebels in the area to keep their heads down. With the extreme aid of the air force, the Nestor was hit that night. The rebels had been completely encircled. In salute, one Arca fired into the night sky with its main gun, and after, another Arca fired from the other side of the river.

That same night, Fedor spoke again to Revello, and he said, "The war against the rebels has been won." He was correct, but he had underestimated his foe - once again.

The Gates of Hell
A single ravine, with walls so tall that ancient historians claimed that they had been forged by a race that was semi-immortal. The walls which seperated Sarcanza and Sidi Rezegh made it seem as if God had purposely crafted it to spare Sarcanza from invasion, and although God's will had been broken once - by Atmos III - many said that Atmos himself was a prodigy of God, if not a god within himself. The walls ended abruptly, continued only through the manifestation of what was the end of the Matamoscas Desert, and then the sheer cliffs continued south, ending just before the Zarbian border, giving way to desert again, and to the north, near the coast, where it was just as ludicrous to plan an invasion. And so, the Gates of Hell was the only viable entrance into Sarcanza, other than a fullscale aerial operation, which the Laerihans was not prepared to undertake, and Colonel General Vien sat as the general would attempt to break through. Images of Gallipolli crossed his mind while his Cougar shook and rolled its way towards the entrance of the ravine. He again popped out of his tank hatch and took another look at what he had to conquer - it was a wide entrance; at least two hundred meters wide. At least, that was a good thing. His confidence had not rise though, and neither had that of the generals that commanded his divisions, and that was a bad thing. Nevertheless, he felt somewhat reassured that he had the full backing of the Laerihans, and of three fully mechanized divisions.

The roar of the two thousand horsepower engine in his ear, Vien could barely hear the passing of dozens of aircraft overhead. But when he did hear the faint traces of birds he lifted himself estatically and opened the hatch once again, popping his bright face out, and taking a look at the Falcons beginning their opening bombardment in the area. They dropped at least four extended range bombs each, which meant that thousands of small anti-personnel submunitions would be littered along the length of the ravine, barring passage to many areas to Sarcanzan infantry. It would not stop their defense totally, but it would instill some casualties even before the armour had entered the arena. Just as quick as they had come, they scattered, heading back to base and preparing for another strike. The Laerihans would be preforming much close air support in the days to come, until the Gates were open, and the armour would need it. Without the aircraft, the tanks were steel graves.

As the quadruple line column of armour began to enter the mouth of the Gates of Hell, hundreds of transport helicopters ubiqioutsly entered overhead, following the wake of the multi-role fighters. They were heavily laden with infantry, ready to be poured over the plateau, which the canyon formed, and where the Sarcanzan resistance would be. They were dropped in an area at least four kilometer wide, where one could see to the horizon due to the flat nature of the land, and as they were dropped the helicopters left. With that, there was two regiments of mechanized infantry over both sides of the canyon, ready to support the armour in a parallel advance upon two axis, thus manifesting combined arms in a situation where combined arms was a very difficult experience. In order to allow for some foward reconnaissance, dozens of GF-11 Archer UAVs flew high, scouting ahead with their ultra-powered cameras, making sure that the infantry and tanks didn't run into things they couldn't take care of - in other words, they were foward eyes for the Laerihans, which would pluck obstacles out of the way, before the ground warfare units were within engagement range.

With that said, the opening hours to the Battle of the Gates of Hell went rather easy, but no doubt it would get more difficult the deeper the units went. Slowly, two mechanized divisions were airlifted to the plateaus - one per each side of the ravine - and the third mechanized division entered with the armour, putting a total of sixty thousand men prepared to engage, with one thousand tanks.

The strategical purpose of the Gates of Hell was in question. In fact, several generals had offered the viable option of an amphibious landing along the coast of Sarcanza, if not an airlift, but Fedor had dismissed these ideas. If the Gates of Hell were opened then Sarcanza would be doomed, as their only viable defensive position would be cracked. If the operation to open the ravines failed, then the Empire could employ itself in amphibious landings along the coast, but the most death telling act would be to take the Gates. The side which held the Gates, held the advantage. He had said to every man within his command post at the Nestor, "The Gates will be ours, and there will be no man that will change my mind."

To those words, so many men marched.

Fedala Internachnal
International Communist Purges Spark Reprisal in the Streets of Fedala

http://www.againstnazi.com/why-we-fight-nazis.jpg
Rise of nationalism is stained by the rise of hate.


FEDALA, SEoTG - Twenty-six 'communist', of various races, were found dead yesterday by national police after a group of self-proclaimed nationalist raided and sacked a local religious center. This show of violence came after a full day of nationalist and Nazi rallies throughout the capital and Macabea in Dienstad, while riots have been reported to scourge cities such as Choybalsan, Mandalay and even Arras. Even as far south and close to the war as Mosnoi Bor nationalist buccaneers have brought more than just artillery to the doorstep of the Empire, inspiring civil destruction and hate, a terrible side effect of not only the Sarcanzan rebellion and the invasion of Zarbia, but by the recent capitalist executions and imprisonements done by socialist or communist nations such as Union Canada and Machinist. Up to two hundred individuals have reported to their local hospitals due to hate crimes, and over forty-three have been reported dead by the police. The situation has gotten to the point where the military has officially declared that they are willing to turn some reserves, originally meant for the front, and occupy several key cities in the race struggle. Even now, heavy police squadrons have been found to take the streets in several locations after news and threats of planned riots were phoned into police stations around the Empire. The violence escalates with every passing minute.

The hate can be traced to the beginnings of the war, and even before, as anti-Catholic purges picked off the Sarcanzan population which was always widly indegenous and self-proclaimed autonomous. When the war broke out and Sarcanza declared independence several within the key provences of the Empire proclaimed it a 'brown revolution', and sealed the fate of the Havenites and Zarbians as 'spics'. The hate has taken many different forms, although ironically the Jewish populations have not been targetted, although many Jews now fear for their protection and have begun to form their own private security forces, bought off from foreign mercenary companies and local security companies. The government has urged all who do this to stand down, as the threat of clashes between ethnic groups continue. Even then, Jews and Aryans alike have been arrested for breaking the law and it seems as if the country is on the verge of martial law. Unfortunately, Fedor, busy at the front, has not been able to issue a public response to the situation, while Jench Fersas, long known as Fedor's right hand man, has left for Roach Busters.

Lazeri Tutorae, the Emperor's foreign advisor said today, "The perpetrators of crimes will be hunted down and tried fairly. No one should think that they can escape the consequences of their action." However, he said little more on the situation.

Hundreds of other nationalities have expressed their desire to leave, and they have been allowed to do so. Pacitalians, known as Latins between the 'Nazis', have begun to purchase tickets to rush home, and many Pacitalian families have huddled together for greater protection. Other nationalities from Atlantic Oceania have been treated much the same after the recent ideological clash between Absolute Capitalism and Capitalizm in Space Union. Nationalities known as allies, such as Guffingford and Doomingsland have found it safe, and several patriots to these countries have joined the ranks of rascism. Tutorae said yesterday, "Any citizen of any foreign country found to be helping in these crimes will be tried as citizens of this country, and face very possible death."

Nevertheless, the situation seems to get worse...


[OOC: Bump; this needs to at least progress to Ishme-Dagan.]

49th’s Shield/2nd Killian Attack

“Sir, they’re running! Jesus the whole lines breaking!”

“Run them through, Stolt get this thing moving, we don’t need em getting away.”

The Badger started pushing itself faster, trying to get a few more mph but the Badger was a beast and was not designed to win a race. Still the 6th armored rammed into the broken Killian line firing as they went.

“Infantry, 364, load beehive…..fire!”

The shell exploded right after it exited the barrel, spraying thousands of flechettes in a killing pattern. An entire squad of Killian soldiers disappeared, literally torn to pieces by the flechettes. Reuben began looking for a new target, an easy task with the abundance of targets. Reuben brought the gun around on another group of Killians but just before he could fire they dropped their weapons and surrendered. “Lucky fuckers” He brought it around again but everywhere the Killians were surrendering. He didn’t know whether to be pissed that the Killians were taking away his moment of glory or to be happy that the immediate fighting was over. Then the tank lurched slowly to a halt, without Reuben’s orders. “Stolt, what the hell are you doing? Keep us going, we have to get to the river and seal off this whole pocket.” Stolt just nodded his head for a response and started up the engine again. Reuben’s radio started warbling, “All units of the 6th armored are to press forward to the river crossing. The infantry will deal with the prisoners, repeat…” Reuben just looked down at Stolt and grinned, he didn’t have to say what he was thinking, his face conveyed the message for him…”I told you so.”

The 6th armored continued on, ignoring any surrendering Killians unless they were in their way, in which case the Killians were promptly run over. Except for the occasional Killian who refused to surrender or thought he had a chance at running, the advance quickly became a let down from the testosterone high of a few minutes ago. “Holy fuck..” Reuben looked down to see his driver staring with his jaw dropped into the horizon. As if by instict Reuben had to look up to see what he was staring at. At first he saw nothing, but then he began making out the outlines of dozens of vehicles, clearly Killian vehicles. The whole 6th armored stopped, right in the middle of the beautiful rolling Ruskan hills, next the Styx river. Then the first tank fired, it was a fairly long range shot but it was close enough for the 155mm gun to penetrate into a Wolverine. And so the whole 6th rippled off, trying to fend off this Killian ‘counterattack”.

“Give me an HE round, APC 072, kill him.” Boom!

Reuben was looking up and down the Killian “attack” force, picking out targets and destroying them, but something was wrong. The Killian’s were in absolutely no formation or arrangement, it looked more like a broken route than an attack, but if anybody else noticed it they kept it to themselves. The testosterone hadn’t really left their systems, the chance to run a Killian unit bloody had been stolen from them just minutes before but it was here, presented to them again. Someone, no one knew who, called in for immediate artillery support, and fifteen seconds later the first shells started landing among the Killians. It didn’t go on for that long, a little over a two minute before the call went up that the Killians were surrendering, and then it took another minute before everyone really did cease firing. The 6th didn’t bother advancing to pick up the prisoners, the men who the Killians had been attacking collected what was left of the Killian’s after what was basically a massacre, the 6th didn’t get any rest though and was immediately ordered to the small town of Ursuline along with the 3rd, once Ursuline was dealt with the Havenite army would be able to gather and fight as one entity.


Battle for Ursuline


The charming tiny little Ruskan town had earned its place in history, a place earned with the destruction of the town. The northeastern face of the town was already reduced to rubble, and the rest of the town was well on its way to the same fate. The Killian infantry had forced their way into the town turning it into a fight were numbers were key, something the Killians and not the Havenites had. Thirty thousand combatants struggled in a town that held less than half as many occupants. The Havenite defenders held on to each and every house, each building becoming a stronghold. The Killians would be forced to clear Ursuline out room by room. The fight inside of Ursuline was out of the hands of any commanders, and into the hands of NCO’s and enlisted men, but as hard the men fought the Killians were slowly pushing forward.

Outside of the town it was a different story. The 62nd’s armor was still alive and well on the sides of the town pouring fire at anything that showed. While the 62nd wasn’t equipped with the heavy Badgers, the smaller KAF-90 MBT’s which were usually assigned to infantry divisions, they were still MBT’s which was more than the Killians could say of their Wolverines. The KAF-90’s along with the surviving APC’s and IFV’s stayed on the towns flanks firing into the Killian reinforcements streaming into town. They were so focused on the Killians in front of town that they didn’t notice the Killian Wolverines to their flank until they fired. Twenty eight of the big MBT’s went up with almost every other one being hit. Another eight died as the KAF-90’s began to swing around to face the new threat. It was already a disaster for the 62nd, in seconds over a third of their armor had been destroyed but the remaining tanks began to fight back. The KAF-90’s on each side of town began firing as fast as they could holding nothing back. While the Wolverines were no match for true tanks the Wolverines had a massive number advantage, sixty four KAF-90’s plus IFV’s to four hundred Wolverines. The KAF-90’s tried to take down as many Wolverines as they could letting off their MAT-21 anti tank missiles at the same time they were firing their main guns. From behind and among them the APC’s and IFV’s that had survived the initial assault began firing off their own MAT-21 missiles at the Wolverines and also began shooting up the Killian infantry. The KAF-90’s frontal armor turned back most of the lighter Wolverine shells, but they couldn’t turn all of them back and one by one the remaining KAF-90’s began erupting into pyres.


Killian Counter

“You got it sited yet?”

“Ya, I got it.”

Guillermo looked over his platoon’s displacement, on the back side of the crest of a hill. His platoon was part of the rearguard that was to hold of the Killian’s while the rest of the army reformed. Just six thousand men were posted on rearguard duty, all they had to do was buy time. To do this an abundance of anti-tank weaponry was left behind for the rearguard, Guillermo’s single platoon had ten of its own ATGM launchers, and each one was set up so that the missile and launcher was just barely over the crest of the hill. Artillery guns shelled the land between the Havenite rearguard and the oncoming Killians, their shells exploding in air, each dishing out dozens of mines.

Guillermo saw them before he could hear them, which seemed odd to him. The Killian’s were still a few miles off. He immediately dropped and brought up his radio. His radio was tuned in with a battery of KAG’s a while back and he informed them that he was ready. Looking down the hill at most of his platoon he called out, “Call out your targets, fire on me.” “I got the first from the right.” “2nd” “3rd” ..Guillermo picked up his laser designator and brought the laser to bear on the center of the Killian column. “Fire!” Ten MAT-21 missiles rippled off from the ridge, instead of heading for the Killian tanks they shot up into the sky before taking a steep nose dive into the thin top armor of their targets. “Move!” Guillermo started half sliding half running down the hills back side to the APC’s that waited him below. Most of his men did the same, a few taking the extra time to lay out a claymore to surprise the first Killian over the crest. Guillermo stopped when he got to the door of the first APC and waited for all his men before jumping in and closing it up behind him. Overhead he could hear the first salvo of shells coming in to pound the Killian column. The APC’s dropped them off after a few hundred yards and they prepared to do the same thing all over again. Six thousand other Havenites were doing the same thing wherever they met the Killians, it wouldn’t stop them but it would slow them down and time was all that mattered. Just a few hours, the Havenite army was split dealing with Killian attacks and it needed some time so it could come back together, until then the Killians wouldn’t be engaged in open combat. And so half of the Havenite army withdrew in the direction of Urseline while the other half advanced on the luckless town from the other side.


Skies over Aurillac


“Act, this is Bose 1, you are free to engage the top flight of inbounds, take em out”

“Roger that,…Angelo, you and your flight work from the right in, my boys start to the left, lets knock em down.”

Captain Braman wheeled his F-121 a bit to the right till his targeting screen told him his nose was pointed in the general direction of his targets that were over a hundred miles away. A constant stream of information was flowing into his interceptor jet from the AWAC’s bird behind him, and now the results of their initial launch were coming in, and along with it new targeting data. Pulling up the two targets given to him, Braman armed his last four Divinebolt missiles.

“Angelo, on my mark we’ll finish them off.”

“Got it Act.”

Braman moved his finger over the trigger, slowly caressing while the Bose 1, the AWAC’s bird behind him, finalized his targeting solution. A light on his HUD display starting blinking, he had his target. Reaching for his radio another light started blinking…”Fuck! Vampires, Vampires inbound, the fuckers launched. Bear flight break left, Bose 1 give me some fucking jamming. Angelo launch, Bear flight launch missiles.”

Braman sqeazed the trigger back calmly and sent the whole jet into a shudder and one by one four Divinebolt missiles jolted out of the missile bay. The missiles free felled for a few seconds, looking like they were bombs on their way to earth, before suddenly their RAMjet engines exploded to life. The missiles which had just seconds before been under gravities immense control accelerated to maddening speeds, quickly breaking the sound barrier and more.

Waiting a second to eyeball his missiles and be sure they all went off correctly, Braman then jerked his stick left. The Divinebolt was a fire and forget missile, now that it was away he didn’t need to worry about targeting it, now he had to save his own ass. A wall of jamming was being put up by both the multiple AWAC’s birds in the air and ground based radar stations, but now Braman turned on his own jamming suite. Although smaller and not as effective as the AWAC’s jamming system, in conjuction with all the other fighters in the air it only served to help. The Killian missiles would also have a hell of a time burning through the jamming without any AWAC’s birds of their own, and as such most of the Killian missiles wasted themselves, but the ones that got through the jamming showed their worth.

One such missile caught hint of Bramans interceptor and veered towards him. He immediately dropped flairs and let go a cloud of chaff, although he didn’t expect it to do much, and he was proved right when the Killian missile burst through anyway. The missile was moving to fast for him to actually see the missile itself but he could track it by its smoke trail, and watching the trail he saw the missile coming right for him. He whipped his jet up and around hoping the maneuver would save him as the missile exploded. The shockwave of the explosion hit first, throwing the jet off course and rattling barman in his cockpit, then the shrapnel struck, digging into the interceptors hide. Inside the cockpit, Bramans HUD screamed, blinking different lights and beeping at the same time as the jet reported to Braman the damage he had just taken, but he was still alive.

To the right he saw more flashes as Killian missiles exploded among the F-121 formations, and he could only hope that those flashes were misses. A quick check showed that not all of those flashes had been misses, but Braman couldn’t think about that just yet. In the craziness of the last few seconds the distance between the Killian’s and the Havenite F-121’s had closed to almost sixty miles. Braman quickly got his squadron back together and formed up Angelo’s squadron next to his, Angelo wasn’t in a position to ever command again. They followed the same process as before, this time firing off medium ranged missiles at what was left of the Killians, while below him the three other F-121 squadrons did the same. From the earths surface Sam batteries joined in the fray, catching the Killian’s in a deadly crossfire. They were over Havenite controlled airspace and they would pay for violating it.

The Battle of the River Nestor: Endgame
For four days the rebels tried to survive the encirclement, and they had even tried to escape, but the river was just too well guarded, and Imperial forces were swarming in from all parts of the Empire. Any operation to attempt to breakout was in vain, and by the end of those four days most of the rebel armour had been destroyed, and if not that, they simply could not move due to a lack of fuel, especially since the Laerihans had been brutally effective at destroying rebel supply centers and warehouses within the area. By the end of those four days the rebels found themselves in a situation in which they could not possible succeed, unless General Bietz somehow managed to pull off an impossible victory against the Killians at Mons Dei, and then swept upon the Imperial rear. But just like it sounded, it was nigh on impossible. Heinrich's position in the battle couldn't be worse, and his dreams had been shattered - his son had kept the throne. Heinrich paced his command tent, while a conglomeration of rebel generals stood by the tent's walls, looking at him in desperation. Their eyes sagged, and each eye was lined with a purple bag, testament to the effort they had put into the battle, and how tired they had become. Heinrich was exasperated and he turned to them and shouted, "What do you want me to do?"

They said nothing and he simply looked at them. Finally, one general spoke, "It's time to surrender. Death to starvation will reap no rewards."

Heinrich shook his head, "I cannot surrender."

The general responded, "He is your son. What can he possibly do to you?"

The prince laughed loudly and retorted, "He will kill me!"

Another general said, "Then kill yourself." Nobody spoke after he had given this piece of advice, and Heinrich glared at him. But it was not a glare of anger. He knew it was true - it was either execution or suicide, but he could not choose between the two. Every day he took to make the decision meant the death of so many more of his men. "Fuck you," he snarled.

Despite this violent reaction, the next day the River Nestor turned quiet. The night had been marked with explosions as the Laerihans ran more missions, including one that would destroy Heinrich's tent when he was elsewhere, causing him to kick out one of his generals from his own tent, and taking it for himself. No-one could get any sleep, whatsoever, and to rub it in, the Ejermacht had shelled the entire encirclement the entire night, killing dozens and wounded hundreds. It was rediculous. By the next day the men were ready to give up. They surrendered in droves, either by crossing the river, or if they were lucky enough to face a direction on the opposite side, by crossing the frontlines. The original eighty thousand man army had been worn down to around seventy thousand by the time it was encircled, but by this day, after the surrendering troops had been counted, it was down to less than thirty thousand men. In fact, Fedor had not expected so many to simply give up, and there was barely the room to put them in, and so they were crowded in ad hoc prisoner camps - pens, guarded by barb wire fences and security personnel. Those with wounds were treated. The most important surrender was Heinrich's right hand man, General Hiertus, who gave himself up near six in the evening. The day following that another eight thousand men gave themselves up, although the very idealogical troops began to shoot at their own comrades, killing hundreds.

But it was irrelevent, for the day next - or the seventh day of the encirclement - Heinrich chose his life over suicide, and surrendered to Fedor. It was humiliating, as he gave his son the white flag himself, making sure he did not stare him in the face. Fedor failed to treat him like a father, and even put him in one of the poorly constructed temporary holding pens, where Heinrich ran the risk of violence from those who were once under his command, and fed up with his orders. Fortunately for the prince, a general had persuaded Fedor to move him to more suitable quarters - proper of royalty. It was rumoured that Fedor had responded, "Rebels that were once royalty are just that, rebels. They deserve no treatment different to other rebels, despite past lives." Nevertheless, by the end of the day Heinrich was put in an individual tent, although under strict guard.

The day after that, Heinrich was on his way to Fedala, while Fedor made sure that his men were on their way to Mons Dei - to seal the fate of Weigar once and for all...

Second Battle of Mons Dei

"Shit, their drawing us in, their drawing us in!"

William Smythe had ended up the unofficial leader of the mass attack into the rebel center. Within minutes of their entrance he had seen plenty of squads turned into red mist by mortar and grenade fire. The constant mortar fire coming from the rebels was devastating to the men, but the paratroops and panzergrenadiers continued firing their guns despite their losses. Rifle shots were being heard all throughout the trenches as the Killians fired at every living target available. The paratroops especially had decided to be finished with their rifles, instead deciding to use their Doomingsland made Dak-91's. The small compact submachine gun was the newest sound added to the pallette of battle noise, and its spraying capacity at the current range made it deadlier than the rifles. Smythe searched frantically for his radioman, and found one by identifying him by the antenae his back. He grabbed the radiorman, got behind him and immediatly hit talk. Upon the first instance of response Smythe began yelling at Jimmy Wilson. He kept raving about the mortars, and their destruction on the Killian ranks until he heard HE round start to fly over his head. His first instinct was to duck, but he ignored it and began throwing every man he saw down to the floor.

Wilson was looking through his field binoculars looking for a hint of mortar flashes when he recieved Smythe's call. Lucky for Smythe, Wilson had ID'd a small flash behind the rebel's second trench. Wilson ducked into his tank and yelled coordinates at his crew, who sprang into action immediatly. The tank lurched backwards spewing its deathly accurate round at the rebels. When Wilson's crews were in a steady firing stream, he called the KriGud's and gave them coordinates to fire on. KriGud fire was being concentrated on where the rebels were grouping to lure the Killians in deeper the trenches, and the HE rounds rained down hard.

Smythe heard the rounds crashing closeby and he was immediatly scared of friendly fire. He and his men kept their heads down only firing when a rebel came into their line of view. As fast as it started the HE rounds stopped, and looking out at the Killian tanks Smythe saw reinforcements streaming towards the trench. The instant he saw the reinforcements, he heard Wiegari machine guns opening up on the ranks of "fresh" men. He watched a squad of men charge the machine gun nest like it was in slow motion. It was almost like watching a movie, with the soldiers firing and lobbing grenades on the move. The machine gun crew attempted to surrender, but Smythe watched the attackers put 7.62mm rounds in their head and chest. The same scene occured all throughout the trench, with small squad and platoon leaders taking a fiery initiative. As new ranks poured in Smythe knew they would be a beautiful target for eager Wiegari's.

He thought this a few seconds after the barrage lifted. He knew that they had to flood the trenches or get killed in groups in the main trench. Smythe then had to make the hardest decision of his life, stay and get killed, or run in and get killed. He decided to run, and he informed everyone in his area to go over the main trench and start attacking the side trenches that the rebels were in. He went over the top first, spewing plenty of rifle rounds before his two feet were even firmly planted. When he was in the main trench he watched plenty of men start flooding the smaller trenches around him like ants over a picnic. Indeed the Killians were attacking everything in their path with no emotion. They had finally turned into killing machines, no longer rational, no longer human. They were primitive in the sense because they only remebered how to kill and bayonet. Rifle rounds were being shot throughout the smaller trenches, coming from and hitting Killian and Wiegari alike. The chatter of arms fire turned into a roar as the paratroops started using their SMGs, adding more rounds to the fray. Smythe could see it all, the Killians, the Wiegari's, the rifle crack, the reloads, the grenades and the death. But like the other men around him, he had no more emotion.

Smythe did not feel anything when he saw plumes of red erupt from the young rebels chest. His mind was at the primitive level and he smiled when he saw he ended the life. Smythe then hustled to a group of seven men, squatting and firing with them. Like primitive man, they only grunted at each other when hit, and only yelled with delight when they killed. The small group was advancing, throwing plenty of grenades as they moved. The battle was like this all over as small Killian groups fired and grenaded, killed and were killed. The advancing groups were working methodically all over, to make sure their were no survivors. The men had no emotion this time, they did not break down when a buddy was killed, and they didnt feel remorse when they took a life. This made them more efficient as they slowly cleared the second line with their rifle fire. To these changed men there would be time for crying, and reflecting later.

(OOC: Done.)

Second Battle of Mons Dei
The mortar teams had been either decimated or forced to retreat under the pressure of fire from Killian armour. From atop the mountain of Mons Dei, General Bietz kept a constant look as the events unfolded and his mouth twisted in various shapes and forms as he looked over the fighting in the second trench. It had been infested by Killian soldiers and his own men had lost their initiative, simply firing to survive. Indeed, there were various accounts of entire companies surrendering - something the defense could ill afford. News had just arrived that the Nestor had been a failure and the eighty thousand men once sent to take the capital had been either slaughtered or captured. It was truthfully a dilemna, and perhaps even a disaster. The tragedy would soon extend to Mons Dei, especially if Imperial divisions made their way to the area. The door to Weigar would be swung open and there was very little protecting the capital. The Weigari Liberation Army had recruited around two hundred to three hundred thousand diehard individuals looking for a fight against Fedor and his men, but with a loss at the Nestor and most definately a second loss at Mons Dei, morale would not run high, and if Biern died at this battle the Weigari army would most certainly crumble. Bietz took the binoculars from his face and thought to himself for a second. Then he turned to General Artur Casander and asked, "What is the disposition of Fedor at the moment?"

The other man solemnly responded, "They are coming. The more we wait, the more chances we have of being caught in another deathtrap. They will most certainly sorround us, and with the men we have left - less than a division, there's very little chance we can survive the onslaught of both the Killian army and the Imperial army."

Bietz murmured something and then said, "Prepare what are now second echelon and tactical reserves. We are leaving. Those that are fighting in the trenches will continue their duty and most likely die. But I will save what I can, including around fourteen thousand men. The rest will lose their lives, or they will surrender, but we can do nothing for them. I will continue to feed reinforcements for as long as possible, perhaps even forcing the Killians to disengage for a while again, but we must save all of our newer equipment, as well as the fixed anti-tank guns. This equipment will be vital for the defense of Weigar." The other man nodded and left, leaving Bietz by himself. With his leader captured, Bietz found himself in a position to command the entire Weigari Army, wherever it was. He would have to use the newfound recruits somehow to regain the iniative, and he would have to find some armour somewhere. His Soviet tanks had been ripped to pieces and there weren't enough to make a single cavalry division. He would have to find something.

In the trenches, the blood ran thick. Clumps of men resisted to their last drop of blood, hiding in corners, taking vantage positions, and crafting a baptism of fire on the Killian infantry. But they found themselves overwhelmed rather quickly - there were more of the enemy than there were of them. The truth became more obvious when the mortar support shortened in frequency, dropping explosives on the Killians with less ferocity. The Killian suppressants had been dubiously and atrociously accurate and effective, and the consequence became readily apparent rather fast. What little long range support Bietz has was used, including a battery of sixteen 105mm light howitzers which blasted Killian controlled trenchline. There were also frequent and violent counteracts preformed by hundreds of men, led by wild leaders. Improvization was the name of the game for the Weigari infantry with fought for their lives, and despite the fact that dozens surrendered, it was much more likely that they would resist with what they had for as long as possible. The tenacious defense could be read in the casualties suffered by the Killian adversary. But this was not to say that it was also obvious that the rebel line was breaking, and that the driven Killian offensive would soon find that it had taken the second trench. Nevertheless, the resistance continued, and hundreds died on both sides. Booby traps would claim the lives of six or seven Killians, while Weigari soldiers were submachine gunned in their posts. The chatter of gunfire was becoming a drain, and there were cases of men going crazy - indeed, Mons Dei would be an example of cruelty and slaughter, where the dead were confined in a trench and their blood running in a very small area. In fact, it was no exageration when it was said that the blood ran to the men's ankles. It was like a river.

As the Killians expanded their control of the trench, their flanks would be put constantly under pressure. Heavily armed companies, with weapons up to their teeth, counterattacked from the third and final trench, time and time again. Longer range mortars and howitzers kept the hell from above, and improvised explosive devices continued to play their tricks. The counter attacking bands would comit themselves to hit and run tactics, blasting an area and then leaving back over to no man's land, and then hitting somewhere else, which would no doubt play physcological tricks on the minds of the enemy. Sometimes they hit simultanuously to multiply the effect, and other times they would sound their bugles but never hit. And to this the blood danced. Captain Alexandre Castor led a company of raiders, and he had begun to work for himself, not for a superior, hitting where he could find better armament, food, and kill some of his enemies. Indeed, these bands began to strike only when it was profitable - only when they could kill more Killians, than Killians them. They would take Killian submachine guns and rifles, as well as, if there was time, body armour and boots if their own were worn out, or had bullet holes in them. The battlefield began to look more as if the Killians were fighting thieves and bandits, not an organized and professional rebel army. But the little control Bietz exercised over parts of his army now were suprising, but the general didn't care - it worked to his advantage if they worked alone, since they would do dirty work on the side while he prepared the portion of his army that would listen to leave.

The general figured that it would take around a month for the Killians and Fedor to consolidate their forces, and then the awaited offensive towards Weigar would begin. By that time the three hundred thousand men would have grown to around half of million armed soldiers, organized into divisions and brigades, and the ripping open of the Weigari lines would turn into a very slow process, which would give Haven enough time to defeat the Imperial army at Mosnoi Bor and breakthrough towards Fedala. Fedor would be pressured to forget about Weigar and look south for the new threat. At least, that's what Bietz hoped for. Whether or not this would turn out to be true would be left for the future, but he didn't know that something very large was being planned for in the south, and forces he had thought of, but had never seen in his life, would be poised to fight one of the largest battles in the history of human warfare. The future of worlds would be decided there. Weigar had turned into a secondary front, and Mons Dei had sealed the influence of the Weigari Liberation Army.

OOC: The bit about the destruction of Guffingford is a tribute to him. He told me to put it in- and so I have.

65 Lowlands Road, Stevid, War Room

The Cabinet war room was hot, full of cabinet officials and military advisers brought in from every corner of Stevid and the Empire, one or two members from the visiting Independent Hitmen forces were also present in the war room. They were there for one reason and one reason only- there next course of action against The Maccabees.
The Macabees were very low down on the Stevid hit list when Guffingford entered the conflict, which only fuelled the fires of national mistrust between Guffingford and Stevid. The fact that Guffingford had then declared war on Stevid, and vice versa, was inevitable. The two nations had put up a big political show to there populations saying that they were the best of friends, surprisingly near nations’ populations minded going to war. On the contrary, they were pro-war, despite Stevid relatively weaken position against a dominant superpower in Imperial Armies.

It was a close run thing out in the ocean around the oilrigs but then the Guffingfordii naval seemed to collapse. Why, the government has kept a total secret and nobody really knows what happened out there. Rumours say that Stevid naval forces utterly destroyed Guffingford’s navy, others say the Catholic SDN’s used nuclear weapons against the enemy, others say that the Guffingfordii forces just all and all surrendered. All were dismissed as ridiculous. The truth was that, scientifically, there was an immense environmental disturbance over Guffingfordii bringing about almost apocalyptic weather systems that Guffingford could do nothing to stop. This type of weather was exactly the same effect that happened to the country of Kurona only a couple of months ago, an ordeal that the nation barely survived. Guffingford experienced the same effect but almost fifty times larger and more destructive than Kurona’s version. Stories of lightening and super hurricane force winds wiping whole cities out and killing millions of people. Stevid is a fiercely Catholic nation with great distrust of the Guffingfordii pro-Nazi dictatorship, this lead to speculation that the Lord Almighty rained fires and winds of death upon a violent, pagan, lost nation. God’s retribution was his wrath on Guffingford for attacking a pro-Catholic nation- Stevid. Many thought it was a miracle, God saved Stevid and destroyed the enemy- Guffingford. God’s work was done. Well, at least that’s what the devotees of the Catholic religion thought, the government refused to be brought into a religious debate. The government admitted nothing. The only comments they were sending out at the moment were that they didn’t declare war on Guffingford- they declared war on them. Stevid declared war on The Macabees, a war that Stevid intended to continue and carry out, and ultimately win.
The national loathing between The Macabees and Stevid were virtually non-existent- the population didn’t approve, yet they couldn’t turn away from the fact that they supported the war, they couldn’t turn their backs and their pride in Stevid. Not now.

The table was made of some kind of smooth black stone and at the longest side of the dark room stood a huge screen, supposedly were the tactical information was displayed for everyone to see. The Prime Minster of Stevid was present along with all the highest-ranking Admirals, Air Marshals and Generals in Stevid. All gathered to discuss the next plan of action.

General Hanes of the famous mechanised Infantry division the 24th Foot Battalion (the same battalion that held the line for three days against rebels outside Volta City in Holy Panooly before pushing them back and taking the city). Hanes was highly decorated for his valour during the Panooly Campaign and his military skill were unsurpassed in Stevid by any other general. He was quite frankly the best in Stevid and the best Stevid would probably ever have.
He stood before everyone in the room and bowed slightly.

“Hello everyone. My name is General Hanes of the Mechanised Infantry Battalion of the 24th Foot. You know why we are all here. Because of the rather fortunate situation that occurred in the Western Ocean we now have no direct threat to our allies or us at this time at all. So now we have to look at broader horizons to the West- The Macabees, the reason we declared war was because they invaded Zarbia. Since that time we have forgotten that far end of the theatre of war. Even I don’t really know what’s going on over there, we all have been so preoccupied with Guffingford being right on our doorstep that we have neglected our original purpose in this war. Now Guffingford is out of the way we can now finally turn our attention to The Macabees.”

The already dark room light up slightly with the interactive tactical board that suddenly flickered to life showing a map of the Maccabees, Guffingford, Safe Haven and Zarbia. The General pointed to the Macabee/Safe Haven boarder line.

“A board clash between these two nations lines almost the whole boarder line. Titanic tank battles, troop movement, air battles, you name it, this theatre of war is pretty hostile. We are on Safe Haven’s side, seeing as they oppose The Macabees. However, the Macabees possess a military that could crush even Guffingford given the time and money. They will not be easy to beat and we all have to agree that losses will be massively high. However, this will be a perfect chance to test our new military units and our allies’ units in a proper battle. For example our Bipedal Tanks will be ready, in fact they are already ready to fight. Since Guffingford isn’t a threat, these walking tanks, along with other mechanised units are going to start rolling off the production line. The Challenger IV Tank is now about to be taken off the drawing board and shared to the world and our new rifle designs are nearly finished. We are more than prepared. But what I am proposing is this, we use what forces we have and concentrate on three main areas of intense conflict along the Macabees’ boarder frontline. Along with our allied comrades in arms from Independent Hitmen, we can send a very large force of infantry, armour, and air units to Safe Haven and support them on land.”

First Sea Lord Sir Admiral Alan West of the Royal Navy of Stevid raised his hand in question.

“Sorry sir but I am wondering about the Navy’s role. Transporting ships is all well and good, but Guffingford managed to destroy twenty-six ships and damage twelve during the conflict in the Western Ocean. We are still a very powerful force to be contended with but do we now have a role in this conflict?”

“Yes, bombardment of coastal military and civilian facilities in The Maccabees and transportation. Apparently there is a large naval battle-taking place at the far side of the continent. Whether you arrive in time to join is another matter, it is a very long trek to under take. For the moment, just transportation…sorry sir.”

“Quite alright, the fact we’ve got an almost mortally wounded Super Dreadnought limping back to dock is devastating to morale- a good break is what we need.”

“Good okay- now if you all go off and compile your suggestions for your particular role in this war, please do that and we’ll meet here again in one week. Now that means, tactics, numbers, estimates and probabilities…just get things moving again.”

Everyone filed out of the room. When they got back to their offices, they would find a large memo on their desks. It contained maps of The Macabee/Safe Haven boarder and details on the local terrain and population centres gathered by satellites, the rest was up to them. It gave them lots of leniency to co-ordinate their own ideas and strategies before bringing them together and sending out the troops……

NEXT DAY

THE STEVIDIAN TIMES

It has been brought to the attention of the Times newspaper that after the dreadful events that happened in Guffingford a few days ago, the government has issued a statement to the state of The Macabees claiming that they are still going to continue the war against them in defence of Zarbia and Safe Haven. This follows the saviour of the Royal Navy utter obliteration by enemy forces and destruction of Guffingford. Stevid’s close coalition ally Independent Hitmen has also continued to stay loyal to the Stevidian cause of mutual aid and defence of Zarbia. Independent Hitmen currently has a very large amount of forces stationed within the far Western Island of Stevid (Rubet Island) ready for armed combat in both the air and the sea. Land forces are also in abundance on both sides.

The Times has obtained the statement released to the nation of The Macabees sent out my the Foreign Office:

“To The Macabees
From Stevidian Foreign Office and MoD

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/stevid.jpg

After the eradication of former enemy Guffingford, we regret to inform you that our cause in this war remains in changed. We declared war on your nation in defence of Zarbia and it is a promise we are not about to let go. Our two nations are, shall remain, at war until this conflict is resolved either by peace or by force. You can expect to see Stevidian and allied armed forces on the frontlines on the ground, in the air and in the sea near to our nation.
Sadly this conflict cannot be avoided but it is in our interests and Zarbia’s that Stevid continue the fight to keep Zarbia free from further foreign attack.

Yours Faithfully
Stevid Foreign Office and Ministry of Defence”

Beneath Hetches Mountain Range
IH Central Command Facility

The main briefing room of the Central Command Facility was very similar to that of their Stevid allies, a large well furnished room adorned with several large flat panel monitors with a central conference table for the main figures and chairs around the wall for the less important members who were nonetheless vital to its operation.

Most of the military top-brass was present. The Commanders from all four home military regions, North, South, East and West, the Admirals of the Fleet and the AirMarshal’s as well as representatives from the various intelligence agencies and the Vice-President.

The light conversation in the room stopped as a Secret Service Agent opened the door after briefly pressing his earpiece into his ear. The assembled military and civilian leaders stood as the President entered and all promptly sat down again as he waved them too. President Anderson did not go straight to his seat at the head of the table, preferring instead to head towards the Vice-President’s for a brief chat.

“Simon, how was Abrams?”

“Cold, wet and windy. So all in all rather normal really. The Holy Emperor sends his regards, but regrets to inform you that he won’t follow you into this war with the state of the Holy Empire after the incident.”

“Well that’s ok Simon. We can’t expect anything more of them after what they have been through. Glad they accepted the help package though; have them back up and running in no time!”

“Indeed. But right now we have more pressing matters. Our guys over there just finished up a meeting of the Stevid War Cabinet, they will be on the video screen any time soon now those damn satellites are working properly again.”

As if to confirm Vice-President Bull’s comment the screen below flicked from the red and blue emblem of the Hetches Facility to the stern face of a man wearing the uniform of an IH General. The man briefly shuffled his papers and after being bidden to start by the President he began to speak.

“Mr President. As you know I’ve just finished at a meeting of the Stevid War Cabinet, as we expected they have decided to press on with the war. They intend to turn their full weight against The Macabees just as soon as they can.”

“Indeed General. I have a meeting with the Stevid Ambassador in ten minutes where we expect them to ask for our sustained commitment. We are of course prepared to give it to them.”

“That’s what we were hearing at this end as well Sir.”

“Excellent. Now General, give me a brief report on the situation of your troops over there.”

“Certainly Sir.” he quickly ruffled through the papers before beginning again “Currently we have two Army Groups fully established, the 9th and the 15th. That’s four Field Armies in total, comprising a force of 9 Armoured Divisions and 24 Infantry Divisions plus 3 Marine Landing Divisions. The leading elements of XXX Corps are approximately two days sailing from us, however from there we will probably have to shift shipping for more offensive operations. My men are ready to go Sir. We have maintained training throughout the deployment and equipment is all at well over 90% operational effectiveness.”

“Thank you General, stay on the line for the moment please.”

The President turned his chair back to the assembled men in the room.

“Charles, can I have a report on our naval task forces in the area.”

“Mr President we have nineteen carriers near Stevid Waters under Admiral McWalter’s 2nd Fleet. They were racing towards the oilfields and have since cut back speed to provide a large deterrent force in the area to backup the Royal Navy. Closer inshore our Battleships have been engaged in live-fire training exercises with the Marines and other landing units to ensure we get that right when the time comes. The Carriers from the 9th and 12th Fleets are also nearing the region, we expect them to provide some closer convoy escort to supplement the escort carriers as we near the Stevid coast. Overall our switch from preparing for defensive measures to offensive strikes are going well. As I mentioned to you in the briefing room yesterday we are looking at having the 2nd Fleet strike targets along the Northern Macabeean coast to draw their naval forces out into ours. However we need to discuss that more with our allies before a complete plan can be presented.”

“Very well, thank you Gentlemen. I have a meeting with the ambassador now, after which I expect to announce the commencement of hostilities against the Macabees. Ensure we are fully prepared for that announcement.”

There was a collective Yes Sir from around the room. Everybody in the country, hell even the world, knew that it was coming. Total war had not been experienced for sometime and many around the room wondered how they and everybody else in the country would deal with it.






Command Post for the 3rd Infantry Regiment, “The Sword and Shield”
Rubert Island Training Grounds

Colonel Thomas Peters stood with his battle staff just outside their command tent. The dirt track that stood just the other side of the basic chain link fence the security platoon had set up was packed full of wheeled vehicles, tanks and armoured fighting vehicles. Some bored the black emblem of the Sword and Shield, whilst others had the shining white Angel of the 15th Tank Regiment.

The mass of vehicles moved slowly in the direction of the central motorpool for the 45th Mechanized Infantry Division that they were all a part of as a thin drizzle began to fall from the heavens. Some said that this was the same storm passing overhead that had ravaged Guffingford, however for the most part clear minds had prevailed, helped no doubt by the mostly atheist outlook of most of the Hitmen. There had been reports of some panicky civilians; however that appeared to mainly be the totally religious doomsayers who seized any opportunity to proclaim the apocalypse and the destruction of life as we know it.

Colonel Peters watched a jeep bearing the insignia of his opposite number at the nearby Stevid army post as it weaved through the traffic escorted by a pair of Military Police on motorbikes. A good man very able to command, it surprised Peters that he wasn’t commanding a division, in the IH Army he would have been plucked straight out and sent to “General School” as it was known. But each nation did it differently and with that man commanding their unit he knew there was somebody he could trust.


IHS New Hampshire, New England Class Fleet Carrier
Flagship of the 2nd Fleet

James McWalter was not in a good mood. After racing his fleet towards battle he had arrived in the area not ten hours after the Guffingford ships had mysteriously ceased fighting, only to be ordered to patrol the area in accordance with the Royal Navy. He had no issues working with the Royal Navy, they were highly competent sailors and their equipment was excellent, yet the task of screening their fleet whilst they nursed a crippled SuperDreadnought back to dry dock was not what he had wanted.

His foul mood had been worsened when he had not been given permission to head further towards Guffingford to actually see for himself what had happened. Apparently a fleet wasn’t expendable where satellites were.

And so now the Fleet-Admiral paced around his ships as they carried out the usual training simulations. Soon he would get his hunting license and would storm around the North of the Island block to hit the Macabeean coast of that he was sure.

Assault Strike Battle Group 'Caretian'
The strike group was one of the largest independent fleets composed by the Empire throughout her entire naval history. It was perhaps matched by the two battle groups that currently fought at Targul Frumos, but no ships could match the size of the beast which formed the flagship of Caretian, and where Grand Admiral Albrek Caretian himself commanded. Indeed, the entire composition rondevouzed somewhere north of the Dienstad Peninsula, forming around the HES Feathermore, recently comissioned and named after the raid that had just happened some months ago. She was a beauty, and she was large, sitting at 3.1 million tonnes and boasting a complete set of eight turrets of twenty-eight inch electromagnetically accelerated cannons. She was large and she was a huge target, but she and her battle group formed quite a seagoing castle of steel and vanadium, offering the firepower of fleets five times the size. The ship was flanked by two Zealous', super dreadnoughts, but half the size of the flagship, and these by six Elusive class battleships. These latter vessels were 'normal' battleships and constituted nothing extraordinary, but they would provide smaller firepower of the utmost necessity, and especially air defenses. If enough missiles pierced through the heavy skin of the Feathermore, she was an assured casualty - a ship of that size could not manuever in time. The key was to keep the Feathermore at a distance, bombarding with her massive guns, or else she was just as dead as any other ship, regardless of size and majesty. Other ships [to be listed later] were either aircraft carriers or escort vessels of no great and ferocious aspect. The Kriermada, although it had several new vessels planned under the auspices of a very gun happy Fedor I, had nothing really spectacular, making up for its dreary lack of interesting ships with a better command core. In fact, Caretian was one of the highest marking naval officers of his age group, which was by now the high sixties, and he was one of the most responsive and best capable of improvising in a very unorthodox matter, which was what mattered the most. With those quality, the strike group set sail around Riptide Monzarc, where it would travel between Liberated America and the now deceased Republic of Guffingford. There would be a bottleneck at Port Kramer, but nobody expected anything to materialise there, and instead expected the heavy hitting battles to ensue after Liberated America had been passed. Indeed, the strike group was tasked with denying Stevid its own oil fields in its own waters, and establishing Kriermada superiority in the war. With the entrance of two new naval powers this established superiority had been offset, and even with a victory at Targul Frumos command of the seas was not assured. No doubt the Empire could play it defensively in its own waters, striking when necessary, but it was much more agressive to find the enemy and engage it in its own waters, and if there was victory, the moral victory would be hard to surpass. And so this armada steamed foward, her mighty guns bristling under the hot sun which so shined around the area.

Admiral Caretian liked the idea of leaving the Empire very little, and in fact, beyond the two battle groups which now fought off Targul Frumos, there was very little to impede another fleet from wreaking havoc. Indeed, the Empire could perhaps count on two more battle groups, which were largely underequipped and badly commanded, meaning in an extended operation they would stand a very small chance. Caretian looked at his executive officer, as they both looked over the ream of paper which Fedala called an intelligence report. He asked idly, "Beyond those two battle groups, officer, what do we really have?"

The other man shrugged, "Mostly, our untested submarine force."

"Ah yes, they really should use that more shouldn't they?" Caretian knew the answer, but he liked the conversation, and he knew that his friend here knew much more than he about the disposition of the Kriermada and subordinate arms.

The other man laughed, "Indeed, sir. Frankly, while the entire Havenic fleet is crumpled up at Targul Frumos, our submarines could be wreaking havoc on Havenic transports and merchant convoys. We could blockade the entire coast, and we could harass the fleets that are being sent by Stevid and Independent Hitmen. The loss of one of our submarines is worth the loss of one of their capital ships, especially their aircraft carriers."

Caretian nodded but responded, "I am a firm believer that after they understand the threat this fleet poses to their coasts and petroleum harvests, they will rerout their own fleets, and Independent Hitman will follow. I think we will have a naval battle beyond the scopes of our minds - something truly for the history books. There has been intelligence that our foes have purchased a Prince of Wales class from Questers, and if that's true, and if they can deploy it in time, we will have blood on our hands."

The executive officer hurumphed and asked, "Can we defeat such a ship?"

The grand admiral nodded once again, "I'd expect so. We present more guns, more armour, although in the end, our two ships are not too different. Fortunately, we also boast more missiles. I'd be worried if a larger ship was present, however. Questerian naval vessels should not be shrugged off, and perhaps the Prince of Wales will have something to show us. I'm certainly worried mate, but worrying is what admirals of such a large and prestigious ship do best. We should have never built it."

"Yes, well, you can reverse the course of history, sir." The other man solemnly said.

Overhead, three seperate reconaissance satellites would make three passes each over the area, monitoring the naval status of the Golden Throne's advesaries, including naval dispositions in the immediate area. The task force certainly did not want suprises and it would do everything within its power to make sure no suprises arised. In fact, yet another reconaissance satellite of the geosynchronous type kept constant surveillance over the portions of the Stevidian and Independent Hitmen fleet that had set sail on the high seas, expecting it fully to turn around and head over to engage the task force that threatened Stevid's coastline. It would only be the most logical choice. The satellites would offer hourly updates for all ships of the task force, including the Feathermore, and these updates were of the utmost necessity. Scouting was always important, regardless of where the battle was being fought and by what means. Indeed, there were too many historical precedents to deny the truth, and the first to come to mind was the Battle of Kadesh. Carentian, being an avid historian, especially in ancient and classical warfare, knew full on well how dire intelligence and reconaissance was. He would not commit the same mistake as prior commanders. With that in mind, Assault Strike Battle Group 'Carentian' continued on its risky voyage.

Forces:

HES Feathermore - Feathermore class Super Dreadnought
HES Coronation - Zealous class Super Dreadnought
HES Pegasus - Zealous class Super Dreadnought
HES King of Kings - Argentine class Galleon
HES Atmos - Elusive class BBN
HES Elusive - Elusive class BBN
HES Valiant - Elusive class BBN
HES Hunter - Elusive class BBN
HES Solace - Elusive class BBN
HES Undertaker - Elusive class BBN
HES Indestructable - Indestructable class CVN
HES Ajax - Indestructable class CVN
HES Achilles - Indestructable class CVN
HES Romanov - Indestructable class CVN
HES Tannejurg - Indestructable class CVN
HES Odysseus - Indestructable class CVN
HES Paris - Indestructable class CVN
HES Tenacious - Tenacious class CN
HES Asterix - Tenacious class CN
HES Baron of Soborguntia - Tenacious class CN
HES Noble - Tenacious class CN
HES Gargantuan - Tenacious class CN
HES Duchess of Alba - Tenacious class CN
HES Iron Duke - Tenacious class CN
HES Constantien III - Tenacious class CN
HES Serendipity - Tenacious class CN
HES Animal - Tenacious class CN
HES Disraeli - Tenacious class CN
HES Boon - Tenacious class CN
HES Bonham - Tenacious class CN
HES Gracious - Tenacious class CN
HES Tedious - Tenacious class CN
HES Lucid - Tenacious class CN
HES Ephemeral - Tenacious class CN
HES Transgression - Tenacious class CN
HES Stupendous - Tenacious class CN
HES Charasmatic - Tenacious class CN
HES Congratulatory - Tenacious class CN
136 Pepperbox LSVs
23 Floating Docks [Maintenance Ships]
45 Patrol Vessels [5 based on each Pepperbox]
20 Paramount class ADVs


Total: 263 vessels; ~ 116,932 crew

Confederate Army Training Area, CAS Burkingbridge
"Two T-80s on the right, three oclock!" Yelled the tank commander.
"Tracking, target in sight, selecting cell one and two, firing one, firing two"

Two explosions blossomed outside the tank as the rounds struck home against the radio controlled tanks.

"Confirmed Two Kills, Nice job Matt" said the tank commander, grinning inspite of himself.
"Thankyou, Sir"
Came the reply from the other side of the tank.
The armoured regiment of which they were part was conducting yet another training drill in the exercise area against forces of obsolete tanks, however the M455 Mod 2 Gun was so powerful it scarcely mattered.
Drill, Drills, will we ever do anything but drills? thought the commander as he looked at the plasma screens that warapped around him, giving him an excelent view of the world outside, Gyroscopes in his headset to make his heads-up display and external audio recievers adjust to give him an easy to use and accurate description of the world outside. All in all the T108 was amongst the best main battle tanks in the world, a match for the famous Arca I Cougar or the Mekhev any day.

"All units, this is central command, good job boys, any tank force has routed, ENDEX ENDEX ENDEX, report back to base for debriefing."

IIX Corps, Rapid Reaction Command Headquarters CAS Burkingbridge

"The performance of the tank units involved in todays exercises were impressive, the T108s lost only one vehicle to a HEAT round in the rear from extreme range, the paints being cleaned off right now. If you factor in the technological dissadvantage, the units who were driving the T-80s still did admirably well, this force is in excellent condition. We could go on our first mission tommorow and still do ourselves proud, such will be my report to Field Marshall Erkinby"
stated the exercises IC, one Leutenant Williams.

The General looked around at him,
"It appears we will be going on our first mission rather sooner that you think, orders just came through from headquaters, we are to report to the naval base at Alexandria and embark our transports, they will join up with Taskforce Excalibur and take us on our first mission"
The Lt. felt his jaw drop,
"But.... Sir, we werent due to go operational for another five months"
"I know, but with all these new conflicts springing up, they need all the forces they can get"
He reached over and hit the intercomm,
"this is the base commander, send out the message i sent earlier"

Main Base Cinema
The three hundred soldiers, two hundred and fifty men and the rest women were watching True Lies, when suddenly just before a major action seqeunce the film died and the lights came up, most of the people in the cinema looked up at the projection box and started to complain, a crackle from the base PA soon quieted them

"Now here this, Now here this, All 8 Corps personel to report to assembly areas immediately, go get some!"
In some parts of the base, the cheering went on for over an hour,

Alexandria, 18 Hours later
The rear and side decks of the transports were all packed with soldiers and logistical personel, all watching thier homeland shrink away from them, how many would return to this land, how many would fall on foreign soil.
Only a few still lingered as the ships joined up with the task group that was assigned to the operation, an operation which the men and women of the corps still knew nothing about.
As Matt took one last look out at the slowly vanishing Alexandria tower, he felt himself thinking Here we go.... he turned away and went down onto the covered observation deck, time to pick up a girl or two, he thought somewhat more happily as he strode for the stairwell with a new spring in his step

Taskforce Excalibur Naval ORBAT

CSS Oozkhazi (Milliard Class Superdreadnaught)
CSS Vanguard (Indestructable Class CVN)
CSS Ireperable (Indestructable Class CVN)
CSS Hermes (Indestructable Class CVN)
CSS Indestructable (Indestructable CVN)
CSS Rommel (Model Class CVN)
CSS Inpenetrable (Model Class CVN)
CSS Victory (Argentine Class Galleon)
CSS Repulse (Argentine Class Galleon)
CSS Excalibur (Excalibur Class Cruiser)
CSS Praetor (Praetorian Class Bombardment Vessel)
CSS Honeydew (Argentine Class CVAN conversion)
CN Squadron Three (8 Seydlitz Class Cruisers)
CN Squadron Four (8 Seydlitz Class Cruisers)
DD Group Green (12 Manstein Class Destroyers)
DD Group Yellow (12 Manstein Class Destroyers)
DD Group Blue (12 Illium Class DDGNs)
AD Group Echo (12 Paramount ADVs)
AO Group (62 Fast Oilers)
3rd LSV Fleet (120 Pepperbox LSVs, 6 Manstein Class Destroyers, 12 Monterey Class Heavy Troop Transports, 4 Paramount ADVs)
5th Heavy Cruiser Squadron (16 Lance Class Cruisers)

10 Miles North/North-West of Macabea City-

A ghostly whistle echoed through the Combat Information Center of the Paragon class Dreadnought RNV Paladin.

‘ Hour 22 and all is well…’

The officer of the watch seemed to chant the usual hourly vigil a much practiced and relaxing sound that all those in the red lit room sighed relieved, it had been a solid month since the fleet had arrived at Macabea. Though the fleet had been slowly resupplied and crews rotated from larger to smaller ships and visa-versa to keep the men active, relaxed and alert. Though the vigil had been completely uneventful with the Havenite essentially pinned to their south and not a single reading from the supposed Zarbian menace to their north things had been quiet, no one had even encountered an unusual biological reading the sea was alive with seemingly only the Mekugian fleet.

The fleet could be considered ‘weak’ by some standards as she lacked a single vessel over 750m. Her three Archon class Super Dreadnoughts were not designed for shore bombardment her two massive 25” guns were perhaps the only naval application of a gerlich principle barrel in the world. The high velocity guns were powered by a charge designed for a 28” gun the combined range, penetration and payload capacity made them worth fearing. For her size she was maneuverable a rarely considered feature in SD’s but her purpose was one for which she had never been used. Originally designed as a siege breaker, and had been deployed to breakthrough the expected naval blockade of the Golden throne… a threat that had never been.

The fleets spear featured SD’s at its tip but the fleet was backed by a second trio of the smaller Obelisk Class ADN’s a sort of half step to an Super Dreadnought. A gunfighter in all respects the Obelisk and its two sister ships the Obtuse, and Oberon carried missiles primarily for defense but boasted 18 long barreled 55cm guns for ship to ship and shore bombardment. Though untested in battle many naval analysts already favored the smaller obelisk even against the much larger Archon class. The Obelisks forerunner was there as well the Paragon class DN’s a classical compromise of defensive and offensive armament she was excellent in all tasks but excelled in no specific area, she was a brawler, she was considered without much class, but she was highly effective and reliable and was there in number. Her ASW helos’ complimenting her impressive armament as a superior fleet escort.

Though it may seems he was full of captainships it was merely that the many numerous Superb class cruisers and the nearly identical in appearance; Icelia and Carson class Air Defense, and ASW frigates filled the sea behind them. Though she had come with two Carriers worth of Aircraft the majority of the air coverage for the fleet was provided by land based aircraft operating from airfields just east of Macabea.

And thus the RNV Paladin found itself amongst the primarily defensive fleet protecting the only safe Berth for the Republican Navy split into three groups an SD in the lead and further combatants surrounding the vessel to the sides no in some cocoon as might be expected but in an arrowhead defending her somewhat more vulnerable stern and sides. As it were non one dared sailed across her bow As all knew the amount of time it took to decelerate the massive vessels, and the consequences of tempting its inertial wrath.

The Paladin was one such vessels now having been rotated to group two assigned to protecting the northern edge of the defensive perimeter. The three fleets radar overlapping by several tens of kilometers but there was no room for error an enemy vessel near the port could wreak havoc on the ground based forces. This of course was their tempering reason for vigilance. Their vigilance was interrupted occasionally of course by the various reports of the day, weather and whether this or that was better than this weather or that. It was routine by this point the red lights gave the crew a sense of day and night but below the waterline there was no natural light, all the light coming from LCD monitors and overhead fluorescent lights all molded into the walls as if they had been grown that way.

‘one minute to turn, Paladin, Prelate, and Proxy begin maneuver.’ an automated voice chimed in the CIC in order to co-ordinate the fleets movements.

‘Ensign Williams what is our current bearing?’ a deep baritone voice came from the shadowy rear area of the CIC. Commander Archer was a quiet character his few words were business to a fault, he was the son of an engineer and though creative was not good at much beyond his life’s work of commanding naval vessels, he was in fact not exactly a very good public speaker and came off at times more than a bit mechanical and cold.

‘270 degrees due west, sir’ the ensign replied quickly and matter of factly

‘very good, helm make speed 30 knots, and come about 20 degrees to new bearing two-five-zero south south-west’

‘aye aye sir’ replied the helmsman as he relayed commands to the actual bridge and engineering to come about to the new heading.

The ship was merely a cog in the smaller patrol taskforce but it was in no way aware of the role it was about to play.

Task Force Bravo-
1x Archon Class SDN (RNV Archon)
1x Obelisk Class ADN (RNV Obtuse)
1x McConchie Class ACVN (RNV O’Neil)
3x Paragon Class DN (NV Paladin, RNV Prelate, RNV Proxy)
2x Messier Class CVN (RNV Saber, RNV Keen)
5x Superb Class BCN (RNV Stolkholm, RNV Soreland, RNV Seiso, RNV Suwess, RNV Superb)
12x Pacem Class DDN
8x Port Carson Class ASW Frigates
10x Port Icelia Class Air Defense Frigates

The Second Battle of Mons Dei

When the mortar fire had slowed, and at some points even stopped, the Killian’s raised their bodies above the lip of the trench to fire at anything wearing a rebel uniform. Almost the entire Killian force rose at once, and the concentrated small arms fire was murderous on any rebels that were visible. 7.62 rounds fired from the muzzles of the Hali-24’s tore up flesh and dirt alike; bullets were making a small thud as they hit their final destination. As the Killians were expanding throughout the second trench the ravenous rebels were making wild, unorganized attacks on the Killian flanks. The rebel attacks were as ferocious as the Killian attacks, and many paratroops dropped from the Wiegari small arms fire. When the rebels attacked they had tried to spook the Killians, and in some instances it worked hitting the warriors psychologically rather than physically. The men who broke down were stepped over by their comrades, who continued to bring the fight to the rebels. The men who broke down were most likely going to be killed but it was viewed by the men as their own fault. The men who kept fighting through the physiological warfare were machines; their sole programmed task was to kill.

Smythe witnessed the whole battle thus far, and he was brought back to humanity when he felt rage towards the Wiegari’s as they pillaged and plundered the dead. He knew he was the unofficial leader, and he grabbed a handful of men and ordered them to follow him. His little taskforce grew as he made his way down the trench. He was leading a headlong charge at the wolves who were looting the bodies, and he drew his knife and sidearm, like a primitive Indian. Pretty soon the paratroops were on top of a particularly large sized group of rebels and the two groups mixed as the conflict turned into hand-to-hand combat. The Killian paratroops were experts in hand-to-hand combat and many men found themselves stabbing and thrusting at the enemy. However good the Killians were, the Wiegari’s were giving a hellish fight, one that could only come from the defense of ones homeland. The blood ran high as knife points from both sides found their way into throats, muscles, limbs, and stomachs. All along the trench this same scene had occurred, where Killians ran at the looting Wiegari’s, chasing them off like vultures that had swarmed a kill.

SOV-06 Infantry fighting vehicles were right behind the second trench, and with the rebels tied up with fighting the Killians, many of the commanders knew they were safe from grenades and suicide charges. The real purpose of bring the IFV’s being so close was to provide cover and suppress the third trench which was barely visible from all the smoke that rifles were producing. When attackers from the third trench rose up to help their brethren, they were met with intense fire from the 15mm chain guns. The tracers danced throughout the afternoon sky like angry hornets. These “hornets” were stinging the attackers with much more pain than a real insect. When the 105mm howitzers landed on the main Killian trench, where the KriGuds and medics were situated it rained death upon any exposed man. This attack was not expected, and many KriGud crews were decimated as they watched the fight from atop their vehicle. When the initial shock wore off, the surviving crews hopped in their vehicles and fired their 125mm rounds back at the mountain. The deafening noise from the KriGud fire was terrible to hear, but anger and adrenaline blocked most of it out for the crews inside.

Wilson had been watching the battle more than he was commanding his tank force, but it didn’t matter much since a firing routine had dictated much of the fire. The tank machine guns helped the SOV-06’s cut down charging men but their real use, the cannons, were still firing into any mortar or howitzer pit that could be sought out.

The battle for the second trench was a bloody one as soldiers who were not involved in the hand-to-hand combat were finding themselves overwhelmed by friends and enemies alike; yet they kept up the small arms fire as best as they could. Killians crumpled under fire, Wiegari’s crumpled under fire but yet both sides kept fighting. The hand-to-hand combat kept up and that too was as ugly as the small arms battles that were popping up along the trench between small groups of men. It was the machines verse the homeland defenders in the battle royale of the war.

Conberth Harbour- South Rubet

It was a cold day along the western coast of Rubet Island with a harsh minus three degree wind blowing in from the ocean, whipping around the small coastal town of Conberth.

A famous port in Stevid, very large port for a small town and honoured with holding three of the now sixteen super dreadnoughts in Stevid. This was Conberth harbour, home of the First Fleet, and the smaller fleet of five. It was also the homeport of the HMS Catholic- the first Stevid super dreadnought and the HMS Akira. It was time for the fleet to set sail, war was coming dangerously close to Stevid once again.

Admiral Farthing stood on the bridge of the capital ship, the HMS Catholic surveying the first fleet of around one hundred and thirty two ships.

“Damn, we have brave sailors wanting shore leave being called back to war again…again!”

The first officer looked up from a digital satellite-imaging screen next to the RADAR operator.

”Don’t worry sir. This are brave men and women, they are willing to die for their country- they’ll fight to the death if ordered to- you know that.”

“I’m not about to order the deaths of well over three thousand sailors. Stevid has had a very long, hard and difficult few months with these foreign powers. We’re all warring with each other with no sign of either side giving up- its madness.”

“Madness or not sir, it’s a job that needs doing…”

“Out there!” The Admiral pointed out through the window and out of the harbour to the dark grey sea and sky. A storm was brewing out in the mid ocean, any experienced captain, or even a mid-shipman could see that. ”Sailing out there isn’t fun, fight out there will be hell. It’ll take more than an auto-tracking computer to aim and fire those computers. That sea is pretty well known for being pain in a ship’s arse.”

“We’ll pull through sir, military satellites confirm a large fleet from the north. Logically it is supposed to be the shortest route from here to The Macabees.”

“Enemy?”

“Confirmed, but your not gonna like this. Satellites don’t lie and so I’m treating this info as one hundred percent correct. They have deployed Super Dreadnoughts… three.”

The admiral moved over to his less superior and looked at the image he was looking at. There they were, the three dreadnoughts, flanked by battleships and surrounded by escorts and the odd carrier here and there. A very formidable fleet was deployed.
The Admiral looked at the dreadnoughts and nodded.

”Hmmm…yes…yes we should worry about those too much.”

The first officer’s eyes widen with disbelief and his bottom lip dropped slightly, if not noticeably.

”Err…sir, you see that they are Super Dreadnoughts?”

“Yes I can see that…”

“Erm… they have guns…”

“So do we… now look here old chap, we may not be packing the largest amount of fire power nor the biggest load of number of ships in the world- we have experience and manoeuvrability- bigger is not necessarily better. We are fast, nippy and agile and most of all, the Royal Navy is adaptable.”

“And we have allies, Independent Hitmen forces are nearly all stationed in Rubet Island and their fleet isn’t that far from here and the oil fields. If we ask for help, they could be here soon seeing as we are here the southern point of Rubet.”

“Aye, right send the final warning to our fleet. We set sail in three hours.”

“Aye captain.”

The huge harbour was soon bustling with activity, tugs pushing ships into position, cranes loading the last of the supplies for the upcoming battle, and finally the crew of each vessel, each some what grumbled by a cut shore leave but none-the-less willing to fight for Stevid.
Farthing looked out at all those brave souls, boarding their ships. Pain struck him subconsciously; he knew many of them would not return to port. Doubt swept over him like the dark clouds that were swiftly enveloping Rubet Island. Looked down at his feet trying to shake off the feeling… it wouldn’t leave and in turn rose his head back up with a tear in his eye. His eyes shifted ever so slightly to his left and eyed the massive flag of Stevid fluttering gracefully in the wind and immediately, all doubt and fear left him.

He was a professional… they were all professional soldiers and sailors, all willing to go and fight for Stevid’s freedom…
_________________________________________________________________

FLEET MANIFEST

HMS Catholic (SDN)
HMS Benedictine VIII (SDN)
HMS Orthodox II (SDN)
HMS Domination (Domination BB)
HMS Fire Flame (Domination BB)
HMS Indomitable (Domination BB)
HMS Helix (Conroy CVN)
HMS Gregory (Conroy CVN)
HMS Etendard (Enterprise CVN)
HMS Jaggard (Enterprise CVN)
HMS Illustrious (Illustrious CV)
HMS Collective (Illustrious CV)
12 Stevid AA Cruisers
28 Nottingham Class
12 Northern Class
12 Torrington Class
8 Broadsword Class
8 Langley Class
9 Duke Class
8 Kingsley Class
3 Dweller Class Destroyers
28 Daring Class
11 Arliegh Burke Class
11 Sheffield Class

-----NUMBER OF SUBMARINES-----

UNDISCLOSED BY ADMIRALTY

Fleet Headquarters, Gillen Naval Base


Fleet Headquarters at Gillen was bathed in sunlight as it finally rose above the mountains that sat to the East of the vast city and naval base. The huge sheltered bay that housed many of the Fleet Anchorage’s was dominated by the shape of the brand new vessel that sat at anchor in the middle of the main channel.

IHS Prince of Wales represented the biggest IH investment in a single foreign ship ever. Over a kilometre long she made even the huge New England Class Carriers look small in comparison and though she was not as tall as the carriers her superstructure rose to an impressive one hundred and fifty two feet from the surface of the water. The figure was increased by the large IH flag that was now fluttering gently in the sea breeze, a custom made flag for that specific vessel.

The vessel was a hive of activity as painters and electricians put the final touches to the vessel in her IH colours and equipment and as some of the 15,000 seamen required to sail the ship loaded thousands of boxes of provisions from one of the supply ships anchored along side her. Further forward two ammunition ships straddled the vessel as her missile tubes were loaded and the gun turret armouries filled with ordinance.

When the time came for her to leave, some time the day after next, the vessel could not turn around in the harbour and would have to reverse out along with the help of thirty tugs to then turn around in the deep water about a mile out to sea. There she would begin the journey that would last for nearly three weeks in order to get to where the action was expected to be. When she went she would not be alone, the carrier New Surrey was at sea guarding the entrance to the harbour along with the only two SuperDreadnoughts Daedalus and Firefly and their various escorts. Those two SuperDreadnoughts were soon to be downgraded to being classified only as Dreadnoughts due to the vast difference in capabilities that there was between the two classes of ships thanks to the new Prince of Wales.

For now the vessels first commanding officer, Rear-Admiral Simon Porter, looked down at the vessel from the balcony of Grand Admiral Whitney’s mansion. Inside the huge house, that came with the position of Grand Admiral, was a large briefing room that was a simple few steps from the balcony, closing the heavy armoured doors behind oneself.

Grand Admiral Whitney took his place at the head of the table once Porter re-entered the room and motioned for the meeting to begin as the others took their seats. A panel in the wall rose, revealing a large screen that showed the Western Half of Stevid along with the seas that bordered all around it. On the sea several white blocks could be seen moving, these represented the IH vessels in the immediate area, currently only Admiral McWalter’s 2nd Fleet. A woman wearing the epilates of a Commander stood and began to give the briefing in a dull monotonous voice that was so common with the women from the west of Independent Hitmen.

“Admiral McWalter has split his command into three separate task force’s that are detailed on your briefing sheets. They are centered around the New Hampshire, New London and Fearless as they are the three premier carriers we have in theatre.”

“Upon the request of our Allies in the Royal Navy we have dispatched Admiral McWalter to help them against the advances of the large Macabeean force that you were all briefed on yesterday. Three submarines have taken up position in the channel between Lacin and Cerfontaine and our friends in the Royal Navy assure us that they are forming up a second line behind that one in order to maintain the pressure on them as they approach.”

“After further evaluation by the Naval Intelligence Corps we have determined that this is not an invasion fleet set against Stevid but more likely to be a sea lanes denial force to prevent us from putting troops ashore in their own country by holding our vessels around Stevid, or attempting to follow up the Guffingfordi move on the Stevid oil platforms that litter the sea around their country.”

“We have a preliminary ship count; two more satellites are due to pass over within an hour and thirty minutes to confirm it. The force is centred around Feathermore, a large Super Dreadnought not dissimilar from the Prince of Wales, and has two other dreadnought seized vessels accompanying it. Satellite passes also showed seven aviation ships, all appearing to be their Indestructable Class, and another six vessels carrying medium sized guns. Add to that over a hundred various escorts including at least ten escort cruisers and we have a preliminary count of over two hundred ships. That, Gentlemen represents a sizeable percentage of their known surface fleet and a dangerous percentage at that.”

With her briefing finished Whitney dismissed her with a polite nod and turned his plush leather chair back towards his assembled officers. They were from varying commands, logistical, combat, intelligence, operations, even a pair of Marine Generals, but all shared a concerned expression that had developed through the briefing. Whitney was the first to break the silence.

“Gentlemen that is what we face. It’s an impressive force but not an unbeatable one. However to prove that we to develop some form of plan, currently our doctrine does cater for this eventuality however with the advent of the AS-1 missile and the improvements in armour that were evident from the stubbornness of the Guffingfordi ships the doctrine needs to be added to. When confrontation comes I believe we will have the advantage in the air, New Hampshire and New London alone carry nearly 700 aircraft that can be used against the enemy force and we will hopefully be in range of land-based air cover whilst they will not. We need options. Let’s go and generate some please.”

Whitney stood and as the others began filing out of the room, already talking quietly to each other, he opened the ornate armoured door and stepped out onto the balcony. Moving to the stone railing he looked down at the spacious gardens, now filled with Uniformed Marines and their XM-8’s, before turning to look at the huge ship sitting at anchor. A hand ran along his brow pushing the fringe of his hair up slightly as he ran his eyes along the length of the hull.

Such a ship! If this war wasn’t coming there would be two more of them sitting here or on the way here, but instead I must guard my funds to replace what will ultimately be lost in the war that she will probably barely contribute to.





TaskForce Hampshire

IHS New Hampshire (New England Class CVN)
IHS Fearsome (Periocles CVN)
IHS Neptune (Isomer Class CVN)
IHS PortHaven (Isomer Class CVN)
IHS Expectation (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Edginton (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Orion (Aasimar Class BN)
IHS Aires (Aasimar Class BN)
IHS Hill (Iowa Class BN)
8 Ticonderoga Class AEGIS Cruisers
12 Arleigh Burke Class Destroyers
4 Type 45 Destroyers
9 ASW Frigates


TaskForce Fearless

IHS Fearless (Periocles Class CVN)
IHS Peacekeeper (Isomer Class CVN)
IHS Independence (Isomer Class CVN)
HIS Cassandra (Cassandra Class CVNS)
IHS Striker (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Wilson (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Walker (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Raven (Aasimar Class BN)
4 Ticonderoga Class AEGIS Cruisers
11 Arleigh Burke Class Destroyers
5 Type 45 Destroyers
9 ASW Frigates


TaskForce London

IHS New London (New England Class CVN)
IHS Simon (Periocles Class CVN)
IHS Fromtac (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Lamboda II (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Courtney (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Jack Carter (Nimitz Class CVN)
IHS Sparta (Greek Class Heavy Cruiser)
3 Ticonderoga Class AEGIS Cruisers
12 Arleigh Burke Class Destroyers
6 Type 45 Destroyers
7 ASW Frigates


Auxilliaries

18 Fleet Supply Ships
12 Fleet Oilers (4 with each formation)
9 Ammunition Ships
1 Floating Dry Dock (anchored close to Conberth Harbour)
2 Submarine Tendors
1 Command and Control Vessel (Blue Ridge Class)


Submarine Forces in the Stevid Area

12 Los Angeles Class 688I SSN’s
4 Seawolf Class SSN
1 Ohio Class SSBN

South of Huzen Hagen
0600 hours
On Board the Calamity

The eastern sky was dark blue, the shade of a night with a full lit moon. But this was morning. The clouds dotted the horizon here and there, and the brightness of morning seemed hours away. A watcher could easily be lulled to sleep by staring east at the navy blue expanse. It was a beautiful thing to see. Blue, the color of peace.

A soft humming drowned out the occasional startle of cranking or wail of an alarm clock. This was truly a wonderful scene. Someone looking at it from a third-person point of view would imagine they would lying in the clouds, staring up into heaven, with the soft hum representing the playing of a fascinating harp.

But a sharp lurch brought all back into reality.

Ensign Kevin Knash toppled to the deck as the heavy ship made it's sudden change of course. Cursing, he stood to his feet and brushed his uniform off. Must look my best for the Captain... stupid boat.

"What in the blazes are you doing Ensign?"

Kevin spun to see the Captain, glaring at him through the dark spectacles. Even without the sunlight, the Captain insisted on wearing glasses with a tint. He looked utterly ridiculous this way, but not a man on the vessel would let him know this. No one would dare argue with the Captain's taste. Kevin thought, No man except...

"Do I need to repeat myself Ensign?" the Captain said in a gruff voice, made his gruffer by his apparent recent drinking. The Captain was notorious for getting drunk in the early mornings. Why shouldn't he? He was the Captain after all...

"I'm-mm sorry ss-sir." The Ensign stuttered, one of his marked qualities. "I-I ff-ell when the bb-oat changed cccc-course." C's were always the hardest for Kevin to pronounce.

The Captain wobbled up to the frightened sailor. "Don't let it happen again!" He screamed in the man's face. The Captain was close enough that he could easily detect the smell of scotch on the Captain's garment. But then again, who couldn't within fifty yards?

"Yy-es ss-sir."

The Captain glared at the man that walked (some might say staggered) towards his cabin which was only 100 feet away below deck. Before taking four steps, the Captain collapsed to the deck himself, lost in his sleep. The man was indeed on a bender. A drunken stupor.

The Ensign turned and walked off in the other direction, meeting the First Mate within 10 strides. "Hh-ello ss-sir."

"Hello Ensign... have you seen the Captain?" The tall blonde leader smiled kindly at the younger sailor. Kevin gestured toward the Captain's sleeping form.

"Thank you Ensign." The First Mate chuckled. "You're free to leave."

The small Ensign darted off, while the Mate walked towards the Captain. The Mate had a kind face, green eyes, and an irresistible smile. Even the Captain had been known to be in a good mood when First Mate Jerry Jones was around. "Well Captain Gorrand... you seem to be sleeping." Jerry said merrily.

He stepped over the man's body and used his pass key to open the Captain's cabin door. He dragged Captain Gorrand into his quarters and laid him on his bed gently.

After leaving the man to sleep in peace, Jerry headed for the bridge. The small Cruiser was a warship, though very small and only lightly armed. Still, Jerry loved the Calamity more than any other man onboard. Although this was one of the most boring assignments of all Oceanaria's merchant missions, Jerry still was enjoying himself.

"Officer West, are we on course?"

The short man stood directing the ship. "Yes Sir."

"Good. The Captain is sleeping, and may be for a good while now... we may be able to finish the mission before he wakes. Inform the rest of the fleet to keep in formation and head west below the Merchant Guilds Island."

"Aye-aye sir."

South Otium Aqua, Patrol Force Segmentum Four

Reports of continued Macabee naval presence in this sea was no lie, every ship in the Royal Navy was now preparing for possible action in case the interception fleet failed to halt the Macabee’s advance on the oil fields. Patrol groups were sailing all around the Stevid Isles to the tips of the territorial waters, looking for any hostile activity to engage. One such group was Segmentum Group Four.

The fleet consisted of six ships, one Flux Class Guided Missile Cruiser, two Broadside Frigates and three Sheffield Class Destroyers. The fleet was comprised of older hulls despite but despite that, they were still formidable ships, extensive and expensive re-fits kept most of the fleet up to date.

HMS Gregory, Flux Class

The sleek stealthy ship cut it’s way through the clear waters of the south sea, avoiding the storm clouds to the North. The fleet was tasked with engaging any enemy fleets without warning. The Macabees were a nation Stevid had been at war with a few months now and there was no turning back. The commanders of each vessel had their orders from the commander from the Gregory to fire when ordered.

The shrill of a whistle rang out on the ship’s bridge, it came from the forty-two year old RADAR operator. “Lengthy amount of targets on RADAR sir! Column formation, it’s easily a convoy sir!”

The captain left his chair and walked over to the operator with a slight smile on his face. River patrol had the job of looking for hostile ships not fleet escorts, it was a boring position in the navy, being called upon to do lowly stuff out at sea.

“Origin Lieutenant?”
“They are heading east but their course doesn’t take them towards Stevid. But they have come from the direction of hostile waters. They may well be Imperial forces.”
“Can RADAR identify?”
The RADAR operator shook his head as he looked at the screen, frustrated with the results the computer was providing him with.
“No sir sorry. It seems that there is EM interference being emitted by the convoy. RADAR specific jamming wave. I can’t ID the vessels.”

The captain straightened himself up after leaning over the RADAR screen. What would he do, there was every possible chance that the convoy was allied and every possible chance that it could be neutral. It couldn’t be allied, no convoys had been stringed together.

“It’s a fifty-fifty chance. If it’s neutral we may inadvertently bring that nation into the war. If it’s an enemy convoy, we’ve done Stevid a favour…err… I know I’m going to regret this… Missile ops-Ensign Peawert!”

The Ensign turned his head round to look at the captain, finally some action to sharpen up an already demoralised fleet. He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Ensign are those targets too weak for missile lock?”
“Yes sir…”
“Right, comms, open channel to the fleet.”

The captain was rushed over to the ship-to-ship intercommunication phone.

[I]“All ships this is the Gregory. Targets confirmed and designated for destruction by the Royal Navy of Stevid. They have some kind of either natural or technological interference coming from their ships so missile tracking is slightly degraded and we cannot ID target nation. I’m making a bold move here but ship loyal to the fleet, engage at will with all available cannon fire.”

The captain, less enthusiastically lowed the speaker back to it’s holder and looked at the floor.

“Sound the general alarm…” he said lowly in a barely heard voice. “Red Alert, all hands to action stations and prepare for battle.”

Ever last corridor and room in the ship turned dark red with flashing lights as alarms rang out across the fleet. Those asleep in bunks rolled out a dressed themselves and those already on station were now darting across the length of the ship to their assigned positions during their drills. In less than two minutes, every ship was ready to fight. The first engagement with the enemy was at hand even though the target ID hadn’t been confirmed, it was still an assignment they had been ordered to carry out.

The bridge had quietened down at bit now, the whole room was dark red like most of the ship with the computer screens blaring very clearly in the dimmed light.
The captain looked at the RADAR screen, he observed a perfect red circle surrounding the Stevidian fleet. This marked out the maximum average range of the fleet cannons. They neared closer and closer to the convoy that hadn’t redirected it’s course in any particular way that showed that they had interpreted the Stevidian fleet as hostile. It worried the captain a lot, perhaps this meant they were neutral, maybe had made a mistake, a decision that his was quickly regretting.

“Sir, enemy fleet in range. The fleet requests permission to fire.”
The captain jumped right out his skin and made a slight yelp that attracted the attention of some people around him so that they turned their heads.
“Err… Yes… Fire at will…”
“Aye sir! All ships you have permission to fire, all ships open fire.!”

Only seconds later the ship rocked with the recoil from the main, double-barrelled gun. The other ships did the same. As par standard naval procedures in the Stevid navy, all ships fire three shells as range finders with the aid of computers. It took less than a minute for the three shells to be fired and water splashed dangerously near to the convoy ships. The next volley cam from every ship, the shells flew towards the convoy with deadly accuracy churning up water and exploding on ships alike. The rangefinders seemed to have worked as now the Stevid fleet was pouring out what it could at the enemy.
The closer the fleet got to the convoy the clear RADAR was becoming, in less than a mile missile lock would be re-established. The Flux Class was a guided missile cruiser, the HMS Gregory would be soon able to off load some serious firepower.
The fleet was cutting through the calm waters with ease at a steady twenty-four knots… it wouldn’t be long.

South of Stevid
1024 hours
Calamity Bridge

Officer West's voice awoke Jerry from his dream. Jerry was known to be an avid daydreamer, and often could be found completely dazed off. It was hard to wake him too.

"Sir, wake up sir!" The man was shaking him incessantly. But that wasn't the only thing shaking. It seemed the boat was too. "Sir!"

Jerry snapped to his feet and stared out across the water. "What it is West?" West must have thought that Jerry was staring right through him. Which in fact Jerry was. That was another of Jerry's traits. He lived past things, and thought past things. Thus was his problem with daydreaming. Jerry had a lot of trouble living in the present.

"Sir, can't you hear?"

For the first time in the last fifteen seconds, Jerry concentrated on listening to what was going on. Then he heard it.

A crash sounded near the ship. This was not good. They were under attack. Instant realization overtook Jerry, as he stumbled over to the radio. "Ensign Kevin Knash, wake the Captain immediately!" A stuttering reply informed the Mate that the order would be obeyed. Meanwhile, Jerry was issuing other orders.

"Tell the convoy to turn as far north as we can... remain in formation. Engines all ahead full! We need to get to Empire A-sap!"

"Yes sir!" shouted West. He was up to his knees in orders, or at least it seemed that way.

---

1026 hours
Calamity Deck

Ensign Kevin Knash rushed from his quarters and headed directly for the Captain's. He could hear the whiz of the rounds striking the water near the ships, and he knew they were under attack.

We are in big trouble...

Kevin breathed a silent stuttered prayer and finally reached the Captain's apartment. He only prayed when he needed a lot of help, and this was one of those moments. He dashed up to the door, only to find it was locked. The mate had locked the door when he had dropped the man there earlier! Either that, or the Captain had locked it himself. Either way, Kevin needed to get in.

He reversed and headed towards the Bridge. The sooner the Captain could be notified, the better.

___________________

Oceanaria Merchant Fleet:

12 Merchant Ships of various classes.
2 Ticonderoga class cruisers (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ticonderoga_class_cruiser) (Calamity , New Covington)

Bridge of the Milliard Superdreadnaught Ookhazi
The printer clattered as a message came in on the priority secure channel, the ELINT compartments low sound of muttered conversation went silent as the supervising officers turned to look at their COs, the enlisted personel noticed the sudden drop in the level of the conversation, they removed thier headsets and looked at the officer moving towards the printer.


Secure Channel Alpha-One-Three-Omega-Niner
ALL STATIONS IN TASKFORCE EXCALIBUR
1. Taskforce Excalibur to proceed at Flank speed to catch up with the Macabee fleet moving to engage the forces of Stevid and IH
2. Taskforce Prince of Wales and Taskforce Warspite are loading up supplies and are preparing to assist you in holding ordered posistions
3. Good luck and good hunting
BREAK BREAK


"Get the commander up here!"

Ten Minutes later
"Signal our companion ships to our course change! Come to bearing two three nine"
"Aye Aye"
"Signal all ships, all ahead flank"


----Taskforce: Prince Of Wales----
CSS Prince of Wales (Prince of Wales class SuperBattleship)
CSS Militaria (Indestructable Class CVN)
CSS Marina (Indestructable Classs CVN)
CSS Monaco Bay (Indestructable Class CVN)
CSS F. G Carter (Indestructable Class CVN)
Destroyer Squadron Three (12 Manstein Class Destroyers)
Destroyer Squadron Six (12 Manstein Class Destroyers)
AD Group Echo (12 Paramount ADVs)
AO Group (62 Fast Oilers)
4rd LSV Fleet (120 Pepperbox LSVs, 6 Manstein Class Destroyers, 12 Monterey Class Heavy Troop Transports, 4 Paramount ADVs)
6th Heavy Cruiser Squadron (16 Lance Class Cruisers)
9th Airdefence Wing (32 Paramount Class ADVs)



----Taskforce: Warspite----
CSS Warspite (Prince of Wales class SuperBattleship)
CSS Vilnius (Indestructable Class CVN)
CSS Monterey Bay (Indestructable Classs CVN)
9th Dreadnaught Squadron (24 Patavium Family Dreadnaughts)
Destroyer Squadron Four (12 Manstein Class Destroyers)
Destroyer Squadron Seven (12 Manstein Class Destroyers)
AD Group Victor (12 Paramount ADVs)
AO Group (62 Fast Oilers)
5rd LSV Fleet (120 Pepperbox LSVs, 6 Manstein Class Destroyers, 12 Monterey Class Heavy Troop Transports, 4 Paramount ADVs)
19th Airdefence Wing (32 Paramount Class ADVs)

OOC: Sorry for the short post, i dont have long to write it

[OOC: If I make too many assumptions then bring any problems up on the out of character thread, and I will adress them and change the post. All these weapons and such can be seen on Kriegzimmer, with the exception of the SeaSerpent LAMPS.]

Beginning Actions of the Battle of Otium Aqua Sea
When one was to consider the disposition of all three national fleets which had converged into Otium Aqua it seemed as if Task Force Caretian was severely at a disadvantage. The fleet's seven aircraft carriers, carrying eight hundred and seventy-five aircraft, twenty-five of which were Fu-47 Starlight AWACS birds, purchase pre-bellum from Wellington International Defense Solutions (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=449826). Nine of these Starlights were patrolling around the fleet at any given point, and should threat of engagement appear then another four birds would be put in the air to increase sensor range density. Regardless, the nine Fu-47s had a rather good web of sensors patrolling over nine hundred nautical miles of water based territory [945 as the maximum, to be exact], using a radome so large that when it had been tested under controlled conditions in Juumanistra it had killed a man when powered. It was quite the aircraft, unfortunately it saw active decomissioning post-war, to be replaced by the GLI-44 Blackjester IRBC, which preformed battlefield control, ELINT and AWACS duties, making it much cheaper to field and maintain, as opposed to several different type of aircrafts, each outfitted for a different job. Nevertheless, they got the job done for now, and one could witness this as they flew circles around the fleet at a radius of circa one hundred nautical miles, warning the battle group of everything that went on in the air and in the water for the stated range. It was rather early when they gave their first report back to the Feathermore, received by Grand Admiral Albrek Caretian. The encrypted very high frequency radio transmission was received slightly muffled due to an encroaching storm overhead, "Tango-Six to Papa-One. We have movements around four hundred nautical miles south of us - the subjects have been confirmed as slow moving ships split into two groups. One has been confirmed as older satellite datafeed as a merchant convoy, and the other has not been confirmed yet, although it seems like its a pack of Stevidian warships, over."

Admiral Caretian pondered for a moment and his executive officer, Rear Admiral David Tieran looked puzzled. He too thought for a second and then questioned Caretian, "How will this jeoperdize the mission?"

The admiral shook his head and replied, "The mission will continue as planned. We cannot risk running into all four task forces ahead of us, and they must be wounded before gun to gun engagement begins." He was right. While the task force could easily engage the Stevidian naval force in the area without being at too much of a disadvantage, the nineteen aircraft carriers, including one anti-submarine warfare light carrier, presented a large problem. The seven Imperial carriers could only focus on one thing at a time, and it could be caught in the sky, without proper support, by Hitmen interceptors or carrier based fighters, meaning Task Force Caretian would be crippled beyond belief. The idea would be to cripple the Hitmen vessels first, while providing a light punch at the three Catholic class Super Dreadnoughts in service with Stevid's assets in the sea. If the Feathermore was the sole super dreadnought, ignoring the two Zealous' and perhaps wounded enemy Super Dreadnoughts, the battle would be more or less to the advantage of the Kriermada. Now, again, this was solely dependent on two major factors; these were the crippling of Hitmen air power coming from their carriers, and the sinking or damaging of the three Catholic class Super Dreadnoughts that currently contested the supremacy of the HES Feathermore. This, however, was easier said than done.

The HES Ephemeral formed the spearhead of the anti-submarine/anti-surface ship perimeter which was customary to the Kriermada's naval forces and task forces. It was sprinting due south, along with the HES Tedious which was just behind it, about three nautical miles to the east and four to the north, forming a flanking ship. The two cruisers were given orders to scout the straits that protected the entrance into the Otium Aqua Sea in preperation for the fleet's grandiose appearance in Stevid's backyard. Ahead of them, around twenty nautical miles in excess, two SeaSerpent LAMPS flew low, dropping a series of long reel sonobouys across the water in trident formation [like a chevron] in different portions of their scout routes. The sonobouys would hit the water and then mechanically unreel a long vertically deployed towed array, which in turn would be dropped to a location around the deep sea channel axis, below the mixed layer. Because of the fact that straits were normally more shallow than the sea proper, the distance between the surface and the deep sea channel axis would diminish, allowing the sonobouy an easier time in completing its job. Normally, a sonobouy would fire away sound waves throughout the mixed layer which would infract when mixed layer met deep sound channel, and leave a shadow zone where the sonar wouldn't pick up any traces of an enemy - meaning shadow zones were where submarines normally lurked. By dropping the verticle towed array to the deep sound channel axis the entire area was covered, eliminating the shadow zone and increasing the chance of catching an enemy submarine. As each sonobouy was dropped the co-pilot of the SeaSerpent would listen for signs of a submarine, or the submarine would be caught through a magnetic anomoly [MAD]. Lieutenant Anton Sergik ended up rather frustrated as nothing was caught, "Shit, I thought we were going to see some action."

The pilot, Ricken Delavro, shook his head and laughed, "Yea well, maybe they expected that we actively patrol the area before actually sending our fleet in. You know, with these modern anti-shipping missiles they could hit us without having to silently await us here."

Sergik peered at his compatriot and sneered, "Yea well, they should have tried anyways. Middle sonobouy silent. Dammit, there must be nothing here for miles." He turned away from the computer panels arrayed before him and looked out towards the sea, "You'd think something was here. We must be looking at over one hundred square nautical miles from our altitude."

"Something low-" Delavro tried to correct his flight partner but was interrupted by the sudden news coming from Sergik.

The co-pilot grasped the ear piece on his right lobe and pushed towards the ear drum, and then looked at Delavro. He was silent for a second, probably from the emotion, but then he began to sputter out information, "The right sonobouy that was dropped two strings ago has caught a magnetic anomoly somewhere above the mixed layer. Jesus Christ, I think we found one." He was right. The liquid crystal display in front of him had already begun to chart the adversary and compare it against the thousands of classes that were stored in the hard drive of the helicopter's computer. Sergik yelled, "It's a Los Angeles!"

The helicopter made a wide banking manuever to completely turn around and Sergik busily worked the panels infront of him. A helmet mounted display, covering his right eye, produced diagrams of the seperate weapons the SeaSerpent II had at its disposal. He chose the Av.17 'Tiburon' light weight torpedo, which boasted a 56kg warhead, moving at 40 knots using the extremely quiet integrated electric engine. The helicopter began to slow down to not only better track its newfound target, but to make sure the torpedo didn't shear on impact with the water. Two minutes later pilot Delavro ordered, "Drop!" Milliseconds leter Sergik pushed the command to drop and the Tiburon was in the air, making its way to the surface of the channel and finally deploying a small chute to slow it down for water penetration. Seconds later it had splashed into the water, where most likely the Los Angeles would hear it, and it began to pick up velocity and head towards its target. The Los Angeles wouldn't have much time to react, and in any case, the common broadband advanced sonar system which had been installed in most Kriermada torpedo designs would be enough to guide the torpedo in case the Los Angeles moved, meaning the Av.17 was extremely accurate. That said, it was only around two to three minutes before Sergik heard an explosion and a volcanic eruption of water forced its way into the air, noting the explosion of the torpedo's warhead. Whether the submarine was hit or not would take some time to figure out - they would have to hear breaking up noises first. Nevertheless, the chances were against the Los Angeles class attack submarine. Before turning back and heading back to the ship to refuel, the helicopter sent out a message to the Tedious, "Target found and engaged. Success not yet guaranteed. Possibility of more targets is existant." With that Dealvro began to circle the site, keeping the submarine in arm's length, prepared to drop the second torpedo at his disposal if necessary.

The excitement in submarine hunting, however, was soon to be overshadowed by greater happenings which would mark the beginning of the naval battle which would soon be known as the Battle of Otium Aqua Sea. Colonel Dieg Valorn sighed as his aircraft began to taxi into one of the elevators of the HES Romanov, forming the lead of his air wing of four squadrons of GLI-76 aircraft. The elevator slowly brought his aircraft to the flight deck of the carrier, and from there he taxied onto the runway itself where other Falcons were lifting off as well. The thrust vectoring on the powerplant of the aircraft slowly lifted his own Falcon just centimeters off the armoured flight deck and then he lifted to a greater altitude to begin moving foward. The entire operation took around four or five minutes, but within thirty minutes all seven carriers had put up three hundred and thirty-six Falcons, divided into seven air wings with a total of twenty-eight squadrons. Once in the air they began to make their way towards their targets. Flying relatively low, to keep under ship based radar's horizon, the wings split off into two groups - one of four and one of three. They flew at around seven hundred knots and were headed right for the Stevidian task force and what would be later known as Task Force Hampshire [assuming that's the closest one, of course]. The sleek airframe of the Falcons provided a perfect marriage with the stormy backdrop provided by nature, which would interfere with enemy airborne and shipborne radars, which would ultimately work to the advantage of the Falcons. Of course, that also made Imperial radar rather fuzzy, but the missiles were also being directed by pre-visualizations provided by satellites and by terminal locking guidance.

The entire operation was rather quickly done, and it was completed from beyond visual range, or about three hundred and fifty kilometers. The Falcons, still at their incredibly low altitude, dropped a single Sledgehammer each. Normally they would be outfitted with the Shockhound Avenger, but despite the decrease in number of carried missiles by half, the Sledgehammer was seen as more adept for the job of knocking out some of those superdreadnoughts and aircraft carriers. As the aircraft banked right after dropping the missiles, each Sledgehammer free fell for about two meters before the Blair and Lancaster ducted ramjet engines spewed forth a great deal of thrust, pushing the nose of the missile upwards as it began to accelerate and gain altitude. The Sledgehammer was an utterly huge missile, with an utterly huge stockpile of aluminum to burn off, but the sheer amount of acceleration at the slope the missile gained altitude at severely restricted the range to under four hundred kilometers. In any case, most of the terminal flight would actually be an incredibly steep glide at over eighty degrees slope, allowing the depleted uranium tipped missile to crash into the deck or superstructure or turret of a ship, penetrate a considerable amount of armour [previously firing and detaching a number of thermite submunitions to weaken the location] and then explode after penetration, putting a great deal of fire and primary/secondary mechanical waves within the ship, at the expense of the ship. That said, there were soon one hundred and ninety-two of these beasts heading towards the Stevidian fleet, focusing on the super dreadnoughts and carriers, and one hundred and forty-four screaming towards Task Force Hampshire, ready to cripple the task force and thus deny Independent Hitmen one third of their total fleet.

By the time the strike had been completed there were ten squadrons of Lu-45 Hawks in the air, creating a high altitude screening force for the returning Falcons who were now no doubt within the sights of enemy radar. The one hundred and twenty Hawks would create a much needed rear guard support screen, providing heavy firepower manifested by beyond visual range air to air missiles and accurate gunfire for dogfights.

Back in the command center of the Feathermore, Admiral Caretian disputed the new news that had arrived - Spizania had finally begun to move towards the very position of the Imperial fleet, but they had moved too late and would arrive too late. The executive officer pleaded with his admiral, "Sir, we should wait for Spizania. Their two task forces will be of immense aid to our cause."

But Caretian shook off the man, "No, we have already struck. As Caesar said we he crossed the Rubicon, the die has been cast. Strategically speaking we must hit as fast and as hard as possible, and our first foe will be Stevid's task force. They are wounded. Now is the time to finish the kill. The Feathermore and our two Zealous' will engage their three Catholic class Super Dreadnoughts at gunnery range, and the Feathermore's superior firepower will prevail - especially since we also boast greater armour. They are outclassed by our capital ships - it is time to take advantage of this fact."

With that the discussion was over and the entire fleet prepared to enter the Otium Aqua Sea in full force, and then change bearing to south southeast, to where they would head to the general location of the Stevidian fleet and engage it. The epic battle had begun and Task Force Caretian would have to be speedy about its business. Should the two full Hitmen task forces converge on the location of the battle it could very well be that the Imperial fleet would be outnumbered and outgunned, and so the Feathermore had to gain superiority. With that, the Feathermore would be free to engage the four battleships at Independent Hitmen's disposal and then use its free reign to engage the carriers at long range with the coilguns it mounted. It all would rest on velocity. Alea iacta est, Caesar had said when he crossed the Rubicon.

[OOC: I'll just do the dialogue between Wilson and Fedor to make this post nicer. :) We don't need to go through the actual roleplaying of the celebration, or 'speaking of the future'. The future can be discussed on AIM.]

Second Battle of Mons Dei
While the conflict for the second trench continued, with heavy assault forces hitting Killian infantry in flanking assaults and even direct assaults, about eight thousand men were marching north in an exodus from the battlefield, leaving around six thousand men behind in the trenches. Some of those left behind noticed the retreat and soon joined and it would be later counted that around eleven thousand soldiers total were able to escape from Mons Dei, leaving three thousand to fend for themselves in the now solitary third trench. Nevertheless, those saved would be provide the most valuable assets for the future Weigari Liberation Army - indeed, they were the only soldiers to survive combat, save the wounded at the First Battle of Mons Dei, and they would give invaluable training to the three hundred thousand conscripts being prepared to stave off an Imperial invasion of Weigar proper. Amongst these soldiers was Bietz who had saw such a thrilling victory at the First Mons Dei, and witnessed two defeats - Nestor and the Second Mons Dei. Nevertheless, he was the best and insofar the most experienced rebel general, and he had successfully saved eleven thousand men from what was a sure death trap. That said, the other three thousand men had been guaranteed a very painful death. Scouts had reported that Imperial armour was bearing south from the north, heading right into rebel positions at Mons Dei. Bietz had forced marched most of his men to get far enough away so that Fedor focused on those still at the Mount of God, as opposed to the little more than division that he commanded now.

It had worked. While about a thousand of the Weigari soldiers were continuing the hit and run tactics on Killian men, and the surviving howitzers changed targets from Killian artillery to the Killian frontline, the other two thousand soldiers soon found themselves face to face with the new Arca. I Cougar tanks and heavily armed armoured infantry, arriving in their SOV-06 infantry fighting vehicles. The Panzerwerfer-2000s had begun the Imperial offensive at the battle with a very intense, although short, saturation with rockets filled to the brim with deadly anti-personnel submunitions. Rebels died in their positions in the third trench, while the armoured infantry kept a bit back, not engaging just yet. The Cougars set up ad hoc batteries around the area, suppressing the trench and outlying fortifications with their high explosive shells. Unfortunately, the bombardment had to be cut short around eight minutes later do to the fact that the majority of the shells stocked in the autoloader were armour piercing sabots, meaning that the autoloaders had to be changed with another autoloader fully equipped with high explosive shells - but then again, that was the advantage of having the rifle clip style autoloader! And then, when the armour began to continue fire, the SOV-6s made their move, dropping the men four hundred meters from the trench. The soldiers poured out, wearing their Samson battle suits - looking like something out of a science fiction movie - and slowly approached the trench. Light machinegunners had deployed in positions where their field of fire covered large portions of the trench, while the riflemen began to run towards the defense - it was safe enough to say that the rebels had not been outfitted with the required armour piercing munitions to punch through the Samson. It was a slaughter.

The rebels hitting the second trench suddenly reeled back, leaving the Killians to massacre the surviving rebels in the second trench proper. Then they dropped their weapons and took anything white they could find and surrendered. Some surrendered to the Killians, others to Fedor's men - whoever was closest. But at least two thousand men gave up their arms that day, while the rest were dead or severely wounded. The Second Battle of Mons Dei had ended.

After the rebels had been rounded up by the two allied armies, Fedor approached the battlefield on his carved out Cougar. He left the tank around a hundred meters from the third trench, which had been carefully sweeped for snipers, as had the second trench, and he stepped down into the trench itself. Looking around his eyes began to water and he said, "So many men. So many dead." But he was a general and he knew the face of death, and so he walked off to the no mans land between the third and second defensive earthwork and there he met with the commander of the Killian forces, Lieutenant Jimmy Wilson. As the Killian soldier came to him and saluted [huge difference in rank, after all], and Fedor saluted back, the Emperor smiled and said, "Welcome to the Empire Lieutenant. This was mighty good work for a lieutenant. Indeed, this battle belonged to a general - but you did good, perhaps better than any general could have done. I apologize we took your glory with our crashing of the party, but I felt it would have been better to finish this bloody ordeal once and for all."

The Killian nodded, "Yea, well, our casualties are testament to the work we did."

Fedor agreed, "Indeed, and for that I want to commend you. He reached into an inner pocket of the parka he was wearing. The jacket was the same white of the uniform he wore under - that of an Imperial general, and he had his beloved Dienstadi Crux under his neck, fully equipped with the crossed lances and diamonds. From his pocket he revealed a box and he opened that, which in turn revealed a bristling medal, "I, Emperor Fedor I of the Second Empire of the Golden Throne, award you, Lieutenant Jimmy Wilson, with the Order of Kíer, the highest ornamentation that can be bestowed upon a soldier of this country. Because you have to specifically be Macabee to be awared the medal, you have also been given full citizenship to the Empire. Finally, I have spoken with your superiors, and they agree, and you have been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel." Fedor reached over and unhinged the two golden bars that decorated Wilson's neck piece of his uniform and replaced them with a silver maple leaf. The man had just jumped three ranks.

Wilson contorted his lips and thought in indecision, but finally made his reply, "Your Imperial Majesty, if that is the proper title, I appreciate the decorations, but my men deserve this as much as I do. They are the ones who were blooded; they were the ones that had to see their comrades die in front of them."

Fedor was partly peturbed, but he understood the man and he said, "I completely agree with you. This medal manifests the work put into the battle by your men. You hold what should symbolize the battle and the dead as a whole. And don't worry, I came prepared to decorate the unit as well - every man, including those who died, will be decorated with a Servit Distinge Cinbech [SDC] [Distinguished Service Ribbon], in honor of what they did at Mons Dei. Now please, take this honor and you will honor me and my people."

The now Lieutenant Colonel jumped to attention and saluted, saying, "Thank you, sir!"

Fedor came to attention and saluted in the Imperial style - a clenched fist to his left breast and then to stiff arm salute. With that, Fedor dropped the salute, followed by Wilson, and the Emperor left the commander behind. But before he left, he turned and said, "Wilson, tonight there will be a celebration for the Nestor and Mons Dei at our camp. You and your closest men are welcome to attend. And tomorrow, we must speak of the future." That said, the two men parted ways. But there would be a future of unity between the two, especially as Wilson rised in rank - there was no doubt in the emperor's mind that the man was due for promotion to colonel and then brigadier general by the end of the campaign against Weigar. From there, the war with Haven showed promise.

HMS Gregory, Flux Class Guided Missile Cruiser- South Otium Aqua

“Picture clear, there is no more interference to RADAR! Missile lock on has been re-established!” Shouted the RADAR operator loudly to his superior officers.
“Good1 Thank you. Tactical, you may fire at will. Blow them out of the water. Target the escort cruisers first and eliminate them beyond recognition. We have plenty of missiles, don’t be afraid to use them!”

The sky was getting greyer and grey as the storm to the north became larger and more and more violent as it slowly swept southerly. The convoy had been victim to a lot of shell with multiple hits scored on the fleet but hindrance to the convoy’s advance. Now that the small Royal Naval fleet got closer to the convoy, the local area’s atmospheric interference cleared up slightly allowing the Flux Class to lock it’s deadly cargo onto a lightly defended convoy.

“Targets acquired…” said the tactical officer with a smile. “Missile lock on is now confirmed. Preparing for launch.” He flipped the transparent plastic cover for the launch button and his finger hovered over the button. He looked up at the captain who gave him a small nod. His finger plunged into the red button and the ship vibrated slightly as the VLS cells opened and fired their load. The multiple targets had been locked on to and twelve missiles were launched to the two escorts, six missile per escort. The other ships in the fleet ceased their cannon barrage and opened fire with their own, smaller compliment, of anti-shipping missiles at the convoy. The Flux Class fired it’s missiles and continued on it’s course before turning to port and keep the convoy on it’s starboard side, ready to of load her starboard torpedo tubes at the convoy shipping. Like wise, the other ships did the same and offloaded four torpedoes each. The battle continued as such, with the Royal Navy ceasing their advance towards the fleet and now sailed parallel to the enemy convoy.


HMS Orthodox II, Otium Aqua

Lt. James Farramir was the RADAR operator on this huge ship and had been staring at the screen for ages. The past two hour actually, the fleet was well aware of the Macabees military might. The same missiles Guffingford used against Stevid in the south sea where also in use in the Macabee armed forces, the Sledgehammer missile was one to be rightly feared and the Stevid Ministry of Defence had yet to prove designs on Stevid’s own variation on the missile. The last time Stevid encountered a sledgehammer missile was when Guffingford used it in the Stevid oil fields a few months ago wounding the Super Dreadnought. It was inevitable that the enemy would employ it again and so drills were constantly practised everyday after the event on most capital ships in the navy such has quickly closing blast doors and closing off sections of the ship at the bulkheads to help prevent the ship sinking, also the ship’s crew were quick to brace for impact when told to. The main contribution to the loss of life on the last Super Dreadnought was that the explosion didn’t totally damage the ship beyond belief, but rather killed hundreds of crewmembers that were either killed by the blast or by the huge shockwaves the blast delivered throughout the ship. Never again would so much live be lost to the enemy. As far as armour was concerned, no nation in the world could refit their ships fast enough to cope with that kind firepower in less than two months, the navy’s time had run out.

The Macabees were located on the other side of the region where the whether had seemed somewhat better than in the harsh western seas off Stevid. The Royal Navy trained and drilled constantly in this kind of weather. Whatever technical advantage the enemy had was good enough for both fleets, but Stevid decades of experience in these waters and this kind of weather, the Royal Navy might be able to pull off somewhat quicker manoeuvres than their adversaries. It was one of the ace cards Stevid had in it’s had at the moment, the others being the IH fleets and other allies coming to Stevid’s aid. The odds where, at the moment stacked slightly higher against Stevid, but none the less the fleet was to do its duty.

Any option given to any fleet commander was to quickly eliminate the enemy’s command ships, in this case Stevid’s Super Dreadnoughts and the aircraft carriers. Stevid would be less fortunate to employ such measures given the size of the fleet and it’s over all effective against the Macabain fleet. The was one thing that they could do… survive… It was sad and painful tactic that was a captain’s last resort. They would fight to the death if need be but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that the Stevid would not win this alone without resorting to nuclear weapons (a tactic that would destroy both fleets and the nation of Stevid itself. A tactic that was dismissed as useless and pathetic means of winning and losing).

The Captain knew this before he had even set sail, quietly going over every option, Spitazia and IH fleet combined with Stevid’s could and probably would crush the Macabee’s naval task force, but alone, Stevid stood little chance. He knew this and remembered an old saying from and old war film he had seen his early teens…

“Hold Until Relieved… Hold Until Relieved…”

He had discussed this with every other commander on the way to the hot spot and they had all agreed it was the best course of action. The IH task force wasn’t too far away and they would arrive in time to save the Stevid fleet. Satellite tracking and aiding had show an allied fleet sent to aid the Macabee’s fleet would not arrive on time either- there was a slim fighting chance. This tactic would mean Stevid would just float in the sea being fired at, if possible at all, the fleet would attempt to defeat the enemy by any means necessary. Moving into a close range where the enemy would feel uncomfortable at close quarters and where Stevid would be more at ease. Close in range firing was Stevid’s speciality. Stevid naval forces had proven time again, and more recently against Guffingford, that their cannon fire accuracy and their rate of firing 25” guns and other sized cannons, was pretty impressive. Constant drills and skills where needed to make a small Stevid navy a professional fighting force. A Stevid navy at close range with small to massive guns was a serious and extremely formidable force to contend with. It was all they had.


The captain raised his head sharply when he heard a small beeping noise coming from the RADAR screens on the other side of the bridge; it was coming from Farramir’s console. His eyes widen. Like wise, so did Farramir’s, he looked at the screen an saw a wave of missiles drawing near to the fleet, just on the very tip on the RADAR screen.

“Range 440 NM, missiles, missiles, missiles!! Range 440 NM, closing at mach 6.5! Estimate type of missile as a Ramjet Sledgehammer anti-capital ship missiles launched by enemy aircraft by their carriers!”

The captain rushed over to him and looked at the screen, the missiles weren’t moving towards them at a straight level at mach 6.5.

“Attitude Lieutenant?”

“Erm…one hundred feet…one twenty…. one fifty…”

“You’re right, they are sledgehammer missiles. There’s nothing overly impressive, only that they are fast and crash down from above. But that’s the problem, that primitive tactic of attacking the decks is deadly to ALL ships. And the missile spirals as it descends to “try” and avoid CIWS fire.”

He turned very quickly to the communications officer who was busy relaying reports to other sections of the fleet.

“Lieutenant Commander Berkley! Order all our aircraft and all our carrier’s aircraft to take off and intercept! If they don’t it NOW, then they’ll survive long enough to get in the air and engage the enemy force in the air. No doubt that they are sending fighters to provide top cover for their launchers so tell the fighters to branch off… or whatever… Hell!! I’m no aviator! I’m a bloody sailor! Just tell ‘em to get in the air an do their job!”

“Aye sir!”

The captain was red in the face, the Macabees were resorting to cowardly long-range tactics, too afraid to come up front? He banished the thought from his mind. It was a good tactic and it would probably work. Faith and hope was all he could do now. He grabbed the intercom for the ship and pressed a red button by its side triggering the general alarm system.

“We are under attack! This is not a drill! Sledgehammer missiles in bound from the North East and closing fast. Close bulkhead doors and engage damage control units! All hands! Brace, Brace, Brace!!”

The bridge turned dark red and warning lights fared to life all around the ship. The sirens activated and every ship in the fleet had its crew bustling with activity.

Outside, the rain was getting heavier and heavier. It wasn’t bad enough to stop aircraft from launching and in fact, they would probably launch whatever the weather. The Super Dreadnoughts carried a large complement of aircraft fighters and fight bombers. The Catholic Super Dreadnoughts all had their compliment of one hundred and forty two S/VTOL aircraft each, the Conroy Class CVN’s had their 125 carrier based multi-role aircraft each, the Illustrious with nine each and finally the Enterprise Class carriers had their seventy-eight craft.

The tactics were simple, kill the enemy. The Macabees Falcons were nearly ready to retreat and would have manoeuvrable F-35’s on their tails among other aircraft in the holds of the carriers. The nine carriers and the Super Dreadnoughts would launch their aircraft. The Super Dreadnought’s had enough fighters to attack the Falcons all by themselves with little or no trouble. The nine carriers would dispatch their aircraft to engage the plane the enemy carriers had sent up to fly top cover for the falcons. It was obvious there would be some, the Falcons where a valuable piece of aircraft to the Macabees and were needed to deal blows of death to the navy. The fighters were not permitted to fly into the enemy’s anti-air zone. Recon aircraft would easily pick them up and the enemy would likely as not send up aircraft to counter the attack. Them same thing would probably apply to the Macabees force. With number of ships available and the amount of AA VLS Cells and CIWS cannons sitting on the decks, and the defence network of linked SAMPSON RADAR domes, most aircraft could be targeted. Until the new CELLDAR system was perfected, SAMPSON would have to do in co-operation with SPY/3 domes.
The air-defence network was up, now it was time to see whether the air attack was up for it. Most of the aircraft available would be deployed. The Flacon’s were fleeing the seen and would be hunted down to the point of return, which was the enemy AA missile range, and CIW range if desperately necessary. The fights from the carriers would engage the top cover fliers the Macabees had sent over. The Stevid fighters would attempt to destroy the enemy in the air, or if the battle swung Macabee’s way, force the enemy to fight on Stevid terms, drawing the aircraft into Stevid Controlled naval aviation airspace. It was worth a shot.

“Missiles dangerously close sir, and…wait, they’ve stopped at an attitude of… no, correction they are descending…quickly. Damn! They’re coming in from above!” Cried Farramir with a shaky voice. “All hands brace for impact!”

The captain had sweat on his brow and wiped it carelessly on his naval blazer.

“RADAR! Aircraft status?”

“The HMS Helix has some trouble, half their aircraft are in the air. Our fight aircraft are in the air, and the other carriers have the odd few taking of now sir. Only three or for now. But the Helix is struggling, she’s taking evasive action.”

“Right then! Targets have been identified has sledgehammers. They are not invincible to shoot down, nor are they immune to counter measures. Fire Chaff and continue emitting an EM pulse! Confuse the missile’s RADAR lock… do any thing to confuse it! In the mean time… TACTICAL!! Order all ship to commence Phalanx fire!”

The carriers and Super Dreadnoughts spat out a larger amount of chaff out of the sides of their ships and the prow and aft quarters. The CIWS cannons whirred to life and rotated and aimed upwards to the sky. The eight barrels of the mini-gun started spinning fiercely before bullets poured out of it spinning maw. The whole fleet lit up in spectacular fashion as every ship spat out masses of bullets into the air in the hope of catching some of the missiles. It was inevitable that quite a few missiles would get through the wave of bullets but the law of averages, and of course lady luck would play apart.

Fifteen explosions were seen in the air as the missiles exploded and a further six missiles were seen destroyed by observers on the decks of the escort ships. The AA cruisers and the Type-45 Destroyers opened up with SAM missiles as well as their own CIWS fire at the missiles. The hail of bullets continued to sweep into the air but the missiles must have started spiralling as more explosions were seen. A splash of water, a second, a third, three more splashes as the chaff steered a few missiles off course. Celebration was short lived as the deck of the HMS Helix erupted with fire three times over as three sledgehammer missiles detonated on the deck, tearing up the flight deck into flames of raging fire. The supplies in the hangers detonated and the Helix’s port side hangers exploded ripping a huge hole in its side. She wasn’t taking on water due to the hole being so far above the water line but the damage was done. The fires were burning fiercely and a big plume of smoke rose form the stricken ship. Similar fates met three other carriers whose evasive turns did little but prolong the extent of the missiles decent. However The Super Dreadnoughts met a less destructive fate with their heavier armour. HMS Benedictine VIII caught a multitude of missiles on its port decking and two on the port infrastructure ripping into decking an exploding within. The damage on the starboard side was light; the ship’s slow and purposeful evasive turnings had just paid off. The fires burned quickly below the decks violently rocking the whole boat and sending shockwaves through the vessel. The crew had braced for impact when ordered so nothing more than injuries were sustained else where in the ship but in the impact zone deaths reached to over fifty crewmembers. The three missiles that landed on the infrastructure of the ship, when it detonated it damaged secondary fire systems and tertiary RADAR and damage control system. Casualty lists and reports were varied, confusion on the ship became it’s failing as crew members not essential to the ships combat readiness rushed around tending to the wounded and removing the dead. The scenes in the corridor were not pleasant to behold, smoke filled the rooms and walkways of the great ship. The Benedictine wasn’t out of the fight but her chances of surviving had diminished quite dramatically. The other Super Dreadnoughts managed to escape total annihilation, the chaff clouds scattered over a large area. They had passed over a single Domination class battleship where the remainder sledgehammer missile fell. The resulting explosion was spectacular and distressing as the ship burst into a fireball of flames. The magazine hold detonated and the prow of the ship was ripped apart. The fleet continued on, leaving the doomed battleship to her fate at the bottom of the sea.

The fleet had been dealt a big blow, it was up to the fleet air corps to do deal the revenge of the Stevid fleet.

OOC: Casualties might be a little iffy and I am mid way through typing up a counterstroke. More discussion on OOC thread.

IHS New Hampshire


The Task Force Carrier Air Patrol (CAP) had just been replaced with twelve fresh F-22S Sea Raptors when the raid warning came through from satellite intel. A pass over the Macabeean Fleet had registered aircraft taking off from at least five of the enemy carriers which signified a severe raid at least. Whether it would be targeted at Task Force Hampshire or the Stevid Grand Fleet they didn’t know, but Admiral McWalter had ordered two additional AWAC’s and another twelve F-22S’s to get into the air to double the total of those there. Every other aircraft on the carriers had gone onto +5 which meant they were fuelled and armed on the decks ready to get airbourne within five minutes, with the exception of New Hampshire who with her 3 hangar decks and 350 aircraft took nearly twenty minutes to fully launch them all from her nine catapults.

In the CIC on Hampshire the status of every aircraft in the taskforce was shown on a a screen that took up all of one wall, whilst another wall was covered by a similar screen showing the position of the ships in the force, in addition to which there were various screens showing radar tracks from both the huge SPY-9I radar systems on the AEGIS vessels and the airbourne radars. There were also several flat monitors hanging from the walls that showed the fleets SAM (Surface-to-Air Missile), ASW (Anti-Submarine warfare) and SSM (Surface-Surface warfare) commanders on their relative vessels.

The SAM boss, as he was known, was in the CIC of the Ticonderoga Class Cruiser Clancy a vessel that had seen action on several occasions before, being present during the sinking of the Lamboda by IN attack aircraft nearly a year before. They had been fooled by low flying missiles that time and as such they had become very wary of such an attack being repeated. The Macabeean pilots wouldn’t be idiots trying to throw their lives away to the long range AAM-3’s that the IH fighters carried, but neither would they be too careful to stay out of range at the expense of getting accurate targeting information. So the decision was made, the fully powered up SPY-9I radars would be switched from standby to active as soon as the first Hawkeye made radar contact with an inbound.

It would be a gamble.

Turning on the radars would give the commanders a much better chance of protecting their vessels or detecting low level aircraft and missiles, however it would also be revealing the position of the fleet for any other strikes that may or may not be out there and not know exactly where they were.


Back on New Hampshire, Admiral McWalter looked at his watch. The distance of the enemy fleet and the known speeds of their aircraft made it likely that the enemy were just passing four hundred kilometres out from the nearest sonar picked of Task Force Hampshire. Time to get our aircraft in the air

“Officer of the watch, signal for all aircraft to be launched. Proceed as per option bravo.”

“Aye aye sir. All aircraft.”


From the six carrier decks the sounds of pilots turning on their engines could be heard and moving carefully to the catapults that were about to be made vacant. On New Hampshire the Carrier Air Group Commander hit the throttles on his F-22S and saluted the deckcrewman as the catapult shot him forward from 0-120 in under three seconds, pushing his head into the headrest. As soon as the nimble fighter had cleared the deck he throttled back to lower the afterburner, putting his nose up for a steep but steady climb to altitude. A quick check of his HUD showed that he had 96% fuel left, four AAM-3’s and a pair of AIM-109X Sidewinders (improved sidewinders with different number) all ready to go along with a full magazine of 20mm cannon shells. The small radar screen in between his legs showed him the feed that was being transmitted from the nearest AWAC’s, currently only showing the twenty four fighters and four radar birds on CAP along with the first six aircraft to be launched from the carriers.



Eagle Four, E2-CI Hawkeye AWAC’s Aircraft
Over the outer sonar picket of Task Force Hampshire on the threat axis

“Lieutenant, what is that on your screen?”

“That sir is part of my bacon roll”

The watch commander raised an eyebrow.

“Could you explain to me why your bacon roll is moving laterally across your screen and has been joined by several other parts of your bacon roll?”

The operator shot a worried look at his screen before grabbing his microphone and hitting transmit.

“VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE, VAMPIRE, inbound missiles bearing two-zero-niner. Count is forty one at this time, make that forty three.”

“Are they classified yet?”

“Negative. Range three-two-oh kilometres.”

“Shit.” the commander changed frequencies to that used by the fighters now forming up at altitude “Buster lead, Eagle Four. Inbound Vampires on bearing two-zero-nine. Splash ‘em over”

“Roger Eagle Four. Going to burner now”

Onboard his aircraft the watch officer looked at his screen as the thirty six F-22S and twenty four F/A-18E Super Hornets of Buster Wing hit their afterburners shooting away from the rest of the milling fighters that were flying fuel efficient circles waiting for action. The watch officer looked at the screen and made another decision

“Cochise and Apache leads, form up at Phase Line echo. All others remain on station. We may get some leakers.”


In the CIC on New Hampshire Admiral McWalter looked at the screen more nervously as the tally of inbounds were called out. The number had reached one hundred and thirty when he made his decision.

“Signal all vessels to go to flank speed, course zero-two-four.”

“Aye Sir, all vessels flank speed, course zero-two-four”

A moment later there was a shudder as the five huge propellers beneath the stern of New Hampshire increased their revs in order to bring her up to flank speed of 45knots. The giant nuclear reactors deep within the ship were brought up to 100% in order to power both the propulsion and the ships onboard defence systems which had yet to be fully activated. The sudden change in course and speed caused the deck to lean slightly as on all six carriers as they all turned and began moving away from the incoming missiles. If a gap of ten kilometres could be gotten from the area that the missiles hoped to find them in it may cause some guidance problems, or if they were launched from maximum range hopefully some to run out of fuel.


Buster Lead, F-22S Sea Raptor

The Commander flying the F-22S looked briefly at the radar screen between his legs that showed the take from the nearest E-2CI that was tracking the inbound missiles. A small bleep came through his headset telling him that his AAM-3’s had acquired tone on the hostile missiles that were now clawing their way upwards at nearly Mach 3. The pilot flicked the arm switch on his own missiles as the command came over the radio net, every other pilot following suit in the other aircraft formed up around him.

Buster Wing triggered a first wave of one hundred and twenty of the million dollar AAM-3’s at the missiles when they were 200kilometers from them, well within the missiles maximum tested range of 255km. Ten seconds later they triggered off a second wave, also of one hundred and twenty AAM-3’s, that emptied the F-22’s internal bay of missiles. They still had the two AIM-109X Sidewinders left and in addition the F/A-18E’s that had accompanied them had another AAM-3 each in case Macabeean fighters came up to play from their distant carriers. On command the Wing then turned parallel to the Fleet to prevent them from getting in the way of the other wings coming ready to launch their own missiles.


Meanwhile the AAM-3’s continued on their way towards the inbound vampires. On the Hawkeye’s and in the CIC’s of every ship in the force the operators watched as the small v’s on their display, each accompanied by a vector, headed towards each other at a closing speed of nearly Mach 6, Mach 3.3 for the inbound and 2.6 for the outbound.

The AAM-3’s were designed to target supersonic interceptors that would be using a super cruise or afterburner function to get close to carrier task force, whilst also being long range missiles to deal with that threat at a range that would not allow them to fire back. Though the inbound sledgehammers were large they were still not as big as an aircraft and so of the two hundred and forty missiles that were launched at the one hundred and forty two inbound vampires only seventy nine managed to hit their targets.

On the cruiser Clancy the SAM boss watched the inbound tracks disappear one by one, but not quick enough. He looked upwards at the videoscreen that also housed a camera.

“Admiral we are gonna get some leakers. Recommend we go active and start putting SAM’s into the air.”

“Very well Captain. I don’t want any of my ships having holes in them at the end of this.”

The order went out and the AEGIS systems sprang into life, immediately continuing the tracking that they had been doing in passive mode off of the data from the orbiting AWAC’s aircraft. Above them the remaining aircraft left on station from the carriers moved between the task force and the hostile fleet, most pilots wondering if they would have decks left to land on from where they could get some AS-1M’s and begin fighting back.


A launch by Cochise Wing of another one hundred AAM-3’s claimed another fifty one which left twelve still coming as they tipped over at the top of their dive. From there they might very well be unstoppable.

Men on the carriers decks watched as the first grey smoke trails burst from the magazines on the various AEGIS equipped ships around them. The missiles were barely twenty kilometres from the outer sonar pickets as the first of the SM-2 Block X SAM’s hurtled up to meet them. The AEGIS systems on all the ships were linked together and were assigning three missiles from various sources at each inbound before pausing to wait to see if it was destroyed and needed more fired at it. This worked reasonably well considering that the inbounds were now coming in at nearly Mach 6.5 on a spiralling course making them very difficult to intercept. Seeing this, the vessels began drastic course alterations whilst firing off tonnes of chaff into the air.

In all only six fell to SAM’s, leaving six more coming for various targets. From the tracks two headed for New Hampshire, one for the huge ammunition ship Oak and one each on the carriers Edginton, Expectation and Neptune.

The first plunged into the forward deck of Oak, for a moment the watched from the other ships thought she might survive, but then a massive explosion from several stacks of 1000lb guided bombs literally ripped the ship apart as all the ammunition on the vessel went up piece after piece. The sounds echoed around the sea as the remaining missiles began to strike.

Admiral McWalter rushed out onto the bridge wing of New Hampshire just in time to see the Oak explode, his attention quickly turned to the CIWS barely twenty feet from his as it swivelled until it pointed as vertically as it could and then with a sound like a zipper being quickly undone it began to unleash 20mm chain rounds into the sky along with the other mounts on the ship that could turn to the necessary angle.

The cannon shells impacted with the first missile when it was a hundred feet above the deck, not that McWalter’s brain would ever register it as a part of the missile body continued straight down and speared him to the deck of the bridge wing. Two of the bridge crew rushed out, but it didn’t matter, as the second missile targeted at them came straight down through the superstructure, exploding two floors above the level of the deck, blowing a huge hole out of all four sides of it through which thick black smoke bellowed into the beginnings of the stormy sky.

The Captain of the ship emerged from the CIC which was below the armoured flight deck to watch the fire-fighters as they began to douse the flames. Luckily for them the superstructure was not a particularly vital part of the ship, although its loss would hinder their ability to operate large numbers of aircraft as well as losing the big transmitters.

Captain Hendriks looked at the wreck of the bridge and wondered about the Admiral. So stubborn he had insisted on leaving the relative safety of the CIC to be on the bridge and now he had probably paid for it with his life. The sound of yet another secondary explosion from the Oak made Hendriks jolt back to the situation and he looked around off into the distance. Neptune was in view a plume of black smoke also coming from her, meanwhile Edginton looked unharmed, although at closer inspection through a pair of binoculars he could see that the radar mast was askew from where a missile had been detonated just above her decks.

Thank god for the experience with Lamboda and Intelligent Neighbours. If we hadn’t realised the danger of having CIWS that could pivot directly up this would have been a lot worse thought the Captain as he shook his head clear before returning to the CIC. Damage reports were flooding in from the ships across the Task Force as he walked back into the air conditioned environment. He was handed a freshly printed form.
Neptune had a hole through her starboard catapults, the fires had been contained but already 200 sailors were unaccounted for. Edginton had sustained a close explosion which had severed her radar array and killed a dozen exposed crewmen. Expectation had also suffered a hit and damage was unknown at that time. Finally he looked at the part that dealt with Oak, nobody had seen anybody get off before the hulk had slipped below the waves, still with explosions ripping through her steel hull, she was considered to have been lost with all hands. Three hundred valuable logistical men dead, along with a third of the Task Force’s spare ammunition and missiles, not a good start.

“Send off this preliminary report to Gillen. Inform them of the situation and that I have taken command of Task Force Hampshire. I assume that puts Vice-Admiral Longworth on New London in command of 2nd Fleet, copy the message to him. Recommend that he closes with Task Force Fearless.”

He watched as the sailor ran off.

“Now, lets recover some aircraft and prepare for a counter stroke. Like hell those bastards are getting away with that. I want the intelligence and operations guys with me now.”

Unknown Stevid Royal Air Force Base
South West Rubert Isle

Three C-5B Galaxies lined up on approach to the large base one after the other. The pilots were extra cautious with their landings as they knew the value of the cargo that they carried, two hundred and twelve AS-1LM Long Range Air to Ship missiles, between the three transports. There were other Galaxies strung out hundreds of miles around them bringing more various similar airfields that held large strategic bombers capable of holding them.

The aircraft taxied to the designated spots indicated by Air Traffic Control and as soon as the engines began winding down various forklifts and other vehicles raced to unload them.

One of the pilots walked around to the rear of his aircraft, looking towards a hangar door that was being closed quickly by a dozen men in IH Air Force uniform. Before the door could be fully closed he saw exactly what he expected to, the squat profile of the nose of an IH B-6 bomber.

A thin smile spread on his tired face. He knew of the approaching Macabeean task force as everyone did, and he also knew of the B-6 bombers that were thought and hoped to be a more closely guarded secret. The smile spread as he watched the first forklift move a pallet of crates off of his aircraft and then towards the hangar and the others like it that had been taken over by the IH Airforce. Some Macabeean ships were in for a bad surprise.



224th Bombing Wing Briefing Room
Across the same Airfield

“…..the missiles are being delivered as we speak. They will be briefly tested before being loaded onto your aircraft. Ten minutes ago we got information that the enemy hit our Task Force Hampshire and also the Stevid First Fleet. We are the first part of the counter-stroke, carrier bourne aircraft will also be launching from that Task Force to launch a strike as well.”

“Do we have AWAC’s support for this mission?”

“Negative. As you all know our AWAC’s can’t even detect the B-6 and their emissions would only give away that a strike force was inbound. We want to hit the enemy when they are not expecting it, their SAM cover may be lacking obvious threat that they face from the aircraft from Hampshire. Taking out even a handful of ships will help us later on. Any other questions?”

“Sir we have a lot of aircraft up tonight, are we all shooting for the same target?”

“Negative. Only our Wing is going after the Feathermore. The powers that be have decided that the rest will just be targeting their carriers, although as I said if we cut down their escorts now it will help us in the future. Right now the carriers are priority number one, followed by the Feathermore and then all other capital ships. We will launch at maximum range as will the carrier bourne aircraft, as we are equipped with the LM version we can do so at a range of 450km whereas they can only launch from 400km. We will be using satellite tracking to put the missiles in roughly the correct area and from there we will rely on the missiles tracker heads to get targets. We know the rough radar cross-section of the Indestructable class carrier and we hope to prove the name wrong. You take off in one hour Gentlemen. Good luck.”




Four Hours Later, South Otium Aqua Sea

They didn’t want to hide their approach. Virtually every aircraft that the Task Force possessed was in the air heading towards the Macabeean Fleet. That came to thirty four EA-6B Prowler aircraft providing jamming and electronic interference, thirty two E2-CI Hawkeye AWAC’s, four hundred and twenty F/A-18E SuperHornets making up the main strike force, with three hundred and eighteen F-22S Sea Raptors providing the fighter escort.

The F-22S’s were in groups of twenty four flying along at 35,000feet at their supercruise speed with the E2-CI’s twenty kilometres behind them and with Prowlers interspaced within the fighter formations.

Meanwhile the F/A-18E’s came in at 30,000feet also in groups of twenty four again with Prowlers interspaced throughout them to provide some measure of protection against the enemy Air to Air Missiles that must come. Only the lead group of 24 Super Hornets actually carried Air to Surface Missiles and these were the standard AS-1M’s with a range of just under 400km. All of the rest were fully loaded up with AAM-3’s and AIM-109X Air to Air Missiles. The plan was twofold, one to draw the enemy up outside their SAM envelope and then smash them, the IH carrier aircraft returning to their carrier decks to rearm for a strike, and two to provide a distraction that would allow the land based B-6 High Speed Stealth Bombers to launch their missiles from the West.

On the E2-CI controlling the mission the Raid Commander looked at his tactical screen. The IH aircraft were lined up across the front of him forming a barrier below which the F/A-18’s came. The lead group with their forty-eight AS-1M’s with their 1000pound warheads were slightly in front and as soon as they got to 400km they would launch the bulky missiles towards the enemy fleet. The guidance packages had been specifically altered so that they would not target the biggest blips, but the nearest radar targets that they found upon reaching their search area. It was hoped that this would expose them to less SAM fire and hopefully gain a higher kill ratio on the outer sonar and SAM picket vessels making future strikes easier.

The radar screen showed the Macabeean Carrier Air Patrol some time after the E-2CI’s had first registered the unmistakable pulse of the Fu-47’s on their passive systems. The IH strike force had to have been detected and now they waited to see whether the enemy aircraft would come out to the slaughter………..

If they did come up, when they were 255km from the IH aircraft they would launch all of their AAM-3's at the enemy. They knew that the enemy air to air missiles had a range of nearly 370km, but when contact was established the entire IH force would go to maximum speed to close the distance to bring themselves into missile range ensuring that they kept themselves out of SAM range at the same time.



West Otium Aqua Sea, Five Hundred Kilometers from the Macabeean Fleet


The B-6 Bombers were cruising at seven hundred knots, gradually descending to keep below the detection horizon of the Fu-47’s that were bound to be operating with the enemy fleet as they closed on their launch position exactly four hundred and fifty kilometers. The B-6’s were coated in stealth and infra red reducing coatings and the four huge turbo-jets that provided the thrust for the massive turn of speed that they could generate were similarly shielded in order to reduce the chance of infra-red missiles getting a lock. At the range that they were from the enemy it was unlikely that even the Fu-47’s powerful radar could detect them, unless it was focused directly on an exact bearing. However that was unlikely with the IH strike aircraft now hopefully maintaining all of their attention and drawing their fighter screens off along with the attention of their SAM commanders.

After a mid air refueling two hours earlier the pilots had nothing to do but sit in their seats and wait, eyes checking the threat receivers and hands close to the throttles that could push the aircraft to Mach 6 for a short time if needed.

It was not long before the aircraft reached their designated launch spots. There was ninety six B-6 Bombers involved in the raid, and each carried four of the AS-1LM ASM’s which they all dropped within ten seconds. The missiles fell a hundred feet before the RAMJET boosters ignited, by which time all the aircraft made steep turns to reverse their course and punched the afterburners for a two minutes to put distance between themselves and the enemy strike force, they didn’t know if they had been detected or not and none of them wanted to hang around and find out they had when an AAM crashed into their wing

Of the three hundred and eighty four missiles now heading towards the enemy fleet, ninety six were to be targeted at the Feathermore, the guidance packages told to aim for the largest target once their search pattern began, whilst the others were split equally between the enemy air carriers.

The enemy forces were ahead, only one allied force facing them, while any reinforcements were over two days behind, the tactical situation looked bleak, that was why Operation:Flashback had been prepared and launched, it would take one of the enemy fleets, Independant Hitmens to be precise, and either take it completely out of action or just cause enough damage that the fleet would nolonger be a significant threat.
In command of the raid was Group Captain Thomas Lethciten, a veteran of SkyCapt, the Second VSI war, the Civil War and a dozen other brushfire conflicts across the world, now he would add one more to the list, and paint another load of sillouhetes on his, and his pilots, canopies


The Spizanian Air Raiding Force took off and assembled at wavetop level, five wings of aircraft preparing for one of the biggest airstrikes of the entire war, over thirty-five percent of Taskforce Excaliburs airpower was being readied for one massive strike, they would either send the IH fleet to the bottom, or the entire fleet would perish trying, they owed thier Macabean allies that much. Three hundred and sixty aircraft, 5 squadrons of Lu-12 Canaries and 25 Squadrons of Hawks. They set off, one of the greatest and most deadly Naval Attack Armadas the Confederate Navy had ever seen.
The moved at high speed, approaching the Macabean Fleet from behind, until they reached Shockhound missile range, they held course another two minutes before firing. Then the attack began.
The Lu-12s launched each fired all four of thier Sledgehammer Missiles, they turned for base, then the Lu-45s joined in, launching both of thier Shockhound I Avenger Anti-Ship Missiles, the fighters rolled over and banked onto a reversed heading, the entire armada lit their reheats and began to return to the base, the IH fleet would never know what hit them.
The Group Captain started thinking about how much paint he would have to requisistion to paint that many carriers onto his pilots canopies.

Total Firing (Targets in Brackets):-
240 Sledgehammer Missiles (IH Carriers)
600 Shockhound I Avenger (IH Carriers and Escorts)

OOC: Sorry about the crummy post, its getting late and im tired

Otium Aqua Sea, F-35 Squadron Leader (Blaze-F-3501)- 17:07

Rain continued to fall in cold sheets across a gently rolling sea, the cold, harsh wind was also picking up and started to swell the sea into a slightly more violent seas. The Macabee’s fleet now wasn’t the only concern on the minds of Stevid and IH commanders. The storm could now prove difficult to manoeuvre for all parties involved in this sea conflict. However Stevid was on home territory, the rolling stormy seas were where it performed best under pressure or off the pressure, the fleet air corps welcomed the weather as they made their way forward towards the direction the missiles had originated.

Little was known about IH’s retaliatory strike, a rumour of stealth planes launching missiles was going around the stricken fleet but nothing could be confirmed. The planes were now amassed together. Combinations of F-35’s, Tornado F3s’ (Sea Tornadoes), Harriers, Hornets and apparently reinforcements of F-22a Raptors from ground air force bases in Stevid had been dispatched to meet up with the counter assault force in the air. The tactics were simple enough, to eliminate the enemy air force by means seen fit. The Tornadoes and Sea Harriers would bank off and engage the Macabain Falcons with XAAM multi-target anti-air missiles before engaging with ordinary sidewinders to finish off the survivors. The other aircraft would use both IH AWACs RADAR support, Military satellite aids and fleet RADAR as well as the aircraft’s own tracking systems to track down the escort fighters and engage them as such with their own XAAM missiles and sidewinder missiles. They were under orders not to chase down the enemy aircraft to the point of enemy controlled nautical airspace.

“Message to all allied aircraft, message to everyone in the choir. Target area confirmed. Tornado dash Harrier wings break to engage enemy Falcons and eliminate. Arm multi-lock XAAM’s and engage at will when in range. All other aircraft, follow me to 30,000 feet and arrange ourselves in an attack formation. When enemy is confirmed, we engage with our long-range armament. All aircraft, switch to secondary special weapon reserves now.” This was broadcast from Blaze’s plane to all Stevid Fleet Air Arm aircraft. They had all been briefed on their mission directives and possible targets they had to destroy or damage.

The Harriers and Tornadoes banked off and dropped altitude to intercept the enemy Falcons. Even in the case that the Flacons managed to survive, IH’s attack on the carriers would mean many of the Macabain aircraft would have nowhere to land but in the sea, at least Stevid had their home country to land in if their carrier was destroyed. The last group of Harriers left the battle group in the air and descended down to the other Harriers and Tornadoes below as the rest of the Fleet air arm fighter planes ascended towards 30,000 feet to scope out the enemy planes flying top cover for the Falcons.

McNeally Air Force Base- Rubet Island

The F-22a Raptors were lined up and ready to go. Stevid didn’t have a sea faring variant of the Raptor as IH did (however chances were looking good that they might invest in construction) but the land-based fighters were well within the range of the battle in the air. They would however be a bit late seeing as the battle was nearly ready to start, but they would be in time to relieve whichever air battle group needed it most. RAF McNeally was home to 677 Squadron, 677 Squadron was one of only a few squadrons that comprised of two types of aircraft: 125 F-22a Raptors and 114 EF-2000’s. The Raptors were the best the airfield let loose, especially in these weather conditions. The planes lined the taxiway just waiting to get up into the air, and one after the other the planes lined up on the centre and took off over all three landing strip ways.

Otium Aqua Sea- Sea Harrier/F3s Tornadoes Battle group

“AWACs report incoming…” Said Wing Commander David Wong. He fell silent again listening to his earphones talk to him. He nodded once or twice as he stared at the rain streaming over his window.

“Falcons confirmed at vector three-six-zero confirmed, continue north to intercept. All planes in the choir, switch to XAMM missiles and concentrate on you HUD. Visibility is very poor now, so when you get a long-range lock on hit the button and give them hell. Right max power, full afterburners on to catch up to them.”

The fighters streaked off as their speed rose suddenly as they careered off into the rain at break neck speed to catch up with the Falcons so they could let off their deadly cargo. Wong’s HUD suddenly lit up with targets scattered out with low level a low level altitude. Closer and closer they got to the Falcons in a sloping descending arc of 7°. Four of the green squares on his HUD turned red and a high-pitched noise signalling missile lock on.

“Sea Storm One… Fox Three, Fox Three!”

Four XAAM missile launched form his plane. They dropped three feet or so before the RAMjet propulsion kicked in and the missiles diverted to each of the four planes. Like wise to Wong, the other tornadoes in the group fired their missiles as well before slowing there descent to allow the Harriers room to advance in front, ready to off load their own compliment of missiles. If any Falcon survived the first a barrage of missiles, the modified Sea Harriers would fire off their own XAAM missiles at the Falcons before slowing down again to let the Tornadoes fly forward and engage the remainder survivors with sidewinders as the Harriers would close form behind. The flight group was relying on the other fighters to provide cover for them if the escorts engaged them. Even if they were attacked, the trailing F-35 and other carrier battle group would arrive in time to mop up the enemy OR engage the enemy fighter escorts before they attacked… in theory anyway.

HMS Gregory, Flux Class Guided Missile Cruiser- South Otium Aqua

“Picture clear, there is no more interference to RADAR! Missile lock on has been re-established!” Shouted the RADAR operator loudly to his superior officers.
“Good1 Thank you. Tactical, you may fire at will. Blow them out of the water. Target the escort cruisers first and eliminate them beyond recognition. We have plenty of missiles, don’t be afraid to use them!”

The sky was getting greyer and grey as the storm to the north became larger and more and more violent as it slowly swept southerly. The convoy had been victim to a lot of shell with multiple hits scored on the fleet but hindrance to the convoy’s advance. Now that the small Royal Naval fleet got closer to the convoy, the local area’s atmospheric interference cleared up slightly allowing the Flux Class to lock it’s deadly cargo onto a lightly defended convoy.

“Targets acquired…” said the tactical officer with a smile. “Missile lock on is now confirmed. Preparing for launch.” He flipped the transparent plastic cover for the launch button and his finger hovered over the button. He looked up at the captain who gave him a small nod. His finger plunged into the red button and the ship vibrated slightly as the VLS cells opened and fired their load. The multiple targets had been locked on to and twelve missiles were launched to the two escorts, six missile per escort. The other ships in the fleet ceased their cannon barrage and opened fire with their own, smaller compliment, of anti-shipping missiles at the convoy. The Flux Class fired it’s missiles and continued on it’s course before turning to port and keep the convoy on it’s starboard side, ready to of load her starboard torpedo tubes at the convoy shipping. Like wise, the other ships did the same and offloaded four torpedoes each. The battle continued as such, with the Royal Navy ceasing their advance towards the fleet and now sailed parallel to the enemy convoy.


1042 hours
Calamity Bridge

First Mate Jerry Jones screamed a curse as he watched two of his merchant ships sink to the bottom. The gunners on teh attacking ships were quite effective, and they didn't even seem to be trying to hit. Good gracious... I can't imagine the damage if they wanted us all dead at the moment...

No sooner had the thought registered, then he heard West's voice. It sounded like a faraway nightmarish voice. But it was here. It was said now. It was real. "Sir, Missiles headed our way!!"

How could this happen?

Jerry swore again, something he did not usually do... but he was being heavily provoked today. "West, what's the report on the ships?"

"Stevid vessels sir, they seem to have mistaken us for enemies."

"I can't believe this. We're a peaceful convoy sent to trade... not fight a war."

"Sir, Missiles closing at incredible speed! They'll be here in a minute or so."

Jerry's finger hovered over a red button. It hung there for a second, but he finally pushed it. A siren echoed through the group of ships. "CODE RED! WE UNDER ATTACK! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! BRACE FOR ATTACK!"

Jerry almost colasped, but he had to remain strong. "Tell the com. officer to send a message to the homeland and then a distress signal. Then tell him to abandon the d**n ship! Everyone needs to get in lifeboats now!"

"Aye-Aye sir!"

The officer gave his orders and the two rushed to the deck, heading for a lifeboat.

---

One Minute Later
Calamity Deck

Ensign Kevin Knash had had no sucess. No matter how much he banged on the door, he could not get the Captain to open up. He was asleep in a drunken stupor. A few minutes before, (or had it been an hour... Kevin didn't know anymore) he had ran up to the Bridge to get the keys. To his chagrin, Jerry had left the keys in the Captain's quarters. It's likely that the Captain himself took the keys in his drunken state.

It was too late. Kevin looked up to see missile screaming towards the deck. He guessed he had about 10 seconds to get off the ship. He took his 10 seconds.

He rushed for side of the ship and threw himself over the edge to the green and blue water below.

The sky that had been so peaceful this morning was now a nightmare. Pure hell on earth.

---

Simultaneously
Calamity Deck

Jerry Jones and Officer West jumped down to a lifeboat that was already waiting beside the cruiser. They pushed off quickly and got a far away from the ship as the could.

They only had 10 seconds to move. At the end of that time explosions rocked the cruiser and missiles crashed into the deck. The magazine went and the whole ship ignited into a ball of fire.

Jerry and West looked on in horror. Scores of men on the deck had been there before the explosion, now, none of them could be seen. There was nothing but pure smoke and fire.

To the starboard of the lifeboat, the two men could see the merchant ships sinking quick, and the New Covington in flames. It had been attacked with missiles too.

This was it. This meant war with Stevid.

Jerry saw a man floating in the water a few yards away, and sent the lifeboat after him. They picked Ensign Kevin Knash out of the water, and the three of them got away from the wreckage as fast as they could.

In the distance, they could see another battle group approaching. They made for it as fast as they could. As they drew near, they realized the ships were Imperial. Ships of the Empire, if Jerry wasn't wrong. They sent up a flare to request a rescue. It didn't matter who saved them. It only mattered that they survived.

Jerry looked back at his burning ships far in the distance. Goodbye beloved Calamity...

He just hoped the homeland had gotten the signal in time.

---

1045 hours
Covington, Oceanaria

An aide sprinted to the desk of the President. "Sir." He saluted.

"How dare you enter in such a manner?"

"Sir, we have recieved a message from the Calamity. Her and the New Covington were attacked by Stevid forces! Here's the full report sir, on everything we know about the region."

He handed the President a stack of papers. The President stared down at the report and read about the attack. "Stevid has just attacked a peaceful convoy. This is outrageous!"

The President stood in anger and stared at the aide. "This means war!"

He slammed the papers on his desk and picked up his phone. Dialing quickly, he spoke with the Minister of Defense. "Mobilize the Navy and Airforce. Contact the Empire A-sap and tell them we're on their side!"

Battle of Otium Aqua Sea

Southern Approaches: Defense
The Fu-47 Starlight slowly lunged itself foward, it's massive turbofans rumbling in the air while the huge radome emitted massive radio waves in all directions - with the superior ranges of the Starlight it would be difficult to get anything within range of Task Force Caretian. One of the operators within the aircraft suddenly slammed his fist against the table and yelled, "We've encountered heavy jamming. This is certainly not electronic interference." There was a huge bustle that commenced, but the jamming would certainly act to warn the fleet of incoming prey. Dozens of the ships in the fleet carried the P.746.A long range surface to air missiles, while some of the larger ships carried the P.746.F, which was beyond the scope of most surface to air missiles in modern combat. Defensive wise, besides the tight command of the fleet , this would be one of the major assets Grand Admiral Caretian had on his side. Indeed, if they struck, they would be aiming for one of the most defended sections of surface area in the world - Imperial fleets had been designed to defend against missiles, and only now were the admirals breaking the walls down and changing around their tactics. In other words, missile saturation was the fleet's specialty. The Lu-45s that had taken off the carriers to act as a rear guard to the returning Falcons had their own active electronically scanned array in the nose cone of the fighter; fortunately, these were fully broadband, meaning they would be able to 'go around' the jamming, per se. With that advantage they collected themselves to press the defense and make sure that the missiles that actually arrived at the fleet were toned down as much as possible, and that Hitmen aircraft did not get home in perfect conditions.

The lead operator yelled at the other man over the drone of the large engines, "How long 'til we burn through?"

The answer he replied seemed distant, but it was at the top of both of their lungs, "Two minutes at the very first, sir. We should have really changed this radome to broadband when we had a chance!"

So, while the Starlights continued to attempt to 'burn through' the jamming equipment, the Hawks began to circle for their prey. There were around eighty Hawks arrayed to protect the sea border facing Task Force Hampshire, and another two hundred and forty-four ready to be scrambled off the seven carriers. More room was always alotted to the Hawks, although truly there should have been more Hawks than this - the Zealous class could either carry the Lu-25 Black Mariah or the GLI-76 Falcon, and in this case they carried more of the latter. In any case, replacement ships could always refurbish lost aircraft post-battle, or if the battle lasted long enough, even during the battle. Then again, some of those two hundred and forty-four aircraft were already being scrambled (seventy-two) to bolster the perimeter against Stevid, and bombers that had been just picked off coming from the Stevidian mainland - although that raid would most likely have to be caught on the return. Regardless, the Hawks at hand begun to organize their active resistance, gliding towards the incoming birds. If the Hawks continued to remain purely defensive they risked loosing some of the Falcons, and in any case, the AAM-176 should have proved superior to the Hitmen AAM-3, at least range wise. With that said and done the Hawks closed in at near 2.6 Mach, throwing any semblence of stealth out the window, and soon enough they a range under two hundred and seventy-five kilometers. In combat as beyond visual range as this, when the two didn't have major technological differences between each other, timing was everything - at two hundred and sixty kilometers exactly the Hawks dropped six AAM.176s each, aiming to completely obliterate the incoming aerial armada. The six missiles were jetted out to avoid having the turbulence disrupt the flight of the Hawks, and they free fell for no more than four meters, when their ducted ramjet engines flared and accelerated them to near 3.7 Mach. Just as sudden, and almost simultanuously, the Hawks banked and turned around, knowing that their foe would be charging at their direction before they picked up the missiles, meaning the chance they had of turning around and outrunning the missiles had been more or less negated.

Each and every of the four hundred and eighty AAM.176s put in the air had been targetted against the high flying aircraft - the F-22s. Not a single missile had aimed at the F/A-18Es or at the EA-6B Prowlers - that honor would be left to the ships, some of which exceeded the range of the missiles they carried by two to one. In any case, the Hawks, by this time, had fully turned around and with that done had hit their afterburners. The seconds after launch and before turning had closed the range sufficiently for the adversary to fire their own missiles - the difference was that now the Hawks were facing the other way, while the Hitmen aircraft were flying into the missiles. The Hawks only had to fly ~20-30 kilometers to outdistance the AAM-3s and the Hawks with their afterburners were nothing near slow. They had completed their classic hit and run raid tactic, and both new opponents would have to get used to it - just as Haven had on the mainland.

The before held radio silence was now broken as pilots congratulated each other. The shouts went back and forth until the flight commander, Jaík Deragón, gleefully threw in, "OK, chaps, celebration is over. Until each and every plane makes it back to the carriers alive our mission continues, understand?" Some sarcastic remarks from other pilots followed, but they all had at least partial sense of duty. Each Hawk had at least four missiles left, and after opening the gap by at least a hundred kilometers they would begin to angle their flight so that they could turn around. They would still have to take care of surviving F-22s and returning F-18s. Already, the seven Indestructables had put another forty-eight Hawks in the air - being rather conservative on deployments. Then again, they were partially correct in their way of thinking - one hit on one of those carriers and it would be that much harder to get all the birds back home. By the end of this part of the battle there was no doubt the 'birds' would quite low of fuel. Moreover, they would also have to attend to the returning GLI-76 Falcons, which were just about ready to land and re-arm. Eighteen hours and they would have a second mission - the other Hitmen task forces.

Deragón's Hawk slowed down as he lowered the nozzle and released the afterburn, which he had kept for the while thirty to forty seconds of flight. He took a quick look at the fuel gauge displayed electronically on his head's up display and he shuddered - no more than two hours more. There was no doubt that those under his command were under similar stresses - that Hitmen raid better be quick. Most likely the secondary attack would have to be relegated to the four squadrons just entering the air, while the eighty that had just completed their defensive raid would have to land and refuel. The entire process of landing, refueling and then getting back into the air could take as little as ten minutes and as much as twenty. Much to the reassurance of the fighter pilots the Starlights still flying had burned through the jamming and all the while opened the gap with the incoming aircraft a bit more - their range would allow them to cover the distance approaches and still make it hard for the enemy to get within range to fire their missiles without opening themselves up to short range, long range and ultra long range surface to air missiles.

Indeed, one could already see that they were not far from that limit already. With the lack of Couragous class Anti-Air Warfare Cruisers, which had not yet seen design, the Tenacious instead had seen their compliment of one hundred and thirty Sledgehammers stripped and replaced by three P.746.A long range surface to air missiles, which had been sleeved and stacked within the tubes. Some in the aircraft could see the decks of the Disraeli and Animal cover themselves with the smoke emerging from the tail of the missiles. The P.746.As shot into the air, tilting themselves soon thereafter and ascending at incredibly velocities. Sixty were fired in all, most of which were aimed at the EA-6B Prowlers with home-on-jam or home-on-emission technologies. About twenty of them were merely ordered to engage targets on sight, meaning mostly the F/A-18Es. There was no doubt that the F-18s were more dangerous at this point, but the fleet felt it could cope with any dropped missiles, while knocking out the enemy's eyes in the sky would prove much more valuable in the long run. With the two cruisers already engaging, the fleet braced itself for impact.

Eastern Approaches: The Bombers
'Impact' was not far off. Starlights operating in the west had picked up incoming B-6 Bombers at a lesser range than expected, but the bombers had been picked up by the intensifying radar rays, although the Starlights would soon be forced to open the gap once again as Stevidian aircraft threatened them and the Falcons that were returning home. The Empire's armed forces were some of the most experienced in the world, coming out of a one hundred year civil war just eleven years before - it had been a wonder within itself that the Empire had been able to pick up the pieces so quickly, although if one was to travel throughout the mainland one could still see the poverty of those that did not have luxury of having Jonach's, and no Fedor's, full attention. In any case, this experience lent itself to allowing fighting organisms to multi-task - meaning, the fleet could guard all approaches and still feel safe. This was true, too, at Otium Aqua, and it would stay true for the remainder of the war. However, the signal for those B-6s were never strong and the Hawks were too preoccupied with staving off Stevid and their own fighters - the fleet had been left on its own.

But the signal was irrelevent once they had dropped their missiles. In the radar room of the Feathermore, watching the screens that were fed by the massive radar installations throughout the entire vessel, radar operators savoured the opportunity to fight - they soon had it. The Starlights had fed through information on incoming 'bogies', most of which were too small to be bombers and too fast - the fire control system would quickly translate these as missiles. The three hundred and eighty-four incoming bodies of mass total was not a welcomed sight. Within half a second a scream of, "Vampires, vampires," filled the command center's air. The response had almost been just as fast and automatic. As the AS-1LMs began to descent, as they were sea-skimmers, and close range (fast) the deck Praetorian launchers spilt fire and dark smoke from the rear of the launchers, revealing the smaller P.746.B missiles from the mist - almost every ship in the fleet carried this missile, except the Feathermore and the Paramounts, which instead carried much larger launchers fitted with the P.746.A. Within thirty seconds the air was full of incoming anti-shipping missiles and both kinds of surface to air missiles, screaming through the grey atmospheres towards each other. Blinding light was the result and when the smoke cleared one could tell that there were still incoming missiles - but it was far too late to engage with more Praetorians. Nevertheless, the incoming number of vampires had been reduced to a more manegeable number.

By that time, however, the massive guns on the capital ships and the dual purpose guns on both the capital ships and smaller escort ships had turned and had begun to fire away CAPMES rounds of different calibres. Hundreds of these grey projectiles shrieked into the abyss, decomposing at certain altitudes and ranges and letting loose thousands of small tungsten BBs in all directions, which would burst into the missiles and either force them off their trajectory or blow them pre-emptively or destroy their guidance system. With the poofs of smoke came rockets limping into the water, and others escaping the second version of hell put up against them. All the while, the guns on the ships retracted into their turrets with each boom, revealing yet another grey round travelling into the depths of the stormy sky. But some of the AS-1Ms simply refused to give up and they entered their terminal phase. Many of the missiles had flown over the escort ships and were aiming towards the larger ships, which would actually work to the advantage of the defending fleet - more time to engage, meaning less missiles would actually be available to make their run.

The final defense was quick to action, knocking down missiles with the rediculous amount of point defense Conhort CIWS guns each capital ship mounted. A hit was registered against the King of Kings, the sole Argentine in the entire fleet, and a black plume ascended from the area it was hit. Two hits were scored on the Valiant and one on the Atmos. Other hits failed to be registered because by that time the entire fleet had devolved into chaos, and most of the commanders' view had been limited by the growing amount of smoke, both from hits and from destroyed missiles, so there was really no way of telling the damage done. There was obviously some major damage conducted, as one could hear the shrill yelps of soldiers as they jumped into the freezing waters, which were beginning to pick up, and there were already smaller craft being deployed by the larger ships in order to pick-up sailors that had jumped off their vessels. The Feathermore registered thirteen hits, two of which had hit the prow, and most of the others hit the middle of the ship or the superstructure and turrets. However, she was so heavily armored that damage had been contained. One of the eight turrets had been definately put out of action, as the warhead had pierced through the side of the turret and wrecked the firing pins of three of the four guns, but the turret would be fixed by the next day. It would later be found that the warheads used on the missile were insufficient to penetrate the heavy and thick armor used on most capital ships in the Empire - the dU penetrator was adept, however the secondary HEAT warhead was not when considering the different alloys used on modern shipping. The anti-spalling layer and final use of dense and large bulkheads all along the hull had actually contained most of the explosions, although two internal fires had been started - they were put out rather quickly. The Feathermore would have to see two days of repair and some of the damage would have to wait until she saw port again, in order to be fixed. But she was still seaworthy.

Inside her command room, well protected by the thick belt armor, Grand Admiral Caretian teethed with anger, "How could we have let them get so close?"

One of his fleet advisors shook his head and mumbled, "We never considered the assets they could bring off the mainland. Tragic." He continued to shake his head while Caretian looked sideways at him.

The admiral nodded and replied, "The only way we can protect ourselves in the future from those bombers is destroy them while they are leaving their raids, or if we catch them before their raids. Until Juumanistra delivers those emergency packages of refueling aircraft the heavy GLI-34s will not be able to make their long range strikes on Stevidian airfields on the mainland. Until then we are on our own. How far away are those bombers right now?"

The head intelligence official responded quickly and without hesitation, "500 kilometers."

Caretian laughed, "You have your orders."

With that the Feathermore began her first actions of retribution. Within ten seconds one hundred and ten P.746.F ultra long range surface to air missiles, with their glorious 850km flight paths, shot into the sky and accelerated to Mach 4.7, screaming towards their targets and prepared to engage without any hint of mercy. With that done the task force began to turn...

Damage:
Feathermore: One reactor permanently damaged, two days worth of minor damage, the third barrel of the lead turret permanently damaged.
King of Kings: One day worth of damaged.
Atmos: Out of action for at least four days.
Valiant: Minor damage.
Achilles: Sunk.
Tannejurg: Heavy damage - five days.
Ajax: Light damage - two days.
Odysseus: Light damage - two days.
Baron of Soborguntia: Sunk.
Geránt (Paramount class): Sunk.
Iron Duke: Sunk.
Cerán (Pepperbox class): Sunk.
Xeárthal (Pepperbox): Sunk.
Charasmatic: Sunk.

Western Approaches: Stevid
"Jesus Christ, these guys never stop," expressed the wing commander of the forty Hawks attempting to cover the Falcons. His heads up display had just showcased dozens of beyond visual range air to air missiles shoot across the screen, aiming right for the Falcons - those birds would have one hell of a ride.

Elsewhere, pilot Kril Bern was desperately trying to outrun those missiles. The enemy was firing them borderline range, meaning given time the Falcons would be able to outrun them, just as the Hawks had in the south. He pushed the throttle foward and turned on his afterbuner to hit just over Mach 2. He could see on his radar screen one of the rear Falcons dissapear and he looked behind him. Indeed, it had burst into flames. "Shit," he told himself as he gently continued to press the throttle against the plastic board that sorrounded it. He began to look around as he pleaded to the aircraft, "Fucking hell, go faster you piece of crap!" But he had escaped the perimeter of the strike, as he left the shell bursts of grey and black smoke - evidence of the victims of Stevid's air strike.

A muffled voice came over the radio asking, "Casualty count?"

Bern could hear his superior officer solemnly replying, "Over forty."

The other man yelled, "What the hell? That's one fucking third of the strike!" Nobody answered his exasperation and all the pilots were silent. Bern hoped to God that the strike paid off for the dead. He knew that several of them would have to pack like sardines on the decks of the carriers, as news had spread that the Achilles had been sunk. The three or four aircraft that did have to wait on the decks would either be sacrificed there, or would be refueled and told to fly right over Monzarc airspace and land on an abandoned airfield in Sarcanza, which was now occupied by rebels. They were told that there were fuel canisters they could use there to get home to Imperial held territory on the mainland.

All the while, the wing commander of the Hawks, Colonel Anton Gíer knew it was his chance to strike. The F-35s had fired four of their missiles each, and the Hawks had originally been superior to them in missile armament in any case. Starlight AWACS had picked up traces of incoming bogies at a longer range at quite the pace, marking them as more air superiority fighters. The Hawks would have to eliminate what they could, as fast as they could, and then retreat back deep into the fleet's SAM territory, where Stevidian fighters would be outclassed from all vectors. So as the Stevidian aircraft began to peel off, ready to celebrate, the Hawks throttled and hit the afterburner, closing range to ~175 kilometers before they jettisoned their AAM.176 BVRAAMs and banked to return to their own controlled air space. The AAM.176s would exceed Mach 3.7 as they homed terminally on the assortment of Tornado F3s, F-35s, Harriers and F-18s. The Hawks were always heavy with weapons and it manifested itself in the form of over two hundred and forty beyond visual range air to air missiles - Gíer was not about to allow his foe to leave without feeling the pain of retribution!

But alas, as the Hawks turned to return to their airspace, the ships down below were already turning south. It was time to resume the offensive and eliminate Task Force Hampshire. With that, Task Force Caretian would be able to move to the other two Hitmen fleets and mop them up, and liberate Otium Aqua in favour of the Empire - without Independent Hitmen, Stevid was dead in the water.

Retribution
As Task Force Caretian began to close the distance between it and Task Force Hampshire, and the King of Kings and the seven remaining turrets of the Feathermore had already begun to traverse towards Hampshire. The two ships had the massive advantage of having superior engines to power the massive electromagnetically accelerated guns they boasted of. More than that, all capital ships carried a very high amount of Sledgehammer anti-shipping missiles, which were extremely capable if the ships that carried them could get into range. Unfortunately, the Feathermore had been restricted in its velocity as one of its reactors had been put out of action. In any case, the task force began to place pressure on Hampshire once it was clear the counter-attack had been completed and had been more or less parried as well. Unfortunately, the Zealous was not a very sane design, although it did have three turrets of 15" quadruple mounts, meaning it could join in on the long term bombardment. In Hampshire the carriers would most likely be undergoing landings from returning and surviving aircraft, meaning they would also be restricted in velocity and more importantly, in the manuevers they could undertake. Using high quality geosynchronous satellite feed and radar range finding the four ships could accurately bombard Hampshire before closing range.

The Feathermore shuddered as the seven turrets broadsided in cooperation, slamming twenty-eight rocket assisted shells into the sky. These were met by the 15" shells coming from the two Zealous'class Super Dreadnoughts and the 25" shells coming from the eight triple mounts of the King of Kings. The fleet rumbled as massive waves coming from the force of the shells shook the seas more than the storm could hope to do so. The Feathermore focused on sinking the already damaged New Hampshire. The King of Kings sought the sinking of the Expectation, while the two Zealous' focused on the Edginton. The idea was to sink the damaged carriers, bringing down Hitmen assets by three, while satellites had already caught the Neptune leaving the task force back to Stevidian waters - it would be allowed to do so. As the fleet came closer and closer to Hampshire it negaged the use of aircraft by Independent Hitmen, seeing as any bird put in the air could be immediately targetted by a surface to air missiles - although it also made it harder for fleet AWACS to operate, as they began to operate from over the fleet and behind the fleet, as opposed to in front of it.

The bombardment continued, landing accurate and deadly shells on and near the enemy ships - with modern targetting long range gun battles no longer became an impossibility, although of course, less accurate than a closer range gun fight. The task force sailed to close the range, all the while, opening the verticle launch doors to reveal the warheads of hundreds of Sledgehammers. Hampshire, this time, would not be spared debacle. It would be erased, while the Stevidian fleet licked its wounds, and the other two Hitmen task forces most likely consolidated into one, lest they see the same fate as their sister armada.

Grand Admiral Caretian had made his way to the deck of the Feathermore, along with Rear Admiral David Tieran, and he looked at the opened tube hatches and said, "This is how you fight a war."

Suddenly the two were thrown aback by the massive forces in question, as twenty Sledgehammers left the ship. Both could see smoke trails leave the two Zealous', as well, putting sixty missiles total. The sixty missiles were spread evenly between the enemy Orion, Aires and Hill, aiming at eliminating the big guns and leaving the escorts to be preyed upon by the larger ships in Task Force Caretian. The Sledgehammers took the same exact path as their predecessors being launched from the fighters, accelerating quickly and rising in altitude, ready to drop at the increasingly deep slopes that both enemies knew the Slegdehammer glided at. In other words, Caretian was not wasting his time in these operations. In order to ensure the survival of his task force Hampshire had to be destroyed as quickly as possible.

IHS Raider, Los Angeles Class 668I SSN

A dull rumble through the water was all that signalled the demise of L42, the yet to be named Los Angeles Class submarine that was supposed to be twenty kilometres West of Raider. That submarine had been testing experimental machinery with its new Captain fresh out of sub school and now the rumble accompanied by faint breaking up sounds signalled the death of over a hundred men.

Raider was sitting silently at a depth of nearly 1,000feet. Sitting and listening with its towed array sonar strung out behind it. They had been sitting in that position for the best part of twelve hours, told by satellite the last time that they had surfaced their UHF mast that the Macabeean Fleet was heading for them. They had detected the first thrashing sounds of a surface ship a couple of hours previously and since then they had heard the occasional splash of sonorbouys as they hit the water. From their depth they could not hear the noise of the ASW helicopters that had to be above them but the experienced Captain knew that they were there.

The crew had seen action before, twice against the Acre Union, once against Guffingford and also during the Talaax conflict from before then. Painted on the sail of the submarine were the silouettes of two cruisers, a destroyer, a pair of frigates and a hunter-killer submarine. They were all scalps that had been claimed by Raider under Captain Corry Amos, the most distinguished sub commander in the IH navy.

But now Amos faced his hardest challenge. From the position of the sonarbouys that they could detect having been dropped, mainly the active bouys, the plotters by the table had deduced that the force would come very close to them as it passed over. They were deep enough to be missed by the majority of the sonar bouys and they could maneuver to make sure that they didn’t come too close to any more that could be dropped. Whilst the Macabeean sonars were known to be good, there were only so many sonar bouys in the world and they could see the pattern that they were being dropped in allowing the sub to slip past the first layer of defences. The only good thing that had come from the destruction of :L42 was that it should lull the Macabeean fleet into a false sense of security, IH submarines seldom operated so close together as it was completely against their published doctrine that hopefully the enemy had read.

“Plotting Officer, where do we estimate their next sonar buoy drop to be?”

“Here Captain” the officer quickly pointed to an area on the chart about one thousand meters from Raiders current position.

“Estimated time till they drop?”

“If they stick with the pattern, two minutes. They have a reasonable chance of picking us up if they are active, the random nature of their drops so far would indicate that not all are active buoys, they must have some passive ones up there to try and catch a movement that has been spooked by the active.”
“Agreed, however I want to be in-between the layer they have put down and the next one they put down.”

Amos looked back over his shoulder at the XO, who gave him a shrug of the shoulders followed by a smile that he didn’t have to make the decision. After a brief moment of consideration Amos turned to the Officer of the Watch.

“Officer of the watch, maintain current depth, speed four knots. Course two-eight-zero. Lets get us between these sonar buoys shall we. Lets get some torpedo’s in the tubes.[/i]”

Amos picked up the microphone from the ceiling above his chair in the middle of the attack centre and began speaking into it.

“Torpedo room, Conn.”

“Go ahead Captain”

“Load a Spearfish II into tubes three and four, MOSS decoy in tube two and a single AS-1B in one.”

The Spearfish II torpedo was a development of the British torpedo of the same name. It carried a 660lb warhead and was capable of speeds in excess of 70knots when set at its highest speed option and could travel for 12.5nautical miles at that speed. At its lower speed setting of 65knots it had a range of over 30nautical miles

“I want Tube one set up for a snapshot at the nearest escort ship and as soon as we have information on the nearest capital ship I want tubes three and four set up on it. Confirm the range of the MOSS please.”

“MOSS operational time is four hours Captain.”

“Thank you. Inform me as soon as tube two is loaded please.”

The Captain sat back in his chair and clicked the button on his stopwatch that was in his left trouser pocket. It had not even passed a minute when the Chief in charge of the weapons board turned to him after briefly checking with the Weapons Officer.

“Tube two is loaded and ready Captain.”

“Well done Chief, thank you. Sonar, Conn, confirm current contacts.”

“Conn, Sonar, currently four designated contacts by blade count. Two Pepperbox LSV’s, one Paramount class ADV and a single Morsky-Orol Class. Targets designated Sierra Forty-one through Forty-four respectively. Sierra Forty-three is the closest vessel on bearing two-nine-four, range 9,500.”

“Any submerged contacts”

“Not at this time Captain.”

“Thank you; keep me informed of any changes. Weapons Officer program the MOSS to quietly take a course south of us and then turn in as if on an attack run, have a spike on engine variations after twenty minutes to simulate a quick dive.”

“MOSS programmed and ready Captain.”

“Very well, flood tube two”

“Tube two flooded”

“Open outer door”

“Outer door open”

“Match Generated bearings and fire”

“Tube two fired electronically Cap’n”

The vessel shuddered momentarily as the torpedo sized decoy was ejected by compressed air. As soon as it cleared the vessel it turned away from the submarines course and moved at a silent four knots in the directions told to it by its onboard computer, itself programmed by the technicians on the submarine.

“Reload Tube two with a Spearfish II”

A few minutes passed and Amos allowed himself to relax slightly; the most dangerous part for the minute was over. Now that he was nearly halfway in-between the sonar buoys he would slow back down to a stop and allow the Macabeean Fleet to come to him.

“Conn, Sonar. New contact, designated Sierra Forty-Five. Blade count indicates Tenacious Class Cruiser, sounds like its on a sprint.”

A Tenacious class cruiser. Those were bad news, sporting four torpedo tubes for the Av.36 and a hull sonar whose power was not known. Luckily they were traveling fast which would badly degrade their sonar performance, both towed and bow mounted, hopefully allowing them to close on her. But then a plan formed in his head. It had now been ten minutes since he had launched the decoy unit, in another five it would have a burst of speed imitating a Seawolf Class Submarine having to make a brief sprint. Perhaps he could use that.

“Weapons Officer, prepare to launch Tube’s two and three at Sierra Forty-Five. Bring them around on a slow course nearer to our decoy on control wires then cut them loose at full speed.”

“Aye Aye Cap’n………Tubes two and three ready for launch.”

The same firing procedure was undergone as had been taken earlier, two shudders briefly shaking the vessel as the two heavy torpedoes left the ship. At first they traveled at a speed of barely ten knots as they cut across the gap from the actual submarine to its decoy. With any luck the Macabeean sonar’s, now nearing detection range, would evaluate that as their target allowing the Los Angeles to slip even closer to one of the Indestructables.

As the two torpedoes reached their turn the target, the Tenacious cruiser, came off of its sprint. Seemingly on cue the two torpedoes jumped to their top speed of seventy knots as the control wires were cut and begun heading for their target, on Raider the torpedo men quickly reloaded another two Spearfish as the sub slowed to barely 1knot and turned to allow her sonar to get a better read on the situation. The cruiser and all other ships on sonar scope were performing radical turns trying to throw the inbound off and at least two other torpedoes were thrashing around in the water.

The sonar men watched the lines on their screen come together, the first warhead seemed to go off slightly too quickly but the second went off about right. With all the disturbance in the water from the explosions it would take some time for the sonar men to determine whether they had a kill or not. Meanwhile they dived again, hoping that the disturbance caused would make them kill the decoy rather than them allowing them to pass through this layer of ASW defence.

The Stevid fleet had gotten off fairly lightly in the eyes of the Admiralty in comparison to Task Force Hampshire. With sustained air attacks constantly hurting both Stevid and IH fleet air arms and bombers with deadly long range, the Chief Air Marshall of the Stevid Royal Air Force had commented that Stevid an her allies would not lose air superiority in the long run. The mainland was in fact Rubet Island, the Eastern island of Stevid and it meant the Stevid could throw bombers, fighters and all sorts at the Macabee naval fleet with fear of running out of able air craft carriers to take the planes, they could simply just turn round and head back to Stevid. The Stevid AA missile grid was also online on par with the Imperial Armies regional defence grid against air attacks in a bid to prevent Macabee pilots getting too near the coast. As far as the RAF were concerned they were in charge in the long run, they were able to bring more aircraft to bear on the conflict than The Macabees could, the one advantage of fighting a war very close to home. Not only did Stevid have a lot of airfields and planes to use, but also the First Fleet (currently engaged with the enemy fleet) was one of four very large fleets Stevid had at its disposal. The largest fleet, the Fifth Fleet was back at harbour on the South coast of Stevid under going repairs after the Guffingford encounter. But the Forth fleet was also based at Farnberth Harbour on the East coast of Rubet Island ready to jump into action if the going got really tough. But on the high seas at the moment, the First Fleet was holding it’s own both in the air and on the surface, but it was about to take hold of something even higher than the air.

Sea of Rubet

In the straight of water separating Rubet Island from Stevid, three ships loosely scattered in a random formation were bobbing up and down in the slightly dark and choppy waters. The storm seemed to be getting larger, faster and more violent every hour as it slowly swept South-easterly towards South Rubet, this mission had to be carried out now before conditions worsened to such a degree that this stage of the fighting would have to be postponed to a later date.

The ships were distinctly Stevidian and were definitely part of the Royal Navy. The small fortilla of ships consisted of two anti-air frigates of the Langley Class and one new ship. It was an abnormally large destroyer of the brand new Type-66 Dweller Class, the anti-satellite destroyer. There was no one on the deck of either the three ships, everyone was inside at battle stations despite it not being a surprise drill and the nearest sea combat was hundreds of miles away.

The Satellite destroyer was the HMS Defiant, the captain- Captain Timothy Hammond. The whole crew was at battle stations and in the missile control it was bright and very quiet. Intense concentration was needed if this was to succeed. Three Dweller Class destroyers were drafted into the first fleet, the Defiant was one of the three tracking satellites of the battle area before shots had even been fired. It was a risky business trying to shoot down satellites from the ground let alone from a ship. It had been four hours before enemy planes fired shots when the Defiant had got a separate lock on two Macabee satellites and three Stevidian satellites all looking down at the battle below. Now four hours later, the Defiant had still not fired and were doubly making sure they had the right satellite, the last thing they wanted was to shot down one of their own satellites or worse, shoot down and allied one. Now six hours into the whole engagement and they seemed to have found their target.
The Macabees were relying on their spy satellite coverage to find damage on the fleets of IH and Stevid, any modern and up to date commander would make good use of the technology at his or her disposal, the Macabees were no exception, even Stevid was using the same technique- it was a worldwide known thing and widely used.
The Dweller Class had been called in to eliminate the enemy’s eyes and ears over Stevid’s fleet and her allies.

The most high tech RADAR and satellite tracking systems had been taken and modified to fit quiet nicely on the Dweller hull, a massive array of satellite dishes, RADAR domes and tracking systems used to find the satellites were all placed on the two aft quarters of the ship, the ships own surface and air tracking RADAR was located on the mast. The eight on board super computers were taking in complex mathematical equations and numbers to locate and lock on to enemy satellites. Tons of data was being rapidly entered, collected, analysed and processed by the super computers before finally sending the position, speed and trajectory of the satellite to the RADAR operator’s screen and the Tactical Officer’s screen.
I four stage Spike missiles would be used to destroy the satellite with pinpoint accuracy in the upper and/or lower atmosphere. Depending on the position of the satellite.

All the required data had now finally been painstakingly located by the computers and feed to the relevant computer screens.

All that was left was to press the magic red button.

The captain walked over the tactical control board and took out a jagged metal key and inserted it into the key hold and turned. The plastic box covering the launch button flipped open and the button glowed red in the dark light. His finger plunged down on the button. The shipped vibrated suddenly and then violently shuddered for twenty seconds as the rocket soared off into the air.

“Missile away and running Captain.” Said the tactical officer to which the captain silently nodded in reply.

He turned back to look at the plasma screen showing the live progress of the missile as the ship sent the data to the tracking module in the missile as it’s course trajectory adjusted corresponding to the position of the satellite in relation to the rocket.

“Right then.” Murmured the captain. “Begin data analysis of the other satellite and prepare more missiles for launch. Our mission is to blind them for a couple of hours. Begin target analysis and tracking of the other enemy satellites.”

Otium Aqua- Stevid Fighter Group

The attack on the Falcons had been a partial success, forty enemy bandits were down and plenty more would go down because of IH’s attack on the carriers. The attack planes had already started home ward towards all available carriers, those that didn’t have a floating home to go back to started the short journey back to Stevid.
The overhead escort group had fired almost all their missiles at the Macabee jets flying top cover, the Tornadoes still had two sidewinder missiles each left seeing as they carried four XAAM long-range missiles.

It wasn’t long before enemy missiles were picked up on all their HUDs, typical Macabee weaponry they’d be AA missiles fired from a long distance away.
The wing commander’s eyes widened massively as the red warning light flashed along with the warning buzzer. He clicked on the intercom button giving him vocal access to all aircraft.

“Wing Commander to everyone in the choir, breaking radio silence, they have us now. We have less than five minutes before the missiles strike us, so listen up! Sea F3’s and F-35’s follow my lead, all other aircraft make a break for it as fast as possible. F3’s and 35’s follow my six!”.

The aircraft broke up and went their separate ways. The thirty-five F3’s had two sidewinders each plus their Vulcan cannons, there were thirty 35’s left with no missiles remaining except their own cannons as well. It was time to see whether these were AA fighters or not.

“Max power! Max Power! Put your bloody foot down! Pedal to the fucking metal, floor it! I don’t want everyone to get shot down. F3’s, 35’s, Max Power- then when I tell you to pull up sharply for twenty seconds, bank corkscrew at your discretion and then push back down again. These are long-range air-to-air missiles using IR targeting like all AA missiles. We’ll see if this works.”

The planes fought their way threw the heavy sheet of rain and wind towards the Macabee aircraft at maximum speed. The missiles were shown on the HUDs, approaching at a terrifying speed. Shooting straight towards all the aircraft involved at this altitude.

“Now! Now! Pull up! Pull Up Damn it!”

The missiles were less than a mile away travelling at mach 3, every pilot pulled back on the stick column and their aircraft soared higher into the air. The missiles were indeed tracking both those aircraft and the ones they had left behind. Loads of missiles flew under them towards the fleeing pack. Some also tracked the now attacking craft. Rising quickly, following the heat signatures of the F3’s and F-35’s engines that were glowing white hot with the after burner. The sixty-five aircraft shot up into the air in an attempt at the last minute to shake of the missiles approaching them head on… it partly worked. Behind the wing commander’s plane, he caught the sight in the corner of his eye lots of bright flashes as some of the missiles smashed into the fragile under belly of the fuselage. Many were the less manoeuvrable F3 Tornadoes that exploded leaving to time for the pilots to eject out of their aircraft. A few JSF F-35’s were also caught up in the missiles explosions. The surviving aircraft corkscrewed and then plummeted for five seconds before levelling out, there was no flashing warning lights.

“AWACS, report on casualties!” cried the wingman.

“RADAR shows that the enemy splashed thirty-four of your group of your group leaving thirty-one of you, eighteen of which are armed F3’s.”

“What about the trailing group?”

“Bandits splashed thirty-eight fleeing aircraft, the survivors are going home, there aren’t enough of them to continue fighting.”

“Roger! All remaining F3’s and 35’s, hit the throttle and engage the enemy up close. DO NOT pursue them into enemy control airspace. None of you are going to do that because the AWACS will tell you if you are within a mile of their missile range from their escort ships. When the enemy is within range you may fire at will. Until that time maintain radio silence.”

The planes jetted off into the stormy weather at speed to track down the remaining aircraft. With only half their numbers remaining, and only a quarter of which were able to fight, it was a desperate move.

St. Bernadette Air Force Base- Rubet Island

The Joint Chiefs of Staff belonging to Independent Hitmen and Stevid had gone over a plan of action the day before. The situation in Otium Aqua was getting serious for both sides. The Macabees had more firepower and able technology to use against the combined fleet of IH and Stevid, meanwhile the Macabee fleet was under constant of the two fleets combining and the ever present danger of the accuracy of the Royal Navy’s 25” guns and other assorted armaments that were approaching rather steadily towards gun range.
However, despite the fact that enemy satellites were now under direct threat didn’t eliminate the threat still floating on the surface. The threat from space was significantly less than that on the high seas of Otium Aqua. Ships needed to be sunk and sunk quickly with the means to do it.

St. Bernadette Air Force Base had a large detachment of bombers and fighter-bombers in North Rubet Island. Such a large amount of bombers was not to go to waste. B2 Spirits were the pride of the air base followed by updated Vulcan bombers and B-52’s. The rather outdated models of the B-52’s and the Vulcan Bombers were deceptively old. But advanced RADAR and bunker buster payloads and modified bomb bays to take extra two or the bombs were the main differences in these models.

The aircraft had taken off just under twenty minute ago and went off towards the Macabee Fleet with different objectives. Satellite surveillance and AWACS reports on specific areas of the fleet that need immediate attention. The B2 Spirits would target the remaining carriers and SDNs with Cruise while the B-52’s and Vulcan bombers would fly high level and attack the smaller craft such as the cruisers, frigates and destroyers with missiles, high level bunker busters and other conventional ordinance.

There were twenty-five B2’s, thirty B-52’s and thirty Vulcan’s taking off of twelve different runways in quick succession on the same airfield. They had taken off in the worsening weather and made their way towards the battleground at Otium Aqua.

The bombers

The crews of the B-6’s had decelerated after their initial sprint at afterburner to the cruising speed of Mach 3. As they did this the threat receivers in a number of them started to bleep, causing the co-pilots to turn and look at the instruments that monitored enemy radar emissions.

“We are getting changing radar readings. They have locked on and fired, changed from search to acquisition mode. Probably got SAM’s on our tail.”

The raid commander in the pilot seat of his B-6 didn’t need to think about his decision and immediately upon being told this information by his co-pilot he toggled his burst transmitting encrypted radio link.

“Strike Force, go to maximum speed.”

Pilots right hands advanced their throttles to the stops as the aircraft leapt forward even faster. The four massive hybrid pulsejet engines responded at once, pushing the aircraft forward but using up vast quantities of fuel to do so. The as yet unnamed aircraft then rode on its own shockwave as it shot through the air, climbing slightly as it did so as the pilots all sought to reach the 70,000feet optimum operating altitude. They had the ability to stay at this speed for 35minutes, which would see them well within Stevid airspace if they did so. What worried the crews was that they didn’t know the speed or range of the missiles that followed them. They had a small 180degree radar array on the rear of the aircraft, but it had a range of only fifty kilometres in perfect conditions and these were far from perfect conditions.

They had one advantage though, their radar cross section would soon not be big enough to get a lock on. That would mean that the missiles would just go dumb, self detonate, or search for new targets depending upon what the enemy had them programmed to do. Back at the airbases they were already looking at how the B-6 could have been detected as well as at satellite imagery of the battle group before and after the strike.

Mission analysis’s put down that at least two aviation carriers had been severely damaged. Not the best result, but it would do for now.



Naval Aviation Squadrons

The Mission Commander onboard his E-2CI Hawkeye had suspected that the enemy would dash out and shoot missiles before turning tail and fleeing back within their protective SAM screen thrown up by their fleet. It made sense. It wasn’t the fairest thing to do, but you never wanted war to be fair because then the other guy had a chance of winning.

“Raptor Lead is coming up on the fringe of their expected SAM cover, requesting orders”

He looked at the screen. The squadrons of F-22’s that made up the forward line were advancing at pace, but it was clear they would have no chance of catching the enemy fighters despite loosing off a pair of AAM-3’s each. The incoming missiles were about one hundred kilometres out so he ordered the -22’s to turn and hit the burner. Their was no dignity in running away but it would save at least some of them. Countermeasures were being deployed and these fuzzed up the radar screens somewhat as did the fighters splitting apart and diving for the sea to get every last bit of speed that they could. Unlike the Macabean pilots they had the necessary equipment for aerial refueling, adapted E/A-6B’s that were in the air over the IH Task Force. It had worried the commanders that they may not have time to refuel every aircraft from the limited tankers, especially with the onset of the terrible weather that was becoming more severe with every minute.

This was partly to blame for the late detection of the missiles launched from the Spizanian Fleet that had appeared. Satellite recon had obviously been wrong at estimating it being a day and a half from possible contact. Hampshire was in severe trouble now. The reserve force of F-22’s with the airbourne radar birds were at once launching their Air to Air missiles at the inbound missiles, eliminating some but not all.

The primary force of F-22’s now had the exploding missiles to contend with. The pilots knew they were on the verge of where rescue helicopters would be allowed to proceede and so they redoubled their efforts to avoid the incoming missiles. They punched out chaff, flares and pulled every ounce of speed out of their fighters as they sought to get away. The pilots smarted at having to run away, knowing that their own missiles had probably not found their targets as the opposition were also running, but for many of them that didn’t matter as they died in fiery explosions as the missiles began connecting.

The F/A-18E’s were ordered to abandon their strikes at the same time, all the aircraft turned and hit their own afterburners leaving the Prowlers behind due to their slowness with their protective systems also punching out chaff to simulate the battle force. However chaff didn’t move, it only provided a blanket behind which the majority of the Hornets and Prowlers would hopefully be able to fall back under. Although when the sheer number of inbound missiles from the Spiz fleet was recognized the majority of the Hornets were also diverted towards them in the hope of hitting some more. Four squadrons headed back to the tankers to refuel and then provide a beefed up CAP with the F-22’s on duty there. No doubt there would be Macabean reprisals.



The CIC on New Hampshire

The sheer number of inbound missiles was worrying to all who knew onboard the huge vessel and also every other vessel in the group. Airbourne missiles had killed some and now the SAM’s would have their turn.

The SAM boss was able to release his weapons at maximum range this time as the friendly fighters were further out than they had been on the previous occasion. From every AEGIS equipped ship, grey smoke billowed as missiles sprung from VLS tubes, or in some cases launched from rails. Other ships not equipped with AEGIS launched their SAM’s and added them to the ‘basket’ allowing them to be controlled by the guided missile cruisers that formed the centre of the SAM network. The number of inbounds was much larger this time and the computer system responded accordingly, adopting a Shoot, move, shoot, move policy meaning that many more SAM’s were put into the air, exhausting the missile complements of several of the smaller ships.

The ammunition ship Servant immeadiately moved to the nearest of those, the destroyer Martin to try and fill her before storm properly hit and made underway replenishment next to impossible. With the loss of Oak that task was doubled whilst also halving the available missile stock.


With the missiles closing fast and with more possible launches from Macabean ships being detected, all the ASW helicopters that were not already in the air clawed their way upwards whilst all the aircraft cleared from the decks of the carriers. This included a solitary C-2 Greyhound that carried the remains of the 2nd Fleet Flag that was now being passed onto IHS New London and Vice-Admiral Longworth the new commander. Also onboard were two of the operational staff to give him a full briefing to the man who would face the Macabean Fleet next. Although they didn’t say it outloud, they both wondered if their home ship would still be there for them to return to, or even still be afloat when they reached their destination.


A last gasp?


The older ships in Task Force Hampshire also carried some older Tomahawk Cruise Missiles with their Anti-ship warheads still attached. They were older technology than was found in most navies in the world, but they still boasted a range of over 1000km which made them useful weapons to have around. Not to mention the 1000lb warhead that would still destroy most small ships in one hit.

Launch buttons were pressed even during the launching of the SAM’s adding yet more missiles to the air that was already clouded with them. The Tomahawks had been programmed with inertial navigational aids to guide them to their targets, including several search grids that they would sweep for their targets, but they also had the capability to take information from the AWAC’s aircraft that were still up and operating over the Task Force.

The launch tubes on Hill contained forty two Tomahawks and these were fired off in under four minutes as the inbound missiles closed even more. They took to their search height of 2,000feet immeadiately but kept their search radars in the nose of each turned off for the first 200km of their flight. When they arrived in the first search box and begun searching for their targets they would be looking at killing escorts and as such they had been programmed to target the nearest blips on their seeker heads no matter what the size.

In total one hundred and thirty five Tomahawk missiles were launched. Eighty of them were aimed at the Macabean Fleet which was deemed to pose the greater threat, whilst the remaining fifty-five were targetted at the newly arrived Spizanian battle group that had launched at Hampshire.

As the Macabean dreadnoughts came closer to use their guns the relevant VLS cells flipped open and unleashed a barrage of AS-1M missiles on random targeting, mainly from the two Aasimar Class Battleships who carried arsenals of nearly 200 each. The targetting of escorts meant that many more ships would be joining those from Hampshire on the sea bed.

Retribution was sweet



IHS New London, New Flagship of the 2nd Fleet

Vice-Admiral Longworth had just inherited 2nd Fleet with the death of McWalter. The flag was on its way here, or at least what remained of it after the missile strike, to hang from the stand on New London. Being one of the Flight II New England Carriers she sported fifteen CIWS guns rather than the twelve on Flight I models and also had armour that was 100mm thicker in all aspects. When combined with an extra elevator it made her a more potent warship, not by much but still a detectable margin that allowed the aircraft to be launched quicker.

Longworth had ordered Task Force Fearless to close with them. The enlarged group would then head towards the position of the Stevid Fourth Fleet and from there they would seek revenge for the damage done to Hampshire.




IHS Neptune, Fourty Kilometres from Farnberth Harbour

Neptune had limped this far under its own power after the disabling blow that it had taken from a pair of Sledgehammers during the first missile attack on the New Hampshire Group. Accompanied by the missile cruiser Ocean and a pair of Frigates for ASW support she had made it back this far.

Now there were several men from the Stevid Royal Navy aboard, along with the Chief of the shipyards at the harbour. SH-60 Seahawks still operated from the rear of the deck in their ASW role for the carrier, but the aircraft of the airwing were sitting at a Naval Aviation Base on the Stevid coast preparing to launch a strike against the Spizanian Group. The visitors were cataloging what was needed to get the ship back to a fighting state, or if the damage was too bad, what was needed to get her back home for further major repairs.

Luckily none of the damage was externally below the waterline, so they didn’t need to take up a precious dry dock at the allied harbour. Instead they would be tied alongside a large peer, from where numerous amounts of specialists would go to work. Already new catapult gear was being flown out stage by stage from PortHaven and the Captain had every confidence in the ability of the Stevid engineers to be able to provide the steel plates and deck armour that were needed in order to make the running repairs to the bow of the vessel to once again allow her to launch aircraft.

In addition to this, two hundred and fourty one new crew members were being flown out from “home” to join the ships crew. They all came from IHS Gillen another Isomer Class Carrier that was in dry dock for an extensive refit with two screws missing meaning she wouldn’t be taking part in the conflict.



Fleet Headquarters, Gillen Naval Base

The imposing shape of IHS Prince of Wales still sat in the bay as night fell. The auxilliary craft still buzzing around her, currently SM-2 Block X SAM’s were being loaded into some of the forward VLS cells, cranes from the supply ships having to do the work that a dock crane usually would. Work that they would continue until the huge new berth for the vessel was finished at PortHaven Naval Base, 2000km down the coast. The dry dock that was being built to accommodate the giant vessel would not be finished for another six months, so the crew were being extra vigilant with their loading and storing procedures, particularly with the fuel, ammunition and the twenty four nuclear warheads that were being stored below decks.

An hour before a single quintiple turret of 25” guns had fired off a single salvo of blank charges to demonstrate the power of the vessel. Thousands had watched from the shore in awe, usually the IH navy brandished its airpower, now it seemed it was turning back to guns.

With the news coming in about the battle with the Macabees it was clear that the vessel was probably needed there. The IH battleships simply didn’t have the range to counter the far reaching bombardment of the Feathermore and the other large surface combatants that were arrayed in the Otium Aqua and first reports showed that their missiles were having precious little effect on the behemoth. So it would fall to the Catholic Class SuperDreadnoughts to pacify Feathermore whilst the Hitmen vessels would just have to sink escorts and the smaller capital ships. With the appearance of two Prince of Wales in the Spizanian Task Force the combat potential of the vessel could be hopefully be gauged, although if it was successful it was likely that the remaining IH ships would be decimated.

High Command was still going over ways to counter it. Prince of Wales had been ordered to be prepared to launch as early as tomorrow morning, however some officers had urged them to wait the week until the second of the class was delivered. Duke of York was currently steaming towards Gillen to join her older sister whilst Black Prince was having the last of her extensive armament fitted. The other two, King George and the as yet unnamed SDN-5 were not scheduled to be delivered for sometime. Deploying them as a group meant unparalleled firepower, however it would also take a considerable amount of time. The country was involved in no other conflicts and it appeared as if it would stay that was for the foreseeable future so in theory they could devote their entire effort to it, in practice they would try to but whether they would actually be able to when their homeland wasn’t threatened was another matter entirely.


Fleet Losses

New Hampshire- 8 Missile Hits and three cannon shells. Sunk.
Edginton - 1 Missile, 2 Cannon shells. Sunk.
Expectation- 2 Missiles. Still afloat but severe fires. Abandoned.
Porthaven - Minor Damage two days. Withdrawing.
Fearsome – Withdrawing.
Hill - Number 2 turret out of action. Withdrawing
Orion - Badly damaged superstructure and several small internal fires. Withdrawing.
Aires - Steering destroyed. Remaining on station whilst repairs are attempted. (Dead in the Water but still firing missiles back, crew preparing scuttling charges + to abandon ship)
Clancy (Ticonderoga Cruiser) – Major Damage, ten days worth.
Broderick (Ticonderoga Cruiser) – Sunk from missiles.
Martin, Susan (Destroyers) - Sunk due to gunfire.
Auxilliary ships Supporter and Savious both sunk from missile strikes.

Naval Air Group Losses

79 F-22S Sea Raptors – either destroyed or badly damaged.
31 F-22S Sea Raptors – minor damage (one to two day repairs)
4 E/A-6B Prowlers – Destroyed


Missiles fired in return

80 Tomahawk Cruise Missiles at Mac's escorts
50 Tomahawk Cruise Missiles at Spiz (no target preference so missiles will go for the biggest)
340 AS-1M at Mac (assuming your in range)

"Vampires, Vampires, Vampires" yelled one of the RADAR operators
"Give me a count" ordered as the Countermeasures Coordination Officer as he rushed to his command statiion
"Mark Forty, no Fifty. RADAR and Flight Characteristics suggests Tomahawks"
"Tomahawks? You Sure"
"As sure as i can be"
"Very Well, All Paramounts, fire P.746.F missiles and reload"
"Flight Boss, is the raid refueled?"
"Their on the decks now, theyl be armed and fueled about two minutes after the missiles get here"

The decks of twelve of the fleets Paramounts were obscured by smoke as they fired swarms of hyper-long range Praetorian Missiles, visible as dark specs trailing flame as they moved to strike at the incoming Tomahawks

"Impact in 5...4...3....2...1 Impacts Confirmed"
"Kills?"
"Scratch Twenty Five Tomahawks!"
"Time to Impact?"
"Now Eight Five Seconds"
"All secondary Praetorians FIRE, all CIWS stand By"
The decks of every combat ship in the fleet turned into a white and black mass as they discharged missiles at the oncoming Vampires.
"Scratch Fifteen More, Targets Acquired by CIWS, CIWS firing"
"ALL HANDS BRACE BRACE BRACE"
The ship shudders and the lights dim momentarily as the ship takes hits.
"Damage Report?"
"Three Impacts on the Ookhazi, Two on the Repulse and Four on the Victory. Damage Coming through, DC reports two guns lost on number one turret. Repulse Reports No damage, Victory Reports loss of one Railgun Mount"
"And the Fighters?"
"Hot on the deck"
"Launch Launch Launch"

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

The Deck Chiefs on all the ships assisting in the raid waves their arms and the catapults started working non-stop. Launching the five wings of fighters that had already participated in one airstrike today, now the second killer blow would be delivered. 600 More Shockhounds and 240 more Sledgehammers, an enourmous strike, were deployed by the fighters of the raid before they turned for home, for the second time.
The missiles were targeted at the Carriers, the Destroyers and the Fleets Supply Ships, the Ammunition Carriers and Oilers. The IH fleet would be deprived of the lifeblood of war, the tools with which to move and with which to fight.


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

The Prince of wales and Warspite Taskgroups were six hours behind the lead attack fleet, and they were slowly catching up. At this rate they would be in missile Range just about when the Excalibur Force reached close gun range, then the battle would heat up beneath the might of Confederate Missile Weaponry.

Open Ocenas - 200 km Away from Macabea:

The Space Union 5th Naval Armada and 6th Naval Armadas skimmed through the battering seas of Imperial Armies region as Admiral Harjeet Sidhu watched the sea carry the massive fleet above its raging anger and to its destination. He had always been in love with the sea since the day his father had taken him on a deep water fishing trip. Since then he has became fascinated with the sea and its fierce yet beautiful nature.

Sidhu's commanding Captain entered into the room cautiously as he observed his Admiral staring dumbfound out at sea. Everyone in the fleet knew that Sidhu was a man of the sea, the only place that he felt comfortable at. There was a joke running around the place that the Admiral was an amphibian but most people with even a fraction of a brain kept that a secret from him. With a cough he signaled his presence to the Admiral he warily turned his face away from the ocean to stare at the green eyes of his Captain,

"Yes?"

"Sir, we've arrived within 200 km of the Macabean city of Macabea."

"Fine, have a message transmitted through the crew to get ready for reaching shore. Once that is done, I want immediate beginning of unloading operations. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I will direct it personally."

"Good. Do not disappoint me. I wish to be back out sea within the end of the week, at all costs. That way we can head a bit south to help the Mekugians out in their blockade."

"Yes, sir!"

The Captain stood there for a split second before hightailing out of the Admiral's quarters. Like everyone on the ship, too, he knew that the Admiral was a caring man but before any operation he was always frustrated and prone to anger tantrums. That was worse than having a 30" shell hitting in the exact spot that you were conveniently located at. Far worse.

As the Captain pulled out of the room, the Admiral basked in the few remaining rays of light before heading back in to slouch himself in his golden-red chair. Every time he sat in it, he felt like he was in heaven. It might as well be, he thought to himself. This war had become an escalating affair for the world. It had started out as a mere hotspot in the turbulent world of Earth but it quickly escalated into an international incident. Foreign nations had poured in from around the world to aid the nation of The Golden Throne of the Macabees or the secessionist that were attempting to break away. For a long time, Space Union had managed to stay out as its ally battled these inner wars. Most officials scuffed it as a "domestic" strife. But that changed as it escalated into a full blown war with IADF coming to help the Macabees. A number of times the Chamber of Electorates had asked to intervene in the war but each time the problem of Guffingford, a nation strongly opposed to other Unionist allies, occurred because Space Union would have to fight alongside them. Then a turn of fortune occurred.

Late in the year, Guffingford mysteriously pulled out of the war, making it a ripe opportunity for Space Union to help. The Chamber immediately gained any opposition to their side so it was capable of passing legislation that year in help of The Macabees. They had dispatched the 5th and 6th Naval Armadas naturally to take care of the business. The sailors were no less pumped and ready from being shipped off three times to war but none of the times firing a single shot or dropping a single bead of sweat. Now it was time. It was time to bring out the big guns.

Command Center, Deep inside Aurillac
The generals had gathered in their command bunker once again. Their attack across the river had been foiled and the divisions assigned to the attack were either killed or captured; this failure disappointed and angered the command staff. When they were together once again they pooled their brains once again for a new, deadlier plan. After deep discussion the generals arrived at one; a plan in which they would reinforce Urseline, and use it as a stepping stone for an attack into the heart of the Havenite army. They were dispatching 58th, 59th, and 60th infantry divisions to aide the already battered 46th. The combined divisions would hopefully assert full control of the town. After the plan was finalized, the combined 90,000 infantrymen, 4500 light tanks and 6,000 SOV-06 IFV’s were immediately dispatched from third army to the destination of Urseline. The time would come for revenge for the 49th division and 2nd panzer corps.

However the generals didn’t just plan one assault, they planned two. With the Havenites fighting a rear guard style action against the Killian counter, even the slowest of leaders could see that they were retreating. The generals could only guess where, but they knew that the Havenites were tired and needed rest. With more than a million men at Aurillac the Killians had rested men, an advantage the generals sought to exploit to the fullest extent. The generals also knew that the Havenites probably wanted to re-group their army, a major thing the Killian generals wanted to make sure didn’t happen.

The time had come for the Killians to overcome their enemies.

Urseline

The small Ruskan town had indeed earned its place in the war; the soldiers fighting in the town would not remember it for its charming buildings or beautiful countryside views, but for its bloodshed and wanton destruction of all things living. With both Killian and Havenite armor blasting away at every enemy controlled building, enemy tank, and infantryman they saw, the entire town was soon reduced to rubble and bricks. Fires burned throughout certain parts of the town, only adding more chaos to the hectic battle. In a few gruesome hours the town that once stood proud in the countryside was now reduced to bricks and mortar.

The Killian attack from the front was continuing in the way it had since the beginning of the battle. Killian men kept charging down the main road into a hailstorm of Havenite small arms fire, with men getting cut down left, right and center. One of the most important aspects of the battle for Urseline was the fact that no definitive sides could be drawn; Killians and Havenites were equally scattered throughout the battle. The only was a person could tell if they were near their comrades was if there was a friendly piece of armor near them. A lot of men found themselves behind tanks, piles of rubble, or in bombed out buildings. Sergeant first class Salvatore, “Sal”, DeNino was one of the men inside a bombed out building. He was a platoon commander and practically the leader of the four hundred or so men in his sector. From his point of view he saw every fighting Killian firing from their cover into windows, doorways, and any other vantage points the Havenites had. Indeed the Killians were putting up a harsh fight for their sectors, firing massive amounts of small arms fire that either made a twang or thud depending on if they hit brick or flesh. SFC DeNino knew that a lot of his men were pinned down below him, and with the tanks engaged in combat, and the SOV-06’s outside of the town, there wasn’t much support available. He instructed the ten men around him to fire on any egress point as he sprinted across the street to another squad of men. He ordered the same thing as he sprinted to yet another squad. After a lot of running around the small arms fire became less sporadic and more concentrated in that sector. Despite Havenite attempts, and massive Killian casualties, the resourceful Killians were re-grouping and re-organizing. NCOs were taking command throughout the streets ordering attacks on apartment and building complexes. Small arms fire increased with more lethality than before and a lot of grenades were being used as the soldiers charged into buildings taking them with lethal force. Despite the ingenuity Killain infantry still were getting hit, dropping to the floor to bleed out. Many men were dying in the streets begging for death in the face of their comrades and enemies, but the Killians were fiercely going to fight back.

The tanks weren’t having the same success in re-grouping like the infantry did. The armor was getting massacred by the resourceful Havenites and their bigger guns. The only prayer the Killian tankers had was that they could fire off more rounds then their enemy. This prayer was answered because of the smaller guns that the Wolverines had; but just because they were small didn’t mean they weren’t deadly; the 105mm ETC cannons on the lighter tanks made them just as effective as their enemy counterparts. Despite the speedier firing advantage, the main thing killing the Killian tankers was inexperience; but after the debacles of the first few hours of battle the men knew the score and they learned, through the horrors of death, how to overcome the enemy armor. They used their knowledge to the maximum extent, aiming their SABOT rounds at the Havenite turrets and treats. With either the treads or turrets out of action the Killian infantrymen would rush out like ants from their hiding spot and grenade the hatch or barrel. They were like jackals to a fresh kill.

As the attack from the side weakened the Havenite armor, the attackers from the flanks pressed in. The men were storming buildings like the men in the center, following the same type of attack plan. The men were gaining a foothold in the sides of Urseline and the infantry were firing as they moved into the next objective. Grenades were not being used sparingly and they exploded every thirty seconds or so. Infantry men with anti-tank rifles opened up on the IFV’s suppressing their buddies. With tank shells coming in from the front and the sides, many of the IFV’s that gave away their position were immediately attacked by anti-armor weapons.

The Killians probably wanted Urseline more than the Havenites did and they were going to prove it.

First, Third, and Eighth Division Counter

Private Graffe felt the adrenaline leave his body as the Havenites disappeared over the first rolling hill. He wanted a fight, not a retreat. But lack of adrenaline didn’t stop him or the rest of the attacking division soldiers from firing their rifles as the Havenites boarded their APCs. As the aggressing men were trying to get a vantage point on the retreating Havenites the first claymores blew, turning human flesh into goop. The men stopped when the first explosions rocked the lines, but the heavy BredtSverd tanks rolled on top of the crest of the hill. When they had maneuvered themselves on the small hills of the Macabean plains, they immediately opened up on the APCs. Their 125mm cannons made a terrible, deafening roar as they fired. What was more terrible was what the rounds that hit did to the Havenite APCs and men inside of them. The tank fire continued, even as the Havenites tried to de-board their APCs on the other hill. The tank shells ripped into the stopped APCs like a hot knife through butter. Because the thick armor of the BredtSverds the tanks were not badly damaged by the Havenite claymores, with the exception of a broken tread or dented armor. With the tanks in a perfect firing position, infantrymen jumped on top of the tanks in droves. From atop the tanks the small arms fire lit up the Havenite area tearing up flesh and dirt alike.

Sadly the cease-fire order came down along the front, and eventually every man ceased their firing. The Havenites on the other hill had a reprieve…for now. Until the battle started again, the Killian infantry were ordered to dig foxholes or expand the Havenite ones that were left behind. All along the huge front men were furiously digging, and if a Havenite had the balls the fire on them while they were digging, a tank shell or 15mm gattling gun opened up to silence them. These divisions were now a shield for a larger, more sinister attack.

Skies Over Aurillac

The Killian’s were flying the unfriendly skies, and they knew it. Scores of F-22’s and JSFs were downed by the fierce Havenite pilots and their divine bolt missiles. The pilots were doing the best they could to avoid the missiles, but heat flares and chaff were not doing much good. Most of the survivors were still trying to run, but it was useless. Even the he best the pilots could only just keep the Havenite aircraft busy and hope that reinforcements came in.

The remnants of the naval task force at Targul Frumos were mostly comprised of carriers and a few battleships. But the carriers still had their experienced pilots from the naval battle and they planned to use them. The Killian’s were still determined to get control of the skies over Aurillac, even if they took horrendous losses doing it. More F-22’s were shot off the decks of the carriers into the Macabee skies. Two main squadrons were making the reinforcing sortie, to aide their battered comrades. Most of the remainder of the surviving jets was in the air, the number being around two hundred and forty. One hundred and eighty planes were flying high altitude with their targeting systems and IFF squawks on. This top attack force wanted their presence to be known so the bottom could pull their tricks. The one hundred and eighty planes were flying at maximum speed towards the already in progress battle. When the fighters came into missile range they let their targeting computers go to work, and when the computer systems ID’ed the enemy, many of the pilots let loose with their long range Phoenix AAM missiles. The pilots watched the missile streaks on their radar, hoping for a hit.

With all the frantic fighting above, and the sixty fighters below flying without their IFF squawks and active targeting systems on, the jets were nearly undetectable. They weren’t looking for a dog fight just yet; they were looking for the Havenite AWACS. Without their targeting radars on they only had previous intelligence on where the AWACS could be. Using this info, the pilots took a steep climb past the chaotic battle above. When they reached the altitude an AWACS would normally be, all the fighters lit up their radars. Simultaneously the AWACS and fake signatures the jamming was creating came on screen. With most of the Havenite fighters distracted on the larger, more experienced force below the AWACS were all alone. The sixty fighters opened up on the real and fake signatures on their radars. Scores of missiles rippled off the wings of the fighters, streaking towards their enemy.

Five Division Attack

With the Havenite aircraft busy with the new influx of Killian aircraft in the skies above, the five divisions stepping off for a full scale attack would not be harmed by Havenite aircraft; artillery would be an entirely different story. But with the Havenite AWACS tied up with crack pilots hunting them down, the generals believed that not a lot of intelligence would be sent to the artillery.

The five divisions making the sweep attack were comprised of 2nd division, 5th division, 6th divisions, 7th division, and 8th division. The divisions stepped off as soon as the pilots radioed that they had fully engaged the Havenite aircraft above. The huge attack force was being led by the Wolverine light tanks, with SOV-06s and foot soldiers tagging along behind them. The tank tracks and wheeled vehicles were tearing up the grassy knolls that comprised the lands around Aurillac. The attackers were making a direct attack into the flank so the time to the destination wouldn’t be so large. With the massive five division size of the attacking force, the group could take horrendous losses and still function well.

After a decent sized journey the Killian armor taking the lead spotted the Havenites on the horizon. The smaller tanks advanced slowly, plugging in coordinates and picking out their targets. The wide range of IFVs, armor, and infantry gave the tankers an orgasm of targets to choose from. When the Wolverines were in range the Havenites spotted them firing their guns. The first Havenite volley took out many tanks, but their were plenty of Wolverines to replace the fallen and fire upon the enemies. After the Havenite volley the Wolverines retaliated en masse, firing off thousands of SABOT rounds, HEAT rounds, and HEF rounds at armor, IFVs and infantrymen. The fire didn’t slow as the commanders kept rattling off rounds at the fastest rate possible. The spacing between the tanks was about eight feet, and between those spaces SOV-06’s passed through the column of tanks. Their gattling guns were blazing a hailstorm of rounds at any exposed Havenite. The SOV-06’s advanced through the thickets of enemy fire, and the Havenite armor had two choices. Target the incoming IFVs and get destroyed by the tanks, or target the tanks and get destroyed by the soldiers from the SOV-06’s. They had to make up their mind ASAP because the IFVs were almost right on top of them.

Yet a new battle had begun.

50 km Away From Shore:

A fleet of ships whizzed through the water at 25 knots as it continued its voyage to the nation of the Macabees. The Admiral stood on the bridge of his flagship, the SUS Yarsh, Couragous-Class Super Dreadnaught (SDN). In the distance beyond the horizon small black specks began to appear on the shoreline as they got closer. The Admiral smiled at the site as more and more black specks peeped up from the horizon and appeared on the radar too. With a smile, he turned to Captain Puneet and gave him the nod.

"Captain, have a message immediately encrypted and sent to the Mekugian fleet along with to the Macabees in Macabea. We've just made eye contact with the Mekugian fleet."

"Very well, sir. I'll have it done pronto."

The Captain turned swiftly back to her desk and began immediately opening up the channel with the two allied nations.

To: Mekugi and The Macabees
From: Grand Admiral Harjeet Sidhu,
5th and 6th Naval Armadas

We are pleased to announce that the Space Union forces have arrived within
50 km of the shoreline of the city of Macabea. We wish to ask premission to
open up the Mekugi blockade so that our fleet can enter the docking bay
within the city. We are carrying currently the 1st Armored Army and the 3rd
Mechanized Infantry Army so we will need some time to unload with your
premission. We wait patiently for your response so that we can begin our aid to our allies.

Signed,
Admiral Sidhu

Puneet punched in the code and the message went whizzing away to its destination. She turned back to her Admiral and reported the news.

"Sir, the message has been delivered."

"Good, send word to the other ships to slow down and begin forming around the SUS Yarsh so that we can enter into Macabea with as little problem as possible."

"Yes, sir."

Puneet turned her back on the Admiral as she relayed the message to every other Commanding Naval Officer in the other ships so that they knew what to do when the time was right. It looked like they would get their desperatly wanted combat now.

Ruskan Skies/Styx River Crossing

“We’ve got two more Prat batteries, take em out.”

“Already on them.” The air force officer intently stared down his screen just inches away from his face until the whole plane shook as another pair of missiles dropped out. The whole squadron had only been on station for a couple of minutes but it had been hectic as there certainly weren’t a shortage of targets. There were hundreds of Praetorian sites to choose in Macabean controlled Ruska, finding something to shoot at wasn’t a problem, the problem was getting around to shooting them all. It looked like a cakewalk, all they had to do was sit up there and pop off missiles, till the officers jaw dropped in front of his screen.

The new Condors chopped down the distance in a disgusting amount of time, they moved so fast that by the time they were actually detected there were less than ten seconds left before they slowed down to fire their missiles. In that time the escorting Valkyrie squadron only managed to get a few shots off, after that any missiles they fired got left behind as the Condors sped away, but the first few shot had a chance to maybe catch them while they were turning away back to Fedala. The Condors missiles on the other hand had a free shot at the EB-9’s. Stopping their deadly work, the EB-9’s tried to pull some maneuvers of their own, showing that their big bodies hid some athleticism. A wall of jamming went up along with a host of other counter measures sending a few, but only a slim few of the Macabean missiles off course while the rest bored on. Just as the missiles started closing in SLID pods started shooting off of the wings of the EB-9’s sending out little waves of mini-missiles in a last ditch effort to take down the threat, then they came crashing into the formation, first one than another, then they flooded in.

Strangely, as the lead missile reached the lead bomber it did not explode like any normal missile would have but instead continued on its course until it plowed headfirst into the thick midsection of the craft, shearing through the armored sides that had been designed for shell fire and shrapnel bursts. The missile entered the side looking like nothing but a smoke trail to the human eye, but then it burst out the other side in a “glorious” fashion, a blinding fireball shot out of the plane literally, breaking the back of EB-9 as it exited. The other missiles followed suite, some getting just as “lucky”, other failing in their mission completely and exploding in air, while others still “merely” maimed their prey. The aftermath of the strike showed why incoming missiles were called vampires, they were just as efficient of killers. The EB-9 squadron had suffered dreadful casualties, out of the original twelve aircraft five were shot down or destroyed and another three were damaged to the point that they wouldn’t be battle worthy. The four remaining EB-9’s regained the altitude they lost and continued on their mission, rippling off dozens of Kraven missiles on the Macabean Praetorian sites in Ruska on top of the dozens that had been fired before the Condor’s struck while a second EB-9 squadron was rushed over to make up for the losses but precious time had already been lost. The planners over in Haven had just been given a kick in the balls, the new Condors would change things up in the future, especially when they actually were deployed in decent numbers.


While the EB-9’s continued to pound any Macabean SAM or radar site that dared show itself, the 400 Wolverine missiles that had been launched from ground silo’s in northern Haven began crossing the River Styx, hugging the ground as they went. The amount of Sam fire they faced as they crossed the river into Ruska had not been expected at all but it couldn’t be changed. A fairly large number of missiles had been fired because it was expected that many would get shot down, but not as many as were going down. The surviving missiles popped up into the air as they reached their targets, various Macabean convoys coming down south through Ruska filled with reinforcements. The surviving missiles burst open in the air and let out half a ton of sub-munitions on their targeted convoys below. Each one of the sub-munitions picked out a vehicle from the convoy and speared into the top of it.


It wasn’t part of the original plan but with the heavier than expected SAM coverage it quickly became a part of it. Jammer’s, both ground and aerial based systems, began doing their best to fill northern Ruska with interference. Jamming wasn’t an end all in anyway, it was well known that the radars in use by the Golden Throne could and would burn through the jamming given a little bit of time but it was just that, it took a little bit of time. The jamming wouldn’t shut down the surviving Macabean SAM’s but it would slow them down and add to any confusion they might be feeling. The time each Sam battery or radar wasted trying to burn through some jamming was more time for it to get targeted by Kraven missiles and destroyed, and more time for the Havenite aircraft to get to their targets.

Following behind the Wolverine’s with the jamming still fresh the initial eight Rain fighter-bomber squadrons crossed the Styx river, fighting though a wave of Praetorians even with the heavy Kraven fire and the jamming. The Rain being the first aircraft across the Styx attracted a massive amount of fire and took heavy losses, but in doing so they did more damage to the surviving Praetorian batteries than anything to this point had. Every time a Praetorian battery went online and started searching the skies for the Rain, or even fired on them it put itself on the receiving end of a Kraven missile either from the EB-9’s or from the Rain themselves. And so the Rain continued into northern Ruska in their individual squadrons on to their targets, literally blasting a way through with the few Kraven missiles they each had and with heavy support from the EB-9’s. The Rain, in groups of four, each hit one of the many convoys moving through Ruska carrying men and supplies.

Behind the first wave of Rain another four squadrons of Rain and four squadrons of QF-27 Sabre’s crossed the Styx. They crossed, hoping that by now between the constant fire from the EB-9’s and the Rain that had come just before them that Ruska’s air defense network had been dealt a serious blow, but if not they were prepared and they carried their own Kraven missiles should any of the Golden Throne’s remaining Praetorian batteries show itself to them. As many Praetorian batteries and radars as the Macabean’s hadin Ruska, there were enough Kraven missiles to match them and then some.

The Rain didn’t have to far to go but they still had to fight to get to their targets. The second wave of Rain, which had followed right on the heels of the first, began striking different troop concentrations and tank parks behind the lines in Northern Ruska, trying to hit the mobile reserves of the Macabean forces in Ruska. They darted in quick, dishing out their blows, and got out as quick as they came, no one wanted to spend any more time over Ruska than they had to.

The Sabre’s on the other hand had a very special mission, most likely the most important of the whole day. The Sabre’s were unmanned, they were just machines which made them capable of amazing things as they didn’t have the limits of the human body placed on them. They carried no external armaments, what few weapons they had were held tight inside bomb, or missile, bays. They didn’t move in big formations, instead working in pairs as they silently made their way across Ruska trying to stay as low as they could. They did everything they could to try not to draw attention to themselves, hoping the massive air battle that had to be roaring above and around them would be enough to keep from getting detected. The Sabre’s had the longest distance to travel, they traveled all the way across northern Ruska, from the Styx river all the way to the Tarkus, their destination. The Tarkus river, or more exactly the bridges that spanned it, were their goals. When they were just a few miles from the Tarkus river they popped up and dropped their GPS guided bombs that traveled the rest of the way to drop the spans into the water. Regardless of how successfully the strikes on the convoys and reserves were, if the bridges went down the flow of convoys and reserves into Ruska would go down as well.

As important as the Sabre’s strike was it wasn’t the last, one last wave of aircraft followed the Rain and Sabre’s. A single squadron of EB-9’s moved over Havenite occupied land, and no further. The big aircraft braving any remaining SAM, opened up their bomb bay doors when they got over the Havenite bridgehead on the Styx and let loose hell. Only a few needed to make it through the SAM fire for the mission to be successful, because each EB-9 packed an amazing eighty thousand pounds of bombs. The bombs were supposed to fall on any Macabeans within five miles of the bridgehead. Once the bombs were let loose the EB-9’s hit their afterburners on the way home trying to get out before they took any more losses. The day was just starting and already dozens of aircraft were burning, it was truly going to be a long day.





“Sir, Colonel Infante just reported in, their making good progress in spite of heavy resistance, he said to expect all first day objectives to be completed within the hour.”

“Good, very good. Tell Colonel Infante to continue.” General Primer was having a ball. His troops were spearheading the assault over the Styx river, his division following a plan of his making. He had been deemed a failure because of a “simple mistake” he made during the Colonial Wars and so had been brought home, no one expected war with Fedala. Not good enough for combat commands hmph. Fuck Haven now. His whole command post reflected his excitement. As heavy as losses had been in the beginning, they were now making progress. A bridgehead had been established and was expanding. Overhead, dozens of jet engines could be heard through the battles noise on their way north to secure the skies for the 48th.

The grounds violent shakes emanating from the Morrigan could be felt across the river in the command post. The mere sight of it was enough to stop the advance cold, its gun barrel alone was longer than the longest main battle tank in Havens arsenal. Before the beast could fire the 48th division already began slowly edging backwards its gun fired with disgusting force shattering ears and armor alike. Its shells literally ate the once heavy armor of the Badger MBT it struck, it almost pierced through the whole tank. The shot was like a signal that brought out a universal reaction as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times on a high school stage. The entire 48th division lurched back to the river, just as the entire 48th division fired on a single target. Every weapon on the battlefield became focused on the one target, the Morrigan. The dozens of other Macabean tanks present on the field were completely ignored, overshadowed by the Morrigan’s presence. Haven had tanks like the Morrigan, the Ogre series of tanks but none had been deployed as the war was supposed to be a mobile one, to fasted paced for the Ogre’s but with the Morrigan’s introduction that would change. The bridgehead’s size had been more than cut in half before one of the reserve divisions was able to make it across the river and stem the retreat, or more likely route. The 48th division had been badly mauled, almost gutted, but in the process they had pumped a massive amount of firepower into the Morrigan tank, and even a beast could only take so much punishment. Regardless of its destruction or not, a breakthrough by Mosnoi Bor was not an option any longer, any further fighting would just be to tie down Fedala in the north while the real fighting occurred elsewhere.

Battle of Otium Aqua Sea

Sometime before... cat and mouse
On board the Ephemeral the three sonar operators kept their heads low and their hands pressed against the earphones on their head. One had recently reported a noise somewhere near ten nautical miles to the southeast, and all three had heard the breaking up noises of the submarine the ship had just sunk. The ship had then deployed the thin line array behind it, followed by a full stop and the deployment of the verticle thin line array to the deep sound channel axis. It would make it a sitting duck, but the Tedious had deployed itself in cooperation, making sprints around the Ephemeral, pinging away, in an attempt to protect it while the Ephemeral caught the submarine. The power of detection from the deep sound axis channel was that no shadow zone would be created below the mixed layer, although given that the thin line array would have to somehow actively ping, which consequently explained why it was so much larger. In any case, something would give off the enemy Los Angeles class before the vessel could find it. One of the hull mounted sonar operators shouted, "I can hear doors opening."

The ship's captain, in a natural impulse, yelled, "One-third ahead!" The ship creaked and then slowly began to accelerate, the nuclear reactor actively changing static energy into mechanical energy and sending it down the shaft to turn the screws.

Just as quickly the sonar operators heard a 'splash' and one yelled, "Torpedo in the water!." Another few seconds went by and he said, "Heading south. That's strange. It's giving the reception of a friggin' submarine, but it's moving fast."

The captain placed his hand on his head and thought for a second and finally concluded, "Negative. They should have heard the impact on their own submarine as well as we did, and then the breaking up noises. They wouldn't be sacrificing their noise to get away. It doesn't make sense."

Suddenly another sonar operator yelled, "Two torpedoes in the water! Time of arrival no more than two minutes." They would prove to be the longest two minutes of the Ephemeral's life time, but at least it would give away the position of the enemy submarine. All the while, the Tedious had turned towards the area they had heard the tube doors open a while earlier and she had sprinted to make sure nothing got away. The hedgehog Mk. II long range rocket assisted mortar launcher began to fire away, putting at least forty warheads into the water which would act as modern depth charges, providing powerful blasts to produce shockwaves strong enough to tear through a submarine's hull. Three LAMPS had also made it into the air, two from the Ephemeral and one from the Tedious - that submarine was not going anywhere anytime soon. Those on the deck of the Tedious could soon see the Ephemeral fire away with its own Hedgehog, creating a wall of fire undearneath the surface of the water to hard-kill those two torpedoes. Unfortunately, they could also hear the torpedo explode underneath the hull and a bright white shower of water pierce the sky and then fall back onto the deck of their sister ship. The Ephemeral would sink that day, but so would the enemy.

The Tedious was not here to play games, and it soon sent two Av.36 heavyweight torpedoes down under. The power of Kriermada torpedoes was that they didn't need wire guidance, meaning that they could lock onto the submarine and not lock on to a friendly ship , and even if they were innacurate without a good reading on the ship first, they would still lock on temporarilly, which would cause the enemy submarine to pick up speed or risk being blown out of the water. Given the submarine making more turns it would give itself away, thereby allowing another torpedo to sink it. This was the strategy the Tedious would take, and before the battle was over three Av.17 Tiburon lightweight torpedoes would be in the water, as well as one more Av.36. Nevertheless, the loss of the Ephemeral was not made up by the destruction of the submarine - that was if the submarine was even destroyed. With so much noise in the water it would take some time to confirm or deny.

Some fourteen thousand meters away the Ephemeral quietely slipped beneath the waves, taking aroud twenty-six men with her, and the rest cold in the water, some killed by the shockwaves produced by the depth charges. Two lifeboats would pick up around fifty-eight survivors and the rest would stay in the water, bobbing up and down with every passing secondary wave. The ship had been yet another casualty in this battle, and it seemed as if Otium Aqua was becoming a quagmire.

Damage:
[i]Ephemeral: Sunk.

The Battle
The inner mazes of the Feathermore were packed with action, as officers ran back and forth and the logistics of repair on the move were perfected. The guns were still blazing away on the deck, and some could claim to hear the impact of shells on the Hitmen fleet. In any case, it was obvious that the battle was far from over, especially if the task force decided to stick around. But Grand Admiral Caretían had already made up his mind. It was time to leave Otium Aqua Sea. The destruction of a good number of Stevidian ships and Hitmen ships was good enough for the casualties taken by the Imperial fleet, and it was obvious that the sea could not be held even assuming a naval victory, if merely for the fact that the land based bombers would eventually be able to win the war of attrition. Until the Laerihans provided good enough cover there was no way a fleet could successfully operate in these waters of the region. This became more and more evident as the aerial battle progressed, and one could note that even with the sinking of perhaps one third of the enemy fleet, the threat was still to much for this single task force to bear.

For those reasons the admiral had ordered his best officers to the command center deep with the bowels of the Feathermore. They had arrayed themselves quickly, knowing the urgency of the situation, and the admiral started off with his solemn news, "This battle, if continued, will turn into an utter defeat or a phyrric victory. Both are losses - the battle of Otium Aqua Sea would be for nought. Beyond that, we would not be able to keep control. Their land based bombers are too numerous."

The executive officer asked, "What of our own aviation?"

Caretían nodded and responded, "I have received news that our bombers will not be able to strike the enemy mainland for another week or two weeks at least. Our allies at Juumanistra have agreed to supply us with powerful aviation tankers unti we build our own, but even that takes time to supply."

Another man interjected, "What will happen?"

The admiral continued to respond, "In six minutes the entire fleet will be issued orders to begin to open the gap between us and our adversaries. We are to leave Otium Aqua Sea."

There was a wide gasp in the room and some murmured about 'defeat' and bad press. Indeed, if the task force was to leave they would conceed victory to the Stevidian and to Independent Hitmen, much like the Dutch conceeded defeat at the Battle of Portland, and the Germans at the Jutland. But otherwise it would turn into a debacle for for the Empire. With that, the fleet braced itself for another defense and then prepared to return home. Should the Spizanian fleet decided it would stick around to mop up the damage that Caretían had incurred upon the enemy, it could do so, but the empire would not sacrifice shipping for a cause it was not even sure was worth the battle.

Even then the officers could hear the battle that had begun overhead. Dozens of P.746.B surface to air missiles had littered the air in an attempt to stop the incoming missiles cold. In conjunction the dual-purpose guns on each ship sputtered loudly, flashing CAPMES rounds into the air, and soon thereafter the final defenses - the CIWS - churned. The violence would only end in death, but then again, had not the task force completed its mission? Indeed, it was to weaken the enemy, and insofar it had been successful. No doubt that the enemy would now think twice of sending its fleet into Macabee home waters. But even then, were the impacts worth it? By the end of this second exchange the Tedious and the Disraeli would be sunk, and two more carriers damaged, with several of its aircraft thrown overboard. At least five hundred dead - probably more. The Tomahawks were aging designs and they had not had much success, but the AS-1Ms were a different story. Although they had been cut down to size by the sizealbe defense put up by the fleet's escorts, they had plunged into the Feathermore, putting her in a far worse situation than she had been earlier, and damaging two carriers. The Pegasus, a superdreadnought, had received the brunt of the attack. It had been hit by no less than sixteen incoming missiles, and had sunk in no more than thirty-three minutes, taking all hands with it - over five thousand souls! That was the last straw to break the camel's back - the task force would leave immediately.

While the fleet retreated surviving fighters, including the GLI-76s, were put exclusively on combat air patrol duties. No doubt that both enemies would try to nip the Kriermada in the butt during its retreat, and so it would have to put up as good as a defense as it could. The Feathermore was forced to move at around eighteen knots maximum, meaning the disengagement would come slowly. Nonetheless, the larger ships continued to fire heavily on surviving components of Task Force Hampshire until both were out of range of each other. Then an eerie silence fell over Otium Aqua Sea...

Total Casualties:
Feathermore: Two month's worth of damage.
King of Kings: A week's worth.
Atmos: Out of action for at least four days.
Pegasus: Sunk
Valiant: Minor damage.
Achilles: Sunk.
Tannejurg: Heavy damage - five days.
Ajax: Light damage - two days.
Odysseus: Light damage - two days.
Baron of Soborguntia: Sunk.
Geránt (Paramount class): Sunk.
Iron Duke: Sunk.
Cerán (Pepperbox class): Sunk.
Xeárthal (Pepperbox): Sunk.
Charasmatic: Sunk.
Ephemeral: Sunk
Tedious: Sunk
Bonham: Sunk
Karkaján (Pepperbox class): Sunk

Personnel: ~14,918

The Admiral of teh taskforce watched as the blips representing the Macabean fleet began to withdraw and move back towards his armada.
"Well we missed the battle, all ships reverse course and make for Macabea, order the other two groups to meat us there, we will do what we were sent to do and then see if we can take the fight to the enemy on our own terms"

The ships began to heave around and reverse heading, the raid aircraft slowly being recovered as the carriers turned in and out of the wind, slowly the armadachanged back into something resembling a normal naval task group at sea, the only aircraft in the air were a picket flight of old Lu-05s from one of the carriers and a pair of upgraded E-2 Hawkeyes keeping thier radar pointed back the way they had come

{1024 Bit Encryption}
Communiqué to Unionist 5th and 6th Armadas, Admiral Harjeet Sidhu

Welcome to the Empire gentlemen. I'm sure that Mekugian naval assets will alloy you through the defensive blockade, and we are immediately warning them of your arrival. Your ships are welcomed in Macabea harbour, or nearby, although there is almost no room within the harbour to dock your ships unless they were damaged. Task Force Caretían is returning and they are in need of almost the full harbour. In any case, welcome and we give you our deepest thanks for your most timely arrival. With the loss of Otium Aqua Sea there's no doubt that our adversaries will now try to strike closer to home, and we can use as many naval assets possible. The 1st Armored Army and 3rd Mechanised Infantry Army will be provided bases south of Macabea, and from there may be transported to the front by rail. Thank you for attempting to contact us before actually running the blockade.

[signed]Port Security

[OOC: Unfortunately, apart from naval battles, you may be forced to wait for the ground roleplay. Realistically no allies, except Mekugi, would be ready to deploy south before Ishme-Dagan, and I'm giving IH and Stevid enough time so that they can begin to land troops in SafeHaven2 to prepare for Ishme-Dagan as well - same goes to anybody else.]

The fleet creeped through the black water as night fell upon the city and slowly but steadly the lights from the city began echoing through the water, giving the Admiral a sign that they had arrived. He stood tall on the bridge of th SUS Yarsh, waiting anxiously for the news for immediate confirmation. The fleet had been stationed for an fifteen minutes outside of the Mekugian blockade to make sure that they would be allowed before running it in. It would be a shame to see two allied nation's misintepreting each other for enemies.

Puneet entered the room quietly as she held a white piece of paper with printing on it. She walked steadly to her Admiral and bowed before handing him the piece of paper. He took a quick glance of it and smiled, the time had come.

"Captain, order all transport ships to depart from the fleet."

"Sir, shouldn't we ask for the entire fleet to enter the docks?"

"I see you haven't read the note." Sidhu paused for a second and turned to the Captain, "It seems that our friends have suffered a defeat and their fleet will need immediate attention. Do you think it is wise to take up that slot with our fleet?"

"No, sir."

"Good, send word and have the rest of the fleet form a perimeter around the Mekugian fleet to form another layer and defense for the blockade."

"Yes, sir."

Within minutes, the word spread like wild fire and it only took a half an hour before the entire fleet of transport ships broke off from the main fleet and continued sailing toward the city. The naval captain, Brabeer Singh, monitored the ships' progress as he began to sweat nervous. He had not received firm confirmation from the Mekugians to go through and he dreaded the worst possibility of them firing on him. He prayed to god that would never happen.

The fleet edged slowly but steadly toward the fleet, not wanting to act like an enemy state. The Captain immediately ordered a halt when the Mekugian fleet did not disperse and open a gap.

"What could be the problem?" murmured Singh to himself. He swallowed hard as he waited anxiously for what to do next. Why did he have to be assigned this job? He always had hated uncertainty and this was the biggest example. He was known around the fleet as "Sir Uncertainty Fidgets" for his behavior in these types of situations.

"Oh what the hell, lets see what they do," said Singh as he punched in a code to begin foward again. The pace was once more established as he neared the fleet hoping that they would not be fired upon. At first the Mekugian fleet didn't move making Singh wish he hadn't ordered the sailing but as they neared the fleet began to open up and a wave of relief sailed through the Captain's mind. For once he hadn't messed anything up.

Within only 10 minutes, the fleet had crossed between the Mekugians and began preparation for docking as the first of the transports docked near one of the port docks. All Undocking Personal were on fast-alert to speed up the process as fast as possible so they would be in and out before the Macabee fleet arrived for repairs. There was no doubt now in his mind as a naval strategist, that the next move by the enemy, if they got bold by the victory, would be against this city. No doubt about it.

Mons Dei, Weigar
A lot had changed in the weeks of preperation for the final drive through Weigar, especially around the battlfield. What had once been charred into a barren landscape had been turned into a highly versatile and successful command and control center, and although most of the units being mobilised and deployed were being sent to the south to bolster numbers along the River Styx, the Imperial army in the area had grown to at least two hundred thousand infantry, and six armored divisions boasting around three thousand tanks, two-thirds of which were the newer Arca. I Cougars. The front had expanded throughout the entire provence of Weigar, although General Bietz, much to Fedor's chagrin, had been able to stabalise his own front in order to deploy the three hundred thousand or so men to defend against a future Imperial offensive. The enemy frontline strength was well known, and it was also understood that the civilians in the area between the ages of fifteen and forty-five were being conscripted into the Weigari Army, fed by a tenuous Havenic submarine supply line. That latter thorn would have to be cut off at some point, but for now the navy had much on its hand, including the short, but not very successful Battle of Otium Aqua Sea. To discuss the future of the war Emperor Fedor I had already left with so Killian generals to Fedala, by helicopter, and would return in around four days to command the renewed offensive. Until then the army was to put its finishing touches on the logistical preperations and all other things that went into a major attack.

Jest Hartíer was the tank commander to tank 971, a older Broadsword, and a relic of the past, soon to be replaced by the Cougar or even that newer tank rumours began to spread about - the Nakíl. He had been deployed to some small village about twenty kilometers north of Mons Dei, and one of the alledged camps for the centers of gravity of the offensive. Yes, he and the rest of his company would lead the offensive in that sector - about twenty to thirty tanks total, all of which were the older Broadswords. The Weigari Liberation Army, unfortunately, had begun to use their newer SD-60Fs, most of which were captured when overruning Weigar and reaching the banks of the River Nestor, in older Imperial containment camps yet not cleared due to lack of time or even lack of interest. That had bolstered their ranks to around six hundred tanks, and since the Nestor their industry had begun to pick up, and intelligence reported over a thousand tanks capable of maching the Broadsword. Hell, if a T-80 could knock out a Cougar at the Nestor, a SD-60F could knock out a Broadsword.

Hartíer tapped the helmet of his gunner, as they both sat on their padded chairs in the tank. They had been told to suit up and prepare the tank for an emergency, and now the entire company sat out on watch, looking at the tumbleweeds roll by. A muffled voice over the inter-tank communication radio came through, "Yea, boss?"

Hartíer said, "Nothin', just bored as fucking hell. They're just doing this to prep us, and I'm getting pissed off. I could have been sleepin'."

Sometime went by and the radio shot over, "Shit happens, boss."

The driver interjected his voice over the radio just then, "Roger that, Mac."

Their radios were suddenly electrically shut off as the intra-tank satellite communication system began to feed through from the command tank of the company, "...welcome to hell gentlemen. We have orders to begin operations along our frontlines in probing attempts, trying to freak out our foes and look for some goddamn weaknesses. You know the drill ladies, follow it."

Jest Hartíer grunted and read through the radio, "Start drivin'." The tank jolted as it began to accelerate, following the other Broadswords of the company through the green grasses of eastern Weigar. The company made its way at least four kilometers before crossing what was called the 'frontline' and began to flank a small village parallel to the base of the company, called Teçois - something in the ancient language that the indegenous of the region once spoke thousands of years long gone. Jest didn't have much time to register what happened but all he knew was that a wham filled the air and the tank in front of him jerked to a stop. The driver of 971 suddenly slammed his foot on the left break and the tank began to pivot to the right, allowing the Broadsword to use the knocked out friendly as cover. Through the intra-tank radio system one could suddenly hear, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, we got a pack of 60s to our left."

Jest muttered, "Jesus Christ." They did have SD-60Fs. The SD-60F was the final variant of the SD-60, a very capable tank that was used in the Great Civil War and the successor to the advance SD-30. In fact, until the union of the Empire in 2005, Weigar had been the leader in armor design. Unfortunately, their industry didn't allow them to replace the armor quickly, and after the Battle of Soborguntia there was nothing much to do but surrender to who then was a measly general, and then turned first Emperor of the Golden Throne after a successful coup, backed by the government of Weigar. The Broadswords, in other words, had met their match.

Another round shrieked through the air and left a small hole in the side of the turret of another friendly tank. None of the crewmembers got out. 971's gunner turned his turret quickly and the fire control system gave him a display of fifteen targets, and he chose the closest one. The vehicle shuddered as a APFSDS left the muzzle, trailed by a quick and heavy flash of fire and smoke. Within two seconds one of the SD-60Fs was left hopelessly uncrewed and with a small hole in the lower glacis of the tank. But by that time the company had begun to retreat - with two tanks lost it wasn't in their best interest to continue the fight, and in any case the airpounders would put those enemy tanks in their place. Within thirty minutes the company returned to base, leaving two steaming Broadswords in the fields to the west.

It had become rather obvious that they had underestimated Weigar's abilities to rearm itself, and Bietz' abilities to organise and command.


Fedala, Imperial Provence
Fedor I had arrived in the capital that morning and had headed immediately to the Jench Fersas' office. Fersas was one of his most trustworthy advisors and perhaps one of the smartest and most unique men he had ever met. For that reason Fedor always brought Fersas along with him to his meetings, if possible. The two men shook hands when they saw each other and then immediately headed for a café down the street, where the top Killian generals in the theater, the Emperor, Jench Fersas and some pencil pushers in Fedala would discuss the future of the Weigari front. The six men met thereafter and all shook each others hands with great respect for one another and sat down. Waitresses brought them their morning coffee, and Fedor waved them off a bit later and went straight to business, "Gentlemen, we are hear to discuss operations against Weigar in the coming weeks. The new Weigari army must be crushed and their ability to respawn destroyed. Weigar must fall within the next two months."

Fersas shifted in his seat, but said nothing, while one of the Imperial generals that operated in Fedala said, "Your Imperial Majesty, that's a large claim. The Weigaris are not push overs."

"Neither are we, general."

The general grimaced, "The Germans made the same mistake in Barbarossa. Do you really want to follow in their footsteps? Your Majesty, I fought in the civil war, I know how operations fail."

Fedor didn't change his face, but internally he felt disgraced and rather insulted. He had been a general during the war, as well, albeit for a lesser time. He merely said, "The operation will be commanded by myself and will be conducted on the date specified on your operation orders. It will be done. The Weigari Liberation Army must be destroyed."

One of the Killian generals offered his own opinion, "Most of the Killian army is around Aurillac, but we are interested in sending what we have in the area to your aid as well. If I may suggest, perhaps you can use us along your southern flank. If anything like a screen. Your armored flanks can penetrate, and we can protect their own flank by slowing rolling up the then isolated Weigari units. If anything, it will bolster your ability to withstand a Weigari counter-offensive, should one ever appear."

"Indeed, and I would very much appreciate Killian aid in this offensive. I will issue orders to you, gentlemen, and you can revise them and then issue them to your own men. In a general sense you will probably attack simultanuously with the Imperial infantry about a day after the beginning of the armored and mechanised offensives. Blitzkrieg is the name of the game. What about reports from the front regarding Weigari strengths and weaknesses?"

Fersas was prepared for that, "Your Imperial Majesty, reports have filtered in that they are stronger than we once thought. A company of Broadswords was ambushed just out of a small vilage by the name of Teçois, and we lost two tanks to their one. A consequent air raid claimed around another fifteen SD-60Fs, but it was much more likely to be a smaller number - perhaps six or seven. Nevertheless, it offers a conclusion that perhaps we should tell our men to be a bit less cocky when carrying out reconnaissance in force."

"Indeed, issue those orders by tonight my friend." The Emperor took a sip from his coffee cup and then put it back down on the table, "Anything else?"

"Yes, sir," began another Imperial general, "How many men exactly are going to be pitted against each other."

Fedor smiled. He loved big battles. "No less than five hundred thousand."







After the meeting Fedor had gone around the city to finish his official business, and then headed for the Imperial Palace in the center of Fedala, sitting on top the highest hill in the city. The palace's tiers and towers bristled in the modern city with an ancient look, sporting buildings designed from Bourbon archetecture, and then with the contrast of more modern high rises in the business center of the city [as opposed to the historical center]. He had arrived late, beyond midnight, and so he told his guards to leave him and he his way through the palace himself, heading for the room Sophie and he always occupied. Silently opening the grand bedroom doors and creeping in. Sophie was sleeping on her side of the bed and so he crawled in under the majestic covers and she woke up. At first she was suprised, backing into the corner, and once she saw her face she began to settle down and smile, "Where have you been, my love?"

He said nothing but got closer to her, "I am leaving again tomorrow."

"What? No, you can't leave."

He hesitated, but he had to go, "I have to."

She was not persuaded, "Tell your generals to command the troops. I need you here."

"I will be back Sophie."

She shook her head, "You can die."

"I'm emperor! Emperors never die on the field, my love," he said while chuckling.

"It's not funny. I want you here. It's scary. The people threaten to depose you, and there are other threats of riots."

He laughed again and tickled her, "My father threatened me once, as well."

She smiled and said, "Will you be back soon?"

"Faster than tonight, darling."

He pulled the covers over both of them and began to kiss her. Tonight would be for his wife and he, and nobody else.





Elsewhere, Fersas, although tired, boarded his government jet and headed for the front at Sarcanza, where he would give orders to hurry with the conclusion of the opening of the Gates of Hell. It was turning into a quagmire, and Fedor had given explicit instructions that he could not aquiesce with defeat in the provence again. He had suffered two major setbacks - a third would not happen....


Viusbi, Weigar
The headquarters of what was termed Army Group East was in a flurry of activity as they received new reports of probings along the front. Bietz had given strict orders to only defend, attempting to give his men as much in the way of suprise as possible, and ordering reconaissance to be done in small numbers, as opposed to in force. But even that hadn't stopped the Empire from slowly dismantling his ideas of suprise and by now it was obvious that Bietz had put into effect all of Weigar's SD-60Fs, and even older SD-60 variants, increasing Weigar's tank force from a measly two hundred or so tanks after the Nestor to almost two thousand. Not like pre-war numbers, but at least it was something he could defend Weigar with. Viusbi has perhaps around twenty kilometers behind the frontline, and if he knew Fedor, he knew that the attack would center around Viusbi. The city occupied all major railroad access to deeper Weigar, as well as road access, and to hold the city was to hold the key to Weigar itself. In that respect, he would also have to defend it as much as he could before he was forced to leave. The loss of Viusbi, which he thought inevitable, would put him between a rock and a hardplace, but if he was capable of spilling as much Imperial blood as possible perhaps Fedor would be forced to move to the peace tables. It was merely a hope, but even hopes sometimes became true.

Three hundred thousand men and two thousand tanks occupied the front, and he had another hundred thousand men preparing to be armed and sent into battle. It would be enough to cause some major damage on an army he outnumbered two to one, but one must always remember Cannae. He hurumphed and his aide heard him and she sweetly said, "Troubles, boss?"

He shook his head, "No, more than that." He had heard stories of a three thousand ton tank on the bank of the River Styx, at Mosnoi Bor, and he surely hoped that Fedor didn't pull that crap with him, but little did he know that a 700 ton beast rumbled outside of the small village of Síentemar - the Estadán. But to his defense, by the two to three months he had to prepare, he could pilot the ninety or so captured Lu-5s, and had enough maintenance crews to fix them up when needed. Now at least they had some air coverage, and when the time came for the counteract he could at least hold temporary local air superiority to give his men enough time to restabilise the front lines when the battle for Viusbi went raw.

The Battle of the Gates of Hell
Hensíat Company, The Wall
For two days the two mechanised divisions had been scaling the walls of the Gates of Hell, looking for rebel ambushes prepared against the armour was due to rush into battle within the next days. But they were mechanised infantry, not accustomed to such harsh climates and such work. Their vehicles had been left behind and they were just normal groundpounders now - mountain men. From the get go it was obvious they were not built for such missions, but they were the only thing the Empire had right now to use at this point. In fact, only five divisions were detailed to strike at the Gates, and the generals hoped by that the time the gates were opened Fedor was much more willing to send more ground troops to Sarcanza. But most understood that his current goals were the complete destruction of Weigar and to stop the Havenic hordes at Aurillac and Mosnoi Bor, and it looked as if he would have to shift defenses to the city of Aurillac proper. There was a good chance that the Killian defense would break, and Fedor was not prepared to have the Styx compromised as a defensive anchor. Captain Georg Desíer led his company through the rocks of the right 'wall', as it was termed by corps headquarters, and he was one of the spearhead companies of the slow, lumbering offensive. Technically he should have had the whole division with him, but some jackass had thought it smarter to simply use six divisions to clear the wall, and so the offensive was relegated to the status of probe attacks along the wall, slowly finding and destroying rebel positions. Luckily, they had full artillery and air support.

Desíer grunted as he lifted himself to yet another height of the wall, and once he positioned himself there he gasped. He had reached the highest point of the wall and he could see everything for at least two kilometers down and up the canyon below, and then he could see dips along both walls and there he saw his next target. On one of the 'dips', or more accurately one of the flat surfaces along the wall which created the mesa, at least four companies of Sarcanzan foot troopers slouched in their tents or outside, preparing for the inevitable to come. Obviously, they had not been alerted to the fact that at least fourty thousand infantry were ready to pounce on them. Then Desíer saw them. Sentries posted all around him, which had magically missed him. Without a second thought he dropped back down to the level where the rest of his company was at and then he prepared to give orders.

Reeling them all in he said, "We have around four hundred men below us to the north northwest, about a good three clicks out. This is a golden opportunity boys. Lieutenant Díeg, take your platoon south southwest and flank the position. I'll map them on the GPS. Lieutenant Shater you and your men are coming to me, and Lieutenant Gustap, take yours and cover my northern flank. This is going to be fast and hard. Feróp, I want you to call the flyboys and get them to fuck this place over with some air support and Deretón, you take care of that with the artillery. Understood? They're going to be confused and ripe for massacre."

The men nodded silently and headed towards their destination. Desíer took a laptop from his radio man's backpack and headed up to the rock where he saw the formation. He placed himself on his stomach and set up camp, linking the laptop to the satellite and mapping the target on GPS - it would serve to guide his platoons, as well as artillery and the planes. Soon enough all of headquarters would have this map and the Empire would score its first major victory. Wiping out four to six companies was nothing small. With that done he decided on how exactly he would sneak a third of the company through these rocks as so that the sentries wouldn't see him. He decided that soon enough it wouldn't matter and he decided to sit tight until the place had been cratered. He wiggled back down to the platoon and sat against a rock as his radioman murmured positions, "Echo-six, Five-Mike..."

He decided not to listen...

Terentín Advance Airfield, Sidi Rezegh
"Fuck, not again." Yep. Another mission. Captain Ferst sat slouched in the cockpit of his GLI-76 Falcon, loaded to the brim with heavy air to surface ordnance. He guided his plane towards the runway and then transmitted to the tower, "Hotel-six ready to go."

"Roger that Hotel-Six. Runway seven clear for take off."

"Rog that Papa One." He pushed foward the throttle and his giant turbofan behind the plane began to lick fire as it picked up inertia to lurch the plane foward. It didn't take too long and by now Ferch was more than accustomed to this. The Falcon popped into the air a few seconds later, followed by Ferch's wingman, and two more fighters behind him. Too bad they never orchestrated grand aerial bombardments in this side of the war. In some parts of him Ferch wished he would have been sent south to battle with the Havenic aircraft. News seemed much more interesting when it came from that hell pit. But he decided to clear his mind and just fly his mission. They kept their radio silence the whole way and within some minutes he could already see the Gate ahead of him, rising like a formidable barrier to even life. He shuddered. He felt bad for those groundpounders wasting their lives below. That's one of the reasons he flew these missions still.

The four aircraft flew low, right over the walls of the canyon, and they hit around six hundred knots. The targets had shown up on his global positioning system array on the heads up display the Falcon had and he turned slightly to meet the new trajectory. The planes under his command followed. They began to slow down for the attack run and they hit 400 knots within six seconds, and finally saw their targets which had begun to move around. The sound of incoming aircraft was not something to sit around to - especially if you were the enemy during a time of war. He made his pass first, saturating the place with low range tactical air to surface missiles loaded with cluster submunitions that could tear apart light armour vehicles, let alone infantry. The ground infront of him exploded in smoke and he fed the fire with his undernose cannon, probably massacring dozens. Making the pass quick he lifted off and banked, ready to go home. Behind him his fellow aviators did the same, probably eliminating the threat. When they left they saw nothing but dust, and they could see the outlines of their own groundpounders ready to fuck the place up some more.

Breaking radio silence he said, "Hotel-Six to Papa-One, target cleared, over."

He received a muffled return, "Rog that Hotel Six."

Now to get back to base for a thirty minute sleep before he got called on for another damn mission over the walls.

Hensíat Company, The Wall
Captain Desíer blessed those flyboys as they flew away and then motioned for the platoon to follow him. They climbed the rock quickly and began to shift their weight foward as they picked up speed towards their target. Desíer could see one of the sentries turn and see them, but it was too late for that poor motherfucker. One of his snipers dropped him cold. Desíer didn't wait to congratulate the two cent sharpshooter but instead continued to jog briskly towards the area now enshrouded in a cloud of smoke. But a sudden shrieking noise did stop him. He turned around and shouted, "Get down!"

The earth shook as a ten second barrage saturated the area destroyed by the planes. If one knew overkill, one didn't know it enough without seeing this. Desíer deeply doubted there was anything alive left. If there was there wasn't enough to put up much resistance. That was for sure. But he noticed something strange. One of the farther sentries was running away, not towards the now decimated camp. The captain shook his head. He was probably running for his life. Smart man, too. As the dust cleared away he saw the remnants of the four Sarcanzan companies caught in the crossfire. Remnants translated to about three clumps of twenty men too dazed to do anything about the three platoons sorrounding them. They put up their arms and surrendered. Unfortunately, policy was to not take prisoners on the wall. Too difficult to send them back. All twenty men were slaughtered where they stood. Tragic...

IHS Raider, Los Angeles Class 688I Attack Submarine

“Contact bearing two-four-zero. Tenacious Class Cruiser, heading straight in. Give it even money she has us.

The speaker crackled from sonar seconds after the torpedo’s had been launched. Captain Amos responded at once.

“Officer of the Watch, bring us to course zero-nine-nine. Flank speed and dive to 1000feet.”

The commands were repeated and the sub quickly tilted down at twenty five degrees as she surged forward, it completely degraded her sonar performance but Amos thought it worthwhile to quickly get down away from any quick depth charge attack that could be launched. The depth would also help them evade the inevitable torpedoes that would be launched once the charges had finished.

A first pattern of charges thundered in the water sending shockwaves through the water around the submarine. A second quickly followed but both were far enough away to cause no major damage, although several crewmen were shaken from their feet. Charges continued to reverberate through the water as the sub clawed her way deeper, Amos depending upon the noise from the charges to blot out his own screw noises. Passing through 800feet the submarine began to tilt back towards a level plane and the screw slowed down to propel her forward at a maximum silent speed of 5knots.

Slowly sonar performance was regained and the operators listened as the first Av.36 locked on to the MOSS decoy unit that had been launched earlier. After two near misses the torpedo destroyed the small unit with a sound that caused the operators to quickly remove their headsets. As the sound cleared they began searching for threats again as the Captain took them further out, the appearance of active helicopter sonar’s as well as that on the cruiser nearby caused him some worry. They didn’t know that in under half an hour the Tedious would be hit by a pair of AS-1M’s and sink beneath the surface, they had their survival to think about in the meantime. Another splash came from the surface.

“Torpedo in the water, bearing two-nine-eight. Its in acquisition mode and doesn’t appear to have us. Speed is unchanged.”

Amos decided to play it calm. The cruiser still sprinting would not be able to get full sonar performance so had probably made the drop to spook him into making a move. It had been a typical Guffingfordii tactic that he had observed on countless data sheets and experienced twice himself. Others had not been lucky enough to come away from it with that knowledge.

“Another torpedo. This one is closer on two-six-one…. it has us. Speed just picked up.”

“All ahead flank. Countermeasures deploy two noisemakers from the starboard side on my mark.”

Amos waited for ten seconds before ordering a hard turn to port, slowing the screws to five knots whilst at the same time throwing a pair of noisemakers into the large knuckle created by the radical turn. Another torpedo joined the one tracking them and both seemed to go after the noisemakers, passing through the clouds of fizzing water several times whilst they sought to reacquire contact. The only thing that they found was each other and another explosion echoed through the hull. Amos wiped a small bead of sweat from his face and sat back into his chair. On the screen above him it showed that the close detonation had sprung several leaks in the engine room at the rear of the submarine, nothing that couldn’t be handled though.

“Sonar report.”

“The cruiser has backed off, probably using her tail to search for us along with the active pinging. Contact has been lost with Sierra-forty-one through three. Sierra forty-four is sprinting towards the cruiser. No active ping. The two torp’s that were in the water appear to have killed each other.”

Raider began backing off with that information. The torpedoes were between herself and the main part of the enemy force and helicopter launched torpedoes were pushing them further and further away from the capital ships. There was no point risking his vessel when the enemy were obviously fully aware of his presence. But as if to add insult to injury the last torpdedo launched at them before they had cleared the area exploded on the submarines towed sonar array, shearing the cable and causing a minor flood in part of the engine room of the submarine. With no “tail” she certainly wasn’t going to hang around and the wounded submarine continued on her path away from the enemy battle group. Thirty miles further on they raised the ESM mast and received instructions to set a course for Stevid by the quickest possible means to repair the tail and restock with weapons and stores.

The crew knew that they had been lucky, very lucky, to escape with their lives. Already two IH submarines had been lost in this war, both 688I’s, perhaps the service would get a larger budget now in order to be more effective.



IHS New London, Flagship of the 2nd Fleet

Vice-Admiral Longworth looked at the sheet of paper that had just been given to him by one of the communication officers.

“Their reversal of course is confirmed?”

“Yes Admiral. Four satellites have seen them since they turned and confirmed the move. Next pass is in twelve minutes. This is good news.”

“Maybe. By heading back they force us to come to then rather than destroy them here. No doubt next time they will have land based aircover. Signal the remains of TFH to re-enter the battle zone and search for survivors from both sides.”

“Yes Admiral. But surely this is a good thing. A victory on our part!”

“Yes we are in possession of the territory. But to do that we have lost four carriers sunk and another heavily damaged, not to mention the scores of other vessels. Victories like that we can do without, although hopefully the planners back at the DOD will actually listen to our demands for longer range AAM’s and more deck armour now. Not a complete loss. Enemy casualties were sustainable though, the AS-1M is working well and those old tomahawks are finally off most of my ships.”

“Yes Admiral.”

Longworth shot him a look as he walked through the bulkhead and strode across part of the huge deck towards the waiting SH-60 that would take him to the Orthodox II for a conference with the Royal Navy commander over whether or not they would pursue the enemy force to their own backyard. With the damage on both sides it seemed unlikely, but all options had to be looked into.



Some Time Later, IH 12th Army Group Headquarters, Stevid

Johnathon Marius looked like any other early-middle age soldier. Tall, dark haired and wearing standard woodland camouflage fatigues that covered his muscluar torso with a pair of Oakley’s seemingly never off of his face, despite the rain that now fell on the base for the fourth day running. The confident smile and swagger may have marked him out as a paratrooper or possible a member of the Special Forces, well known as being the cockiest soldiers in the army. However he was none of these, never had and never would be.

Sir Johnathon Marius was actually a General of the Armies, the youngest General to ever command an Army Group in the IH Army when he was appointed at age thirty six. His short career to date had been spent in the Mechanized Infantry, leading first a Company and then Battalion, Regiment and Division within ten years. They said that combat was a fine way of getting promotion and that was certainly true of Marius. He was so loved by the men and women that served under him that his first and only Regimental command, the 43rd Infantry Regiment had been nicknamed “Marius’ Men” by those that served in her and their new commander had not even bothered to try and change it. When that regiment had been moved to be kept with Marius when he took over 12th Army Group many of the less trusting political and senior military figures had questioned the wisdom of having such a man with an entire Regiment loyal to him rather than to the nation. But Field Marshal Mathers, the most senior officer in the Armed Forces and father-in-law of Marius, had pushed it through. Marius would be loyal to him and he was loyal to the country.

So Marius gained from his marriage more than an attractive wife but a fast track on the command ladder that matched his ability. Now he commanded two full Army’s totalling ten full divisions and several others split up into separate entities such as Engineers or support staff, a truly amazing feet for someone so young in the current times. His operations staff were nearly all the same age as him and they got along well, each knowing that the others success depended upon them. They had run countless training scenarios against their own forces and against Stevid Army troops in the area, they had learnt from their victories and defeats and were now straining at the leash to go into real combat. They knew some would die or be brutally maimed but they still yearned for what they had trained for for so long. If the squids in the Navy could get a big battle then why couldn’t they, all they needed to do was blast a corridor wide enough for their transports to get through and then it was plain sailing to the Macabeean coast, or so it seemed to the average soldier.

And that was how it was thought of by most of the high command and planning officers, except one did not simply just sail up to the Macabeean coast and offload a full Army Group. The initial landings would actually be made in Qana on the Eastern Havanic coast and then the troops would march to the battlefield. March was perhaps the wrong word, all the troops had at least a truck to be transported in and the great majority of the Infantry accompanying Armoured and Mechanized Divisions were mounted in an array of Armoured Fighting Vehicles or carried to battle via airbourne means.

Marius had returned from Sunderland just minutes before where he had supervised the loading of tanks and other vehicles onto Roll-on/Roll-off transports that were bound for Qana as soon as plans were finalized. The men themselves would mostly be flying over, with small amounts being present on the ships in order to maintain the vehicles on the week long trip.

That weeklong trip would be in Convoy Fifty-Nine, consisting of twenty one Wasp Class Landing ships carrying the 9th (Heavy) Marine Division “The High and Mighty”, fifty eight RO/RO’s carrying a further four divisions and then one hundred other various transports carrying equipment and supplies for that force. The escort would be mainly IH lead by the carrier Fearsome, the sole operational carrier left from Task Force Hampshire, she was now conducting ASW operations as well as general protection to the large convoy. Along with her was the Escort Carrier Antipides newly arrived from IH and the battleship Orion, most of her damage from Otium Aqua by now repaired, and the usual assortment of missile destroyers and frigates that accompanied all formations.

They knew that a Stevid Force would also be sailing to SafeHaven2, both forces serving as establishing the ground presence whilst others were brought in from their homelands to complete the ground armies detailed for that front. Already some advanced Tactical Aircraft were leaving Stevid for bases in SafeHaven, mostly F-15E’s of the 114th Strike Wing and Navy P-3D Orion ASW patrol aircraft.


West of Rubert Isle

The procession of aircraft was lead off by a three plane element of F-15E’s from their former base in Rubert Isle. They had tanked once from a KC-135 since taking off and they would repeat the maneuver in several hours time when 2/3rds of the way through their journey. They carried only two AAM-3’s each for air defence, with the other hard points taken up by external fuel tanks to increase their range enough to get to SafeHaven. Further back in the procession were several C-5B’s carrying the ground crews, without who the aircraft couldn’t operate, three E-3B Sentry AWAC’s platforms and several C-141’s carrying pallets of various missiles that would enable the Strike Eagles and Orion’s to begin immediate patrols once their crews were rested.


Conberth Harbour, Stevid

Eight IH submarines were moored at pier twelve of the large Royal Navy Base at Conberth, three Seawolf Class SSN’s and five Ohio Class SSGN’s. All eight vessels were currently being loaded with supplies and weapons for their special mission upon which the Captains were currently being briefed in a secure building, already swept twice for microphones or other listening devices. An IH Rear-Admiral of Submarines gave the briefing, accompanied by several Royal Navy Intelligence Officers and their opposite numbers in the IH navy.

“Good morning Gentlement. Ever since the disengagement in the Otium Aqua four days ago, we have been looking at ways to harrass the enemy fleet further than has already been done. You men represent the plan that we have chosen. Recent satellite intel has shown us that the dry docks in the port of xxxxx have been cleared and kept clear despite the recent arrival of this SU force.”

Behind the Admiral a screen flicked through several overhead shots of empty dry docks along with seemingly crammed port quays and moorings.

“It has been determined therefore, along with some help from our friends at MI6” a nod to one of the Stevid Intelligence Officers “that the enemy plan on using this to repair the damage inflicted upon their main Battle Fleet during our last engagement. Conservative estimates would see the Feathermore and at least three carriers put into these dry docks along with several other badly damaged escort vessels. Your mission Gentlemen is to remove these vessels from play for the forseeable future.”

“The approach will be as follows. The eight vessels will leave here seperately and make their own way to Phase Line Farley. At exactly 0900GMT five days from now, Hunter, Stalker and Silent will take station twenty kilometres West of that point. Each of these three Seawolf Class vessels will be given a ten kilometre front to patrol as the force moves westwards. Orders will be to only engage if the mission is at risk, that means no convoy chasing. The missile boats Silver, Mercury, Mars, Porcupine and Thompson will follow the three SSN’s in a line from North to South of that arrangement. The formation will then continue closer to the Macabees where you will await launch orders at Phase Line Edwards. Exact target information will be downloaded to you via satellite linkup when orders are confirmed, either en route or at Phase Line Edwards.”

“The three Seawolfs will camp on a rough line twenty miles infront of the missile boats, each will have a box of ten kilometres to patrol with an additional one kilometre between boxes. The SSGN’s will remain behind the hunter-killer line and launch their missiles at the designated targets upon the order, they will then turn back towards Stevidian Waters whilst the Seawolfs maintain the picket and hamper any possible follow up actions by the enemy. The Seawolfs will then disengage and pull back whilst covering the withdrawal of the missile boats. Is that all clear?”

“Need I remind you that each of the SSGN’s will be carrying 150 AS-1LM’s, virtually our entire stock of that version of the missile, giving us a total of 750 missiles to fire at the vessels present. The Seawolfs will not be using their AS-1M’s in the strike, but will be using them on any follow up ASW groups that are dispatched against the submarine group. Any Questions?”

“What kind of opposition do we expect to encounter before we reach the launch area?” This came from the Captain of Silent, he had a reputation of sinking every target presented to him, at least in the simulations.

“We currently see a normal ASW screen erected around the port, you won’t be getting close enough for that to worry you. There are two fleets set in a friendly blockade pattern, however we have some tricks for the missiles with regards to that issue that should minimize their effects. Most of the Macabeean Surface Fleet appears to be to the south, bottling up the Havenic vessels. We have little to no information with regards Macabeean Submarine activity, there has to be a line somewhere, however we don’t want to speculate on where that line is. Four Royal Navy subs will be screening you until you are out of Stevidian Territorial waters, I’m afraid they are needed elsewhere once you pass through. They will signal you on the Gertrude as they leave at point Charlie. If that’s all Gentlemen I will allow you to return to your vessels, the next gap in satellite coverage is in four hours time and we want you to sail then.”

All stood and filed out of the small room. They navigated themselves through several checkpoints before emerging into the dark night filled with light rain that seemed to plague this Island. Captain Ron May walked slowly back towards his Ohio, the Thompson, watching as the last cylindrical magazine containing 7 AS-1LM’s was lowered into its spot in one of the large VLS tubes that were designed to contain Trident 2 ICBM’s. Sailors continued to haul boxes of provisions across the deck and lower them down the fore and aft hatches as the Captain climbed the sail, pulling his waterproof coat tighter to him and adjusting the hood to deflect the new angle of the rain.

Four hours later he was in much the same position as a pair of tugs eased Thompson away from the pier and guided her out towards the deep water channel, following the three Seawolf’s. The weather had improved slightly, allowing him to see the anti-collision lights of several helicopters and aircraft that were providing an ASW screen for the harbour entrance. As soon as they cleared the harbour he had watched the sail of the nearest Seawolf disappear beneath the calm sea and ordered his own deck cleared. A Master Chief made the final deck check before closing the aft hatch after him, the Captain following the move with the sail hatch a second later. Climbing quickly down the ladder he found himself in the relatively spacious command centre of the submarine and quickly began giving orders.

“Officer of the watch, make our depth fifty feet, five degrees down angle on the dive planes, flood main ballast.”

“Aye Sir, depth fifty, five degrees down, flooding main ballast.”

“All ahead one third, course zero-four-nine. Lets get in position.”

With the uneventful departure the submarines moved to their positions as the group began to move off towards their target, some ten days sailing away as long as they didn’t encounter any diversions.

Stevid Cabinet War Room

The all too familiar War Room deep underground beneath the Prime Ministers house office was now usually a well-used room. The War with the Macabees had been “here and there” with Stevid and her allies. In fact, the first time Stevid had been on the offensive was at the beginning of the war and only an hour into the first engagement they had been pushed on the defensive. It was no surprise the cabinet war room was full of important political and military figureheads; Stevid and Independent Hitmen had turned the war around on the Stevidian Naval front. It was no surprise to the returning fleets when crowds lined the harbour and naval docks as they greeted the IH fleet and Stevid fleet as they entered port. Cheers and singing, flags (of both nations) flying triumphantly from poles and from within the crowd. Their joy and pride warmed the hearts of the returning sailors. It was then that they took a moment to enjoy the occasion and put aside the sorrow they had for their dead.

The Super Dreadnoughts of Stevid looked fabulous in the rising sun of the early morning. Two out of three Dreadnoughts had been damaged by enemy attacks. It looked better than it really was from the outside. The two stricken ships looked in incredibly good condition considering the damage that the Sledgehammer missiles had dealt to both fleets. Reports of carnage and the smell of burning flesh from the vast crew quarters on one of the SDNs had yet to be confirmed by the ship and it was probable that it would never go public.

The whole cabinet had been pleased, very please while the Admiralty had been overjoyed. It wasn’t a victory for either side but it was definitely a tactical victory for Stevid Independent Hitmen forces. It was brilliant for Stevid’s reputation as well. For years the international community paid no attention to the Royal Navy and had seen it as quite inferior, in short, powerful nations around the world had shoved aside a once mighty navy into one with no place in today’s world. Now it was different, The Macabees was one of the most powerful nations on the planet with a Navy well known and definitely feared throughout the world- and yet the under dogs had prevailed. Hitmen Carriers delivered the wrath of the Stevid/IH alliance while the Royal Navy closed in on the enemy with guns that were known to fire and never miss. IH with the planes and Stevid with the world-class gunnery and armaments- a truly formidable force that in the end forced a withdrawal by the enemy. The withdrawal had taken the fleet by surprise, so much that they were so gob smacked by the turn of events they decided to pursue into the storm in fear of a trap. The fleet had now returned as if they’d conquered the world.

“Congratulations ladies and Gentlemen!” said the PM in a loud voice that cut through the background chatter. [/I]“We have done what many though impossible. Over three months on the defensive end of this war, we have finally turned it around. The enemy withdrawal from Otium Aqua has given us a unique opportunity to go on the offensive for the first time in this war. We have the Royal Navy to thank for this and our friends from independent Hitmen.”[/I]
He gestured a welcoming hand to the video wall with a large screen, divided into four, with some IH commanders and military official before turning to more IH official that were seated in the same room as him.

“Independent Hitmen has proved to Stevid that they have tremendous charisma and bravery in the heat of battle, we owe them thanks and gratitude at a level their pilots fly at. We honour them, as we do to our own forces. I have never seen the fleet air arm bring such redemption and hatred to bear on an enemy since the attack on Guffingford. The Royal Navy as well, your expert gunnery practise and training at sea may prove to be to the one thing we have against a superior fleet. Deadly accurate 25” guns on a large scale are rare to come by. We owe both fleets our nation’s pride and our thanks.”

Smiles lit up faces in the room. They all agreed that if the opposing fleet hadn’t disengaged, things could have turned seriously ugly out on the sea. The weather forecast didn’t look pretty either. The Macabee fleet had to fight there way through a massive storm that had been terrorising Otium Aqua for the past four days, a God send really and Stevid preferred those conditions to most since the First fleet trained and drilled in such harsh conditions to such a degree, it was no wonder their guns were so accurate.

Admiral Sir Alan West raised a hand to speak. Immediately the smiles faded, as it was straight to business.
“Next action sir?”
“My military advisors had a talk a few days ago and we’ve come up with something. The Otium Aqua has now been declared safe and no longer a war zone. Normal shipping resumes from now. The southern reaches are also free of major enemy activity.”
“Convoys?” An IH man asked.
“Yes sir. Convoys, military and logistical ones are now top of the list. Tanks don’t float or fly very well so the navy is to be called upon again. Although this time it isn’t at short notice. Troops and armour will be going by ship. Troops and logistics will also be going by plane. Independent Hitmen also have full access to the Royal Navy Reserve to transport their own troops and equipment if they need them” Nods of agreement came from the video wall and IH people in the room as well as from Admiral Darklighter, the Royal Navy Reserve Commander in Chief.
“We will, of course, be landing in allied territory- Safehaven near the city of Qana. We’ll have to go over it with Safehaven just to be sure, but I’m sure they’ll agree. They need all the help they can get on the ground.”
“We’ll escort the convoys, don’t you worry.” said the First Sea Lord. “Which Divisions are we sending?”
“As far as troop formations go, we’re not sure. I can guarantee the Mechanised Infantry Division, The 24th Foot, will be joining you.”
“The entire Company?”
“Every last man. Their experience in the Holy Panooly War is just what we need. They held the rebel advance from Volta City, routed them, counter attacked and them took the city- that deserves recognition.”
“Tanks?”

The General of the Stevid Force, Field Marshal Kensington, lifted his head and answered the question.
“We’re sending quite a few in the long run. The first two to arrive on the scene will be XXX Corps and XXV Corps. XXX Corps being veterans of the Panooly Campaign as well and peace keeping missions in Somalia. XXVIII Corps and XII Corps Divisons will follow them, over a period of two weeks. XXX Corps are the most experienced at anti-tank and city fighting, they’ll be up front.”
“On a more secret note, IH commanders along with around six MI6 agents are formulating a plan to take the fight to the enemy. Those of you in the know will know what i'm talking about. IH has agranged everything. As for us, we are coming up with one or two missions for the SAS to undertake... Excellent. Right then, if any of you didn’t get that- you’ll all be sent a memo explaining the tactical movements we’ll be using. Thank You Ladies and Gentlemen, meeting adjourned. Oh! A well done the lot of you for doing your bit for each other over the Otium Aqua battle.”

A series of waves, smiles and nods met the Prime Minister as everyone left the room. He was a very happy man. He packed his files together and set off for the Wisemen’s Committee meeting somewhere in the capital city.

[Point Dasch]

The entire area had likely been under routine surveillance since the start of the disturbance. In the time since the 'Macabean Wars of Succession', as the newspapers dubbed them, had started, trillions of dollars of UCSNE made equipment had been sent to the Havenites, and by extensions, rebels in Macabea.

Usually, the corporations supplying the war (for with deregulation, little government oversight was required) had tried to provide 'consumer security', to prevent enemy intelligence from finding out where shipments were going. Because Haven was still a massive civilian and commercial trade market, weapons convoys were interspersed with those of regular goods.

But during the gray pre-dawn gloom at the Consortium Motors loading section, there could be no hiding what was occuring now. Fresh from the plants in the North, the column of five Ogre Mk Xs were quite visible and audible as they loaded themselves onto the specialized Heavy Transport Freighters, usually reserved for the military, but now loaned out from another conglomerate for transport of these massive machines.

Each of the five weapons were arguably among the deadliest land vehicles constructed, at around the same time as the Morrigan. They massed 3,500 tons each and sported naval-grade arms and armarment, spread across a multitude of nuclear-powered treads.

After hours of loading, the transport freighters were sent off to be mixed win with a usual Consortium convoy, freighters full of tanks or regular automotive supplies and vehicles for the civilian market. The enemy could justifiably sink a military vessel, but they could not do so against one that was carrying purely civilian supplies.

Well, they couldn't do it in the Senate's eyes anyway.

The bulk of multi-thousand mile journey across the region was a peaceful one. Few combatant vessels ranged this far, and even then, the usual Southern and Eastern approaches to Haven were secured by 'allied' naval vessels. However, the new Ogres presented a new problem. Though entirely paid for and ready for battle, the highway system meant that they would likely have to be deployed at the north-western peninsula jutting from Haven, well within the prowling grounds of a nuclear submarine, or a well-planned aerial cruise missile strike. Intelligence reports were iffy, for the UCSNE government had for a long time regarded the conflict as one they were not concerned with. The war was the interest of the military-industrial complex and nobody elses' outside academia in the New Empire.

In the grand scheme of the war, this activity seemed relatively insignificant, for the vessels under the Eagle and Bars had long been merchants of death in the region. Nobody had yet dared to attack such a supply column, though knowledge of their whereabouts and contents was likely availible to any good foreign intelligence service.

But the Morrigans had proven themselves well in this war, and the Ogres were really the only comparable vehicles. The journey to port would be long and fraught with danger, and the corporate world watched with baited breath as several billion dollars more of investment were ferried into a war zone.

Battle of Aurillac

Two wings of SuF/A-6Cs (48) darted through the air, supercruising at Mach 1.7. With the increase of fighting in Aurillac from Havenite forces, the Space Union military had decided it was time to send in some air support for allies in the south to ward off the evil rising. Although Space Union's land forces couldn't get their by train, the military was finding alternative ways. A massive strategic airlift was in the works for huge SuC-1 Stormbringers to bring thousands upon thousands of soldiers to the front, but that was a good bit off yet. But some support was needed for the HailandKill force's and the SUAF was the solution. Deploying two wings of its most advanced fighters, SuF/A-6C Wraiths, the SUAF would begin air campaigns to gain air superiority back for the friendly forces in the south and deny it to the Havenite who controlled it currently.

The Tasforce leader was being lead by Wing Commander Kin Tej, a decorated airman who had served in a couple of conflicts through the Space Union history, the most recent being the Czardian conflict. A graduate from the top air force academy in the nation, he was one of the top pilots in the nation serving within the SUAF. Now it was once more his job to lead the initial strike upon the enemy from the air. Equipped with the SuF/A-6C, though, would make life far easier. Considered one of the best fighters in the world, it is capable of detecting aircrafts farther, outmaneuver them better, and shoot them down faster than any previous fighter in Space Union service. Equipped with the AIM-510B Starshell II Long-Range AAM, the SuF/A-6C could strike from afar and wreak havic upon the enemy with breathtaking success.

The formation eased down a notch from Mach 1.7 as it slowly descended to a medium height of 50,000 ft. The Wing Commander gave the command and the SuF/A-6C ignited their radars to search for any enemy aircrafts within the vicinity. The state-of-the-art SU/RD-145 AESA ELPI radar had a range of 420 km and connected with the other aircrafts, it could do a 360 degree sweep in all directions and extend itself beyond this. In effect, the aircrafts served as AWACS, in a sense, similar to how the MiG-31 Foxhound used by the former Soviet Union did. All in all, the entire formation had a tracking range of 800 km in every direction. If any aircraft were within the area, they wouldn't escape.

The formation banked left as the search finished and the fighters regained altititude. Down below, sparks could be seen as tanks and armored units blasted at each other and rockets smashed into the ground. From where the SuF/A-6C were, they couldn't see any details but the flashes spoke enough. With the Havenite force's advancing, it would only be a matter of time before the group intercepted incoming enemy aircrafts. Most of the pilots preyed it would be some large lombering easy kills but what they wished for might come true.... in a more scary way.

High Over Interías Sea, August 12th
The Arkíes III, one of the newer geosynchronous satellites to be put into space, zoomed in on what it had caught. Her solar panels bristled under the intense sunlight, and she made no noise as she slowly continued on her pathway. It, of course, was under the control of some sweaty hands at a military intelligence headquarters in Fedala but it provided all seeing eyes for the entire projected military in the region. The thick telescope portruded from one of the sides of the machine and both optically and digitally zoomed in over its prey. The fragile charged coupled devices gave it awsome magnifying powers and it rivalled some of later NATO satellites of old that could see in perfect resolution a milllimeter cut of a baseball bat on the surface of the Earth. With these abilities stored on its belt it safely peered as it gently turned through orbit. Within forty-five seconds a series of ten photographs would be on the table of the Chief of Staff of the Kriermada and the Laerihans. When that was done with she gently began to scan the seas for other possible intelligence targets. All the while the pictures were already being faxed to offices throughout Fedala. It looked as if another threat was on the horizon.

Captain Josef Caret knocked on the broad wooden door before making his way in. He hadn't caught the admiral in anything important, he saw, and so he saluted and the admiral waved him down saying, "Just tell me what ya got Josef." Admiral Anton Trest was a big man for his career and he looked as if he could still be a groundpounder, despite his age. He was an unlikely candidate for the job he had, actually, being an infantryman for the first year of his military career and then getting a luckly transfer to the navy after some lack of success in the Macabee Kriermada during the Great Civil War. However, his talent for command and quick thinking allowed him to shoot to the ranks, and now he sat on this position - one of the most powerful men in the Kriermada.

Josef nodded and handed the admiral a manila folder which was consequently opened and he said, "You should take a look at these sir."

"And how is this important to me Josef?" The admiral did not waver and his face was straight.

Slightly nervous Josef replied, "This is yet another New Imperial transport of equipment to Haven, sir."

The admiral shifted through the pictures, "And this is new how? Son, they've been giving those fuckers everything they've gone since day one of the war. What the hell is different with this one?" Anton Trest was obviously a very busy man with no room for wasted time, but Josef had an answer for this as well.

"Here are some more pictures." He gave the admiral yet another manila folder, and the other man opened it and his eyes widened. "Yes sir, those are Ogre Mark Xs, their super heavies. Apparently Haven wants some of their own after their failures at Mosnoi Bor due our own Morrigans. The general chief of staff wants those sunk before they make it. They don't care if it sparks war."

Anton pushed the chair back and relaxed for a bit, thinking about what he was going to do. Finally, he simply said, "Thank you Josef, you can go now." The captain saluted and walked out. When he had shut the door behind him Admiral Trest picked up the phone and dialed a number at Targul Frumos. Another man picked up on the other side and Anton said, "Tonight at 2100 look at your fax." Another major regional power seemed on the verge of clashing steel with steel...

Vendíet Airfield, Targul Frumos: August 14th
It had only been three weeks since the airfield had been re-opened. Most of the aircraft operating out of the city to date had been Killian, with the Laerihans leaving since they couldn't risk having any of their planes blown to pieces if the Havenic navy was successfull at blocking out Targul Frumos. Fortunately, the Havenic navy was now bottled up near the bay and not likely to survive the war, and now the city military airfields were back in use. They were of course more heavily defended these days, with full on fixed Praetorian sights with the long range P.746.A surface to air missiles, and mobile trucks, as well as a few on duty mobile anti-air artillery cannons. Apart from that one could see aircraft taxying to the runways, and there were a fair amount of them. Three squadrons to be exact, and all of them were GLI-76s. Some of the planes were fitted with air to air missiles, and less of them with anti-shipping missiles. They were obviously not playing around. Colonel Fest Regat was flight leader and he took the lead, pushing up the throttle as the tower gave him permission to take-off. Within four seconds his light and powerful Falcon was in the blue, and three by three the hours fighters followed him. His wingman, Sergeant Ray Feras pulled up next to him and the Colonel nodded in his general direction. Suddenly banking they all lowered their altitude a bit and were soon over the blue expanses of the water.

Radio silence was honored, no matter what the mission. The Laerihans had the tradition of never speaking over the radio unless it was an emergency, or after the mission was over. No matter if it was a peaceful mission, or a dire one, radio silence was always kept. There had been too many instances in the past where the lack of silence over the radio waves had caused the deaths of dozens of pilots and the destruction of hundreds of millions of fighter planes. The thirty-sixty aircraft gracefully flew at around three hundred meters altitude over the sea at around seven hundred knots and the flight thereafter fanned out. Their heads up display already had their targets pinpointed. Forty nautical miles to go. Fest breathed slowly and stayed calm, but he couldn't help feel the trigger over his joystick as he saw the profiles of the cargo ships he had been scheduled to destroy. He hadn't been told why they wanted those cargo ships sunk, but frankly he didn't care.

Picking up the throttle he inched his way towards the target and at around twenty nautical miles released his single Shockhound Avenger anti-shipping missile. The hunk of explosive, guidance, and metal freefell for a good four meters before its ducted ramjet engine began to spit out fire, but nonetheless it was soon shrieking towards the victim. Colonel Fest banked his fighter, allowing those behind him to drop their own missiles and follow the colonel back around, but he could hear the sudden explosion behind him as he knew his missile had struck the lead the cargo ship. The twelve anti-shipping missiles would surely put down most of the ships in the convoy, if not all, but they would also spark a war that would escalate into what was now perhaps the bloodiest war of all ages, but was now most likely the bloodiest. The War of Golden Succession would not end any time soon, that was what was most obvious. As he saw his entire wing turn back around he broke radio silence and said, "Good job boys, now we've guaranteed that we'll be seeing more where those came from."

A crackled voice came up over in response, "They've been sending those all war."

The colonel chuckled. He was a high enough army rank to understand politics, "Yea, but next time we'll be facing big guns too."

Targul Frumos, August 15th
The massive titanium slide doors electrically opened, revealing a now flooded submarine pen. The entire underwater harbour looked like something out of ancient Carthage and it housed over a hundred nuclear attack submarines. The Empire had finally let the cat out of its cage, and they had decided it was time to engage in unrelenting submarine warfare. The seas of the region would soon be filled with the carcasses of sunk enemy shipping, whether martial or civilian. From Targul Frumos alone forty submarines would patrol the Havenic coastlines and nearby seas, and from Macabea the same number would soon be slowly seeping into Otium Aqua Sea to finish what the fleet couldn't - the destruction of the Empire's adversary's vessels. From the murky depths of the port emerged the shape of a Cartagena, the sleek teardrop hull pushing away the water as it slowly progressed. Alongside her soon came more of her sisters and within ten minutes the pack had been let loose. The region's waterways would soon run red with the blood of dead sailors.

Their task was relatively simple in the west. They would be in charge of blockading the Havenic western coastline, including the sinking of Havenic merchant transport and, more importantly, Havenic military transports attempting to get more and more men to the north. In other words, they would have to disrupt Haven's ability to wage war, and the Cartagena had proved itself in the past to be rather reliable when it was charged with such a job. Wolfs often were...

[Berliston]

From the glistening CMC sponsored arco-complex, Erik Faustanias looked at the distant Imperial Quarter and the towering classical structures of the Fortress where the Triconsulate was seated. After mentally preparing himself for the inevitable chaos that would unfold there, he turned back to the boardroom.

"Gentlemen... As you may know, yesterday the Golden Throne completely destroyed Convoy 22-4-E. By the time the airspace was cleared and rescue elements were deployed, they found nothing but wreckage."

The boardroom soaked it in again. 22-4-E had several of the Heavy-Transport Freighter RO-RO vessels, capable of loading and offloading supertanks with startling effiency. The Ogres themselves were no great loss, they were surprisingly paid for. But the RO-ROs were expensive investments, and that left a good amount of debt on CMC's payroll.

"I've discussed this with our usual connections in the Legions, and they believe this is the beginning of a concerted campaign. If our investment in this conflict is to continue, we are going to need Federal protection for our vessels."

The boardroom nodded, knowing the wheels were already spinning. The phone-calls had been made hours ago.

The Fortress

"Sir? Consul? The Senate is waiting for your statement."

Robert Heljaan nodded as he pulled himself up from the seat in the 'prep room' outside the Popular Senate chamber. This honestly was not their war to begin with, and Heljaan's foreign policy had been limited to opening markets for some time. But the public was demanding blood, and too much was being spilt in the region. Foreign powers were moving in, New Imperial citizens fighting with the rebels were also dying. He knew he would have to enter the war at some point. He only regretted it was he who would lead the nation into hell after years of peace.

He strode out, cameras rolling and snapping. He did not wave or even fake any state of content, grim resolve was painted across a weathered face.

He took his position at the podium, his Lower Consuls at his sides.

He tuned out the murmurs and the doubts and the news crews. Took a deep breath.

"Citizens of the New Empire, today I speak to you without enthusiasm, for a great weight bears down upon the nation.

"We have ignored it when it was simply an internal dispute in a regional neighbor.

"We continued to ignore it when the few private citizns who didn't began to die in Macabea.

"And we continued to ignore it even as the missiles bore down on our ships.

"Some will say that the attack was inevitable. They may be right. But we enter this war not because we are attacked, but because it is now clear that this conflict is no longer the concern of the Dienstadi region.

"When liberties and human rights are threatened by the continued tyranny of abseloute monarchy, it is our concern.

"When regional stability is torn by wartime, anti-market policy and warfare that consumes a continent, it is our concern.

"And when longtime allies lose perhaps millions to an unstable power, it is our concern.

"So it is with great regret, but utter conviction that I ask the State Senate for a declaration of war against the 'Second Golden Throne' and its allies that are engaged in warfare against our allies. I am moving the nation to STADEF TWO, and calling all reserve personnel to check in with their regional headquarters. I am activating the 1991 War Authority bill, though I will not exercise any of its powers unless necessary.

"May our descendants forgive us for the actions of our time."

Poseidon Oceanic States

The sprawling silhouette of the floating naval platforms were illuminated with the night-rigged lights when the fleets began to mobilize.

Force Echo, when assembled, would consist of 5 Carrier Battle Fleets, reinforced with an Amphibious Strike Component, and of course, the multitudes of transport vessels that would be carrying the legions of men and equipment to Safehaven.

With news of war fresh off the presses, it would not be long before the Macabees deployed increased naval presence into the east of Safehaven. With that in mind, they would have to act quickly before a major naval battle broke out in that region of the nation.

However, the navy was weighed down by several factors.

The first was that the Oceania Class BBGNs would, for the most part, have to be deployed from other naval bases. They had not been used outside of exercise in quite some time, and were generally not availible for rapid deployment.

The second, of course, would be waiting for the highly-mechanized troops to be assembled and put to sea.

This would have been a long war even if the United City States had not entered. But now, for every supertank loaded and bullet thumbed into a magazine, it got a little bit longer.

And a hell of a lot bloodier.

New Christendom, Jagada

Just was up in the air at the recently constructed Jagada's Keep. The Keep, rebuilt following the destruction of the old one at the hands of Kraven, was filled with moving bodies as people were in a panic. A War Council had been assembled and this usually meant Jagada was going to war in some way or form. War was something that made many Jagites shake in fear, the very word 'war' was banned in some of the Tradition Towns, and was taboo in major ciites. War had brought shame to Jagada--as nine straight defeats regardless of government and stratgey had brought a great amount of shame upon Jagada. However, deep in the maze-like tunnels of Jagada's Keep in the War Chamber, Highest Minister Riyabuo wasn't about to make this Jagada's tenth defeat. This being Jagada's intervention into the Macabee War of Golden Succession--as the Macabees called it.

"Highest Minister, I admit, our economy is excellent as compared to what it was just a year ago. Inn is reporting record industrial output, the oil market is booming, and our biodiesal is so much that we can export it and our vast timber supplies. Though, I must stress of Sun Tzu said," stated General Sun Li, as of that moment one of the two most respected generals in the Jagite Armed Forces.

Stepping forward, and waving off Sun Li was a man dressed in black armor and his face covered with a mask, he was known as the Imperial Fist. "Highest Minister, Sun Tzu's teachings do need to be followed, but I know what Sun Li is meaning to say. We must be fully prepared for this war if we are to engage in it. This war could mean the downfall of the Monotheistic Republic if we loose. I remind you, not even SafeHaven, the rebels, Zarbia, and various others have managed to defeat the Golden Throne. Not to mention our Sarzonian fleets suffered heavily at the hands of HailandKill."

Riyabuo stood her ground firmly, "All the more reason to intervene. Yes, I promise to end Killian-Jagite hostile relations, but if they stand in our way they too must be put down. I'd perfer better relations with them, but in order to control this region we have to end Golden Hegemony. We need to do this now, while New Empire, Safehaven, and various others still have fight left in them. If we attack the Golden Throne along, we won't stand a chance, but with them we at least have hope."

Imperial Fist and Sun Li looked at each other with hesitant glances--clearly they were not thrilled about this. They sighed, then Imperial Fist spoke up, "Fine then, Highest Minister, but let us go over Sun Tzu's rules of war first. We have to see if its even plausible for us to enter."

Riyabuo nodded and motioned for Sun Li to begin. "First. Which of the two soveigns is imbued with the Moral Law?"

Imperial Fist tilted his head, "Well, the this is the War of Golden Succession. However, we've just had dozens of coups. So I'd have to give it to the Golden Throne."

Sun Li nodded in agreement and continued, "Second. Which of the two generals has the most ability?"

Riyabuo leaned foreward curiously. Imperial Fist looked a bit embarrassed, "Jagada hasn't won a war...ever. So that too goes to the Golden Throne."

Sun Li nodded yet again in agreement, and thus continued, "With whom lie the advantages derived from Heaven and Earth."

Imperial Fist immiedately spoke up, "The Golden Throne. We'd be fighting them in their homelands--and in weather are not used to."

Sun Li sighed and nodded again, "On which side is discipline most rigorously enforced?"

Sun Li didn't wait for Imperial Fist to respond, "The Golden Throne again. So far we're not looking good."

Imperial Fist then spoke up, continueing the debate, "Which army is stronger."

"They are," stated Sun Li with his head sinking.

Imperial Fist had almost a growl in his voice, "On which side are the officers and men more highly trained?"

Imperial Fist lowered his head, along with Sun Li, "No need to answer that one."

Sun Li sighed, "Last one. In which army is there the most absolute certainty that merit will be properly rewarded and misdeeds summarily punished?"

They in unison sighed and stated, "The Golden Throne..."

Riyabuo leaned back, "Then it seems like we have no other choice. Sun Tzu dicates that war is not some political tool or gain--by your own admissions. We will remain out of this War for now. God help us if the Golden Throne wins."

The Generals nodded in agreement. Thus Jagada's intervention was, in a matter of ten minutes, circumvented by the words of man whom lived two thousand five hundred years ago.

Macabea-

A conglomeration of military forces, and a lack of proper in-theatre supplies had crippled the once ambitious plans of the Republican army the 7th Armored Dragoons though shipped out to the Golden Throne with the Panther II and M50 heavy tanks were well equipped were one of the few who could say as such the rest a hodgepodge mix of armaments stretching back to many a sad and rusty looking Cougar tank, and thus knowing full well that o make an advance in either direction would be worthless with the mix of logistics the Republican army not thoroughly dug in around Macabea had waited… weeks.

Every day was filled with the usual troop rotation, those on the line reinforced their camps, and those in town did what soldiers in foreign cities on leave were want to do. The issue was that those on the line usually followed suit as well, they had no orders, and they had no equipment, they were simply under orders to ‘hold the line’ with no enemy remotely close enough to striking range and with the majority of their offensive vehicles and those vehicles crews reporting into local depots for god knows what the men of the infantry simply partied, and waited.

It was at the end of the third week that the vehicles that had left the group were returned, Panthers were replaced with Panther II’s Cougar Tanks replaced with Lynx light Tanks, and the old SP-10’s replaced with APV-30’s the Republican army is seemed was merely waiting for its new toys before moving forward. with the Armored Divisions refreshed restocked and retrained the new force seemed to be no unsheathed, commanders revoked any leave for the infantry and pulled them to the edges of town to make room for the new Union soldiers who were arriving, and to try and get them fully sober and alert before they would enter any battle, it was only a matter of time now the rumor spread through the lines and the infantry was excited, though cautious this is what they worked for this is how they earned their pay, and now thousands of miles from home they would taste blood, soon the drums would beat and they would march.

The 7th Dragoons were the first to move out, their tanks loading onto train cars and the Dragoons themselves filling the few passenger cars to the brim, this would be their last chance to truly stretch their legs on innocent ground, to wipe their brows without blood on their hands and to call themselves men, the next time they emerged they would be more akin to beasts their weapons there claws, their minds honed to razor edge as the hunting instinct of man flash through their minds. Some prayed, some sang, others sat silently and tried to prepare themselves for the chaos that was about to ensure, but now ready the Mekugian Army went south there was no turning back…

"All War is Decieption"
-Sun Tzu

[The Golden Throne Empire]

The Monotheistic Republic was out of the war offically--but far from it in reality. Jagada was binding its time. They had learned many things from being defeated in nine wars back-to-back--that is to know thy enemy. If Jagada simply invaded the Macabees now, without proper knowledge, they'd just be bogged down with the Havenites in southeastern Macabee. No long war ever helped the State, any State for that matter. War was meant to be horrific, and desicive. Jagada was betting first and foremost on the fact that Fedor wasn't exactly a military genius. If he had been--then the Havenites wouldn't be trying to take Macabee land, they'd be sitting around their capital city huddle together in fear as the shells from Macabean artillery rain a hailstorm of death from above. The Macabee General Staff was something else, they fought war well, but not well enough. This was also something the Jagites were betting on.

Jagites were rather easy to spot if they stayed their natural style of hair and looks. Though at the same time, Jagites could dye their hair, and the government of Jagada could easily falsify their passports, documents, records and the like. This is what had been done. Across the Empire of the Golden Throne, a spy would slip in here and there. Jagada had been doing it since the beginning of the war, just quietly, ever so slowly injecting spies into the Macabee ranks. Even a few officers were on the Jagite payroll, very few, but enough to get some information. Government officals whom weren't extremely loyal to the King were also feeding the Jagite Intelligance Machine. There were of coarse just some common peasants whom were spies for the Monotheistic Republic, only gathering rumors, tad-bits of information, and asking questions about how the Macabees felt about Jagada.

Of coarse none of this could be done without risk. The Jagite spies were trained to be extremely subtle in how they brought the subject up. It was most of the time start out about common politics, which they learned simply by living in the Golden Throne Empire. Then it would seep into talks and stories about the Jagite-Macabean Colonial War. Thats is when the spies would test and see how the common Macabea felt about Jagada. The same thing was done the military, threw similar subtle conversations. This whole ordeal was to see how the Macabees felt about Jagada, its soldiers, its people, and its existance.

Beyond that, officers whom weren't very loyal to the King were asked very simple questions about any possible military movements. This too was done subtle was often involved much cursing, drinking, and filthy jokes. All possible methods were used to gain information from the Golden Throne. This information included troops numbers, equipment locations, air fields, nuclear, chemical, or biological weapons depots, and various other important items that the Jagites would need for future development.

Indeed, for months they worked and toiled--under the noses of a very busy Fedor Government. Staying below the radar with low profiles and slowly extracting the information they needed and relaying it back to Jagada threw various means. Sometimes threw secret meetings, somethings simply passing a note at the barracks and other secretive manuevars.

RAF St. Beckett

The whole base was nothing but an over crowded field of activity. Huge C-130 Hercules transport planes all line up in perfect strips across the airbase concrete parking spaces. Over two hundred acres worth of land that was RAF St. Beckett. Two hundred acres has seemed a lot at the time, but when the First Airborne Division of the Jackal Paratrooper Regiment was moved into St. Beckett it was soon seen just how much space was needed. The 1st Airborne Division consisted of just over 20,000 men and equipment that could be transported by any aircraft available to the RAF. St. Beckett was home to a large contingent of C-130’s and twenty C-5 Galaxies that would transport the helicopters and a single M1 Abram each to add some extra fire power for the paratroopers.
Only recently did the government decide they needed troops to quickly get to Safehaven and attack settlement along The Macabees’ border with Safehaven. In fact the decision to send the paratroops was made only three days ago by the MoD, the 1st Airborne Division was only too happy to oblige to the call for war. The barracks for the 1st Airborne was at St. Beckett so it was only a short march to the transport planes.
Lieutenant General Hardy of the 1st Airborne was in charge of the operation on the ground. They had no standing orders for once they got to Safehaven, only to set up a GHQ and conduct operations from there with the help of allied advisors for the big operations. They were heading for a city that hadn’t been disclosed to anyone about thirty miles from the front line in Safehaven. There is where the GHQ would be set up. Once they landed, the other allied commanders would be informed.
It wasn’t long before the Hercules transports, accompanied by the C-5 Galaxies, were taking off and heading for Safehaven ready to fight to wherever they were called.

First Airborne Division Force Listing

Hercules

20,552 Paratroopers with standard light equipment
200 Heavy Weapon Platforms (e.g. AT Launchers, Flame Throwers, AA Guns)
1 Command Platoon with Necessary Equipment

C-5 Galaxies

1: One Chinook Transport Helicopter and One M1 Abram MBT
2: One Chinook Transport Helicopter and One M1 Abram MBT
3: One Chinook Transport Helicopter and One M1 Abram MBT
4: One Chinook Transport Helicopter and One M1 Abram MBT
5: Two AH-64 Apache Gun Ships

HMNB Portsmouth

Commercial trade shipping had been severely disrupted in Stevid especially the ones with huge tankers. It was seen by the MoD that Stevid couldn’t supply the correct amount Royal Fleet Auxiliary ships to ferry across the vast numbers of tanks that Stevid would be sending. The RFA had been overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers the army was sending. Well over three hundred ships belonging to the RFA had been drafted in and were full to capacity with tanks belonging to XXX Corps and XXV Corps so tankers that used to be just civilian had been drafted in as well. Over five hundred vessels to be participating in the largest movement of military units since the HP Campaign and even then it was a smaller number than this. Not only that, there were other tank divisions that would follow the two army corps being sent first. Two more army divisions to be exact excluding the troops regiments that had to be transported as well. The Air Force would handle the troop transfer and would not be overloaded by the sheer weight of numbers. Navy had been stretched but over stretched that lack commercial transportations would damage the economy.
The process of setting sail was slow even though Portsmouth was one of the biggest naval ports in the region- it could three Catholic Class Super Dreadnoughts and still have from for the rest of the Fifth Fleet. The ships were moving out slowly and heading straight off to Safehaven without waiting, they didn’t want to clog up the shipping lanes any more than necessary. Besides, the threat of attack was virtually non-existent if not that. The Royal Navy would escort the convoys to and from their destination with some help form allied navies as well short of sending SDN’s and carriers to do all the work. The new Dweller Class Frigate would play a key role in monitoring enemy satellite activity over the convoy routes and present the threat to the enemy with the rockets in it’s hull. The Dweller Class had already proven itself when it fired on a Macabee satellite during the Battle of Otium Aqua, it could just as easily do it again to naughty satellite looking at things Stevid would rather they not be looking at.

The shipping convoys stretched out right across South Otium Aqua that had finally, for the first time in almost half a year of hostilities both politically and militarily, been made safe by a hard worn and battle hardened Royal Navy. Some of the ships were loosely strewn across the sea, some were packed more tightly together in formations but two hardened navies, the Hitmen Navy and the Royal Navy, fiercely protected all ships to the best of their ability.

24th Foot Mechanised Infantry Division troop forces were going to be transported via the Royal Air Force from a RAF base in Rubet Island with the heavy weaponry equipment included as well light transport vehicles such as jeeps while the APCs would be transported by both sea and air both (hopefully) Stevid and allied forces and home commercial transports. All available and necessary equipment was being seized by the MoD ready for the current and next batch of forces to be sent to fight The Macabees in the very near future and they intended to win by whatever means necessary..... short of nuclear war.

Battle of Mosnoi Bor

Hotel Flight
Captain Jac Krin grinned as he saw two of his targets dissapear from his heads up display. Two less bombers that would be there to inflict pain on his countrymen. He could see a bright flash of light beside him but he didn't pay attention. Imperial pilots were trained to be individuals and exert the maximum amount of punishment on themselves to make sure they did an excellent job, and so when a comrade went down it wasn't as badly felt as it would have been in other air forces. Sometimes this was an advantage, or times it wasn't. The plane that had been hit behind him began to spiral towards the green and brown fields before then in a flaming ball of gasoline and expensive plane pieces. The rest of the Condors got away, accelerating to over Mach 5 and outrunning even the Havenic air to air missiles! One loss to the destruction of an entire enemy force was not as bad as one thought, and despite the cost of each individual Condor there was no doubt that the Havenic hordes had lost much more money than the Imperials had. But what mattered more was that their precious bombers were being wore down due to attrition. Krin kept his eyes on the skies before him, but spoke through the radio, "Good job men, this should have hurt them."

The radio crackled and another pilot said, "Roger that Hotel-Six. We hurt them good. Now it's time to refuel and come back."

His grin suddenly went from ear to ear, turning into a smile through some sort of facial metamorphesis, and he kept silent. Two kills. Not bad. As he sped over the Imperial Provence he began to slow his squadron down, and it gave him more time to think to himself. He was sure that over half that bomber squadron had been put down, even if some of them had only been damaged. But that was still a hefty toll and no doubt factories in Dienstad would begin to pump the Condors out like rabbits after this proof. Thank God he had been given the opportunity to fly one of these suckers. Within a month over two thousand Condors would be produced throughout all the factories belonging to Kriegzimmer in the world, and all of them would be for the Empire. Krin had a feeling that this massive production ability would be what would win the war in the end. That and the thought superiority of the ground armies.

As he neared his scheduled airfield he heard a voice through a clearer frequency, " Welcome back Hotel-Six."

"Thank you Papa-One, and thank the bastards for giving us enough targets for a turkey shoot." His smile was back and to full effect.

"You're one down, what happened?"

This was more solemn news, "He's a gonner Papa-One, over."

There was a brief silence and then, "Roger that Hotel-Six. Runways one through five open for your birds, over." The tables were beginning to turn...


A6G Anti-Air Artillery Battery
Private Rik Hendrí looked up at the sky in fear. That was where death came from, and his job was to be the frontline man against death. Why oh why had he been put into this job? The others around him didn't seem any less scared; perhaps even more! But he wasn't alone in his endeavour. Thirty similar guns dotted the landscape directly around him, and he knew that further down there was a 155mm battery meant to tear those high flying bombers to pieces. He found consolidation in the fact that his enemies thought FLAK was inneffective, but the war had proved them wrong, and if he had anything to do with it, it would continue proving itself. He looked at one of his troopers and felt jealousy. How could that man be so calm? Indeed, he was the only one not obviously thinking about certain death. The other soldier must have seen him staring at him and he turned around and said, "Here, have a smoke. It'll calm your nerves."

Rik took the cigarette with pleasure and muttered, "Thank you." The other man, whom he did not know his name, stuck out his lighter and set the tobacco alight for Rik. Rik to a long drag and exhaled and then looked at his partner, "How are you so calm?"

The other man smiled, "I think of life after death, and how pleasing it will be to sleep and live with Him."

Rik didn't reply. He wasn't much of a religious man; he would have rather survived that day. He looked away and said, "I guess we all have our ways." The other man nodded and they stood quietly again, side by side. The time continued without major events, but things suddenly began to change.

They could all hear the low drumming noise of incoming Rains, the dreaded strike fighter of the Havenic airforce, and they prepared themselves for quite the fight. Rains had been hunting batteries like this one since the beginning of the war, and they had paid dearly for it. The guns were all 'computer guided' meaning they would have a little screen to tell them when to fire, taking into consideration aircraft velocity, range and some such other dribble that Rik didn't really care about. All he knew is that it made them deadly accurate, and it was fed by a relatively large radar vehicle behind them, which was tied to another three vehicles to avoid having the entire battery go down with just one trailer. In any case, Rik's knees bended a bit to prepare him for action and he jumped at the loud beeeeeep which portruded from the computer's speaker. A command behind all of them suddenly began yelling, "Fire at will!"

The guns began to pound, and when the first round was released in a shriek Rik dived for another shell, while another man opened the breech. Shoving the round in there Rik almost tripped foward but caught himself last moment. Soon enough the second round was in the air. The other gunners were alternating with him, putting a constant puff puff of CAPMES rounds into the clear skies. Those rains were receiving hell. Havenic aircraft would find themselves riddled with tungsten balls moving at extreme velocities, and no doubt would later find themselves smashed against a green hillside. As the fighters passed above, some spiralling into the floor in a mass of red and orange, with the occasional blue, the guns fell silent, waiting for the next wave which would not be long to come.

Beyond Rik could see the smoketrails of over four P.746.B surface to air missiles and then a bright fireball in the distance. Another bastard destroyed. Nevertheless, they had a long, long war ahead of them.

Arktíen Bridge, Tarkus River
The traffic had finally been sorted out, as the logistics began to take some form of organisation. The convoys of armor, troops and other equipment made a seemingly never ending line into northern Ruska, beginning to deploy for the future of the war. Over the dozens of bridges that spanned the River Tarkus thousands upon thousands of tonnes sped into the southern lands. It was one of the largest logistical operations in the history of man, preparing to put over a million men in the south by September. They didn't foresee the difficulties to come. The three military policemen directed traffic silently in the same boring manner they conducted themselves every day. Nobody saw the incoming missiles until it was far too late. But they came, and they came with a wham, striking the steel bridge in half. The water around it arched in a brilliant wave dousing everything near the banks and on the bridge itself... or at least on what remained on the bridge, and it lifted a huge dust cloud.

As the dust settled down and the waters leveled out again one could see the profiles of dozens of burning trucks, and dozens of killed soldiers all along the bridge. The mid-portion of the hulking steel platform was missing, most of it in the river, and soon enough the now two end portions began to peel off as well under the weight of holding themselves up. It was a disaster. And it had happened to over four bridges throughout the river. The damage wasn't at all permanent, but it would take some time to get some bridging units down to span the river until a permanent steel bridge could be rebuilt by army engineers. Nevertheless, by the end of the day each missing bridge had been replaced by four Cougar variants each, and they were not sorrounded by anti-air artillery guns and praetorian batteries. The vehicles slowly and electrically put their fold up bridges over the River Tarkus, and had finalised the job within twenty minutes. By that night the traffic was flowing again. Nevertheless, the sixteen hour delay would probably make itself be felt downstairs.

But at this point nobody in the high command cared. It was time to deal some payback.


A9T Artillery Battery
Colonel Artur Bidensk looked through the computer in front of him. Last night's debriefing had taken up most of the night and morning and he sat infront of the screen, eyes blood shot from the lack of sleep. The soldiers around him were a little better, although the sporadic sounds of aircraft crashing into the nearby woods, or random artillery shells awoke them at arbitrary intervals throughout the last night. Nevertheless, they were certainly better than he was; but that was the price of being a commanding officer. He looked around him to see if everything was in order. Four SPAA-1 vehicles were parked within camoflauged units around the battery, just in case the Havenic birds decided to sweep in, and there were four open Praetorian II batteries. Obviously the adversary would have a harsh time trying to pry open the batteries that forged what would be the largest artillery bombardment in the world. Bidensk, himself, commanded two pits of eight guns each, or a total of sixteen 155mm self-propelled artillery pieces. There were over three thousand guns throughout the entire Mosnoi Bor front, most of them pointing at concentrated locations. The Empire had not put something as such out for a long while, and it was about time it showed its true abilities.

The radioman next to him was half asleep, dozing off under the hot sun of mid-Ruska. Artur didn't blame him. It was a rather lathargic day. Suddenly a shout over the radio woke them both up and Artur hastily motioned for him to hand over the phone. After getting that sorted out the colonel began to shout back, "A9T to A1, didn't quite get that, over."

Some time lapsed but the orders were finally retransmitted, "Open general bombardment over previously selected targets at exactly 0700 hours." Artur looked at the clock on the computer before him and shuddered, "Shit, we got twenty to get prepared."

But they had drilled for this, and so when the final alert was given out the gunners and other artillery men huddled around or inside the trucks that held the guns, and readied themselves for the inevitable. The clock struck and a wild ring spun throughout the entire two pits, taking most by suprise. Within milliseconds the guns thundered off, firing four rounds each in 'mercy mission' style, meaning the rounds would land at the same time by changing the trajectory of each individual round. In forty long paced seconds the artillery throughout the entire front spit out death in the forms of long dual purpose artillery shells and then suddenly stopped and changed position to avoid effective retaliation. One minute later twenty-four thousand shells would saturate the more concentrated ranks of Havenic tanks and infantry as they ran away from the River Styx, due to the presence of the Morrigan. Then two minutes past 0600 yet another salvo! The entire pattern would reoccur for thirty minutes, offering the Havenic hordes a glimpse of what their afterlife would look like - hell.

The anti-air artillery and surface to air missile batteries stayed put where they were. Their positions were chosen to give them a higher chance of first shot and greater survivability. If those Havenic aircraft tried to come in for the kill they fould find their wings plucked and their breaks eroded. The glare of the beams from the sun on the launching tubes for the Praetorian IIs spelled wide-eyed murder.

Another beep rung out and the colonel looked at his screen again, and then took the intra-vehicle radio and shouted, "All units cease fire! I repeat, cease fire!" It was time to shift to tactical support and let the armor and infantry do their work. His guns fell silent and change positioned yet again and prepared for yet another inevitable order to hit some target. Nevertheless, the entire bombardment had most likely caused massive havoc on the retreating Havenic armies, and now would lay the ground work for an easier penetration from the tanks, and even easier mop-up operations by the infantry. In other words, it was time turn the war in favor of the Empire!


Morrigan
"SABOT!" The gunnery officer yelled at the top of the lungs as the autoloader put the right round into the breech of the massive 380mm gun the Morrigan carried. Most of the crew could hear the rammer suddenly pop the round into the right place with a wang as the breech door shut tight behind it. There was no mistaking the work of the huge compulsators putting energy into the coils of the cannon and sending the huge shell over the trees and into three or four Badger heavy tanks, sending them flying. The Morrigan's suprised had been taken advantage of and it was now time to push what the Morrigan had done. The gigantic tank continued to pound Havenic tanks from long range, more often than not using huge rounds to drop larger sub-munitions all over the field, knocking out heavy tanks left and right, and the Morrigan didn't stop itself from striking the fields with huge high explosive shells either, creating havoc for retreating infantry fighting vehicles and even infantry.

The tank commander, Lieutenant Colonel Anton Devíest smiled silently and picked up the encrypted radio communication system, "Morrigan to headquarters, requesting immediate orders."

A silence superceded the noise of the maingun for a brief second and then the return signal fed in, "Headquarters to Morrigan, continue pounding the scoundrels. Not time to begin Operation FESTIVAL. I repeat, not time to begin Operation FESTIVAL."

The captain was slightly vexed. He had been expecting to be able to follow those bastards across the river and chase them all the way to the pre-war borderlines! But he was content enough to show the power of such a large beast of war, and his main gunner made a point with the huge shells laden with sub-munitions which criss-crossed the battlefield, and the other 88mm gunners continued to put very high velocity sabots into the turret, glacis and side armor of Badger heavy tanks and KAF-90 main battle tanks. It seemed as if every gun on the Morrigan was blazing away, cutting down Havenic vehicles and men alike. She truly was an unforgiving war machine. But she was suddenly cut off from her deserved lust for murder as the field before them turned into a haze of smoke and the crew members could hear the clatter of debris hitting the ground battleship near the turret and upper glacis. The tank commander swore, "Fuck them! That's our kill!"

There was nothing he could do, though. The artillery had been put into full swing and the Havenic retreat had been pulverised under the pressure of tens of thousands of shells. The Morrigan had nothing to do but wait. For thirty minutes she stood still, using the infrared detectors to try to look through the thick smoke of the artillery barrage and often enough they found a target and they knocked it out. The gunner would continously call out, "Got the bitch! Yee-haw, look at them run. They're so scared. We could have pushed them all the way to their goddamn capital."

The tank commander laughed and slapped the gunner on the head, "Cut that out. We got our orders."

The gunner hurumphed, but continued to rant. The TC would have to listen to him for another thirty minutes, and he certainly wasn't happy about that!


Mike Flight
The four squadrons swooped in at full velocity and at a very low altitude, running right over the tree tops. Some of the pilots looked down nervously, afraid that their own heavy FLAK units would think them the enemy, but their fears were misplaced. Every single battery on the ground had some sort of identification friend or foe. They were soon over the front lines and they made their mission quick. Without thinking about it much the aircraft fanned out and begun their hunt. Some could still see the residue of the artillery bombardment, as it was just beginning to lay down after the respite. Their task was to hunt down heavy concentrations of armor and such that were in full fledge retreat and prepare the ground for the massive counter attack about to take place. Planes flew widly, dropping their heavy air to surface ordnances over tanks, soft-skinned vehicles, infantry, or whatever proved itself to be a worthwhile target. The bombs were heavily laden with anti-personnel and anti-tank munitions and these were scattered over the concentrated battlefield. It was a slaughter.

That said and done the fighters pulled back over the border like a single unit, obviously satiated in their slaughter. The strike had been fast, silent and effectively deadly, and most commanders in the rear thought that the planes would provide a light post-artillery bombardment of the area, preparing the battlefield for what would be a stroll through the park for the armor on the frontlines. To that effect the ground began to rumble at the same music as the thousands of engines that had suddenly turned on.


Morrigan
The tank commander looked at the watch on his wrist in a show of the utmost lack of patience, but he finally got his wish and over the radio came his final orders, "Begin Operation FESTIVAL."

Giddy he replied, "Roger that headquarters!" He put away his communications to the outside world and spoke through the helmet mounted inter-tank radio system ordering, "Let's fuck these bastards over!" The Morrigan jolted at first, but then began to slowly accelerate until it hit the river where it quickly made its way accross. Prior to its deployment some generals had said that it would not be able to cross rivers due to the lack of necessary bridging. They had just been proved wrong. The Morrigan didn't need a bridge. It rolled over the River Styx, over the same shallow point the enemy had just come through, and it gave chase to those still fleeing, putting in heavy and accurate rounds overhead and watching dozens of vehicles flash bright red simultanously. Unfortunately for Haven there would soon be a second Morrigan in the south, and an armada of another six to seven different super heavy tanks and ultra heavy tanks, and even one real ground battleship.

The rubber lined tracks clinked and twitched as the heavy piece of armor pushed along, constantly bombarding the enemy with a hail of heavy rounds. The gunner screamed all the while, and the other two minor gunners did the same. It was rather hectic, but all the while effective. Looking at the array of targets before him the tank commander smiled and said, "All stop!"

The ultra heavy shot foward, shook a bit and then stopped and one of the other operators to the rear shot over the radio, "What the fuck?"

"That's right, we're stoping. Where not doing jack shit alone. We're going to wait for the cavalry and then help them plow through the frontlines. Somebody said it was more effecient. I'm taking their word for it." A few other guys chuckled, but waited nonetheless. The huge four thousand tonne piece of hulking metal stood in the center of the barren battlefield, dozens of knocked out vehicles littered around it, testament to the power of its barrel - more accurately barrels. A few were still burning and it seemed like a page torn straight out of a horror book. Well, it was befitting for the Havenic hordes who had dared disturbe the Empire during what would have effectively been a second civil war. Instead they had turned it into an international hell pit, and they would pay dearly for that. The hundreds of dead drivers and soldiers sorrounded the tank just as the souls of the dead would when the crew of the Morrigan tried to cross the true River Styx. But they were proof of the slaughter - proof of what the Empire would do in the coming months or years.

Proof of death.


4th Arca Company, 12th Arca Division; FESTIVAL Counterstroke
It was time for the dealer to inflict his punishment on those who had dared disturb him. This manifested itself in the form of over one hundred and eighty thousand men and three thousand tanks ready to cross the River Styx in the first wave of the offensive. It would slowly boil itself up to near a million men and over five thousand tanks, and tens of thousands of other armored fighting vehicles, and it was ironic how even this massive operation would soon be dwarfed at Ishme-Dagan in the next month. The 4th Arca Company, led by Captain Frak Jester in his command variant of the Broadsword, quickly made its way accross a deployable bridging unit that had put up a light bridge over the river's span. His twenty-five tanks were soon into Havenic lines, following their retreat which had just been pieced apart by careful artillery preperation, bombers and the Morrigan, which they could all see tower towards the horizon. Frak hummed to himself until his gunner got plenty annoyed and hit him in the knee cap. Frak responded by hitting the gunner on his helmet and then looking back for targets. The 12th Arca Division had been chosen to spearhead the assault on the Havenic flank of the Mosnoi Bor front, and the 4th Arca Company was spearheading that! Their task was to pierce the frontlines and break into the rear, and then quickly roll up the Havenic ground army towards Aurillac, where they would spring a trap which would effective sorround most of the standing army in Ruska.

Frak sat in the middle of his company, as his tank had no real gun to it, instead it was ridden with communication systems. The other tanks in the company would have to do the dirty work. As they crested the rise they could see what were the hodge podge Havenic frontlines which had just been shattered by dual purpose munitions coming from the muzzles of the artillery and by heavy bombs from the aircraft. He saw a brief flash coming from a general direction and then heard a diiiing as a sabot hit on the turret armor of a nearby tank and ricocheted after penetrating around half of the front turret mounted ceramic armor. He could see another tank traverse its turret and saw it shudder while he heard a boooom and finally a whaaam. The outcome of the entire orchestra of battle noises was a knocked out KAF-90 on the frontlines. Under his breath the company commander muttered, "Good job."

The entire company was sorting itself out and Frak didn't have very many orders to relay until they got closer to their objective. He suddenly yelled out over the intra-tank radio mount, "Alright, let's pierce those assholes."

The company shot foward, guns blazing, and raked the frontlines with their co-axial machineguns. The idea was to put enough force on a very short part of the enemy line and breakthrough it. Consequent infantry attack would widen the gap and tie down front line units so that the armor could tear apart the rear. It was all happening rather fast, and before he knew it Frak could see the glow of massive bombs hitting where he was supposed to strike. Confused his shouted, "What the fuck is that?"

The answer he got back was short and pleasing, "The Morrigan sir, it's helping us."

Indeed it was. Frak turned his head to see the massive beast stopping and pounding the area with its huge 380mm cannon. It would surely soften up the subject before the Broadswords got there, and that was all good news. The easier it was, the better. Mosnoi Bor would prove to be the first set back to Haven if it all went correctly, and that meant that the future of the war would happen in the south. The Killians had guaranteed that Aurillac would hold, and if that was true then the Havenic hordes would find themselves between the blade of a long sword and the sharp edges of a cliff, and they were on the top. In other words, not a very optimistic location to be! The tables were indeed beginning to swing around.

Havenite Controlled airspace, Ruska Province

The E-33 AWAC’s bird glided slowly through the Ruskan air. They’d been on station for ten hours watching what had to be the loneliest part of the border. The war had barely gripped this part of Ruska, the only signs of it being from the very opening strikes and even then the fighting was extremely limited. Since then the rolling hills that marked Ruska’s face had remained untouched in this region to the point that the E-33 only had half the escort that was usual in a warzone.

Inside it was mostly quiet. After ten hours of staring at screens you ran out of things to talk about. Just about everyone was drinking coffee or one of the newer energy drinks to stay alert, ten hours of staring at screens did more than just kill conversation, it sapped away what energy you had, especially when there was no “action” to get the blood flowing. Most of everyone’s eyes were focused on the western portion of their screens, bright with thousands of targets showing the massive aerial battles going on over the contested parts of Ruska. The Mekugian bombers didn’t show up on radar screens till they almost hit the Styx river and even then the tiny signature went almost unnoticed next to the show not to far away. It wasn’t until the bombers started rising that one of the operators riding a caffeine high took notice, and it took him another second to realize that they shouldn’t have been there. “Sir, sir we’ve got contact bearing 096, I’m picking up a flight of aircraft heading south, definitely not ours, there nearing the Styx.” The surveillance controller whipped around and stared down the operator. “What do you mean there already nearing the Styx? Are they Macabean?”. “They don’t match any known Macabean aircraft, or Killian craft for that matter, I don’t know what they are or whose they are.” Just because they didn’t match any known aircraft didn’t mean they weren’t Macabean, in the past few days Fedala had unveiled more than one new weapons system, this might just be another thrown on top of the pile. The Mission director had been listening in to the whole conversation which barely spanned a couple of seconds before speaking up, “Shoot the fuckers down, guide Shepherd flight in.” The call went out immediately.

“Shepherd flight, this is Watchman, we have an incoming flight of unknown aircraft, we are vectoring you in to intercept.”

“Got it Watchman, stay safe while we’re away.” The six F-133 Valkyrie fighters that comprised the E-33’s escort hit afterburner and sped up to just over mach 3 on their way to intercept the bomber flight. It was highly unorthodox, but there were no interceptor squadrons this far out, at least none as close as the Valkyrie’s were.

“Fuck! Missile launch, multiple missiles have just broken away from Sierra 1, holy shit.” The thirteen original targets multiplied into the hundreds in just seconds. “Shepherd flight, this is Watchman, continue on your course, we are supplying targeting data now, take these fuckers out.” The Valkyrie’s slowed down so that their internal missile bays doors could open up and reveal the cargo inside. Twenty-six Divinebolt missiles, two for each bomber, dropped out, free falling to the ground before kicking on their scramjet engines. The E-33 combined with the individual radars on both the missiles themselves and the Valkyrie’s to guide in the Divinebolts so that each bomber would be targeted by two of the missiles. After twenty seconds another wave of six more Divinebolts was fired to catch any survivors or wounded bombers the first wave left.

Back at the E-33 the surveillance controllers were trying desperately not to lose the missiles. They started passing what information they had to the air defense network below and the fist SAM’s began rippling off from below. More than half of the missiles continued on, flickering on and off of the radar screens as they were lost and then found again, but the true horror didn’t come until the realization of where many of the missiles where headed actually sank in, they were going to strike home.


Adent, Northern Haven

Barry Luis sat leaned up against a light post trying to light his cigarette. He thought it was bullshit that he wasn’t allowed to smoke inside, hell it was a mill, whatever pollution his cigarette let out couldn’t be anything compared to the smog the mill chugged out on a daily basis. He knew he should quit, he should have quit a long time ago, but now was not the time, it was break and he didn’t want to think of that. A loud siren began ringing out, not the quick siren of a fire alarm or an ambulance, but the long, drawn out notes of the tornado warning systems from back home in the south. But their almost never were tornados up north unlike in the south, it couldn’t have been a tornado. Then the guns started banging away, tracers from the cities perimeter started rising up into the sky, followed by smoke trails as the few point defense SAM’s in the city began rippling off. But none of it was enough, Haven wasn’t ready for a strike like this on home. A massive fireball erupted in the sky as one of the three Mekugian missile heading towards the city was intercepted, and then another fireball rose up, from the ground this time shaking Barry so hard he had to hold on to the pole for balance. The final missile dropped down to the ground and headed straight for Barry, throwing him to the ground as it blew past overhead just a few feet away. The 3,000 lb warhead ripped into the unarmored mill behind Barry, picking him up and throwing him another fifty feet, breaking his body, but that was all. Four dozen bodies would later be pulled out of the mill wreckage while Barry laid in a hospital bed, four dozen bodies and millions in damage and lost goods. Athe scene was repeated over a hundred times as different as Mekugian, or “Macabean” as most believed, missiles struck home.

[OOC: Please excuse the post as Im on anothers computer on the other side of the state, and Im typing this in word pad so please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes]

It would be a damn shame to assume an unescorted flight of bombers would be without
some form of defensive armament and though the craft had now released their payload
the supersonic bombers were much more agile than their intial laden froms had been...
this maunverability was moot in the face of scramjet powered missile of course but that
was another matter entirely.

“Bogie! fast mover! I repeat we have incoming munitions. Evade and strike, evade and
strike!”

The previously relaxed calm of the bombers on thier return trip was interupted sharply by
the com message as the rear flight in the eschalon gave warning as the stream of
countering munitions entered the rear faceing radar of the craft. still well within the
Macabean defensive perimiter they prayed that the macabeas could provide some sort of
assistance in such a suprise action, but the B-30A’s were far from helpless, dviding into
four groups (three groups of three and one group of four) the planes diviated from their
course and dove headlong towards the deck the dive pushing the crtaft just below the
speed of sound at sea level, though they were limited speed wise here this is what the
planes were counting on the thick air of the deck includeing the random ground clutter
would make keeping the planes in view a bit mroe than questionable matter as they
pushed the large bombers to the limit weaving in and out fo the landscape below.

Many of the rear group fired four each SA-35R’s (550 kg each or half of their defensive
armament load) a Mekugian air launched short anti-missile developed from the SA-35N
as part of the extremely effective ‘Iron Gate’ Gun/Missile CIWS system, and a system
that could trace its lineage all the way back to the SA-33 Missile used by almost every
side in this conflict. Now this wasnt a desperate measure they still carried an additional
four missiles but there was no need to wastefully expend muntions. and though the
Misisle would claim their fair share rear group hit a bit of bad luck as tthree from rear
group was forced to pop abovea large hill dominating the relativele low lands of The
Golden Throne popping them well above radar level and directly into the path of fire as
fife missiles impacted directly into the three lartge supersonic bombers south fo fedala
and went siralling into an unsuspecting farmers cabbage field. the wives of fifteen
mekugian pilots would week in the following weeks the first Mekugian casulties of the
War. Sadly two mroe planes of the second group met similar unlucky fates.

The lead group punched their engines as they reached 30km south of Fedala and entered
the massive airscreen of the Macabean capital knowing it would be foolhearty for a
Haventite plane to follow them at this point but the plane screamed onwards running low
on fuel the lead group had already begun serachign for proeper alternate landing facilities
in the north of The Golden Throne. The night was counted as both a resoundign sucess
and a dismal failure, both in the effect of the planes involved and the courage of the
strike.

Total losses-
-Five B-30 ‘Aethra’ bombers
-25 experienced aircrew
-A Nations Innocence

Ruskan Skies, Aurillac

As viscous as the fighting on the ground was, the skies were relatively calm, compared to what was going on elsewhere in Ruska. It was almost odd, the most furious ground fighting of the war was occurring around Aurillac but the skies were so calm compared to the rest of Ruska. That semi-calmness got itself shattered when the 48 Space Union aircraft jumped on the stage, not only did they come on stage but they came on stage loudly proclaiming their arrival for the world to hear. 48 aircraft with their radars actively scanning the air told everyone in eastern Ruska and North Eastern Haven they were there.

The Space Union aircraft were asking for someone to come out and fight them, and they got their wish real quick. As they cruised in to Aurillac and flipped on their high powered radars the three Valkyrie squadrons assigned to the area locked on to them. The range wasn’t quite close enough for their Artemis medium range missiles, although it wasn’t to far off either, so they armed their much longer ranged AIM-123 Divinebolt missiles. They kept their radars off, and with all armaments held inside their missile bays in their fuselage they hoped to be passed over by the Space Union fighters. The E-33 AWAC’s birds did all the tracking for them, not that it was really needed with the Space Union aircraft searching so hard with their radars. Three Divinebolt missiles per SuF/A-6C flew away from the three Valkyrie squadrons from a 140 miles out, two were guided in by the various E-33 Watchman birds while the third in each batch guided itself, homing in on the radar signal from the Space Union planes. If they wanted to shake those missiles they would have to turn their radars off, but if they did that then they would lose any chance of fighting back, and would still be tracked by the other, AWAC’s guided missiles. Behind the missiles the Valkyries switched on their Pallas Athena stealth systems and dived low, going full stealth. Pallas Athena had rarely ever been used in the war since the Macabees was so familiar with it made it pointless, but with a newcomer who had never seen it before, it was a different story. The E-33 Watchman began putting up as much jamming as they could to help cover the Valkyries, hoping between the stealth, jamming and any confusion caused by the incoming missiles some of the Valkyrie’s might go undetected, although that was a wish that was dangerous to hope for.

The SAM units below that were assigned to each division had had nothing to do since the last Killian sortie from the sea had been rebuked but now they had a bright target literally right over their heads. The Space Union planes were flying dangerously close to many of the SAM batteries by flying over the raging battlefield, a risk there really wasn’t a need to take. Right after the Divinebolt launch dozens of SAM’s began rising up, mingling in with the thousands of other pieces of ordnance being flung around. A little over fifty SAM’s began making the short journey up to the SuF/A-6C fighters. Even though they were launched just after the Divinebolt’s they would make it to their targets first, being as how they were much closer. Space Union had made its entry into the war hoping to do so with a bang, but they’d entered what was probably the most hotly contested piece of airspace in the world and they were going to be punished for it.




(OOC: The following has been cleared by H&K)

Twenty Minutes after SU/Havenite dogfight

Looking down at her radar display Lieutenant Beatriz Paloma watched the symbols marking friendly fighters flying home. The symbols showed that they represented three Valkyrie squadrons, but there weren’t enough symbols to fill up three full strength squadrons. Must have been a bitch of a fight. She had received word of a dogfight erupting over Aurillac with Space Union fighters, which had kind of shocked her at first, she hadn’t even known Space Union was in the war, let alone that it was a sovereign nation. As long as they didn’t get in the way of her mission, not that she thought they would. She wasn’t overly cocky, but she considered herself to be one of the better pilots in the air force, earning the right to pilot an EB-15 was rare, and being a woman at the same time was rarer still, proven by the fact that only two other women was an EB-15 pilot.

The literally gigantic EB-15 made its entrance into Ruska, moving at impressive speeds for its huge body, and she wasn’t alone. Four other Arkbirds and two and a half squadrons of EB-9 Night Eagles made their way north. It had taken a lot of infighting and maneuvering for the General staff to get permission to use such a force, especially with the massive air campaign in the rest of Ruska going on. EB-15’s were rarely ever used, in fact not even a hundred existed in Haven’s arsenal, coming in at $3 billion dollars plus they were treasured which is why it was so hard to get permission to use. But with the reverse being suffered all across the board, and then with “Fedala’s” bombing of Havenic cities it was deemed time to hit back, and Aurillac was chosen as the target.

As they “slowly” made their way across southern Ruska at mach .9 a flurry of new symbols appeared Paloma’s radar screen. Three squadrons of Rain shot through Ruska blowing past the heavy bombers in a breeze and preparing to fulfill their preparatory duties. The Killians had next to nothing when it came to an aerial presence, their only fighter units being the broken remnants of their naval squadrons based all the way at Targul Frumos, but even so an escort had been provided, and though Paloma didn’t believe they would be needed, she felt amazingly comfortable every time she looked through the glass and saw one of her Valkyrie escorts. The Killian’s had also slacked on air defenses from what intel knew, compared to the defenses thrown up by the Macabeans, the Killians had next to no SAM or radar coverage, but they did have some coverage which is why the Rain were tagging along.

The F/A-128 Rain fighter-bombers were outfitted as wild weasel aircraft for the day. Paloma watched them on her display as they darted into the Aurillac area. Paloma yelled when the Rain started multiplying on her screen, symbolizing missile launches, earning herself a curious look from her co-pilot ad then winning a laugh out of him. She wished she still piloted a fighter like a Rain so she could get into action like she was watching on her screen. Tracing the missiles as they left their platforms she smiled every time one disappeared into the ground on her screen knowing it meant another SAM launcher was out of action, but then a Rain got blotched from her screen, and then another. She listened to the Rain’s little battle unfold over her radio but she was unable to talk to them, silence had to be kept. The action continued, Rain and Sam launchers duking it out, so far it looked like the Rain had the upper hand but they were paying a price for it, but then again so were the Killian’s for neglecting the air.

“Adent go, Adent go.” The call came out from the E-33 Watchman which had been keeping track of the whole battle. Paloma couldn’t respond but knew what it meant, the E-33 was informing the flight that the air defense system had been sufficiently beat down and that they could continue their mission. Paloma began gently banking her beast of an aircraft so that its nose lined up with Aurillac and then waited, her palms getting sweaty. The Killian air defense system wasn’t out of the woods yet as a fourth Rain squadron shot in to mop up any Killian SAM’s that might have flipped on now thinking the attack was over. Paloma could only hope and pray that the E-33 was right, and that whatever defenses the Killians had had been put down.

The waiting was the worst, they weren’t that far out but the closer they got the longer time seemed to take. After the action that had been going on all day things became eerily calm through this point of the mission as they neared the city. Then, 20 miles out Paloma began to pull back on the stick sending the Arkbird into a sharp climb. Flashing to life a light on the control panel began madly blinking right before a short alarm sounded. “Fuck, SAM launch!” Paloma’s co-pilot began flicking at controls on the panel letting out countermeasures to deal with the incoming threat while Paloma continued climbing. The missile fought through the countermeasures and jamming and continued heading for Paloma’s Arkbird. She quickly leveled off the Arkbird before jerking it to the left and launching a SLID pod. The tiny interceptor missiles swarmed the SAM detonating it before it could hit the Arkbird, but then a second SAM shot in and exploded feet away from the Arkbird’s body showering the giant with shrapnel. The huge plane shuddered from the impact which threw Paloma’s co-pilots face into the controls and broke his noise. Paloma’s finally started breathing again after holding her breath while making the maneuver and then grabbed the stick again to regain control of the aircraft. As big as an Arkbird was, a single SAM with a fragmentation warhead wasn’t going to take it down. “Andres, open up the doors, we’re almost there.” She called back to the weapons controller he sat over his own control panel.

Slowly the massive bomb bay doors began to open up just as they reached the cities outskirts. Tracers started rising up from the remarkably intact looking city, stitching the sky with bullets. After coming in contact with a missile she wasn’t to worried about flak fire, although she did feel like she was piloting a B-17 over Germany. She still had to wait even though they were over the city, they had to get deeper in, all the way to the cities center. The plane never stopped shaking the whole way, flak bursts racked the aircraft the whole way in. Then, a heavy 155mm shell struck an EB-9, touching off the 90,000 lbs of ordnance the plane carried into a massive ball of flame that sank to the ground below. The cities center started coming up…there.

What happened next would in some peoples mind be a war crime, but Haven would always justify it as happening after “Fedala” struck Haven’s cities first causing hundreds of civilian casualties. The Arkbirds and EB-9’s were filled with bombs, most of which were unguided. The first bomb dropped was one of its kind on the mission, it was semi guided and it was massive, fifteen thousand lbs of ONC explosives guided into the cities center. It served no point other than physiological, the bomb would raise a mushroom cloud over the city that those fighting south of it would be able to see. The bombs explosion was like a signal and the other planes began dropping their much smaller bombs, everything ranging from ONC HE bombs to incendiary thermite bombs. They all were destined to accomplish the same thing, to destroy the city, flatten it to the ground. The city served as HailandKill’s logistical hub, all the supplies and reinforcements that went to H&K’s armies went through Aurillac, the city housed most of H&K’s logistical personel, the command structure for the army and the grand majority of the armies artillery was based inside the city. The city would die, and along with it so would the Killian armies south of the city who needed it, the city would be destroyed by two thousand tons of explosives and incendiaries.

Paloma gently banked away from the city and accelerated, she had no wish to stick around longer than she had to, and as excited as she had been earlier to do the deed, after doing it she felt sick. She left behind the wreckage of two dozen Rain and EB-9 aircraft, and a burning city. Her damaged Arkbird couldn’t keep up with the others as they hit afterburner and sped away, so she was able to watch below as gun flashes marked the beginning of a massive artillery bombardment, she just shook her head.



“Holy shit.” The mini mushroom cloud couldn’t compete with one coming from a nuclear warhead but Colonel Marcos Berret didn’t know the difference, all he knew was that a mushroom cloud was rising over Aurillac. Soon enough the ground began to shake as the reverberations from the bombs raced outwards from the city. He waited and listened, half wishing he could see the sight for himself. He listened in amazement till the reverberations stopped and then he hopped into his KAR-45 and began to do his part. He opened up his units comm. Net and gave the order, “Commence firing.” His KAR-45 let loose its twelve 250mm HE rockets before driving away, all around him hundreds of other rockets and hundreds more shells rose up and headed towards Aurillac. The rockets and shells impacted on supply dumps and artillery positions that weren’t in the city. It had been decided, the breakthrough would come at Aurillac.


Urseline

The infantry in the town had slowly been pulling back until they saw the mini-mushroom cloud rise over Aurillac. The cloud at first shocked and froze everyone in the town, but then it put a certain steel in the hearts of the Havenite infantry. Nobody knew what was going on in Aurillac except for the fact that it probably did not exist anymore, although it didn’t die in nuclear fire like many in Urseline thought. Every reverberation that shot out through the ground from Aurillac up the legs of the men fighting in Urseline gave them more strength, and what was a slow retreat became an advance. The ten thousand infantrymen of the 62th infantry that were in Urseline advanced forward into the coming Killian troops, hoping the mushroom cloud over Aurillac had the opposite effect on the Killian’s. Grenades and quick bursts of automatic fire marked the fighting. The Havenic infantry in their dirtied full body battle armor dived into Killian occupied buildings heading straight for the stairwells. Most of the degenerated into hand to hand combat where the battle armor would prove to be an advantage. The 62nd paid heavily for what it was doing, close in combat had a way of making itself bloody, but even so the 62nd had finally stopped moving back and was now trying to push the Killians out of Urseline’s other end. The divisions artillery, now unafraid of counter battery with Aurillac and the guns it held flattened, opened up full force on the Killian side of town. 150 of the divisions guns and rocket launchers opened up with HE 250 and 175mm fire blasting the far side of town. The fire couldn’t get to close to the front as there wasn’t a clear line marking it, it was to blurry, but they could get the rest of the town and so they fired indiscriminately into those area’s in definite Killian control.

Outside of the town the 62nds mobile elements did the opposite. Down to fifty KAF-90 tanks from the original 100 that could still move and with the IFV’s and APC’s down to three hundred from the original five they were in no shape to advance. The 50 tanks and three hundred APCs/IFV’s started moving backwards as fast as they could, leaving behnd 18 KAF-90’s who had had their treads shot to pieces. They never stopped firing, the KAF-90’s blasted away with their much bigger guns, the massive shells easily tearing apart the thin skinned light Wolverine tanks but there were so many more Wolverines than KAF-90’s, and while with the IFV’s an APC’s added on it was an equal numerically but the IFV’s were to the Wolverines what the Wolverines were to the KAF-90’s. They fired off their ATGM’s at any Wolverines they saw, the MAT-21 missile they carried being more than capable of taking out the Wolverines, but their main guns focused on other targets aiming for any SOV-06’s. As the KAF-90’s backed up the range became longer between them and the Wolverines and their losses started going down, the lighter Wolverine guns could penetrate a KAF-90 up close but didn’t have the power to do so further away, while the KAF-90’s bigger main gun did.

The KAF-90’s that had been left behind worked as strong points, and as a buffer. They let loose everything they had, their 140mm guns chewed up the Wolverines, and now their coaxial 20mm guns also joined in, at the ranges they were at the AP rounds the 20mm guns fired would at least mission kill a Wolverine if not take it out. Whenever Killian infantry tried to mount the tanks or got to close WASP packets on the tanks armor began firing off, each “Packet” holding over two thousand flechettes that were whipped outwards at extreme speeds. They were designed to explode incoming missiles, but they could just as easily tear apart infantry that came to close. They sold their lives dearly, holding up the Wolverines as long as they could, the longer the Wolverines were busy with the crippled KAF-90’s the longer the range became between them and the main force and the less effective their smaller guns would be.


The air force was to preoccupied to come to the 62nd’s help so the only help from the skies the 62nd could expect would be from its own gun ships. Twelve of the divisions V-82 gunships took off to hold ff the Killian armor and perhaps turn the battle outside the city into a stalemate. The twelve gunships stayed low, without any Killian radar in the area they would have no idea what was coming. The gunships used Urseline as cover hiding behind the Havenite side of the town so that the Killian armor on the town’ side couldn’t see them until they shot out in front of them. The moved quickly, spitting out shell after armor piercing shell from their 40mm cannon and targeting as many armored vehicles as they could with their AT missiles. They never stopped, they just flew right over firing as they went till they were past the Killian vehicles. They then took up position about four miles away and turned around to face Urseline and the Killian armor. From four miles away they fired off the last of their AT missiles at the Killian Wolverines and SOV-06’s before dropping back down to the ground. They flew around in a large semi circle to the other side of town, staying four miles away. Once on the other side of town they popped up again and started firing their 40mm cannons at any Killians they could see. They fired for a few seconds before dropping back down again and repeating the process popping up in a different spot again. The 62nd was being killed by attrition but that didn’t mean Urseline couldn’t be turned into a stalemate, because in a few days the cavalry was coming.

Air War over Aurillac

The Killian F-22’s didn’t bother trying to hide themselves as they flew into the skies. The problem was they were coming in as if they wanted to be seen, just like the last time the Killian air force sortied, and the last time the did that they were trying to cover up a flight of fighters below them. This time the radar systems and AWAC’s birds were looking for a second flight of aircraft but even though they were looking they would have a hard time finding it.

The Killian fighters that were known about had to be destroyed, they were the last of the Killian air force and it was time for that presence to go away. The Killian’s were using fighters and weaponry that if not obsolete was obsolescent, fighters that could be and where about to be engaged from ranges they could not answer to. When the top flight of Killian fighters was 150 km from the Havenite army before Aurillac, the mobile ADLP-8 Celtic SAM systems that accompanied the army began lighting up. There were dozens of the platforms stationed with the army and each platform had its own compliment of missiles. Nearly three hundred SAM’s rose up to meet the Killian F-22’s head on, and more followed the closer the Killian’s got. Behind the SAM’s and the army a fighter force gathered to meet the Killian’s. Nine squadrons of Valkyrie fighters and one of F-121 interceptors, 120 fighters in all, stood seventy kilometers behind the SAM’s and the army. From two hundred kilometers away, a little after the SAM’s started launching, they received their final targeting data from the AWAC’s birds controlling the whole battle and they fired a massive volley hoping to end the Killian threat once and for all. Six Divinebolt missiles were fired from each plane, making for a total of for missiles aimed at each F-22. Behind the missiles the Valkyrie’s and F-121’s slowly turned around and went just fast enough to stay out of range of the Killian’s.

The lower flight of F-22’s went undetected through the launch even though they were being searched for. They weren’t detected until they were making their way right over the army and its SAM platforms. The Celtics began splitting their fire between the top layer and the bottom layer of F-22’s, shooting at any Killian aircraft they could see. The Valkyries and F-121’s began firing off their medium range Artemis missiles. Dozens of the missiles tried to take the Killians down, but before they could strike the Killian’s launched their own missiles. The missiles oddly enough didn’t target the fighters but kept on going until they locked on to the big AWAC’s birds further back. The E-33 Watchmen turned their radars off and their jammer’s up trying to save themselves from the incoming missiles. The E-33’s tried to run and dive at the same time but their big bodies as nimble as they were could not outrun the Killian missiles. Four of the big AWAC’s birds were shot down in quick succession, taking away the control center in the air.

Killian Five Division Attack

Tens of thousands were dieing all over the country, but for Lieutenant Marcos it could have been just another summer day at exercises in Northern Haven. The sun was shining and the cloudless sky reflected a beautiful, deceptive, blue. His squad slowly came to a halt on top of a hill and piled out of the two KAI-40B IFV’s. Marcos climbed up on top of his Super Fox with a pair of binoculars in hand, scanning the horizon once he got up there. They stayed for a little over a minute scanning the area all around. As hard as Marcos looked he didn’t see anything. He shrugged, put his binoculars away and then called out, “Alrite, mount back up, let move out.” He slid in the top of his Super Fox so his shoulder still stuck out and he could still get a view of the surroundings as they began to drive away. “Stop!” Marcos banged on the top of the Super Fox as he said it until the vehicle came to a stop. Something had caught his eye, he didn’t know what it was but he figured he might as well give it a look, he had nothing better to do. He scanned the area again, this time he found something. “Luke, we got ourselves a few Killian tanks, not much but figure we’re going to have to stay here for a bit and watch.” The guy below him in the vehicle nodded and started radioing back what they saw to the higher ups. That was their whole job, patrolling the army’s flank for enemies, enemies which they rarely found.

They waited and watched few a minutes until they couldn’t anymore. The few Killian Wolverine tanks quickly materialized into dozens, then hundreds and finally thousands of vehicles all across the horizon. When it finally became apparent that this was an all out assault on the army’s flank Marcos ordered his patrol out of the area, an order no one complained about.



“…multi division attack, if not an entire corp, 6th armored to form up alongside the 3rd…” The message came up clearly through the brigade’s comnet. “Ain’t that a bitch.” “Yes it is.” Reuen couldn’t help but agree as his Badger HMBT turned around, joining the rest of the 6th armored. The 6th, 3rd and 4th armored began breaking away from the rest of the army, this was to be an armored battle, a mobile battle. The rest of the army kept moving south, away from the battle, but towards a new one. The 3rd, 4th and 6th armored brigades had started the war with three thousand tanks between them, three thousand tanks and another 2,250 APC’s and IFV’s. 371 Badger HMBT’s had been destroyed since the fighting began around Aurillac, and another 612 were to damaged to stay and fight, instead continuing with the army south until they could receive repairs. The remaining tanks, down almost a third from their prewar strength, formed up and waited for the Killian’s to run into their wall.

Waiting for anything is hard. As a kid waiting for Christmas morning was unbearable, so unbearable that you had almost no choice but to search out those gifts ahead of time. As an adult and a tanker you couldn’t just look for the gifts a day early, you had to wait, and the waiting sapped away at the adrenaline that filled every ones blood when the reports first filled the radio. The radio was now silent except for the occasional cursing of the Killian’s for taking their time. If you went by a clock the time that passed from when the order to form up went out and when the Killian’s showed up was barely noticeable but if you went by the mental clock in every tankers brain it was an eternity.

The eternal wait had to end at some point and when it did it ended with a bang. When the first Killian tank’s began showing up the Badgers went into action, almost needlessly. “Stolt…load my gun.” Reuben half whispered the command as he looked for targets. The first sighting were almost like a lie, the wait had not ended. Even though Ruska was almost designed for tank combat with its low, unobstructed ground and small rolling hills, it was still to hard to see over four kilometers without your line of sight being obstructed, and so they had to wait until the Killian’s got closer. The closer they got the better the view. Reuben waited until a Killian Wolverine filled his sights 4.2 kilometers away. “Fire!…whoo sonofabitch that’s a hit. New target, Wolfie, 152, blow his fucking brains out.” Another shell got slammed into the breach of the massive 155mm ETC cannon mounted on the Badger. The powerful 155mm ETC cannon could shred a Wolverine from ranges longer than four kilometers, the only thing holding it back being line of sight problems. The 155mm cannon could shred a Wolverine, which was almost as lightly armored as an IFV or an APC but the tiny 105mm gun on the Wolverine would barely scratch a Badger at long or even medium range. The Wolverine was not a MBT, it was not designed for tank on tank combat, and until the Killian’s got themselves a real MBT they would suffer horrendous casualties.

All up and down the imaginary line that marked Haven’s side of the field, the two thousand Badgers unloaded on the advancing Killians. Between them their smaller IFV and APC brethren rippled off ATGM’s and LOSAT’s to help cut down the Killian horde coming at them. Then the artillery began coming down, fourty batteries of KAG’s, 480 175mm guns, and 10 batteries of KAR-45’s, 120 launchers, began firing on the advancing Killian’s, walking their fire forward with the Killian advance as their forward spotters walked their lasers with them. High explosive rounds bracketed Killian vehicles, while more “innocent” shells seemed to disappear in the air above while secretly spreading dozens of tiny mines big enough to blow the tracks off a vehicle. Unlike normal protocol, the guns didn’t stop firing every few salvoes to move positions, they had nothing to fear. The Killian’s had lost most of their KAG’s in Aurillac, the fear of counter battery didn’t exist anymore and so they fired steadily, making the bombardment all the more deadlier as the guns did not have to take breaks.

Inside the Badgers the ratchet from the battle outside was deafening, the only reason commands were still heard was because of the radio’s inside each vehicle and in each crewman’s ear. “Target, Wolverine, 144…fire!.” The big main gun rudely belched out another round with enough power that it sent all 95 tons of the tank lurching backwards. Just as the tank settled back down a resounding Clang! rang through the tanks insides. Reubens head rang as well as he figured out what had just happened. He didn’t bother trying to find which tank had targeted him, in the mass of armor in front of him it was nearly impossible to pick out a certain one from the rest.

The battle continued, the Killian’s had a long way to go through withering fire to get close enough for their guns to be effective, hopefully to long. But by that same token, the Havenic armor was in no position to counter attack, outnumbered, getting in close with the Wolverine’s would even the odds, or perhaps even tip them the other way. But it didn’t matter, all that was needed was a stalemate, because the cavalry was coming up and quick.


KAG Battery

While most of the artillery batteries remained silent or fired at various Killian army positions, twenty batteries of guns received a special assignment. Satellite recon showed Killian forces trying to recover supplies from underground storage dumps that seemed to have survived, and it also showed tens of thousands of Macabean infantry pouring into the city from the north. The guns were assigned the simple task of stopping that. A handful of UAV’s were sent into the air over Aurillac to provide real time data on what was going on in the broken city. The UAV’s and satellites hunted for any signs of surviving supply dumps, or Killian’s moving supplies. A mixture of weapons were used to pound any surviving supplies and/or Killians in the city, from Thermobraic warheads to literally incinerate and crush people, to HE and AP to break into underground supply dumps. Then there were the mines, many of the guns fired mine laden shells all over the city, targeting especially exits and entrances and major roadways that would still be ruble covered. Any surviving supplies in the city would not be allowed to be used by the Killian army, nor would any new supplies be allowed to move through.

Southern Ruska

Ruska had once been a major trading spot, goods flowed north, south, east and west from Ruska, the province that connected three empires, or two and a nation. Goods and material had always flowed through the province in massive numbers, although the war had cut deep into that flow, replacing what remained with the flow of military goods. Now that flow was about to jump back up to pre-war levels. The 6th army along with two corps out of the 9th and five armored divisions had been moved into Northern Haven and Southern Ruska and prepared to make a trip north, and now they began to make it. The transportation net in Southern Ruska remained almost pristine, no major fighting had occurred in the area and neither side had bothered to damage the net, a gift to the Havenic armies. On top of that, several new railheads were pushed north by army engineers, entirely built to service the army. Every train going northward was reserved entirely for the military, and every train was filled to the rim and then some. The roadways were jammed with trucks carrying supplies north the old fashioned way, while in the air hundreds of cargo helicopters and planes made a short jump north, not daring to come to close to the front, but getting close enough to make the drive for the men inside nothing. No chances were being taken, heavy SAM sites had been established in Havenic Ruska since it had been taken over, not the little Celtic SAM’s but heavier long ranged SAM’s, and they were set up in the hundreds. Overhead, any fighters that could be spared, and there were many of those, were sent to protect the movement north.

The Havenite forces in Ruska had never numbered over 300,000 combat troops, with logistical forces they had been pushing a million, but combat wise they were vastly outnumbered by the Macabean and Killian armies. Now though over a million troops, a million combat troops, made their way to Aurillac, while up north another corp made the trip towards Mosnoi Bor to help stem the advance their. The divisions and corps moving north were much different then their counterparts already in Ruska, reforms had been made after watching the combat that took place in Ruska, and the new divisions were bringing with them these reforms. More SAM’s, more helicopters and VTOL aircraft, newly organized armored divisions, and now, a compliment of UHBT’s. It would take days for everything to be brought up, even with the massive amount of transportation available, but the effects of the move would be felt after the first day as the first units began arriving at the front. Even though the corp in front of Aurillac was currently falling back, the blow was still planned to fall at Aurillac. With Aurillac destroyed behind them the Killians had lost their transportation and supply hub, something that could not be replaced fully for weeks if not months, something that was needed to feed and arm the millions of Killian’s south of the city. The war in Ruska was expanding exponentially, from being a clash between neighbors, to the focal point in a war between a dozen powers and superpowers and with that kind of expansion something major had to be achieved.

Aurillac
"Debíah, go stand in line while I head over to the tailor." Her daughter willingly complied, understanding the dire straits the whole city was. Just across the river the largest Havenic army deployed in the world was fighting for control of the city against an equally as large Killian behemoth. Due to the constraints and need to feed the troops the city had been put under a seperate rations plan than the rest of the Empire. For the past month or so she and her daughter had only been able to eat two pieces of stale bread a day and two bowls of rice. Her husband had been evacuated from the city as he was to be conscripted into the ground army. She truly thought that her days were numbered. It wouldn't be long before the hordes of the enemy broke through and engulfed the city, slaughtering everything just like the Crusaders slaughtered Muslim, Jew and Christian alike in Jerusalem.

As she made her way to the tailor, who was around a block away, she tried to put it all behind her. Filtrate all the bad news from her head. But she still worried about Debíah, knowing that she would be out of her sight for the next hour or so. But there wasn't any other way it could be. The food lines were long and Debíah normally waited in line in the morning so that her mother could do things elsewhere. It was the only way anything could be done effeciently in this God forsaken city. She finally saw the building she was looking for and walked in while opening the door. The tailor saw her and greeted, "Hello Rebek." She smiled back and he said, "Just a few more weeks until this siege is broken and we can finally walk freely through this beautiful city."

It was a beautiful city. The center was heavily influenced by the Baroque culture, and the multitude of Imperial palaces built during the 18th and 19th centuries manifested that. The business sector was more neo-classical than Baroque, but it was equally as beautiful. Smaller rivers stemming from the Styx were bridged by high arching bridges of concrete, patterned with lovely lamp posts and ornate designs. Small boats that resembled gondolas used to dot the tributaries, carying tourists and citizens alike through romantic sailings. The more modern business sector was dominated by buildings over two hundred meters tall, and some even taller! Even with the sudden gloom that came as a consequence of the war the city still professed majesty and was a testament to the beauty the Empire once was. This city was home to over twenty-three million people, and since the city over another four million had flocked in from the country side - if they were too late to escape north. In other words, the city was packed with over twenty-seven million people. Recently more air shelters had been erected, detracting from the general beauty of the sorroundings, but only twelve million or so could possibly felt in the air raid shelters. It was a tragedy.

Rebek nodded and replied, "If only dear sir. But I must be on my way, as there are a lot things that need to get done today."

The other man shook his head, "Of course my dear. You came for your dress correct?"

She smiled and answered, "Yes. Here is thirty Reichmarks for your work."

He rolled her hand back up and said, "Your money is no good here." With that he handed her the dress and despite her protests he turned around and walked back into another room. Touched she smiled and left the money on the counter. He would have to pick it up later. She was not the type of women to take favors from men, especially since she was married! She suddenly heard a whine in the distance and turned her head. The other man came out quickly too and he said, "Did you hear that?"

The whine got louder. It was an air raid siren. She was petrified and the tailor took her hand and dragged her out of his store. "We need to get to a shelter!"

Pulling away she yelled, "NO! Debíah!" She turned for the other direction to look for her daughter and turned into the street where the local food was served. What she saw was everyone running in seperate directions and no way she could see through the crowd. But she remained unpeturbed and pushed through the people to look for her daughter. She didn't have much time. Suddenly she was taken aback and she literally flew backwards as dozens of shockwaves pummeled through her thin, petite body. When she finally got back up all she could see was dust and the dead. She ran into the dust, despite other's protests and began to look through the bodies and around her. Her eyes fell on the cadaver of a young girl and she fell on her knees next to her daughter and begun to cry.

Taking her daughter's scarred and torn body in her arms she yelled out loud, "To hell with you!" As if from God himself she could see another object in the sky moving towards her. But she was no longer afraid. She was no longer a mortal. The high explosive tore into the ground, lifting her up and forcing her to let go of her daughter. The primary wave tore her upper torso from her hips and she was instantly murdered by yet another Havenic bomb. She became another statistic.

Of the twenty-seven million that once populated the city that very same day twenty one million and sixty thousand soles were lost. Over three-fourths of the population. About ninety percent of the dead died almost instantly, the others died a slow, painful death that could not be averted. Any medical personnel that served with the Ejermacht were murdered as well. All in all over twenty-three million people died in Aurillac, and over three-fourths of the city was erased from the map. The once imperial baroque styled buildings were turned into charred rubble, their black scars manifesting the pain the city had suddenly been inflicted with. The huge modern buildings crumpled like paper on the brute force of bombs and they came crashing down on the wounded, mudering just as many innocent people as the bombs themselves had. The city had been turned into a wasteland.

I-90 Railroad
Soldier Pater Meníek could see it all from his cabin, and his face drooped. The city he had once called home was suddenly gone after no more than ten minutes worth of bombings. His wife, Debek, and his daughter Debíah were in there. He silently hoped for their lives, unknowing of their certain deaths. But his resolve grew and his face tightened with rage. The Havenic hordes would soon know who he was and who he fought for. His train continued on its way, undisturbed by the slaughter. Three new infantry divisions were being inserted into the city - he only had twenty more minutes and he could see his wife and daughter. It was all a forlong dream now. But the future of SafeHaven was a forlong dream as well. For them, from this day forward, there would be no future. Only death. Misery. Genocide.

Pater turned his head to see the political comissar doing his handy work. He only listened to strings of the speech but he heard the important parts, "They murder our people without care of the innocent. They slaughter your children and your wives and your brothers and your fathers and mothers. Are you now ready to die for your Empire!"

He joined his countless of comrades and shouted, "Aye!" If the Havenic hordes broke through the Killian lines infront of Aurillac they would be faced by thousands upon thousands of die hard Imperial soldiers within the city. They had made it into a haven for guerilla warfare and now they would pay for their deed. If they broke through the entire Havenic army would be buried at Aurillac, just as they buried the entire population of the city under their bombs and rubble. While he thought of his deeds of pain the train steamed foward. Death. Misery. Slaughter.

Aftermath: Killian Aurillac

The once gorgeous Ruskan city had been utterly demolished by Havenite bombing. What was once a sprawling center of urban activity was now a hellish crater filled with rubble, bricks, mortar, and dead bodies. The change from paradise to hell had taken place after only one bombing run, a bombing run that no Killian survivor was going to let Haven get away with, especially since most of the Killians in the city were unarmed logistics personnel. Many of the Killians were medics, mechanics, cooks, engineers and other civilian type jobs. These unarmed men were all dead now, the result of intense, unprovoked bombing by SafeHaven.

The men on the lines encircling the city had no idea of the bombing runs until the first SAM missiles streaked into the air, and even then the men were unaware of the carnage about to happen. The first bombs to hit the city shocked the people inhabiting it, and the look of shock did not fade off their faces; but rather many men died with that look upon their face. When the first bombs stuck the city the men on the lines figured out what was about to happen and immediately made themselves scarce in their trench systems. The trench system dug out by Killian soldiers was the only saving grace for them and it would preserve almost all of the combat troop's lives. The men in the city did not have that luxury, and as the bombs fell on Aurillac it wasn’t the bombs that exploded, but the buildings. The exploding buildings sent debris everywhere killing civilians and Killians alike. The people operating posts out of the buildings themselves did not feel a thing as unguided bombs immediately killed them. The men directly in the city streets that were patrolling the streets and tending to civilian and Killian needs were not spared a quick death. Many of these people were decapitated by flying debris and shrapnel, left to die an agonizing death. The city streets were filled with limbs and blood, desecrating the minds of survivors forever.

However, from a military standpoint, the loss of human life mattered very little to the loss of supplies and leadership. Later on in the war, Killian generals would figure that the bombing run on Aurillac had ulterior motives than outright civilian and Killian killing. The Havenite motives were definitely based around logistically crippling Aurillac and its surrounding armies. From a certain standpoint, the Havenite bombers had done their job, and it was evident in the burning fuel dumps and the exploding ammunition centers. These depots were burning all throughout Aurillac, and when they exploded they killed even more people on top of the Havenite bombs. Despite the number that the Havenites did on human bodies and supply lines, there still were surviving ammunition and fuel dumps hidden in the basements of large buildings and houses. The depots were still standing but they would take a few hours to dig out. Aurillac, for the most part, had just been turned into a cesspool of death and wasted munitions.

Outside Aurillac, Killian Lines

Most of the command staff of Aurillac had been killed in Haven bombing. Despite the loss of the highest rungs of the chain of command, the divisions stationed at Aurillac kept under strict order, with Division COs taking martial command. The effectiveness of Killian officer training had saved the day again, and was probably the only good thing to come out of the wanton destruction of Aurillac. With many of the division commanders taking strict control, they kept their men in the trenches when and while the Havenite Kag fire started and pressed on. When the secondary artillery attack had ended, not many men were dead, and the only direct result of the Kag Attack was the Havenite waste of munitions. For the next few hours the men surrounding Aurillac had not to worry about the Havenite military attacks, but salvaging any remaining supplies and digging out survivors. The men currently fighting had to now worry about the Havenite military presence solely by themselves.

Outside Mons Dei, The Empire

Jimmy Wilson was on top of his tank slowly smoking a cigarette, something he had not been able to enjoy since the beginning of the battle of Mons Dei. The influx of cigarettes was courtesy of re-supply operations taking place around the clock outside of Mons Dei. Massive amounts of C-5 Galaxies were flying in and out on make shift runways in the fields. The massive transports would unload their cargo and take off headed back north to the homeland, only to re-fuel, pick up supplies, and fly south again. When they landed back at Mons Dei, they would unload again, and restart the cycle. With the influx of transports came the influx of new weaponry on top of munitions and luxury items. The Galaxies were flying in with new Hali-42 Assault rifles, a "toy" many of the Panzergrenadiers enjoyed immensely. Not only was weaponry flied in, but battlesuits as well. The men in their downtime were learning the intricacies of these new items of battle, and grew to these items. With the new battlefield "goodies" being flied in, armor and APCs were also being flied onto the make shift airstrips around Mons Dei. The Arca A Cougar and Arca II personnel carriers were being flied in around the clock to make up armor gaps lost during the battle of Mons Dei, as well as to replace the older, obsolete pieces of armor.

The survivors enjoyed these new items of battle as much as they enjoyed battle itself. However with these new supplies came replacements, something the veterans hated. These newbie's, looking for combat, would never understand the horrors that the veterans had faced. The newbie's were viewed as inferior until they proved themselves and due to this logic, Wilson was watching hordes of replacements unload the Galaxies. Wilson smiled as the men struggled to prove themselves outside the rigors of battle.

However, Wilson's eyes drifted over to the entourage of high ranking officers coming his way. When he noticed the president in the midst of the officers Wilson hopped off his new tank, flicked his cigarette and waited at attention. Revello approached him and immediately put him at ease before saying,

"Wilson, Aurillac has been bombed to the ground. The command staff is most likely dead, and many infantrymen are trying to dig out the city as we speak. I cannot lead our forces here into battle, and I am turning command to you. After this I am going to conference with The Emperor and then leave, so this is the last time you will see me. "

Wilson listened intently, and his face showed the reluctantness of taking responsibility of twenty thousand men again. He was still boyish, and desired to be commanded not to command. Despite Wilson's looks Revello continued,

"You have done wonders at Mons Dei, and I do not expect you to do any less here. I know you are capable, and if you ever doubt yourself, don’t forget to look on your uniform. You earned that medal for a reason soldier. Good luck Wilson."

The president saluted and headed back off in the way he came. Wilson angrily lit up another cigarette before storming back to his tank.

Imperial Command Bunker, Outside Wiegar

It had taken sometime to locate Fedor, but Revello had found him. He approached the man in his usual calm demeanor, despite the rage coursing through his body. Revello spoke first,

"No doubt you have heard of what happened at Aurillac. We need to talk Fedor…"

East of Safehaven

The mass of UCSNE vessels located in the ‘safe waters’ as command had deemed them, were rife with activity though battle was still thousands of miles away. The roar of aircraft engines punctuated the night, and the air around the ships was filled with radio waves and LIDAR beams.

And inside the troopships, soldiers tried to deal with their conditions. Though not extremely cramped, being cooped up inside a vessel for weeks was hardly an appetizing prospect.

Closing the cover on his fourth detective-thriller novel, Archdecurion John Carlos muttered an obscenity on his breath and then tossed the paperback into his kit bag. It was the last book he’d brought, and he’d underestimated the speed at which he’d finish the volumes. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, and then dragged himself into a sitting position. Deciding the bunkroom cards did not interest him, he made his way up towards the deck of the vessel.

As a tanker who spent his time within the confines of a Lionhound III, he did not particularly mind the idea of being in cramped confines. But for weeks? Even the most hardcore tanker shuddered at the thought. Clambering up the steep naval stairs, he joined the soldiers lingering on the deck of his transport vessel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw rapid motion, and thinking it was a missile of some kind, he flinched.

A loud bang, more hollow than the sharp crack of the rifles soldiers carried, sounded across the vast ocean, and whatever was moving burst into a cloud of dust. Down aft, a soldier lowered his shotgun, crunching the pump and adding another empty casing to the respectable pile by his feet. Ambling over towards the group of skeet-shooters, he looked for recognition, checking a hat and looking for the right symbology.

Ah, joyriders.

Such was the derisive tanker slang for those soldiers who rode to battle in the Legion’s armored vehicles. Unlikely a tanker would bring down a combat shotgun

“PULL!”

Another clay pigeon zipped over the ocean, and another shotgun spread snapped out to catch it.

That was how war was supposed to be. You saw the enemy, you pointed your weapon at him, pulled a trigger or pressed a button; he blew up. Such were the claims of the defense industry, but that was not how most of the nation’s wars were fought. You rarely got to the other part, where you were the pigeon and the other guy had the shotgun. Tankers hadn’t rolled out into real conflict for quite some time now. Most of the wars fought now were the sanitized, BVR duels of ships and tanks. And infantry? In a major action? Not for a long, long time.

This would be the first time New Empire would take arms against any of the nations that were now it’s adversaries.

He asked if he could take a go at the shotgun. You had to start learning some time.

Orbit

AEGIS-TWO’s shining, anti-laser coated hull flashed at them in reflected sunlight as the crew of the Bravo Two, as the multipurpose military spaceplane was designated, prepared to bring the vessel in for a final replenishment docking. In the rush to get a delivery platform in orbit, SpaceForCom had neglected to provide a full load of armament and ammunition groundside. Maneuvering thrusters gave out a few final jets before the airlocks clunked together. The AEGIS-TWO crew gave them a confirmation message, and soon the lead WSO and another officer had made their way into the station itself.

Within a few hours, AEGIS had provided them with the few missiles and railgun rounds they hadn’t been launched with. Bravo Two’s mission was quite simple. To find and engage any enemy infrastructure in orbit, using primarily its 50mm railgun awkwardly mounted in its cargo bay. Though a simple ASAT may have been better, the fact remained that the Macs or their cohorts could have space PDS just as good as the UCSNE spent on its major satellites and stations, and there was no point throwing expensive ASAT missiles or using ineffective laser fire on reflective-armored satellites. This was a real war, and no pennies would be pinched so an impotent weapons system or strategy could be fielded. Such was the hope anyway.

But space warfare was still a very new thing. Too much room for the unexpected, said many. But it was the best shot they had for the first real orbital engagements outside UCSNE ‘space’.

Stevid Capita

A strong wind buffeted the converted Boeing 747-400 as it levelled out for its final approach run into one of the major airports of the Stevid Capital. Four F-22A Raptors of the 22nd Interceptor Wing were on station around the aircraft and had been for the past hour.

Onboard President Anderson strapped into his plush leather seat and began going over his briefing notes once more. This would be the first time he would meet the Stevid Prime Minister face to face, although the pair had spoken at length via other means of communication since the crisis had started some time before. Only the President, numerous military aides and Secret Service Agents flew onboard the aircraft. The press had to find their own way being deemed a security risk as well as a general annoyance to the leaders of the country that flew on this and the five other aircraft like it.

Rain was falling as the aircraft taxied to its position ten minutes later. All around the airport heavy security measures were in place that marked the dangerous times that the two nations found themselves in.

The Presidential Motorcade drove up to the steps and the President hurriedly alighted from the aircraft and the convoy moved off. Secret Service Agents allowed themselves to relax slightly, Stevid security forces were in obvious attendance on the cleared streets that they sped through en route to the Stevid War Cabinet room.


Unknown Airbase in SafeHaven2, near Qana

Twenty Four F-15E Strike Eagles sat in rough sandbag revetments in a rough line on the concrete reserve taxiway of the airbase. A pair of P-3C Orion’s sat further along out in the open but with two AS-1M missiles clearly visible on each wing. Two others were already patrolling the sea lanes in advance of the first convoy carrying heavy equipment whilst the E-3C’s were in the air exercising with their large roto-domes sending millions of hertz of electrical energy into the air.

They were the first to detect nine similar aircraft to their own that came in from the sea and began a slow descent down into the same airbase that they themselves had launched from. They were also modified Boeing 707’s, however instead of the air-search radar carried by the AWAC’s these carried ground search radars allowing them to track traffic patterns as wells ground vehicle locations. The modified TWM-1’s would be heading closer to the front within a couple of days, reports of a large Macabean counter attack would mean that they would have plenty of columns to detect and mark for attack by Allied Tactical Aircraft. At the least they would be given tactical surveillance by the large number of Darkstar and Predator drones that were being flown into country.



Qana, Main Port Facilities

Most Havenite shipping had been cleared from the main loading/offloading areas in anticipation of the arrival of the first IH and Stevid convoys bringing in troops and equipment, not to mention the supplies to keep the forces in the field.

The best part of a Regiment of Infantry had been helicoptered to the shore to set up advanced CP’s and assembly points for the trucks, tanks and fighting vehicles that would roll off of the large ships. They watched as the first of the large RO/RO ships pulled up the to the quay, quickly dropping its stern ramp as the deckcrew moved efficiently to tie her up at the deepwater pier. Barely ten minutes after she was secure the first Challenger II Main Battle Tank rolled off the ramp and moved quickly along the quay in accordance with directions. The Challengers were regarded as the Heavy Tanks in the IH Armed Forces whilst the more numerous M1A2I Abrams were the main battle tanks used in most Brigades. Following the first few Challengers came M3 Bradley Cavalry Scout Vehicles of the 9th Armoured Cavalry Regiment that would be leading the Corps formation for the duration of its campaign.

As separate units moved to their assigned points the commander on the scene, Marine General Davies, received his updated intelligence report from his division G-2.

“Sir. Satellites show Havenite units falling back in disarray towards the River Styx at a very quick rate. This information is already two hours old so we must assume that the Macabean Armour following them will have bridged it and be gunning south as we speak. From what we can see there is little chance those Havenite units will regroup. They are not even falling back in a tactical manner, we are seeing no counter-battery artillery fire against the massed enemy artillery positions that are clearly visibile to our satellites, a few airstrikes have been all that has happened. We are getting TWM-1’s up North within the next two days which will give us a clearer picture of the battlefield as well as detailing the number of Macabean units involved, right now we estimate at minumin that this is a two divisional attack. Counting supply elements it could be as large as a Corps or possibly Army attack, however the logistics to supply that are doubtful, despite putting up pontoon bridges to supply their forces, those pontoons cannot support the same weight or volume of traffic that the full structures they replace. We would figure that pretty soon they will grind to a halt through lack of supplies, especially fuel. That’s going to be a pig for us too General.”

The General looked out to sea where he could see two large super tankers full of Number 2 Diesel for his tanks and other vehicles. “What of air power? The Navy were certainly pissed at those long range missiles that bushwacked them before they could get off their mobile airbases.”

“Very much so Sir. Those missiles have a much greater range that our own AAM-3’s. Im reliably informed that J Corp are working hard at increasing the range and that some foreign suppliers have been contacted with regards a temporary solution before domestically produced missiles are available with that kind of range. The air force are also worried about the SAM’s and we have a briefing from some Havenite Command Figures with regards their artillery pretty soon.”

“What about these Havenites. You said they are retreating on a rather wide front? Have their lines broken already?”

“Negative. Buckled but not broken. Their supply lines are streched pretty thin, and the Golden Throne have a wide array of very powerful land warefare machines to utilise. However once our Wild Weasels get busy we expect to cull off the number of SAM launchers so the dedicated ground attack aircraft can get busy on their approaching columns. Their machines can’t be very effective without fuel or ammo and our deep strike doctine should help with that. Meanwhile we are setting up simulations of SAM traps and the like for them and running them against computer models of their doctrinal behaviour that we have experienced up until now, the results of that should be in soon.”

Both men fell silent as more ramps came down on ships further along the quayside, figures scurrying from a line of helicopters towards the ships to crew their vehicles. It had been decided to move the Divisions up as complete units via railway carriages from the outskirts of Qana, the approach march to the front would then be made under their own power. However right now the IH commanders didn’t know where they were going to be deployed, they were nominally under the control of Safehaven until a full ranking IH General arrived. So for the time they would accompany the troops from Stevid who were unloading at another spacious dock in the same port city. The alliance between those two nations was advancing in great leaps and bounds, from practically nothing before this war started to a strong working relationship now that both nations were fully committed.


Outside Sunderland Harbour

Navy F-22S Sea Raptors rocketed overhead as the ominious shape of the SuperDreadnought IHS Prince of Wales came to a halt in a deep water channel just outside the harbour. A mile behind the hulking vessel her sister ship, Duke of York also slowed and then stopped as replenishment ships swarmed about her, already transferring fuel for the helicopters and supplies for the crew.

During the voyage both ships had undergone extensive gunnery trials with the 25 25” guns that were mounted on each vessel as well as the multitude of 10” guns that were mounted along the side. Whilst the saliors were not up to par with Stevidian gunners they knew that they had advanced in leaps and bounds compared to how they were barely three months before. Missile drills had been undergone and the test firing of AS-1M’s and SM-2’s from the thousand cell VLS systems had gone well.

As part of the newly named “Dreadnought Squadron” the two vessels were ready to give some punishment back to the Macabean surface fleet. That was if anything was left of it once Operation Fullbore was completed.


IHS Thompson, Ohio Class SSGN

The Ohio Class Submarine was at nearly one thousand feet below the choppy water that still lingered around the entire region as she turned South West, nearing the launch point. The Southern most Ohio, Mars , had earlier reported via UHF radio transmission that she had heard several unidentified submerged contacts on her passive sonar array that had faded out. They had all been heading east, towards the Otium Aqua in a hurry and so she had reported it in.

When the other submarines went to transmission depth, they all got the message from Fleet Headquarters at Gillen via satellite and the three escorting Seawolf’s were even more vigilant than they had been before. Their passive sonar arrays were sniffing for any sound whilst they continued at a tactical speed of seven knots, all eight of their torpedo tubes loaded with Spearfish II torpedoes three of which were always ready for snapshots.

They reached the launch area where the Ohio’s slowed to barely steerage speed as they ascended to launch depth. All of the submarines reached the depth at around the same time and quickly put their UHF radio mast receiver/transmitter up along with the periscope. Whilst the Captain’s did 360 spins of their periscope, in most cases sighting at least one other periscope, the men in the communications room took down the message and stepped through the bulkheads to the Attack Centre where they gave it to the Captain as the periscope descended into the floor.

TO: IHS THOMPSON. LNCH OP FULLBORE AT 0757 ZULU. END.

The Captain looked at his watch, it was 0700. He ordered the attack crew to begin preparing the missiles for the launch, the first step of which involved inputting the target co-ordinates and launch co-ordinates into the inertial navigation systems. He then returned to the conn to nervously wait. As soon as the launch was over the submarines would head North east and sail through the territorial waters of Risban in a calculated risk that would not involve them but prevent the majority of Macabean allied surface fleets pursuing them.



57 Minutes Later

The first of the AS-1LM’s broke the surface at 0756:59 from each of the five missile launching submarines. The next missile followed at a two second interval as each canister inside the launch tubes was jettisoned to the surface and fired off its seven rounds directly up. The weighting system and buoyancy aids for the system had taken some time to perfect, but now they were done the system stayed perfectly vertical about a foot under the surface as it shot its missiles up into the air. The submarines kept moving under them to launch the next canister, one each from each of the twenty four former Trident tubes on each vessel.

The entire launch cycle took nearly five minutes to complete, but when it was done there were 840 missiles in the air, all travelling at their sustained cruise speed of Mach 2.9. These missiles all headed south at once on their sea skimming profiles as the inertial guidance took them along a preselected path that had been carefully studies from satellite photographs for SAM batteries. It seemed that the Macabean SAM’s were clustered around strategic and tactical locations rather than evenly along the coast in a highly sensible arrangement that provided the maximum cover to the important locations.

One of those was the missiles target. The Fleet anchorage at Macabee City where the Feathermore and the various other vessels were sitting seeking repair. The low flight profile of the missiles added to the deceptive path they were taking may serve to confuse the enemy defences for some precious time as the missiles streak in. The hydrogen injection would fire when they were fifty kilometres out from their final destination further accelerating them for the Mach 4.2 attack speed. The sheer number of missiles launched meant that some of them had to get through the multi-layer defence provided around the damaged ships. Targetting data had been provided through satellites looking down on the area giving precise positions for the Feathermore and the other capital ships that were tied along or in dry dock being repaired. The IH Navy was seeking revenge for the destruction that had been wrought in the Otium Aqua.

Missiles Fired: 840
Targets:
Feathermore (240)
King of Kings (100)
Coronation (100)
Pegasus (100)
Carriers (200)
Various escorts that are stationary (100)

Battle of Aurallic

The two wings of SuF/A-6Cs zoomed through the air at a brisk and deadly pace of Mach 2.5. Wing Commander Kin Tej continued to monitor his radar screen as it continued to flash blank, void of any objects other than the other 47 planes in the formation. They had been out in the day for over three hours and nothing had been spotted. If they didn't pick anything up in the next 30 minutes, he decided they would turn tail and head back home. What a disappointment on his first sortie, but that was life. The mission hadn't been successful, but at least they had got some recon and scouting done of the enemy positions. As Tej's eyes fluttered open and close, he quietly began to close his eyes as sleep depression began to overcome him and sheer boredom. He was almost asleep before a loud signal rang through the cockpit and jerked the life straight back into him.

The radars warning system was going crazy with activity. He scanned through the reportings and suddenly saw what the distress and commotion was about. 50-some SAMs were heading straight at them at Mach 3.6. He instantly shook himself off any droziness and spoke into the aircraft's voicecom, "GET IN ATTACK POSITION AND CLIMB!" The aircrafts quickly reorganized in a lightning fast hurry as they began skyrocketing to over 70,000 ft. The Macabeeians had warned of enemy SAMs in the area, but they had also provided some information on them. Supposedly, they had a maximum altitude of around 67,000 ft. He wasn't taking any chances, the aircraft formation quickly leveled off at 72,000ft as the incoming SAMs threat began to wane. Within minutes, the SAMs began to fall to the ground as they failed to get over 70,000 ft and forced to fall back to the ground. The SuF/A-6C's had been sparred at least once without any damage.

As calmness began to settle into the formation, suddenly they were shaken once more back into reality. This time it was incoming fighters. Their first kills of the war. From the radar, they were 400 km out and heading fast, Mach 3.6fast. From the looks of it, they were most likely the feared F-133 Valkyries. Yet the chills that flew through the spines of amateurs did not penetrate Tej. The man was sworn and lived by his aircraft and to him it was the best in the world. This was going to be a piece-of-cake. He once more repeated into his voicecom, "GET INTO ATTACK POSITIONS! FIRE WHEN YOU GET TO THE 225 MARK!" According to the Macabean reports, these agile fighters were supposedly equipped with the Divinebolt long-range air-to-air missiles. They had a range of 320 km. If the F-133 shot any at them, they would turn tide if they weren't at the 225 mark yet.

Each fighter pilot tensed as they got ready. They were swept with fear, joy, love, hatred, and about any other emotion a human could possibly feel. It was time to use that training they had received at their respective schools and test them in the real world. For over 20 years, the Space Union nation hadn't been in a war, yet today was the beginning of a new one. Would they be the first casualties? They hoped not, yet they knew that they might. It was their call of duty that kept them in line, though. It was the code that they would defend their loved ones from an enemy of such viciousness. It was honor. The SuF/A-6C's main-board computers began to get their missiles ready as they prepared for launch. The computers would instantly unclip the missiles from the external pylons when the mark came without the pilot having to respond. The pilot's only job was to bank and turn as fast as possible and throttle back to avoid any missiles. They now layed in the hands of god.

The 250 km mark passed as they got ever closer to the squadron of F-133. Surprisingly to most of the men there, they hadn't launched their missiles yet, though, then again they weren't complaining. The plan called for firing 4x AIM-510B Starshell II Long Range Air-to-Air Missile at each of the F-133s. The Starshell II had a range of 300 km against the fighters. Meanwhile, Tej's SuF/A-6C would fire 6x AIM-511B Starburst II Extremely Long Range Air-to-Air Missiles at the AWACS. These babies had a range of 600 km against large aircrafts like AWACS and bombers. Equipped specially to deal with AWACS jamming and ECM equipment, at least one hit would result in a score for the Space Unionist. They would of course have to wait to see the results, as the formation would be high tailing it out of the place.

The countdown soon began as 230 km passed and every second another km passed. The wait seemed like forever as the beads of sweat rolled down the thick necks of each pilot. The hair stood up as if they had tensed in the situation and knew what was happening. The air became dense for the pilots, even unbearable like an polluted city. Then it came, the mark. In a split second, the missiles roared out of each aircraft as the pilots jerked on their control stick and did a tight U-turn, not caring if the missiles had been fired. But a shock wave pierced through the formation as a realization came over them. The F-133's had also taken the moment to fire off their missiles straight at the aircrafts. They were coming in fast and from their speed, they were definitely Divinebolts.

In a matter of ten seconds, the entire formation had turned and throttled forward easily passing Mach 3 and flying at 1.08 km per second. Tej pressed as hard as he could to get every single drop of juice out of the engine for maximum speed. The missiles were coming in fast at 2.5 km per second. They had already covered 25 km in the ten seconds and were 200 km away from the aircrafts, inching closer and closer at a deadly fast speed. Tej kept on repeating in his head, "Were going to outrun them, were going to outrun them, were going to get home," as he continued to focus on straightahead. If there was anytime in his life that he wanted to prey to god, it was now. If they could just get 295 km farther and not get hit. It took only 80 seconds for the missiles to go the 200 km distance between the aircrafts, leaving the aircrafts only 86.4 km ahead of the missiles and shrinking. Each second brought hope and dread for the pilots as the uncertainty settled into the fighters' minds. The missiles had already gone 225 km in range and had 95 km in range left, if the Macabeans had been right. If they had been wrong, it was game over for them.

The fighters continued to soar at Mach 3.2 as they tried desperatly to get out of the missiles ranges. It took only 35 seconds for the missiles to cover the 86.4 km between the aircraft and missile, leaving the aircrafts only 37 km ahead. It was close. Each pilot pushed harder and harder as they kept on tossing of the idea that they might die. Some were even getting ready to say their final parting words before their inevitable. Yet Tej didn't. His training was keeping him sane, not like the other amateurs straight from the academy. They would make it and he knew. Suddenly their nightmares lifted as they failed to notice on detail, they had outranged the missiles. They instantly passed the 320 km mark as the missiles began to fall out of the sky from running out of fuel. They descended in altitude until there was no one left chasing them. They had done it. They had escaped. A wild cheer erupted over the voicecom as each pilot cried, sang, congratulated, and embraced the moment. Tej let a smile roll over his barren face as he spoke into the voicecom with a calm yet clear voice, "Mission Completed".

Macabea Harbour 0800
The harbour radar operators were plenty tired on their morning shift, working since six in the morning until two in the afternoon. It would take some time before they were fully waken up. These radar operators had most likely been posted elsewhere during the night, meaning that they didn't get much sleep. They woke up faster than they would have expected to do so. All of a sudden dark red triangles began to infest the top of their screens and a severe beeping sound was emitted from the plentiful amount of speakers around them. The operator on the right jolted himself straight and looked at the waterfall screen wide-eyed. It took about two seconds to register with him but when he finally snapped he began to yell, "Vampires!"

By that time the others were fully awake as well, and while the first continued to yell the same word, the other actually did the useful thing and began to emit warnings to every single defense point in the harbour and city. If one thought that the fleet was one of the most protected objects in the world, one had never visited an Imperial harbour. Unfortunately, all of the larger ships lacked their crews, meaning that the large guns and dual purpose cannons would be unavailable to act as defense systems, but their automated close-in weapon systems were always on, and the lack of the big guns would be supplemented by the big 400mm coastal cannons and the smaller anti-air artillery cannons.

The sky turned pale as the various fixed praetorian surface to air missile batteries came to life, lifting in mere seconds from their subterranean layers and swivelling around to meet the threat. From their massive launching rails twenty P.746.A left each fixed site, putting over four hundred missiles in the air within three seconds. Followed by thick trails of smoke the missiles spaced each other to avoid friendly confrontations and confusions within the targetting systems. It was only mere seconds later that one could see sudden bursts of black in the sky, marking the release of the thousands of tungsten balls each missile warhead carried. These tore into the bodies and warheads of incoming AS-1LM, and downed a good number of them. The good thing of airburst warheads like this is that they would unselectively target multiple amount of missiles due to the fact that they would just explode nearby the mass of incoming anti-shipping missiles. Unfortunately, they could also hit their own kind. But given the amount of destructive power in each missile that really wasn't an issue.

Other defenses were soon to come online as well. The massive coastal guns were already firing huge CAPMES rounds into the horizon, fed by massive underground stowage areas that had multiple autoloaders to put rounds in quickly. The noise was eardrum shattering, and it was soon joined with the chatter of smaller 75mm and 155mm anti-air artillery cannons dotting the harbour and city, putting hundreds of CAPMES rounds in the air with each salvo. Even the clouds were soon covered with the black drape of thousands of balls in the sky. For the unfortunate soldier or civilian walking below the effect of falling balls would be disastrous, but most knew to run into the nearest building and many of the balls would burn up in the air. It wasn't long before the ship based close-in weapon systems began to burn away.

A sharp explosion rocked the Feathermore along the stern, sending a massive fireball into the sky, and then another and finally another! One of the massive cranes hooked onto the ship suddenly snapped as another missile hit that, and many missiles missed the ship, hitting structures behind it. One could suddenly hear a sharp crack as yet another missile hit in the center, creating a bulge in the ship's heavy armor. An incoming vampire hit in the same place finally breaking through and causing massive internal damage. There was simply no way even the Feathermore would cope with so many hits. She creaked and finally cracked and the rear half suddenly dipped before water and then came shooting back up and finally rested halfway underwater. The front end slowly settled down and with halfhearted bouyancy stayed where she was. The Feathermore had been destroyed. She would need to see her two halfs rejoined and internal structures revamped until she could see the high seas again, and all of this would take four to five months.

The King of Kings wasn't much better. She had been hit with much, much less, but it was no doubt at least a month of repairs. The Coronation and Pegasus had been sunk as well, and that would take four to five months to bring back from the bottom of the harbour and repaired fully. Two of six remaining carriers in the task force had been severely damaged, but the fact that there were at least twenty carriers in the three harbour port city meant that the missiles had been fairly confused and the attack rather decentralised. The damage on the escorts had been much worse, with many sunk, but it all had been a matter of money. The only personnel to die were logistics or guard, and there were at least a thousand or so deaths in the strike. The attack would put many of the heavy hitting ships out of action for at least five months, but the Empire had plenty of ships left to defend its coastlines and even begin rading back into Otium Aqua Sea. And the Empire had over five hundred submarines of her own to begin mortal strikes on the Hitmen and Stevidian fleets... but direct retaliation would come with a much more deadly strike.

Over Otium Aqua
[OOC: Here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10771172&postcount=271) is the copy of the TG where Stevid says he's ok with this.]
The massive GLI-133 super heavy bomber was one of the Empire's 'secret weapons' that would soon see its debut over Mosnoi Bor [OOC: Will be up in the next Moisnoi Bor post. It's retaliation for the destruction of Aurillac]. She had six massive turbofan engines powered by two large nuclear reactors within the bowels of the airframe. The nuclear reactors heated the air, which would normally be heated through the combustion of fuel and oxygen, and these would be passed through high pressure nozzles to the blisks of the fan. They were, in other words, rangeless super heavy bombers. In her massive bomb bay there were no bombs, but instead six small submarines which were fully automated. Inside each submarine there was one large nuclear warhead. The submarines would be launched like missiles using external fuel tanks and would 'glide' for about three hundred kilometers when launched from about seventy thousand feet or so. They would ten make their own way towards Portsmouth Harbour in Stevid, where the wounded 5th fleet was still licking those same wounds. Although six nuclear warheads was a bit of an overkill, seeing as one in the center harbour would cause damage to everything in it, the fact was that many of the submarines wouldn't make it. Numbers was always a failsafe.

[OOC: I'll wait for Stevid to actually get back before I roleplay the attack.]

Imperial Front Lines, Weigari Front
Fedor I awoke quickly as the soldier awoke him and whispered in his ear the fact that the president of Hailandkill was waiting outside the tent door in that very cold morning. Without wasting a minute Fedor ordered, "Let the man inside in two minutes." The soldier nodded and walked out, blocking Revello from sight. Fedor dressed quickly and then awaited the entrance of his esteemed copartner in this war. Finally, Revello was allowed in, guided by the soldier and Fedor said, "Leave us."

The soldier left, leaving Revello and Fedor alone and the Emperor nodded, smiled and extended his hand. Both embraced in a hand shake and Fedor said, "Welcome back. I apologise for my most inopportune absence at Mons Dei, but I had to visit Fedala and my wife. Now we can continue on what we left untouched at Mons Dei."

He directed the other man to his table in the middle of the huge command tent and he motioned for Revello to sit down. He took a seat thereafter and said, "So tell me, what's on your mind?"

Imperial Front Lines, Wiegari Front

Revello walked into the tent, and the look on his face only preceded what he was going to say.

"I understand that you still have duties to your wife above other things. To be quite honest, I did not notice your absence because I was organizing my forces for the push into Wiegar. The men are ready, the new equipment has been issued, and we are all set."

Revello paused for a moment realizing the time before saying,

"I am sorry for the disruption so early in the morning, but I wasn't sure if you knew....Aurillac was just bombed. The city was flattened and the loss of life is horrendous...."

Fedor stood silent for a few seconds, looking somewhere in the distance, blocked by the near clear flaps of the tent. He finally turned his head and said, "What?" Without waiting for a reply he walked away and motioned for Revello to follow him. They left the tent and headed towards the central command station which was more of a fancy building than a tent, and Fedor walked in first. The faces of all the officers and soldiers within the different rooms of the complex looked equally as solemn, and for each passing face Fedor's seem to drag with the weight of the dead. They finally made it to a core room and Fedor looked at his generals who were all arrayed there, looking at a multitude of screens arrayed before them. Fedor only asked it once, "What happened?"

One of the generals looked up and with his eyes drooping he said, "Aurillac was bombed yesterday afternoon. We didn't wish to wake-"

"Bullshit!" Fedor interfered with what the man was going to say, "How dare you not tell me of what happened to my own people?" His face redenned, it was likely that no one had heard this angry before. Pacing around the room the thought of Revello as his guest left him and he unleashed anger, "Now what do you people plan to do?"

The same general responded, "Well sir, perhaps our vengeance should be vented on expanding the counterstroke at Mosnoi Bor."

"Perhaps, but I want more. How much of Aurillac was hit?"

All were quiet, but the Emperor's penetrating stare caused many of them to crack, "Seventy-six percent."

Fedor looked away, "The dead?"

"Twenty-one million civilians, one million and a half Killian logistics personnel."

Fedor looked at Revello, "I'm sorry for your dead." He then looked at his generals and said, "There will be no buts. Unleash the 133s." He was serious and he motioned for Revello to follow him again. The 133 was a nuclear powered bomber that carried over two hundred thousand kilograms of cargo. In other words, the Havenic hordes would pay for their murder. As Fedor walked out he motioned Revello to come closer, "Now talk to me ally, and forget about Haven. Tomorrow the Havenic armies will have been smashed by the same amount of slaughter they imposed on us."

Revello had watched Fedor's outburst as if he were watching any other 'normal' activity. Revello had expected some sort of anger outburst from his friend after the tragic news, and when he had witnessed the raw emotion from Fedor he did not take any offense to the fact that he screamed at his command staff in front of him. In fact, he took it as a compliment of sorts because Revello felt that he was close to the man to witness him yell, and criticize at his own command staff.

"The man has alot of pride for his peoples." Revello thought to himself,
"I can definitly respect that. Hell, I would react the same way if it were any city in my country...."

Revello's thoughts changed as Fedor motioned him out of the command post. When Fedor posed his question, Revello responded with,

"Well, as you now know, Aurillac is flattened. We just took a greivous hit on our logistical support for Aurillac, and the battles outside of it. Besides losing alot of our logistical men, we lost alot of supplies. With the entrance of Space Union, and their quest for the Ruskan skies, we can re-supply the men in and around Aurillac via airdrop. However, Space Union has to get control of the skies, which could take a few weeks. I hate to ask for a handout, but until SU secures the skies, the fighting at Aurillac is in grave danger of cessation due to lack of supplies. I don't want this to happen because we have pocketed the Havenites at Urseline, and they have to option to retreat behind the river or fight against divisions that can easily be reinforced...."

Revello paused think of his wording before saying,

"Is there any way the Imperial army could spare munitions until we can reinforce Aurillac ourselves? If you can, we can push the Havenites out of Aurillac for good....We would be able to regroup our forces, re-supply, and make the final push into Haven itself...."

There was an emotion on Revello's face as explained the situation....A look of almost shame....Revello greatly trusted the man next to him, but his own large amounts of pride made it hard for him to fully accept what happened and ask for help. At the same time, he felt his own pride as he explained to Fedor how the Killians had pushed the Havenites off and away from Aurillac, and now were going for the kill blow....Either way, his emotions ran high...

The President's Office
Covington, Oceanaria

Blink, Blink. The eyes flahed back and forth. Blink. There is goes again. But what is a blink? Why does it occur? Thoughts run aimlessly yet rushed, yet all together vital to survival. Blink. A blink is an idea, a concrete example of what someone is thinking. Or, that they are thinking in the first place. Either. Blink. It's impossible not too... at least that is pressumed. Blink, Blink. Idea. Blink, Idea.

Ideas. Blinks. What can happen in a the blink of an eye, the bat of the human shutter? An idea can transpire. It can go from the brain to reality. Reality, that's what the idea resulted in. But truly what is reality? Is not reality simply an idea in itself. Is not existance an idea? Is not everything that exists, either what we see, feel, think, just an idea? Is everything an idea?

Blink.

So much can happen in a blink. Far too much than could be imagined at first. Lives can be shattered. Millions can die. Love can be expressed. Souls can be saved. The blink is an example of ideas taking form. The blink of an eye represents the time where change is fluent, and constant. Change is always taking place... because ideas change.

Blink.

"This is unacceptable. Now that we have procured our weaponary, we must take the offensive at once. I want no one to make excuses. I want no one to make mistakes. We must do this. We have no choice. We have been attacked, and retaliation is of the utmost importance."

Blink. The speaker blinked. A philosopher, president, human, and idea, all wrapped into one package. To him, everything was an idea, but some ideas took priority. Like righting the wrong of detroying eight ideas. Two cruisers and six merchant vessels had sunk to the bottom of the Otium Aqua, and in the blink of an eye the history of Oceanaria had been changed forever. President Roger Phike's thoughts were certainly going wild today.

Blink.

"Get going."

A hand dropped and a phone found its cradle. Here in this office, it was just Roger, his ideas, and his phone. Nobody else. What must be done would be done. The fleet was leaving the port now, and would be in the combat zone within hours.

Blink. The combination of ideas. Revenge. That is what it was. Revenge. Sure, it was wrong for Stevid forces to blow a hole in the side of eight peaceful vessels. Sure it was just to declare war on such a nation. But it wasn't just about righting a wrong. It was about revenge. And what is revenge? An idea...

---

Port York
Covington, Oceanaria

A screech uttered through the night, and slowly a metal form pulls from its moorings. It slips into the water and it's nuclear reactors kick into gear. It will wait no longer to move, it has already, and will continue. It's destination: Otium Aqua, or wherever the Throne needed the fleet. Or should it be fleets? Several different orginizations were perfromed, but it was finally decided that the ships would stay in one solid mass until they reached the combat zone. Then, and only then, they would split.

The Carrier's lights were on in an instant, and the crews ran around the deck like wild children. Oceanaria would be known for their spectacular navy soon enough. It would be appearent who owned the sea.

The flagship, a Union class CVBN was designated the Imperious. It led the fleet through the waters with it's nuclear reactor pulling it along. Until they reached the combat zone, the Imperious would remain the lead ship. Then, and only then, the flagship would pull back behind the massive line of ships.

The fleet moved out. Scheduled to arrive on the edge of the area in less than four hours.

Admiral Fredrick Quinne stood on the deck of the Imperious and looked out accross the sky. Pink. Of course. "Pink sky at night's a sailor's delight." He sang lowly. "Today we see the liberation, militarization, and revenge of our nation. Upon our attackers. We will sink every last Stevid vessel to the bottom of their own sea." All of this he said in a low tone.

The Second Admiral Natalie Wind smiled and watched him from about ten feet away. "Yes Admiral, we will get revenge."

Startled by her presence, he turned in an instant and faced her. "I didn't know you were here Second Admiral. But no matter... I don't mind." He chuckled lowly. In the past eight years the two of them had been through a lot. Love, excitement, adventure, children, divorce, hate, warfare, court. They had been through everything, yet they still had a fire which burned between them both. Both young and easily passionate, both still had a deep fondness for each other. More than once they had shared a cabin in the days before the order to pull out of harbor.

Natalie walked over and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Such formality Fredrick? Do you really have to use that commanding voice with me?" She smiled and peered into his blue eyes, her brown piercing eyes piercing his soul. It was far too much for a man to combat. He knew he could rely on her in the moment of battle, but at this particular moment, he wasn't thinking about battle.

"Come on..." he said, pulling her slightly. But she went willingly. For the third night in a row, they shared the same cabin.

Fedor straightened his uniform and responded in kind, "The day before the bombing of Aurillac we began our counterstroke at Mosnoi Bor. In the end over half a million infantry and tens of thousands of vehicles will be deployed to push the Havenic armies out of Ruska. Their end goal is to completely sorround the Havenic armies around both Mosnoi Bor and Aurillac in a massive pocket. We'd expect over two million Havenic troops pocketed, and despite their growing reserves it seems as if that would be a major hit to their war effort [OOC: Even if the pocket succeeds, a lot of Havenic troops are going to have to be let out since Ishme-Dagan is a must, and two million troops less Haven might not be very willing to risk even more at Ishme-Dagan, or might not have the ability to put as much as we thought he could after loosing so much elsewhere]. In other words, much of our logistics this side of the Empire is going to powering this counteroffensive."

He let that sink in and then he went on, "However, we can shift some of our logistical trains to Aurillac. Indeed, by the end of this week over sixty thousand infantry will be operating inside the city, fortifying what's left of it. We can increase supplies to them to also alleviate the supply problem for your own men. However, we might need to end up sending the Mekugian soldiers to Aurillac to centralise their own supply lines here as well. It will take a major effort to rebuild what was lost in terms of logistics, and I fear that for the remainder of the month your troops will be fighting at less capable terms than they could have. But I'd think that all the allies will do their absolute best to keep the front together logistically."

He paused and thought for a second, "Viusbi will be a huge logistical strain as well. Dammit." Thinking and staring off in the distance he said, "At the front we have what we had before the war. Around a total of one million frontline combatants. Let me let you in on a little secret. By the end of the month we will have over ten million combatants on the ground. That is a tenfold increase. Our logistics have multiplied proportionally, meaning we can put a lot of this to work with already existing units and not deploy mobalised units yet. Yes, this should work well."

Cathedral Of St. Malleus

The great dominating cathedral that stood a top the spire of the dormant volcano was majestic to behold. The volcanic wastelands in Northern Stevid were indeed barren, inhospitable and difficult for any living creature to live in. Even to hardest of men could not stand to live in such conditions without proper mental and physical training- and even then it would be difficult to survive for more than eight days. But it was here that one of the largest Cathedrals in the region was placed- under the strict guard of the zealous Knights Templar, the finest soldiers of the faith Stevid had to offer.

The Great Bell of the cathedral tolled loudly, penetrating the whistling sound of a driving dusty wind. The coarse dust and rock slowing ate their way into the immense structure of St. Malleus. The bell tolled once more as a holy service began inside the great hall of the cathedral- the Latin mass was attended by some of the most zealous pilgrims in the region in which Stevid lay. At the front doors of St. Malleus stood honoured men. They were Knights of an order along forgotten by time and history long ago. The Knights Templar was the title given to these guardsmen and they were the “regiment” stationed here in this barren county in Stevid. They were dressed not in battle fatigues but in ceremonial dress. Linen cloth draped down from their abdomen and also down from their shoulders to their heels. They wore gothic knight armour, which was glazed in black, and they stood with their swords drawn and had them stuck in the stone at their feet in front of their stomach and groin with both hands clasped on the top of the grip. Fearful yet beautiful to behold- these were to protectors of the faith in Stevid.

Inside the cathedral the CO of the Knights Templar General Creed, a Templar himself, had gathered with him the superior officers of other Templar squads under his command. The room was made of stone and adjacent to it was the great crypt of God. It was buried deep within the mountain well beneath the cathedral. The room was darkened but glowed with candlelight, the room was full of flickering shadows and accompanying the eeriness of it all was the all too familiar sent of incense. The room had a large wooden table surrounded by large oak chairs with one larger on at the furthest reaches of the table where the CO would be seated. Behind that was a huge, gold crucifix encrusted with diamonds. Despite the room’s shabby looks, the ornaments made it as breath taking to behold as anything else in the cathedral.

The table was full of people. The CO sat in his chair while his subordinates sat by and around him. General Creed had a solemn look on his face, a look that reminded his subordinates of the time of the expulsion of other religions less than a year ago.

“My brothers. It is not Church policy nor in it’s interests to involve itself in a political dilemma. Nor is it in our best interets to intervene, however the Catholic Church in Stevid has come around to see a tint of heresy in the enemy in which we are fighting. The Macabees are indeed infidel of the old Church that we continue to uphold. Their troops, according to Military Intelligence Six (MI6), speak a lot of this Golden Throne- their leader and their own divergence to God. Such a divergence has been deemed heretical by the Church at they want something done without major interference from the professional military.”

One Templar of the congregation looked up from private thought.

“What do they mean exactly Brother Captain?”

“The only Golden Throne is the Throne on which God himself sits upon and to his right hand our Lord Jesus Christ. This “False Throne” of blaspheme has led the Church in Stevid request our help on subduing the Macabian influence on their population and show The Macabees the true wrath of God- the same wrath he showed the Egyptians in support of the Jews. The Macabees are heretics and we shall deal with them accordingly as such.”

“Yes Brother Captain. We shall fail you not sir- we have been trained for things like this, lest we not fail God’s orders.”

“Pray Brethren that your sacrifice is mine and ours is Christ’s, and Christ’s is for Humanity. You will not…no… you cannot fail. You are some of the most experienced soldiers in the whole world- the enemy have little knowledge if any of your existence and they certainly do not know what you are capable of. The element of skill and surprise combined makes you more powerful than the false God across Otium Aqua.”

They all bowed their heads and raised them up again in reply to their CO Creed. They all knew they were an order that very little people knew about. Stevid’s once closest Guffingford had no idea of the existence of such a zealous group to the faith.

The CO lowered his and spoke.
“Bothers… let us proclaim and renew our faith in the Lord.” and they lowed their heads and their hands clasped to together in prayer. “We believe in the one Lord, the Father the Almighty…”

Meanwhile: RAF St. Malleus

Wing Commander Block was an aged man of around thirty-two yet strangely enough looked at least twenty-five. He was one of the most experienced and decorated helicopter pilots in this region of Stevid. He hated this posting though- this barren, featureless dust hole. These were the wastelands of North Western reaches of Stevid, volcanic ash and dust billowed every now and again over the whole region which occasionally engulfed the air base. There was no real nearby settlement, just a small village with a population of about one hundred and twenty that housed some of the family members of the pilots inside.

The airbase was not an official one that defended the area but rather a reserve base but was strategically important none-the-less, especially to the Order of the Foot and to The Knights Templar, which were an ever-present force in the wastelands of North Stevid. The helicopters at the base were there to provide the Templars quick access to airborne transports to fly them anywhere in the world. It was for this reason why Wing Commander Block was upset about the local landscape and was usually moody. The Templars rarely went into action often and the airbase was only just on the receiving end of funding- it was just one step away from being downgraded from civilian. It would’ve been unless the Knights Templar didn’t request its use in their affairs.

The Great Bell of St. Malleus rang out for a third time. When it sounded twice it had grabbed Block’s attention- if a third followed it would mean the Templars were going into action and would probably require the use of the RAF to get them to where they want to go. Now it had sounded a third time, he was with some crewmates when he jumped to his feet ready for the trip over the (currently settled) wasteland dust.

“Come on Lads- duty calls us once more just like God calls them.” he said solemnly.

“Bollocks to it.” said another. “I’m no man of faith- all this zealous shit just makes me twitchy. The fact that these people kill others in such a professional manner in the name of “God” is just scary.”

“Your unlike me then. I visit the cathedral whenever I can- you’d like it.”

The two of them continued their rather silly light-hearted discussion all the way to the line of whirling Westland Merlin transport helicopters. It took them a few minutes to wait for clearance giving them enough time for the other pilots to arrive. They had practised the drilled tens of thousands of times. They were to take off and collect a number of Knights at the Cathedral helipads. Only then would they be told where they’d be going and it would remain the upper most secrecy.
The helicopter took off and headed for the huge black mountain that was Mount Shezna.

St. Malleus Cathedral

“We believe in the one holy Catholic and apostolic Church. We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. We look to the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come… Amen” Brother Captain General Creed finished the acclamation faith and the rest of the brethren their said Amen the same time he did. The all raised their heads and rose out of their chairs.

The faint sound of thumping couldn’t be heard so far under ground but on the helipads of the Cathedral it was very distinct. On the massive construct that was eight helipads in one were five units of Templars lined up in perfect formation and coherency with their respective captains in front of them. The were no longer in ceremonial dress but now in battle fatigues with all their weapons and specialised equipment ranging from mortars to missiles launchers.
The helicopters landed down on the helipads and opened the doors wide. At once, without any hesitation, the Knights rushed forward with incredible pace and leapt inside the helicopters granted to them with the captains boarding last before saluting to their commanding officers, making the sign of the cross and then slamming the doors shut. The helicopters, almost as quickly as the Templars boarded, soared back up into the air and made a beeline for Otium Aqua where an aircraft carrier would transport them to Safehaven waters and from there the helicopters would continue on their journey.



San Menendez Airport- Safehaven

C-5 Galaxies and C130 Hercules transporting the troops, AH-64s and Tanks belonging to the 1st Airborne Division had landed only a few hours ago. The equipment had begun to be distributed along with the troops towards the nearest army barracks in the city. They had requested to control that roads be made a little clearer but no one had made any promises. Besides, it made for good touring, this was the first time many of the men and women had set foot on Safehaven soil. Under other circumstances they may have had time to enjoy it a little bit more but with The Macabees troops and armour not far from the boarder there was little to take off their mind. The 1st Airborne element was to take and hold key positions until large reinforcements arrive from else where- they wouldn’t be going into action just yet but the apprehension was clearly visible in the eyes of every solider in every truck.
None them wanted to be there but the fact of the matter was that they were. They were professional soldiers doing a professional job for the good of their allies. The pressure on Stevid was off. They all knew that the direct threat to Stevid was finally over and that whatever they did here in the future would have little effect on the homeland.

Mosnoi Bor was The Macabees’ nearest major city and was indeed on the target list. Plans to attack anywhere in the enemy’s territory were of course on the drawing board but finding routes that were not directly covered by AA system would have to be probed by UAVs first that were on their way by boat from Stevid, along with the tank battalions and 24th Foot units that were currently landing in Safehaven and making their way North towards the hot zones between Macabees and Safehaven.

Revello listened to Fedor, and he was grateful that the Macabee Emperor understood his situation.

"Well that plan seems to work very nicely. The Killian forces at Aurillac have a good amount of Havenites pocketed at Urseline, so when your counterstroke commences, we will hold the Havenites. Have no qualms about the Killian forces right now, we can hold our own. Our track record at Aurillac is pretty good, and as of now the Havenites wont be close to breaking through to get back to the city. However,I feel that the Killian army should take care of Haven at Aurillac...This doesnt apply to the counterstroke in place, but the massive loss of logistics men lost in the bombing run makes it more so tha we want to end this fight. I dont have a problem with sixty thousand men re-building the city, but please let us finish the fight. It would be insulting to my men if new forces were deployed..."

Revello paused,

"We are a resourceful people and despite the logistics loss we still have supplies to last us for a few more weeks. In those few weeks we can win the fight. We can keep the line together, I promise."

When Fedor mentioned Visubi, a new look shot into Revello's eyes.

"Speaking of the Visubi invasion, I have some bad news. Due to the command loss at Aurillac, I will not be leading the Killian forces into the Weigari homeland as originally intended. I have to go to Aurillac, and I will be taking utmost command their. By me going personally, morale will be raised and I can employ better strategies against the Havenites. I am sorry I cannot lead the invasion personally..."

Fedor nodded, "That's fine. After my father..." He paused thereafter for a few seconds and then went on, "After my father is executed I will probably leave the Weigari front to my commanders as well, and then go back to the capital to run an Empire. But only after my gravest threat is destroyed. He is my father but his dishonor and his disrespect is too much to bear. He will be killed." He turned away and then turned back, "But in any case, soon enough I will be away from here as well. But this is irrelevent. As I said before, we will do our best to redirect logistics. Even if you have enough to cover a victory, this is not yet assured. It would be best to offer as much as we can to avoid a possible debacle."

He then continued on about the three divisions soon to rebuild'' the city, "Oh, they will not be rebuilding Aurillac as you saw it. That will be left to Havenic slaves after the war. They will turn into a huge fortress, and so if the Havenites ever make it within the city they will have to kill every single man that is guarding the survivors. We're expecting to get a further four hundred thousand or so militia men armed with rifles and cheap DNR-13s from the city proper, ages fourteen to forty-five, prepared to defend Aurillac if need be."

Alexandria Naval Base
"Sir, the last of the equipment is loaded, we can be out of harbour in an hour"
"Very Good, prepare for sea"
The Chief Petty Officer saluted and returned to his bridge station, the massive warship onwhich Admiral Mancuso sat was his flagship, the SuperDreadnaught CSS Messiah, SD-14. Around him was gathered the other ships of the Task Force Victorious, surface vessels of all sizes and a squadron of thirty two Cartegena Class Submarines, their crews running across the deck, casting off mooring lines and securing the boats for sea.
The fleet left the glowing city behind, the crews waiting apprehensively for their arrival in theatre, and the beginning of Operation Hindsight, an operation that was designed to break the back of Havenite Resistance (OOC: It wont, its going to turn into a bloody stalemate) in the War of Golden Sucession.

Task Force Victorious Naval ORBAT

CSS Messiah, Milliard Class Superdreadnaught (Flagship)
5 Atlantis Class Battlecruisers
4 Indestructable Class Carriers
32 Lance Class Heavy Cruisers
24 Vanguard Class Medium Cruisers
48 Illium Class Guided Missile Destroyers
72 Interceptor Class Frigates (ASW loadout)
64 Invincible Class Light Carriers
120 Pepperbox Class Logistical Support Vessels (Landing Config)
56 Monterey Bay Logistical Transports
32 Cartegena Class Submarines
24 Paramount Class Air Defence Vessels
Number One Mulberry Harbour Deployment Formation


Taskforce Victorious Landing Army ORBAT

9th Air Cavalry Division
12th Air Cavalry Division
1st Mountain Division
3rd Mechanised Infantry Division
2nd Mountain Division
42nd Infantry Division
29th Armoured Division
43rd Armoured Division
2nd Seige Division
4th Seige Division
1st Guards Division
2nd Guards Division
27th Marines Division
252nd Company, Army Special Forces


They were on thier way to make the largest amphibious assault in the history of the Confederate Navy, and noone new if it would succeed. As the transports sailed into the crimson sunset, the Admiral wondered if the land forces under his command would ever see the pleasent shores of Spizania again

Operation CORONATION, Portsmouth Harbour
The six small submergibles had had quite the trip, slowly but surely making their automated voyage to the port city, deep within enemy waters. But it was worth the effort. The head tear dropped shaped bomb case was soon outside the entrance of the harbour, valiantly patrolled by two or more destroyers. The Stevidians were no fools and although Imperial unrestricted submarine warfare had not yet begun, it soon would, and it would be incredibly difficult to slip into Stevidian harbours. But today was another case. The six submergibles slowly released some of the water in their ballast tanks to take them up to around fifty meters under the surface of the port's water. They would have to rush the destroyers, knowing that a good number of them would be sunk, but all that they needed was one single submergible to make it through. The size of the nuclear blast would do enough damage to totally destroy the harbour and a few buildings near it. If they were fortunate enough to hit the harbour when there were tankers in it then the explosion would be a hundred times worse. Images of Halifax were ripe in this case. The attack was to be a union of that accident and the Italian attack on Alexandria in 1941, in repraisal to the British attack on Taranto. The only difference was in the amount of damage of course. The nuclear attack was not destined to engulf the ships in some massive ball of flame, like is often times expressed on television, but instead break the keels of the ships through massive mechanical shockwaves and bubbles forming through the ships and under. The blast would have a better effect on the buildings in the city proper.

The six submergibles slowly approached the picket line protecting the port and they waited for the opportune moment. When the destroyers were the farthest apart the six submergibles began to make turns for over eight knots, speeding through the gap as fast as they could. The destroyers, of course, were quick to catch on and some began to turn their long bodies back towards the area in question. But the teardrop shaped submergibles were fast. Suddenly, one could hear a splash in the water, marking a torpedo in the water. The next thing one knew was that it had hit one of the rear nuclear bombs, sinking it. At this time the programs of the submergibles were trained for survival, and of the five remaining four were left behind, knowing that the last would be able to make it to the center of the port. It was a textbook manuever, and given the size of each submergible it wasn't too difficult to do. However, one of the submirgles purposely began to fill up its ballast, sinking itself towards the bottom of the port's water.

It didn't really matter much soon. The two survivors blew up rather quickly, detonating around 2mT each. The explosion nearest the entrace would serve to destroy the patrolling ships, sinking them near the entrance and thus blocking it for future use by the Stevidians and making it much harder to get some rescue and reconstruction vessels in it fast enough. The explosion in the center of the port would simply serve to create shockwaves large enough to sink most of the ships that were hit by it - which should be most of the ships in the port. The explosion was massive. The shockwaves literally lifted the Stevidian ships from the water, breaking the keel down the center and causing them bend upwards and then plop back into the water and slowly slip below the surface. The drydocks were literally blown apart, chunks of wall flying through the air, and the St. Gregory could be seen lift, although it's fate would require another pass with the satellite [OOC: I don't want to claim any specific damage. That's up to you]. The awesome force of the nuclear explosion would most likely change the face of the war together, and together with the bombing of Aurillac would probably go down in history as one of the destruction attacks in the history of the War of Golden Succession. But for the Empire retaliation was sweet, and it would make sure that the enemy could not do something similar in return.

But why target the Stevidian fleet? The fact of the matter was that the Empire was looking foward to end this war favourably, meaning owning more land than it went into it. With Stevid putting down major supplies in Haven and Ruska the Empire was desperately looking to knock out some of these allies. Stevid was the perfect enemy, and knocking out a wounded fleet would only make it that much easier for another Imperial fleet to pry open Otium Aqua enough to land some divisions on the nearest island and quickly put down some airfields to establish some aerial cover over the battle. If done quickly enough this war would continue to spiral down in favour of the Golden Throne...

Portsmouth City Centre

It was a lovely day in Portsmouth, a lovely Saturday morning with a clear blue sky and a warm sun gently heating the city below. Fresh sea breeze was blowing into the city giving the whole place a little taste of summer weather that no one detested in the slightest. Despite the breeze from the sea, the winds of war had yet to reach this paradise and tranquillity. The town centre was well away from the sea front but it couldn’t escape the naval and maritime tradition it upheld. The city centre was a bustling hub of activity with shopping centres and out door markets and fish market selling their weekly produce. Another glorious day in a peaceful city- the only worries the population in this city had was their tax return dates and their mortgage bills that had slipped through their doors that morning.

A large boom was herd and than a second. Everyone in the centre stopped whatever they were doing and turned silent. Everybody stopped talking in an instant and looked south towards where they heard the bangs, they looked towards the docks that were a few miles away. It wasn’t long before huge black clouds were seen billowing from the docks- huge jet-black clouds that rose high into the air casting shadows over the great city. They all now heard a new sound, one they all wished they’d never ever had to hear again. An extremely loud siren sounded, the familiar rising and falling tone whining sound of an air raid siren that was also used in the event of a nuclear, chemical or biological attack. While the siren was still sounding many looked to the skies to see no aircraft in the air, then it dawned on them all. The attack might possibly have been nuclear.

Suddenly movement resumed as people quickly rushed towards shelters provided to them in the case of emergency. Huge shelters had been erected decades ago were now being used by the local populous to escape the unknown effects. The bright light that shone over the city proved the peoples’ theories of a nuclear attack as they shielded their eyes and now, quicker than ever, made their way into the shelters provided.
Police cars were now seen quickly with blues and twos, armed and unarmed officers rushed around the panicking people in an effort to resume order. Ambulances and Fire Fighting vehicles were now being seen en mass hurtling towards the docks. No one knew the extent of the damage yet but one at the moment could only guess at the havoc a nuclear blast would have caused.

Portsmouth Harbour

The fact that the Fifth Fleet had been in harbour for over three months didn’t change the events that happened. Whether or not many of the ships crews where on shore leave or not didn’t change what had happened. It was now clear what had happened to everyone in the know. That unidentified bomber had been rightly identified as enemy but no one knew what it had been doing. Now they knew that the enemy had infiltrated the harbour, the nuclear blasts witnessed were large- too large to be hand held ones. This narrowed it down to submersible infiltration and submersible launched charges that had caused the damage.

The carnage was terrible. One third of the Fifth Fleet wasn’t even in harbour- the destroyers, Frigates and other vessels that had been repaired in the three months had departed but the more damaged vessel had not been so lucky. Some twenty base defence destroyers were seen being ripped apart by the blast and pressure while other escort ships under repair were seen to have been literally vaporised by the sheer heat and pressure of the nuclear blast in the centre of the port. Four carriers that were still under repair were knocked about before finally sub coming to the weight of firepower that was unleashed by the enemy. Three Domination class battleships were struck by the blast- all but destroyed three and sunk another to the bottom of the harbour. The Catholic Class SDN HMS Benedict VII, the sole second SDN of the Fifth Fleet, was not in harbour but alas her sister was. The HMS St. Gregory, stricken and already grievously wounded by Guffingford, was not so lucky. The eyewitness reports on what happened to her were as clear as the blue skies that had previously lightened the spirits of Portsmouth. The great ship’s keel had only just been repaired and she was allowed to sit in shallow waters when the blast hit her. All Super Dreadnoughts in the world are designed to take extreme damage- but this was different. This was a nuclear blast, a small one, but a blast none-the-less. She was struck with amazing force by the shockwave, the pressure made her diamond solid hull creak and twist before snapping and ripping in places. The great vessel was literally lifted out of the water and thrown against the key side, sweeping aside cranes and docking shelters and warehouses and wreaking the dock itself to unrecognisable proportions.
Fires broke out all over the huge ship and the emergency extinguishers went to work under diesel power generators. The nuclear reactors were safe in central Stevid after having been removed since one was damaged after the conflict against Guffingford.
Suddenly the oxygen circuits inside the ship came loose and the pipes burst open feeding the flames turning already huge fireballs into great churning fires from Hell itself. The centre of the ship exploded blasting the “beached” ship. The infrastructure in the middle of the shipped was ripped open and exploded again tearing the keel underneath to shreds as well. Emergency doors around the ammunition holds had been closed already but seeing as she was undergoing a total refit, there was little or no ammunition in the magazines.

The great ship began to creak once more. Half of her in water half on the docks, gravity on her in the water was taking hold. The ship broke partly in two, half of her leading up to the prow broke and fell into the shallow water partly submerging the vessel so the first turret now touched the sea. Her aft section rose slightly into the air revealing the damage caused underneath her. Her life was at an end- although she hadn’t actually sunk- it was obvious that the ship had been beached and destroyed before she blew herself apart with over seven hundred souls on board.

The buildings nearby were mostly industrial with fuel deposits (also in flames) and dockyards. But local residence were also hit by the blast. Most of the houses were not destroyed but structural damage was obvious and structural fires sprung up very quickly under the pressure caused by the blast. Medical staff were there in minutes but lives had been indeed lost very quickly.

The second blast to the entrance of the harbour had been less devastating in comparison to the last one. Six escort vessels and three carriers had been struck by the blast at that range. One frigate and two carriers survived the blast but entrance to the harbour was now severely restricted to small craft no larger than a PT Boat. The harbour wall collapsed into the sea and ships caught in the area blocked up the entrance as well. Survivor frigates were now combing the harbour for enemy surviving units and would swiftly destroy them while every other able rotary aircraft and every boat started the grinding procedures of picking up survivors and repairing the damage while taking precautions to avoid more damage from radiation.

Camden Sea, South Stevid, HMS Yeovil (Type 45 Dauntless Class Destroyer)

Everyone on deck saw the blasts from these ten miles out. On such a beautiful day you could see Portsmouth from here. They had been asked to intercept the bombers that had entered the local airspace. They had been near to it in the first place but the small objects had proven difficult for even SAMPSON to pick up. They managed to get some excellent footage of the bomber and some very high definition photographs of the plane with some very fine details. Everyone forgot about that the moment they heard the blast and saw the effects. The ships made a beeline for the port in hope to provide assistance.

Portsmouth Harbour was out of action but Stevid had many large harbours and many other large fleets to throw at the enemy. The Second and Forth Fleet where still large and operational while the smaller Sixth and Seventh Fleets were also able to fight. Suddenly, Stevid wasn’t as safe as it hoped, the Otium Aqua Sea was still at risk and now Stevid would be throwing as many ships as it would like to at any enemy that so even glimpsed at Stevid shores and waters. Aircraft as well would be flying constant patrols all over the country. Stevid security had relaxed just a little bit after the Battle of Otium Aqua- that was all The Macabees needed to set an example of the Fifth Fleet and Stevid and her allies for sinking their own pride and joy- the Feathmore. Revenge had been taken and it was indeed sweet for the enemy but extremely bitter for the citizens of Portsmouth and the crews of the Royal Navy based at Portsmouth.

Damage:

St. Gregory SDN – Damaged, beached, to be broken down
Fire Breath BB- Sunk
Jackson BB- Sunk
Champion BB- Sunk
Martin BB- Sunk
Poppy CV- Damaged, to be broken down
Packard CV- Damaged, to be broken down
Excelsior CV- Sunk
Lexis CV- Sunk
King CC- Sunk
Kling CC- Damaged
Victoria-B- Sunk
Victoria-E- Sunk
Sabre Tooth CC- Damaged, to be broken down
Kirkland CC- Lightly Damaged, sea worthy, damage crew repairable
Crusader CC- Lightly Damaged, sea worthy, damage crew repairable
16 Frigates- Damaged/Sunk
12 Destroyers- Damaged/Sunk

Total: 42 Ship indefinitely out of action. All ships in port awaiting entrance/exit to port to be cleared.

South, South-East of Macabea; six days after the Darkcloud Raid-

“Gee-t your asses in gear ya fawking liners!”

The command that echoed across command hangers at the converted airfield as NCO’s pushed their ground crews hard to complete their assigned task, time was running short till the next strike The Ground crews had refit almost the entire Squadron of 45 aircraft (or more accurately, had tweaked all but the 7 that had made it home and overhauled those few) but now was a different task the sleek angled forms of the ‘Aethra’ bombers had gotten a new coat of radar absorbing camouflage pain and in their new deep blue skin the crews were now painting a pair of black Memorial stripes on each wing. As the paint dried the dark blue bombers went from shiny to a deep almost velveteen matte blue color and interesting effect as the fluorescent lights of the hanger danced over the bombers surface.

Strike Briefing-
“ …Williams, Brandon… Grasmick, James…. Kolb, Thomas…. Brown, David… Sprouse, David”

The Colonel finished reading the names of the flight crews that had died in the last strike before bowing his head, as the rest of the nearly 300 pilots and flight crew remained silent in reverence.

“May light perpetual shine upon then”

The entire group all 225 pilots and flight crew then powerful and simultaneously finished the prayer with an almost deafening ‘Amen’ in the confines of the massive conference room.

“Good evening, I need not explain the intention of this mission, it should be soundly clear both strategically, and personally why we are about to carry out the mission we have chosen. Our target is the havenite border town of San Menendez”

The series of Gasps and muttering of questions between crews, jokes and a few shouted cheers were cut short as a large map filled the improvised screen hanging behind him.

“You will be taking off at 1 hundred hours this morning in order to rendezvous with a tanker squadron 2 klicks south of town of Segovia, from their you will hit the deck and penetrate Zarbian airspace low and slow in order to prevent premature alert of either government of our presence. Be aware that you will be quite spread out and you may even pass as close as 30 klicks North, North-West of Zerrachia. I need not remind you to keep your wings low and your wits about you, though you’ll be passing through what is primarily empty and very very sparsely populated areas we still need to attempt to reduce and potential warning in order to be as effective as possible.”

Pictures of weight distributions of bombs filled the screen showing the mass of bombs per plane.

“You will be carrying a full load of Mk. 8 SDB’s (Small Diameter Bombs) each with 300kgs of payload and at total of 500kg whole weight. Payload operators are probably noting you have about 22,000 kgs of empty weight left. You would be correct, we choose this path over the larger 2000kg bomb in order to cover a larger metropolitan area, and to provide you with ample maneuvering weight, though you’ll be going in low and slow I’m requesting you burn some tail feathers high and fast home.”

A man in front stood up and saluted the Colonel to get his attention.

“Sir, if my calculations are correct that’s over 2500 Mk.8’s. Which is more than we have in active both HE and Incendiary till the next supply drop off…”

The crowd murmured and discusses the question before the Colonel silenced them by raising his hand.

“That is correct, many of you will be carrying modified iron bombs carrying little more than jet fuel and a steel jacket…”

There was quite a stir amongst the crews at hearing this, as many of them shouted out the same question phrased one way or another.

‘do you intend us to fire bomb the civilians?’ was their question a substantial and brutal question to be asked, the colonel merely nodded his head.

“We’ve reached the end of our kid gloves gentleman, they flattened Auriliac, they’ve killed 25 good men all of which from this same squadron, and we will show them that for every Mekugian they kill we will return 54,000 kg of hell upon them…”

There was an odd satisfied silence that fell upon the room after that, vengeance was an odd dish to serve, and a odd practice to observe from beyond the grieving.

“Moving on, you will be escorted by twenty four F-33E Strike Fighters carrying an your primary defensive long range armament of Shadow III ALADM’s, your primary load out will be of course SA-35N’s and ECM. Were going to have to cut a short loft on these bombs gentleman, if we release them to early they will have plenty of time to prepare countermeasures, we must hold back our temptation to release them at max range and return safely to our beds, we must strike true and we must hold off till 5 miles…”

The crews were stunned, that was the equivalent of dropping a glide bomb at point blank, the mass of targets of nearly 3000 bombs arching into the air would be a beyond comprehension. But worse was the sudden and painful realization that many of those around them would never make it back to Macabea alive.

“You have five hours gentlemen, we must strike on time in order for the morning heat to fan the flames of their own hell… Dismissed”

Runway Five, Four hours and twenty seven minutes later-

‘Navigation is go…’
‘Weapons is go…’
‘Ops is go…’
‘Command 2 is go’

There was a short silence as everyone turned to meet eyes with each other in a short of silent blessing of each other the crew having spent the last five years together in the cramped crew spaces on the bird that would now be taking them towards their own personal vengeance for the 25 crew members lost and the those who died in Auriliac.

“Tower we are go’

“Good luck and Godspeed Cloud Nine”

The plane shuddered as the four massive engines on the craft slowly built up thrust air being sucked through the covered intakes at an alarming rate as the massive vehicle rolled forward on the tarmac just one of 45 craft lining up either in preparation for or in the process of take off ‘Cloud Nine’ sped up and soared off into the darkened sky. To take into a waiting pattern for the rest of the squadron.

[more coming though in a seperate post]