NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This a bit open. If you are one of mine, or Jenrak's allies lookig to help, or enemies looking to exploit, then please telegram one of us so we can expect your participation.

A droplet of rain, and another, and another, and another, the grey clouds pouring endlessly the beautiful water all over the stone walls, and the wooden ceilings, the metal frames, the perfect glass windows. In a complete abode of peace, of content, complacency, and the windy air pounding on their doors ever so often, the tiny plates of reality slipped through their minds. Rifles up, arms down, legs straight, face never moving. It was the first, and hopefully, the last time they would ever meet, the first and most grueling sessions of war, the last and most relieving experience to be invigorated. That was all they had thought for a little while. They thought wrong, led different beliefs by their government, but still fighting for their justice, their peace, their notion that what they did, was right, not wrong. That what had happened and will happen will be a blessing to the war-torn lands, and the sands will grimace in great pain as the blood of their enemies, although staining the sands, will be danced upon by the freed souls of the sons and daughters, and wives and lovers of the dead. They intend to bring Jenrak to swift justice, and bring them to their knees.

For decades, Sanduras has lived in the shadow of a more violent and opportunistic brother-like ally, a country that threatened repeatedly to unleash their chemical and nuclear store hold should the case of invasion strike their minds. Constantly, the erstwhile insane and erratic leader of the theocratic nation, Arborgard Serptine, who have newly claimed his name to be now Arcarum Dreskisk, have warned Sanduras to remain behind the scenes, to lay low and allow them to do what is best for them. Jenrak, as it had always done to gain supremacy over it’s neighbors, lied again. They did not promise a bright and holding future for the Sandurian people, they instead gave them a life of shadow, a life where their lives would come and go unseen, unnoticed, while the Jenrakian people take a more international pose on the world front. As every time Sanduras would make it’s move to become like their brother, a political battle occurred, and as always, the runt was suppressed.

Now, Sanduras is a runt no more. In secret, in hiding, as many Jenrak has castles, Sanduras has been strewn and littered with military bases, training and recruiting infantry, developing anti-chemical tanks and a valorous air force. The technology we have gained will be extremely valuable to our mission, our goal to stop Jenrak’s suppression. We intend to teach the theocrats a lesson they will never forget. A lesson stating that technology and military prowess will defeat them, that fanaticism and skill is outdated. Our military is outnumbered 3 to one, and they have always a larger stockpile of weapons on hold, waiting for their time to strike. But we, we have our own weapons as well.

In a few moment’s notice, our army will spread, will emerge, from the faint ends of reality it may seem, that such a force will bring strength and reckoning, supported by our people. We will show Jenrak that democracy, freedom, and civilian rights are the modernistic ways of the future, not the old ways of traditionalism. They will not lose to us merely; they will fear us, cower before us, and we intend to do that…

The Town of Makru, on the border of Jenrak and Sanduras…

“Looks like it’ll rain.” A short little man said, pulling the bucket from the deep well, as the water splashed in it’s wooden helm. “I had only wished I hadn’t taken all of this water out.” He murmured, walking back towards his house, as the small hamlet, barely with a few houses, and a few cars sitting dry in their driveways, was feeling a deep drought for many weeks. It seemed to be a blessing that such even a light drizzle came here, with all the mountains taking the water greedily for themselves.

The sun, without a second thought, continuously broke through the thick heavy blanket of clouds that lightly spewed the tiny droplets that could be called rain, and it constantly heated their backs, and humidity became a problem. But it was only symptomatic to their real problems. Patrolling the borderline, in thick and heavy armor, rifles hanging at their sides, hands at their silver swords, were Jenrakian guards, protectors of the territory that rightfully belonged to the old provinces of Methronn.

Scouting from afar, a sniper, clad in brown and weave softly, to prevent the sand from picking up, observed them in their work, from a distinct distance, and jotted down a variety of notes; their seemingly height, their armor size, their numbers, and their weapons. He had his sleek dark metal rifle in his left hand, cold and harnessed, waiting for a fresh bullet to pierce another painful bullet into, while at his right side was the notepad, and his finger scribbling notes from a dark drying pen onto it’s plumed surface.

“Alright, you bastards. Let’s see how many of you are there.” He jostled down more notes, watching carefully their movements. “Shit.” He saw that out of his scope, a polyester green, the soldiers disappeared, possibly wandering behind a building, or into a store on a quick break. Whatever the case, he had to exploit it.

Standing up, he was sure no one could see him at still such a distance. Running down the nearby sand mound, as the winds picked up, and the air spun the dirt into his eyes, he fell into a heaping rubble, and far off, in the small complacent town of Makru, they saw the commotion. The sniper had to act quick. If he was to finish his job, he would no longer have to observe; he would need to kill. Discarding his notepad and pen and placing a carefully carved bullet into his barrel, the sniper locked the round, and waited, as they slowly ran towards his location.

It was an eternity, he thought. To sit and wait, to see an enemy and respond to it only when he could. He couldn’t bear the waiting, the suffering. Finally, after his patient waiting, he let loose the trigger. A perfectly flung bullet, carved perfectly, jagged hooks and bronze ends, clawed their way into the thick, white skulls of the first soldier, as he fell immediately. The second soldier, as foolish as he was, plunged down into the sand, and crawled slowly towards the sniper.

“Little prick.” He said, but a quick shot from the soldier pierced his arm, a wound opening up immediately. “F-Fuck.” He gasped in pain, but briefly ignored. “You’re dead.” He pulled out a long pistol, and emptied the entire wheel of bullets into the sandy pit that his second enemy laid. Quiet, it was, as a swift song that ended too early, leaving only a hungry emptiness behind. He had done his job, now he was ready to tell the others to do theirs. Drawing out a small sleek black radio, warm and vibrant, he spoke with an elegance in his tone, “Launch the offensive now.” He said, and cut the transmission immediately.

In the north, far off, the sniper heard his people prepare. He heard the shouting, the revving. He heard the tanks and artillery coming; he heard an all-too familiar noise. He heard war, and now he was intent that Arcarum would taste it’s frozen blade.

OOC: Will post later, Tag for now so I don't forget.

OOC: Don't take too long. I have limited time to school you.

OOC: I have forces in Jenrak right now. Plus, I’m one of his allies.

IC: Major General Max Kane walked the hallways of Ashili’s castle. Kane was killed in a mission in Jenrak; a God killed him. But he was reborn into a new person. He was not the human he was once was, he was not a true Shadow Ops soldier. He was more a Demon humanoid then normal human, now.

When he first arrived in Jenrak, he was a blue-eyed blonde hair man with a rifle. Kane's hair is now a void black color, good to hide in the shadow of the night. His eyes are now gray, expressionless and motionless. His body more muscled then it used to be. He had long fangs coming out of his month. Demonic claws on his hands, now. Now, his new body worked his mutant powers.

Kane was wearing his new set of Transylvanian body armor; he had to get a resized one because of his new changes. Two black bladed sabres on his back in an X formation. His AR-66 silent assault rifle at his right side; he could still use it, too.

Major General Max Kane was the commander of the 49 soldiers of the 16th Shadow Foxes, 5,000 soldiers from the 1st Blood Wolves, and 5,000 soldiers of the 29th Aoiro Wolves stationed at Ashili’s castle. Over the pass couple of months, the Dominion was making Ashili’s castle more like a fortress then a regular castle.

OOC: Before I go on, I have two notes. 1) NO special powers, no matter what. I want this to be a normal, MT RP without any superhuman abilities. No loopholes allowed. 2) This thread is purely a war competition against me and Jenrak, for fun. So anyone in it, it WILL NOT affect anything at all.

IC:

The Bombardment of Makru (Phase 1)…

Solemn, peaceful, quiet. That was what described Makru the best before the artillery arrived, 5 companies of Sandurian tanks and artillery, all loaded, ready, willing to pummel their enemy into the cold, harsh ground, wanting them to finally feel the writhing taste of sand. That was all they wanted. It was an odd sight, as curved, metal artillery, with long raging rockets strapped on their sides, treading up the sandy dunes, as they locked onto their targets on the towns below. Their heat emanating from the rockets could barely be masked nearby, as the tanks followed behind tenaciously. Great barrelled, sleek and lightly armoured, they ravaged through the environment as if it were a simple obstacle, easily overcome, and never a challenge they had ever faced. Laughing, taunting, that was all they knew, knowing that they were soon to be ready to open fire on the unsuspecting town below.

So peaceful, so softly complacent, so worthless, and yet so important, to the objective. The destruction of Makru, as worthless as the tiny numbered housed town was, not even large enough to form it’s own venerable city hall, was the smallest, and yet most volatile place to be, due to the current infractions. Supply trucks were in line, behind the tanks, as the infantry got out of the trucks, and carrying long barrels of gas, finally began to fuel the tanks to the last vestige, to the tip of the brim, before getting back in and reloading the barrels, and having spare rockets nearby.

Tires grinding into the sand, metal gears whirring frighteningly, and rockets heating up, the air was abuzz with an anticipation not thought to be seen, an anticipation that had been bottled over years of oppression. They were, as in every sense, like a tortured mass, a group taken advantage of, finally making their appearance unto a scale their own. They were ready.

The final stages of the Makru attack began as steel armoured personal carriers, long winding machine guns on their tops, and a small slit for view, came in groups of three, chortling more violently and difficultly then the tanks, nor the artillery did. The men got out, and they stood in the abiding clothes of the men around them; sea green and black masks, a machete at their waist, a brown rifle clutched in their hands. The basic Sandurian soldier, they were called, and they were a great force, trained to hate, to kill, and to outwit their foreign brothers. Setting up camp along the dunes, they set up tents, carried equipment into some, placed cots into others, but all the while kept looking over to the dipping sunset that laid in their eyes, the red sun glistening like fire in their hearts, as they waited, and waited, and waited, but time seemed to stopped, or at least slow down to a great degree. It was merely the anticipation, they kept telling themselves. It’s the prospect of doing something exciting, powerful, and deductive. They weren’t peacekeepers anymore, no. They are now not soldiers, not protectors, but warriors; conquerors.

At twelve midnight, when the lights went out in the camp, standing atop the giant dune that effectively covered the soon-to-be-occupying forces, they prepped for the attack. In minutes, the supply trucks were dried up; they had given all their supplies, and laid useless. The roaring of the tanks were heard, and they waited….slowly waiting, for a response. And there they saw it.

In a quick flash of curiosity, a citizen flickered on her lights, it seemed, and the companies, the artillery, let loose their fire, aimed at the heart of the tiny hamlet, the enclosed and peaceful village of Makru.

The Embargo (Phase 2)…

Day in and day out, that was the law of the trade. Jenrak trades us their oil, and we give them their food. We give them fresh water, they give us gold. But now, in war, we have enough oil to last our victory, and we have no need for gold. But they, we know all to well, need food, and water, and our source will dry up, inexplicably.

The trade ships from Jenrak were sent out, and ships, under the guise of pirating, boarded and slaughtered unsuspecting merchants on both Sandurian and Jenrakian ships, but only the unarmed. Yet there were enough to know that they were unarmed, and that they did not expect it to come like this. Under the guise of a pirate, they raided both trade routes, but they, as like all deceptive qualities, worked for us. They gave their loot, our food and our water back, and always the gold and oil Jenrak sent. Soon enough it was too risky; pirates that raided only in Sandurian harbours? The loot mysteriously vanishing from their stockpiles, and the government seeming to have massed up unseen oil and gold? We had to stop.

We had to do something else. So, as our forefathers would say, ‘Improvise your ways to victory’, and we carry that tally to our hearts. We did not no longer attempt to raid enemy and friendly ships, no, not any more, for it did not matter. We instead blocked our entire trade route to the highest degree. We stopped tourism, stopped immigration, and blocked the gateways out of our country. We had to do what was necessary. We placed the civilians under pressure, to create more machines of war, and we confiscated many personal yachts to form a blockade, stopping the from going in, and going out.

To finalize our plans, any company that outraged against us, we killed. We would round up their representatives, and shoot them in the open, in the news, and blame them for treason, for being unmorally disloyal to the country, and their laws. We would not use military forces for two reasons; firstly, our forces are better used to fight the enemy, and secondly, Jenrak will be confused. Is there an uprising? Is there a revolt? What if there are rebel factions? What if they send aid? Then we will slaughter them in their sleep, kill them at their weakest, and torture them when they are strong, to make them weak. Call it a coward’s technique, but it’s what we will use. We will blockade Jenrak’s ships, and make sure we do not give them any food or water any longer. We will starve them out, and Jenrak will starve, their soldiers tired and hungry, as our great and strong. They will never know it was us, as well, until it is too late.

The Silos of Taperon (Phase 3)…

Taperon was a city, no, that is wrong. It was not a city, it was a mountain, where a small flock of people lived around it. On top of the mountain, behind the grassy plains and the windy fields, there were mounds unexplained. What are these mounds, people ask? We give them the same answer every time: they are ruins, dirt hill cemeteries that wreak on forever underground, and they are filled with corpses and skeletons, and nobody wants to see. Nobody would like to prod and poke.

But for the inexplicably thick, the stupid, we would hire someone to pretend to be someone they would hate to see, and they we made sure they never saw it again. But now, our truth will come out. No, my friends, they are not mounds for the dead. They will be soon, mounds of our great soldiers, but for now, they are not what they are said to be. Underground, past the earthworms, past the dirt, the gravel, the shale, the rocks, and everything in between, lay our scientists, our soldiers, at work, many, many feet under the ground. But they are not our secret. Our secret are the missiles that lay within their berths, inside their metal wombs. Tall, strong and shining with power, our nuclear missiles are ready for fire. But where to fire? We thought. We had to pick a choice, and fast. Our moves were being watched, no doubt. We were always under surveillance.

But thankfully, we had a spy. No, we did not aim it at the city, we did not aim it at the capital. That will be the job of our soldiers, our tanks, our navy, to suppress and kill our enemies. No, we must choose wisely. Our choice was our enemy’s stockpile of nuclear weapons itself. If we shot their nuclear devices, then they will no doubt create an explosion that will shock twice fold, as if we shot twice the number of missiles at once. This, will also affect their store hold of missiles, and they will be vastly outnumbered in missiles to retaliate.

It happened so quickly, it was like a dream. Steam rose with froth out of the glass, buttons clearing beeping in their sounds, people chattering even as the missiles were getting ready. They waited, and waited for the door to be ready. It would be win or lose chance, nothing in between. Once the door opens, they will know our intentions. The scientists, in their periwinkle lab coats and their oversized goggles, waited for the commander’s permission to fire.

The Coast of Sanduras, the Mobilization of the Navy (Phase 4)…

We were always frightened that Jenrak’s navy would come to crush ours, when they thought they would. Pitiful, they had a chance. They had a single gleaming chance to destroy our navy, but now we have made sure that our ‘alliance’ to them holds true in both aspects; our technology has increased in our sense of word. We believe our navy is superior.

How can that be? When a country spends nearly half his military budget on his navy, the other on chemicals? And what a threat he could be if he combined them? That was the thoughts racing through our minds, and the thoughts that surged up the most blood to our men. To face an enemy who has taken, won and lost so many battles on the rough seas, and against a foe that created four beautiful islands into a fortress, just so their naval power remains undefeated in their lands. Their navy was created mostly to defend their passages, and destroy submerged foes. Ours, was created mostly to defend our forces, and destroy theirs. We worked hard.

Every shining battleship, every sleek submarine, every aircraft spewed out by a wretched aircraft carrier, every shot fired by our foe, we studied, and watched, and designed a ship designed to break theirs. Now, as we have mobilized, our armada will show them what a useless pathetic junk they have, and will show them what a waste of money they have spent on theirs. We moved at high speeds, still within our borders, and in a swift motion, all our ships crossed the border, and pushed on towards the first target, the coastal defences of Archios.

Haasdra, Capital of Jenrak, Central Province
Arcarum heard strange news, and he always went to where he needed to go to when he was in deep thought; the winding, tall tower of Zarazego, the monument to his God of the All-Seeing Eyes. The wind blew around in the metal cage that kept him in place, and the frost that grew on the cage was still there, even as the beating sun tried to dry it up. It was cold, it was windy, but it gave him solace; that was all that mattered to him. “What is going on?” He wondered to himself, his voice cold and dried now, but it did not seem to be a different prospect any other way. He was disturbed. Recently, the ruler of Sanduras, King Marcus, had little done to anarchist raiders that terrorized the coastlines. Even so, as he stood there, as he sent ships to their aid, he never saw his men return, and thinking something was terribly wrong, he stopped.

His worries were never something to be seen, to be heard, and he never shared his feelings with other than his erstwhile wife, Serrin, but seldom did she poke her nose into his affairs. Something did not seem right, He noticed, and he knew, because many signs had popped up on the news. Soldiers missing from their work shifts, loud noises heard in the northern mountains, dazzling objects flying in the sky at night, and the witnesses bodies never found the next day. Ships at high seas seen roaming in restricted Jenrakian space, and all the while Sanduras’ military force, claiming to be on regular peacekeeping missions, have nearly emptied out of the country, save for a bevy of turrets and missile defences. It was as if they were waiting for something, expecting something to hit them, but Arcarum did not know.

Archios, the Naval Wall of Jenrak
Standing in his front window, glass stained and windows opened, with his binoculars looking out at the brisk seas, quiet and soft, the watchmen saw a peculiar scene. A small black dot jumped on the horizon, and then disappeared once more. Curious, he looked closer, focusing his binoculars on the horizon again.

“What on earth is that?” He whispered, as more dots showed up on the horizon, and then disappeared once more. In an instant, more and more dots appeared, and they disappeared, but then they finally showed themselves, and cam headfast towards the cliff walls. He saw them for what they were. A large armada of Sandurian naval ships, massive and lumbering, others swift and canny, while hovercrafts laid on the circumventer behind them, rushing in the water as the waves felt their glorious arrival. “Shit.” He said, and he ran down the metal stairs towards the alarm. Picking up the microphone, he spoke crazily into the metal wire-like speaker. “Attention all forces. Sandurian ships approaching, markings appear hostile.” He waited for a reply, but did not get one. Breathing unevenly, he finally picked up the microphone, and spoke strongly into the microphone. “Attention Sandurian forces. You are under the breach of the C-Five Act. Turn back now, or we will fire.” He waited for their response.

City Hall Horsingra, the Palace of King Marcus…

Aides were everywhere, everywhere. They appeared everywhere, and they all looked the same. Pretentious, young, sixteen year old assholes, all who think they are superior and greater than everyone else because they have seen more and more karate movies or did make-believe martial arts more than anyone else. All of them, all fussing and cussing and running and yelling out news of dissent, disapproval, anger and lacklustre, as if they had a common sense in their body. They acted as if their words mattered to him. But it didn’t. Marcus was a King, and as a king, he had a burgeoning population of people to watch over, and he couldn’t care less about a enormous group of sixteen years old teenagers who saw less of the world than half the people in Sanduras did. He only cared about the war. That was it, that was all in his mind. Not these kids, not their rumbling noises, not their complaints, not their lack of breaks, their work shifts, that they need to take care of their little brothers, that their car was broken down on the highway, no. None of them. He never thought he had hired them, such spoiled little brats. He would rather to have loved to pushed them into the line of fire, to have them destroyed in the war, but their mothers would revolt, as most concerned woman do today, and his precious control would implode. So, for ultimate victory, he had to listen to their stupid ramblings. It was a small price to pay for his goal to be accomplished. They were, after all, naïve and truthful, they didn’t bother (nor did he believe they had the wits) to betray him.

“Sir, we need to increase our strength in the south-eastern half.” He said, pointing a heavily scribbled paper to the King. “That way can take them out easier.”

“Where did your this? It’s ridiculous.” Marcus said.

“I saw it in a video.” The boy said, his face flushing red, embarrassed and let down that his idea was worthless.

“Well, this is stupid. There is nothing in the South-Eastern half. Besides, if there was, we wouldn’t have to worry because of our mountains. Things can die in the mountains, assistant.” The King laughed at his pitiful plan, and then hurried onwards to plan another part of his plan.

He went to a tall room, a great metal room, as all great kings do. That is what is accepted as the view today, it seems in modern worlds; that all great lords and kings have secret hideouts, where they bury their secrets in sheet steel, and their powers come from the rotting stone within it’s fallowed halls. That is the assumption, but this assumption holds true, for it was a steel room, lined elegantly to the tip with the portraits of many faces unseen before, and it was a stone hall, fabled as fabled and read and seen as read and seen. It was everything it was meant to be, with all the matter of gadgets hanging out and the weapons stacked neatly in a personal armoury in the corner. It was everything they ever wanted it to be, so they kept it at that.

“Where’s my council?” He asked the table, as weird as it may seem. “Where’s the lord council?” He asked again, repeating with gleam.

Taperon, Second Part of the Phase

They ran around like hornets, but they didn’t fly. It was an odd and dastardly comparison, no perhaps not hornets. Perhaps maggots, as they all seemed like maggots, a scurrying around hungrily, in a great search. They all did it, they all waited. They all wanted to do it. The leader of the vivacious pack, a tall man who’s name is seldom heard, and even more seldom said by himself, and with a long swashed beard and glittering eyes, as if they belonged to children. He was a child at heart; but he was disgusting old man outside. Nobody merely wanted to tell him that.

“Is everything ready?” He asked his assistants, all who were similarly clad in a periwinkle lab coat, boasting large and fluffy, yet swashed beards as if they were placed in a washing machine. It was an odd site indeed.

“Ready.” Said one of them, a thinly clad one, the least clone looking of them all.

“Ready, and now we wait for the commander’s permission.” The second said, joyously bouncing. It looked like a child, a quite gross and maiming child at that, and a child that no doubt any parent would immediately orphan, whether they loved kids or not.

The tallest one, the leader of the group, watching all his subjected minions roam around, fixing and preparing, said, “We have the commander’s permission.” With a tumultuous and victorious smile, and it was at that moment no one could doubt that they were finely capable of jumping up and down, clapping gleefully their little hands on their tiny clipboards, as the waves of their coats caught onto their. For it happened, and it did not look a pretty sight.

They ran like children, towards the control panels, and they prepped the silos for launch, but it was apparent that they were already prepped. It looked like nothing could go wrong. Clicking buttons frantically, programming the final steps, they spoke into their microphones, barely hiding the happy quotes they had in their hearts, anticipating this momentous moment. “Missiles ready and prepped for launch, launching immediately. Ports open?”

Another familiar voice rang up. “Open. Turrets armed?”

“Armed. Radar open?”

“Open. Television on?” A flick of the remote showed the cameras inside the missiles. “It is now.”

“Good, ladies and gentlemen. Today, we will use our toys to kick Jenrak’s ass. Put you hands up if you want to see Jenrak’s ass kicked!” He lifted his hand childishly up, and it was amusing, as many others followed in his wake.

While from below, the scientists laughed and cheered on their weapons of destruction to, things weren’t so clear, as the missiles had launched, and they had prepared to fire their way unto Jenrak’s own silos.

Makru destruction

A ray of light was all that was seen, nothing else for a little moment. It looked like a massive flash grenade was lit in the center of the hamlet village, but this one killed the town, and left a giant scorch mark on it as well. It looked like something coming out from a video game, and who knows? Perhaps these events were what games are made of. That was all that mattered. With Arcarum’s mind on the war now, they hoped, they sped across the kilometres of wretched desert to the dunes past, and it looked like a sea of sand, with bones and heaping skulls protruding from the wavy dunes.

Soldiers hitched a ride on the personnel carriers, and the tanks just sped their way past the sandy storms, as the grainy substance filthily caught itself in their tread continuously, catching up their treads. They stopped for a few hours, and then sped on again, and then stopped. They were getting sick of the desert, and Jenrak’s barriers.

After a little bit, they waited, and waited, and waited once more, in a remote location, it seemed. “Why are we stopping?” The soldiers asked, looking around. “Why?” They kept asking.

“You’ll see.” Was the only reply the commander gave them. He laughed laugh, not a hearty laugh, but a cold, cruel, sadistic laugh.

Archios

“What a lame warning,” The man said, laughing from his cockpit. The commander nodded in agreement, as he held onto the microphone.

“Alright, we will withdraw.” He said, and with those words, he hung up on the phone.

Instantly, as his words were slipped from his mind, Jets from every carrier there, and battleships and submarines aboard the fleet, turned their turrets, swivelled their missiles, and let loose a volley on the cliff wall, intent on the avalanche they knew would happen, if they only apply enough force. If not, then their transports with their precious infantry would have to do the job.

Control Central in Haasdra
Nahk was frenzied, hurried, and in stress. Attacks unprovoked, trade embargoes, and now nuclear missiles aimed at his precious stockpiles began to ravage his computers, pop up on every single phone call he was given. Thinking carefully, inside his castle, he placed his thought together and picked up the phone. He would have to call everyone in his arsenal up to stop this threat. The first and foremost, was his beloved friend Saerus Annirak, who had been recently in many wars, most recent the War of Enkur. Saerus was a busy man, and a good person, and Nahk needed help from his armies, the lancers.

“Hello?” Saerus answered the phone, as the squawking of a parrot in background hurt his ears. “Sorry about the noise, I got him in the mail from a secret admirer. Decided to…” But there was a silence tone, sounding like he hung up on him. Nahk shook his head, and picked up the phone again.

“Sorry about that, that wasn’t something I expected.” Saerus said, his breath uneasy. Nahk was curious.

“What happened?”

“The bird blew up.”

“How?”

“There was a bomb strapped to it’s wing, and I didn’t even notice.”

“Someone sent you an animal with a bomb? I doubt it’s from a secret admirer.”

“I doubt it as well now. So, have you seen the news?”

“Yes, I have. Sanduras is launching everything they’ve got at us.”

“And we’ll be hard pressed to push them back. But they don’t have the war experience we have, right?”

“That experience, won’t help us for long…” he said, as he looked on the screen, and saw the silo cameras dim out, as the enemy nuclear missiles ravaged their own missiles, and a massive shock destroyed the cameras. “…shit. They’ve taken out our missiles.”

“What? How?”

“With their own missiles.”

“They’ve just waited nuclear missiles, Nahk. They’re idiots.” But Saerus was proven wrong, when on the flickering screen, a long red seismic hotspots rumbled through the country’s eastern side, and it even reached the ends of Haasdra. “What’s going on? There’s some kind of earth - ” and the transmission was cut off.

“Fuck.” Nahk gasped. Taking up the phone, he held the red ‘9’ button down, and he spoke strongly into it’s core. His voice boomed to every single military grade speaker in the country. “All military forces. This is Red Patriarch Nahk Territurari. Enemy invasion, enemy Sanduras, confirmed. Execute Red Sky procedure.” He commanded. “Let’s play, you bastards.”

Turning to Kane nearby, Nahk nodded. “I need you to get in contact with your leader. We’ll need a decent air force.” He said, and then he turned to the left wing, and picked up a phone to Arcarum. “My lord, this is Nahk. We will need your army.” Arcarum’s voice crackled up on the receiver.

“The Sadists?”

“Yes, at the city of Rephalim. Can you send them?” Nahk asked.

“Alright.” Arcarum said.

Nahk hung up the phone. “I’ll need to gather the Patriarchs.” He said, and walked off to do his work.

Archios, the Naval Wall

The navy didn’t have to work for a very long time, before they finally had heir calculations finished, and the rocks succumbed into dust. Aiming at the Jenrakian wall to draw enemy fire, the transports finally smashed their ways unto the cold wet beach, and the soldiers filed out in single fashion. They were patient, they were tired, they were, in all their own manners, ready to fight, but they needed rest. They would attack the capital of Archios, Rephalim, tomorrow.

Taperon Nuclear Control Center

At such an odd time in war, they rejoiced. They laughed, they cheered, they drank wine and got drunk. It was not something that was serious at the moment, but it was funny, for anyone watching on the horrid sidelines.

The border line of Erges

“There it is, boys. Just like they said they’d deliver.” The commander chuckled, pulling out his rifle. If pay were representative by their guns, then this commander certainly had an extravagant pay hold. He lifted his rifle, and he flicked his fingers, like it were some gestured that was universally accepted. “Let’s go, we’re taking them down.” He edged them, as they headed to Erges.

“I will, Nahk.” said Major General Kane. “Those bastards will have Hell to paid.” Kane headed out of Nahk’s castle and to his waiting copter. In the air, he made to Count JWolf.

“My Lord, those Sandurasian bastards have fired nuclear missiles at Jenrak.” said Kane.

“I see, what do they need.” asked JWolf on the other end of the radio.

“A decent air force. Our bombers would work the best.” said Kane.

“I see, Major General.” said JWolf. “Our allies will get some help.”

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

At the many of the naval bases in the Dominion, aircraft carriers were be loaded with planes and getting ready to head to Jenrek. This naval fleet would have most of the Dominion’s aircraft carriers in it. Or the old ones.

10 CVN-65 Enterprise aircraft carriers, 5 CV-67 John F. Kennedy aircraft carriers and 5 CV 63 Kitty Hawk aircraft carriers were the aircraft carriers in this naval fleet.

The Enterprise aircraft carrier each had 20 F-27 Haste stealth fighters, 10 F-23CSJ Black Widow II fighters, 30 F-20SJ Tigershark fighters, and 20 F/A-18SJ Ultra Hornet fighters.

The John F. Kennedy aircraft carrier each had 20 F/A-18SJ Ultra Hornet fighters, 20 F-16E/FSJ Hyper Falcon fighters, 16 F/A-117X NightHawk fighters, 24 F/B-4 Phantom III fighter bombers, and 5 AV-28 Wraith ESTOVL attack aircrafts.

The Kitty Hawk aircraft carriers each had 85 F-31X Cyclone interceptors.

These aircraft carriers would be guarded by two Omega Class Trimaran heavy battleships (DN Dragon's Plague and DN Hellish Trident), 10 Praefele Class Trimaran destroyers, 10 Johnston-class AA destroyers, 10 McDonough-class ASW frigates and support boats. ETA to get near Jenrek’s waters is in 9.5 hours.

The Council of War, Haasdra

"We need to defeat Sanduras, but their first strike has ripped our nuclear capabilities. However, their nuclear missiles are flattened as well. We will need to improvise. I have a strategy that might work against them." He said, looking at them all.

"Ghallamoth, I'll need you to use your armies in Ssessloth and defend the slave camps of Ershunit. If we lose Hsac's economic backing, then we're under great trouble." He told a man, pointing at him.

"Narakeesk, take all your legions and defend the black walls in Murun. Do not leave the city at all cost."

"Saerus, bring your armies to the deserts Daradaag, and get ready for an enemy invasion. I believe they will take the swiftest route through the desert to defeat us."

"Ashili will take over the rest here." He nodded to the red haired woman who entered, and stood aflask at the front of the desk. Nahk left.

"Nahk will be gone to prepare his units in the Ravine of Raunin. We expect some kind of movement up the Viraigius. Sathmren, we need you to spearhead an assault through the enemy fleet with your naval forces, and use your lurkers to defend Argun."

"Balapheem, you will defend Jeviz'Kraa, and make sure it doesn't fall. Desdomahk, help Saerus in his assault on the Daradaag forces that will arrive."

"Lord Arcarum will be using his own armies in Rephalim. It is crucial that they do not reach the mainland." Ashili waited, but no one moved. "Go!"

Forces trembling under the sand, with a grazing heat beating upon their backs, they didn't feel right, they didn't feel good; they felt terrible. It was as if this weather had a mind of it's own, and the mind belonged to a sadistic little boy. This was not a nice place to be fighting. But in the distance, like a mirage, like a hallucination that was seldom fought off, there was the ocean, and there, past the ocean, was the land of the foe, the city of Erges, and their forces marched. "Damn sun." One of the soilders complained. Many agreed; this weather was horrible.

The Battle of Erges, Phase 1
Saerus' men had prepared, and readied themselves for their counterstrike, and in the far off distance, they saw their foe, the Sandurian forces headed towards Erges, towards the city of jewel. "Center Wing position!" Saerus yelled out to his minions, as they broke off into a long scattered line, in impotent position. He heard behind him, a great looming boom that blistered into the swift air. A long circled snake, with a great black hand grasping it's neck, as it were a fury; the great symbol of Desdomahk, and his great followers on their lances, their own long swift bikes, and they carried their forces with them.

However, from behind the lines of the first wave of lances, Saerus saw a long, joint unit, two lancing bikes, with a large missile rack in the middle, as it lunged it's rockets towards the foe, and the initial charge rammed towards them.

The Battle of the Slaves, Phase 1
Foreign territory. That's all they ever reached. That's all they ever will reach. Hsac was a separate domain from their own, but it's romaning and nomadic properties allowed them to trade freely slaves with Jenrak's authorities, their body counting into the millions. Ghallamoth had been here before, and he never wanted to come here again, crawling quietly up the cliff wall to observe the horrid scene.

Far off, as far as the eye could see, were small shabby little tents, and tiny community like orders, as the soldiers of Hsac patrolled the nightline railings, high energy rifles at their hands, as the tanks and the Humvees were used as turrets. These were once foes, in the war of the NorthWestern Eruption, but now no longer are they enemies, but allies, and their slaves were always a great source of muscle power.

"Stay low." Ghallamoth ordered his troops, as they took up positions along the cliff's edge, and he sent a small group of signal flares from his location, telling them that his presence is required by the laws of Jenrak. "Now we wait." He said, and sat down, his soldiers following his movements.

Murun, the city of spirits
It was quiet, it was dark, it was frightening, as faint whispers in the night were all they heard, and the soldiers stayed in groups. Occasionnally, men dissappeared, but none so important that they did a damage to the units. "Stationed in Murun." Narakeesk shivered in the cold air. "I can't believe this."

Rephalim, Phase 1
"How many turrets are set up?" The sadist leader, a cunning warrior named Andra asked the men. "We need enough to defend the left and right ends of the city."

"All parts of the city are protected." The soldiers answered him immediately.

"Good. Station infantry at the west end of the city. Our land enemies will be bombarding from there."

Rephalim’s Edge

They had reached what they wanted, did they not? The infantry had finally cascaded up the dangerous slide of land, and their naval counterparts have finally begun to drift farther down the sea, aimed to take out Jeviz’Kraa by water, and break the gateway to Haasdra’s heartland. But first they must rip through Argun. That horrendous piece, the disgusting slice of dirt that drivels in the middle of the ocean, it was a useless object that Jenrak so dearly clung onto. But enough of the naval recollection, the infantry are too erstwhile to become a threat as of now.

They had trudged afar many, many distances, waiting and sleeping, napping and resting along the way, drying up their little obtained water, their warmth sustained, their fervour still high, they plunged into the heart of war. They plunged into the heart of the enemy’s trap, to set a trap of their own.

“Fire!” The infantry yelled, as they ran towards the enemy, in spite of the flaming machine guns, the great massacres of blood, and the massive explosions that resulted from their men. “Launch the decoys!” The commander yelled once more, with a difficult tone in his voice. It was another frenzied scene, an unnatural battle taking place that was best left to not take place, and it happened at the edge of the objective. His men were falling fast, but they were doing their job. Only a few, were shot in the back.

“Now!” He yelled, as he commanded his soldiers to retreat. “Back to shores!” He yelled, rallying his troops to return to shore.

The battle of Erges

Erges was aloft in the shining fables they said it was, a great gleaming jewel of the eastern sea, and it was, but there was price to such an expensive city; an enemy. In the south, they turned to their right and saw a battalion of lancer class vehicles, created solely through Jenrak’s purpose, come forth like a wave of hungry locusts.

“Fire!” The commander yelled, and his men got into position. They had to hide, and they hid anywhere, and everywhere they could find, blasting off rounds and the bullets shrieking with anger. “Artillery fire now!” The stern commander yelled again, and a swift pulse of the artillery pummelled into the center of the enemy, hoping to break them from inside.

Ershunit

Ershunit was quiet at night, so peaceful, yet so close to their objective. What was it? It was simple; to destroy them. As hundreds of troops and tanks went through the choking ravine, they headed to Ershunit, and was intent on not letting them move any longer.

Rephalim
As they retreated quickly, Andra pulled on his following soldiers back. “Something’s not right. An infantry force that large still runs? I doubt it.” He pulled out a long pistol, and fired off a foreign HE round onto one of the bodies. A chain reaction occurred, as the flames and the triggers from the bodies engulfed the rest in a massive explosion, which shook the sands and scattered the remains to light debris, the blood dripping tenaciously from it’s hilt, as tongue, eye, arm and fingers alike were all strewn across the battlefield. It was impossible to determine who’s parts belonged to who’s body. Andra smiled.

“You sneaky bastards.” He said, putting his gun back on his tether. He turned to his forces, “Draw our your guns, and get ready. We’re going to give these new rounds a try, and we’ll see how it works.” He commanded. “Hide in the buildings, now.” As the troops hid into the shattered, the broken, and the crusted enflamed structures, waiting for their prey to return. Their detonation diversion did not work out as planned, but hopefully Andra’s plan would be more successful than his enemy’s.

Erges
A great swivel of destruction aimed, and many soldiers were crushed in the fistful fire that ensued the center of the flank, but Saerus kept his normality, and yelled out his next chain of commands. “Left side, head on, right side, diversion!” He cried, as the forces on the left twisted around, narrowly missing another bombardment, while the right side flung head on into the enemy barricades. So sure? Saerus thought, looking at the steel wall formed. “Now, fire!” He cried, and his forces split apart into separate riders, as the buggies behind fired rocket after rocket, and the metal casing was finally pierced, a small hole which a machine gun fired tenaciously onto their flanks.

“Vials, now!” Saerus consorted to his legions, as they ran and threw small, circular canisters into the tiny hole of the steel wall, and it detonated the poison inside. “Retreat!” He told them, heading towards Ershunit. Gas masks wouldn’t help them now; it was night rabies, level 3, and such a large invasion force would not take their occupying units with them. Saerus was sure this would be the end of the enemies in Erges.

Ershunit
A similar strategy was employed in Ershunit. However, it was different in a certain meaning. As the enemy Sandurian forces arrived, in their power, Ghallamoth’s men let loose a volley of chemical bullets onto them, all tipped in night rabies and xanthiram. This would be the end of the Sandurian forces in Ershunit as they know.

OOC: I'll post later Jenrak.

IC:

Ershunit

They shouldn’t have been too quick to celebrate, did they? While Jenrak’s men were safely in their cowardly positions, the slaves were apparently, not. A stray bite to a slave from an affected soldier, however, turned his people into legions, and since they never offered a cure, the disease began to spread. Slaves began to attack each other, biting enemies left and right, as cannibalistic as avertedly subconsciously, Jenrak had done Sanduras’ goal for them. They had ruined Ershunit for them. “Let’s go, and leave the infected behind.” The captain said, before a ravaged soldier bit him in the neck. “Shit.” He said, before he began to hallucinate.

Erges

“Augh! Smells like crap!” A soldier yelled out. Did he have the authorization to say that? Nobody knew, but it was in seconds, that he fell down, his breathing slowed, and he fell onto the ground, his breath short and stubborn. “Get a medic, please!” One of his friends yelled. Now, it was not something that was to be rejoiced, seeing your friend about to die, but when no medic came, this man, as brave and devoted to helping as he was, was foolish to mess with chemicals.

The man knew CPR, and thankfully, as he pressed his friend’s chest, and his mouth was on his, his friend came to mind. Mind you, this was not the normal glance of life renewed, no. This was the normal glance of death incarnated, as someone still dead coming back alive, it seemed, like a zombie, but different. He showed no difference, except when he right his friend’s tongue from his mouth. The foolish man, screaming in agony, as his blood hosed out of his blood, splattering on to the sand, onto his friends, his fellow warriors. Everyone had their attention set to the man, and they all had their rifles up, backing away.

Rephalim

“Let’s go back to Rephalim!” The sneery commander said, yelling to his men, as they obeyed him, as much as they could. Personally, he was a very scary man, not a great threat because of his weakness and his destructive pride, but his cunning. “This one is in the bag.” He said, crawling like a filthy merchant down the dunes and over barbed fence, kicking the discarded machine gun.

Rephalim
The man had entered in their domain, with his units and his infantry, in the thought that they were defeated; that they were broken and have been lost to another foe. He was wrong. Immediately, as the barbed slunked, and the metal string snatched, they knew he was there: they knew their enemy was prepared. But was it for the right thing? He doubted it, as he fired upon the small charge left behind, and the soldiers emerged from their hiding in the windows, their locations coveted by stone. "Fire!" He yelled, as they obeyed directly, and shot their newly acquired rounds against the enemy.

Ershunit
"Keep them down, men!" Ghallamoth commanded, as snipers and soldiers at every cliff wall let loose every bullet, every gullet of a rocket they had, every single flare, every single slice of lead in their piles. "We can't let them leave!" Ghallamoth commanded, from atop his railing, as a bullet stung it's way into his arm, and pierced his flesh. "Crap. Get me a medic." He told them, but they merely nodded.

Erges
Their diversion had worked. Or did it? Enemy fire returned on them the moment they set their scopes on their foes, no longer caring of their afflicted friends. Saerus had mounted his bike once more, and he ordered his men to do the same, as the rocketeers still kept their engines revved, against the grueling desert heat. A launch of a pile of flash grenades, and with their eyes closed, they recklesly charged towards the enemy, rockets blazing and lead sleeting through humid air.

Ershunit

The men and the forces had tried to flee, in their wake, as rocket fire blazed and bullets swung through the vicious night air, as the slaves swallowed whole their pain. A crushed cliff, and shattered rock wall, that was what separated the doomed soldiers with the slaves, and now Ershunit was in tattered ruins. In crumbling chaos. They had to flee fast, but enemy forces still kept their wary against them, launching rocket after rocket, flare after flare, illuminating the night scene as the lights flashed blood and guts, instestines gargled out, hands sawed off, and all that existed left were nothing to be comparably decent. It, in all manners, was horrific, and it was dangerous deathly.

Erges

Artillery fire was shot, and it pummelled in enemy shots, as long javelin missiles aimed at the lancing bikes that came towards them. Another blast of bullets, and another splurge of artillery shot through the air.

Archios

The navy had trudged down the rivers, waiting, and waiting, until they reached a large contingent of forces that opposed them; the Jenrakian navy. “Let’s fight.” The commander of the navy said, and they flung all their forces at them, prepared to battle.

Ershunit
A neccessary sacrifice; that was what it was called. The slave camps were in their grasp, in their hands, and now enemy forces have pushed them away from it. They would no longer have the economic backing of the slaves provided by great Hsac.

Erges
A flash of fire was all they saw, as it liquidated their eyes and covered their senses. It ensnared their minds, and encased their powers in flames, but they kept pushing forwards against the enemy forces. It was artillery, after all. They did undeniably well against artillery. Their only challenge was the thick steel heatseeker wall that laid between them and their target.

Instantly, another blast had shaken their ranks, and the infantry and the lancers scattered into a frenzy of units that crawled on the sands, still clutching their rifles as they slithered in pain towards the foe defiantly. Others, so unlucky, laid dead, a heaping burning mass of corpses that smoked with ruin still in the great light, as the steam arose from their ends.

At the back of the flank came Saerus, in his glistening gold armour, but a stray artillery shot slashed into his leg, and renderedh im unable to fight back against enemy forces. He was stunned, in all of a sense, against whirring explosions and the chaotic flames that engulfed battlefield. Blood stained the sands, and bodies littered the ground, as their respective parts decorated the scene. Dried, crisp blood, while other pieces steamed as meat, boiled in the frgrant sunlight, with nothing but the ensuing metal shards to keep them company.

Saerus did not give up. A rip in his leg was nothing; a tore in his tendon was absolutely ignorable. He could work and live on willpower, all he had to do was to fight it with all his might, all his strength, and nothing more; nothing less. "Keep breaking their lines!" He commanded to his forces, as they sped forwards on their bikes, behind his other units firing rockt after rocket, intent on the twisting of the metal that encumbered into their path. He mounted his bike, felt the metal shard rip deeper into his wound as blood trickled down his pant, and he lunged forwards, crying a deepening yell that he would hope had invigorate his soldiers - the ones that were alive, at least.

Archios
Archios fared much better than Ershunit, a complete failure, and Erges, a tale still needed to be unwoven. In a blinding flair, the enemy had unleashed their massive payload against the Jenrakian fleet, but their tactics could only prove to be a minimal damage. Armoured defenders, moving masses of plate steel, had rummaged their way up to the front flanks of the ships, and stayed there, hoping to be tall and strong enough to stop gauss shots from enemy ships. Another blast of stone and gunpowder, another swift rip of the rocket, and the armoured ships fell, leaving behind a smoking ruin in their blaze.

From the rising smoke, came out tiny little balls, barely small enough to be seen, but they were in fact, quite in alrge amounts, and they separated, staying off alone, running towards the enemy, seeming to skip across the water, the delicate ripples showing their movements, while another event happened simultaenously. The other units, the battleships and the cruisers, erected a large smokescreen from their ends, as they shot a giant bevy of flare rockets into the water, and smoke rose deftly.

From the blackish-grey smoke, came a large assortment of lightly armoured ships, tiny and minuscle, but full of missiles ready to be fired. In an instant, they unleashed their payload.

Rephalim
The infantry walked over, and gunfire was initiated on them, the explosive rounds from the bullets smashing into their body parts, as they tried to fire back.

Erges

Enemy forces came along, and they broke through steel wall, the rocket battallions but the infantry set up their shotguns, and fired at the passerby lacers on their bikes.

Archios

Enemy circle like drones came from the break in the wall, and they came and came and came, while the battleships faced a dilemma. Fight an unknown enemy, battle a rain of rockets, or split forces to both? In the end, it was prudent to hold off both, the unknown drones by launching massive depth charges, shockwaves that hopefully would kill many at once, and the long range anti-air missiles would hopefully destroy some of the missiles, and they did, but the damage to the fleet was still catastrophic.

I, Nahk, will give Sanduras three warnings on their attacks on Jenrak's military. We ourselves are intent on Sanduras' destruction after such henious attacks of deception, and if not given an amiable response, we will deploy all forces to deal with you. You have 24 hours to reply.
-Nahk Territurari, Red Patriarch of the Armies of Haasdra

The massive Dominion navy was about 4.5 hours away from Jenrak waters. On each ship, the crew was rechecking the systems. Fighters were being load and fly crew were running drills to make sure nobody would mess up.

Aboard the DN Dragon's Plague, Admiral Jarvis Putzkanner watched his fleet on the bridge. The Admiral was a veteran naval man of the Dominion Navy. He was around 61 years old and had a full hear of gray hair. He smiled as he drank his coffee.

OOC: Sand and I have agreed that this thread is compeltely open now. So yah.

IC:

Rephalim
Enemy fire had blasted and carved a long rip of steel and stone, as the bullets richocheted off most, hitting the soldiers in their eyes, their faces, and their arms, as they from their heights in their stone garrisons. Bodies began to fly, as fire enflamed the ground below them, where their lacklustered foe laid.

Erges
The shotguns were devastating, killing hundreds of lancers as they fell from their bikes, but the remaining force drew their swords and ran at their foe manically, their blades wielded high. In the distance, rockets still fired, aimed at the artillery that pummeled many forces of their own into the ground.

Archios
There were many depth charges unleashed by their enemy, but many more drones existed, scurrying their way onto the ships, drilling holes into their victims' hulls, as they detatched themselves and jumped off, leaving behind small waterproof explosives on the hulls of the ships.

Meanwhile, the flakked rockets got pummeled tenaciously, but another wave was soon launched, while the cannons from the naval battleships unloaded all of their payload. Aircraft emerged from the carriers, bombers leaking out from every porthole, as they prepared their annihilation of the enemy.

I, Nahk, will give Sanduras three warnings on their attacks on Jenrak's military. We ourselves are intent on Sanduras' destruction after such henious attacks of deception, and if not given an amiable response, we will deploy all forces to deal with you. You have 24 hours to reply.
-Nahk Territurari, Red Patriarch of the Armies of Haasdra

Message to Red Patriarch Nahk
From: Marcus, King of Sanduras

"We know that we have unanticipated weapons that we never have seen before. Very well, what propositions will you make that should we surrender?"

The Article of Surrender for Sanduras
As proposed by the Sandurian King Marcus, Nahk Territurari has issued an ultimatum for Sanduras to take by, should they wish that their forces be safely returning to see home again. Rejection of this treaty WILL result in Jenrak's resort to our biological weapons.

Article I. Weapons Possession
All forces in Sanduras are to be taken and destroyed, and their military abolished as seen fit by the Patriarch and Matriarchal system in Jenrak. The Sandurian army must remain armless for 3 months, for that period Jenrak's military will be policing their citizens, while ascertaining to Sandurian laws still.

Article II. Weapons limitation
Sanduras is unable to breach a weapons creation of 2 weapons per soldier enrolled in the military, and must keep their infantry count down to 200,000 troops. A tank production of 500 tanks per year is allowed, but cannot breach 5,000 tanks at any rate. There is no limit for aircraft, but Anti-Aircraft defenses are to be taken down immediately.

Article III. Royal Reconfgiuration
The King Marcus will stand trial for his crimes against the Jenrakian people, and also for crimes against Sandurian immigrants. He will be trialed by Sandurian terms, as of 1 year before the incident has taken place.

Article IV. Military Realignment
Sanduras' military will be governed by Ashili Darkholme, and any rebel factions in Sanduras executed and subsidized.

Article V. Payment
Sanduras will pay the exact amount of all the damage caused by both sides during the war, and will be unable to call upon foreign aid to help it get out of its mess.

You have 24 hours to accept this, before you are attacked upon.

Sanduras laughs at your pathetic excuse for an ultimatum, and would rather die than adhere to any of your insufferable notions. We will defeat you, and if not, then we will make sure you are crippled to a degree that rebuilding to your old self is entirely impossible.

Back in the Dominion, the God-Emperor had ordered the army to get together a so-called ‘uber’ attack army. This army could do damage and support it at the same time. This army was going to be 250,000 men strong. A strong force to be deal with.

Colonel Ronald Dawson (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/Dawson.jpg) would lead this army and find the soldiers to get the job done. He got 4,999 of his own soldiers, the 4th Raptors (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/4th.jpg). Each one is armed with a CAR-24A1 combat assault rifle, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in obscure weak yellow and obscure dull orange.

“That makes 5,000 soldier.” said the Colonel to himself.

Then he started working harder, he need some heavy hitters. So, he had 25,000 soldiers of the 1st Blood Wolves (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/1st.jpg) to get ready. Each one armed with an AR-22 heavy assault rifle, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in brick red and black.

Then he had 40,000 soldiers of the 12th Blood Dragons (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/12th.jpg) to get ready and they would be lead by Lieutenant Colonel Jarred Delgado (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/Delgado.jpg). Each one was armed with an AR-22 heavy assault rifle, a M-12 MasterKey double-barreled shotgun, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in obscure dull red and obscure gray.

“I will maybe 20,000 more attack soldier then it will be the supporters.” said the Colonel to himself.

That is when he had 20,000 soldiers of the 17th Black Angels (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/17th.jpg) to get ready for war. They would be lead by Lieutenant Colonel Steve Poll (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/Poll.jpg) in battle. Each one armed with an AR-56 assault rifle, a M-12 MasterKey double-barreled shotgun, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in black.

“Now, the support units of this army.” said the Colonel to himself.

He had 60,000 soldiers of the 24th Desert Rats (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/24th.jpg) to get ready. Each one would be armed with a MP-2 Eviscerator SMG, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in light yellow-orange. They would be lead by Lieutenant Colonel Cody Wing (http://blackfilm.com/i2/movies/b/bikerboys/011a.jpg) in battle.

Then he got 50,000 soldiers of the 45th Immortal Troopers (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/45th.jpg) to get ready. They would be lead by Lieutenant Colonel Bryan Clark (http://akamai.edeal.com/images/catalog700/folder6202/img582144.jpg) in battle. Each one was armed with FN-P90 Sub-Machine gun, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in dark faded red.

If Clark was is in, that means Lieutenant Colonel Ron Simmons (http://www.omelete.com.br/imagens/cinema/news/blade_2/blade.jpg) will be it too. So, the Colonel had 50,000 soldiers of the 46th Red Bulls (http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y101/CountJWolf/46th.jpg) to get ready. Each one was armed with a MP-2 Eviscerator SMG, a PHX Hi-Power 10mm pistol, and a set of Transylvanian body armor in dark hard red and black.

This army would have 250 T-1 Scorpion tanks, 500 M60A3 Patton battle tanks, 500 M6 Bradley Linebackers, 1,000 M109A6 Paladin Self Propelled Howitzers, 1,000 M270 MLRS Self-Propelled Loader/Launchers, over 3,000 different types of HMMWVs, 500 M978 Fueler HEMTTs, 400 M977 Cargo HEMTTs, and 1,000 M-939A2 5-TON Trucks to use as transports.

This army would be using all of the 500 CA-980 Albatross cargo planes to get to Jenrak. They would land near Archios. All of them would be there in the 6 hours.

Sanduras laughs at your pathetic excuse for an ultimatum, and would rather die than adhere to any of your insufferable notions. We will defeat you, and if not, then we will make sure you are crippled to a degree that rebuilding to your old self is entirely impossible.

Then I have no choice but to destroy you, and hang your king in city hall, while you fish out pieces of your lords in the soups we will give your slaves.
-Nahk Territurari

Secret Airbase in Marazekko
It was quiet night. It was solemn, as the chirping of birds only broke through rising of the dawn sun, as the lights bounced off the midnight glass, the fragrant air a bust with the scent of fresh flowers, tulips and roses growing beautifully from the warm heathen ground. Chirping only was heard, and little nigh dancing of the rays still sparkled on the morning dew, the grassy plains askew with the grazing lambs, still shepherded by their erstwhile owners. For this was Marazekko, a small town forged from a small tragedy, where only eons ago did a great war excitedly finish here, but deftly only the old ones remembered this town’s true legacy. In Marazekko, they said, the women were prettier, the clouds were clearer, and the town was one of the most important places in Jenrak, and possibly the terrorist world.

Perhaps they were lying about the women, and their beauty. Perhaps they were lying about the clouds, and it’s bright skies. But they, most certainly, did not lie about the importance of Marazekko and it’s tie to terrorist world. For Jenrak was the foremost of chemical weaponry, and their main manufactured laid under the hearths of this fair shanty town, under the wooden roofs and the light glass windows. Oh no, they did not exist for no reason. They existed to cover up the giant powers beneath. For under their feet, many, many feet under, lay a massive production and research facility, a giant metal base, deep in the ground, where gasses roamed supreme, and testing for always new threats that would arise into their gleam. The head of the operation, and the overseer of the projects, was a pretty, long haired brunette, with deep fierce eyes that carved it’s etch deep into the souls of whoever looked at her.

A fawn of curiosity, a stench of loyalty, and always a taste for human flesh, that was her. She thrived off the muscle and blood of others, to crush their bones, and rip their sinew from their supports, to plunged her sparkling white teeth into their hearts and feel the deep gushing blow erect from their lungs. That girl, was her. Standing there, quietly, atop the tall pillar of metal, as her subjects scrambled and tested and researched and created, as the flight routes were watched and monitored, the movements always glittering on the black fading screen. It was her, with the sword dangling at her side. She fuelled the Jenrakian Machine of War, and she watched the engine push forwards, as if it was a beating heart struggling to beat still. Serrin Dreskisk, the mysteriously two sided wife of Arcarum Dreskisk, the Lord of the province of Haasdra.

At times, she was pleasant, and cautious, and always amusing and charming to be around, her impeccable nature and vividly cute looks always catching many people’s attention, but other times, in her work, she stayed focused. She was a cruel, military mastermind, who would stop at nothing until all her dreams of destruction had been extinguished into the heart of her enemies, and her husband’s dream of a peaceful unity finally realized. And she would stop at nothing, nothing, to achieve those dreams. She would sacrifice everything. And now, her sacrifice has been rewarded. In a research experiment, a new kind of virus has been created, a deadly venom that is entered through the eyes of the victims, rendering all of their senses destroyed, their ability to touch, to feel, to hear, taste smell and see, all gone in a single flash. Death would not occur, but it made them horribly easy to kill, unable to maintain themselves without a stance to hold onto.

“Work faster you scum.” She would always push them on with, as they would try to increase their motions by many times over, often many going mad, before she would inexplicably shoot them in the open. Her attitude was not known to her erstwhile husband, as she kept her darker side a menacing secret, a bloodlust that was kept in the shadows until the proper light came to expose it. This development, was the proper light. Not only had the bubbling yellow liquid of a virus been invented, a cold, numbing sensation, but the dispenser was invented for her virus. Small, needle tipped darts, that spray gas on contact, will be dropped in masses unto the unsuspecting enemies, on the foes in Rephalim, in Erges, and the sinking navy of Sanduras in the coastlines of Archios.

Ershunit is doomed, as the night rabies she made had undone her prized slaves, but she was intent on rebuilding a new Ershunit, a greater one built with the bodies and the muscle of all the Sandurian forces chained in a single glorious team. “How much production percentage have we reached?” She asked angrily, standing there, watching as her leather coat flickered around in it’s wake, although the eerie frozen wind did not exist, a cold breeze seemed to shudder through all their bones. “Have we reached the required 100,000?” She waited, her arms folded across her chest.

“No, milady. We have not reached the required 100,000 yet. We will however, in a few hours.” One of the doctors assured her, an old wracking doctor that had a wrinkly face, as she looked like she was constantly droopy. Serrin frowned immediately at the prospect.

“Then hurry up.” She commanded imperiously, but the old doctor persisted.

“We will soon. It will just - ” As a dart flung fro Serrin’s bracelet, and shot into the doctor’s neck. The old woman screamed in terror and pain, as her wrinkling face became veined, as the purple blood rushed into her brain, and a one of them popped under her skin. A purple bruise crawled throughout her face, until is happened again in her hands, and her arms, and her legs, until she fell, quickly on hard metal floor, her body snapping in pieces as she slumped. It crackled a large snip of the bones, and the heaping lumps of mass flesh and bone laid there, as blood trickled out of the her mouth, forming a crusting pile of blood as the cold floor slowed it’ progress. Nobody looked at her in surprise, and it was now apparent that this torment was common down under Marazekko.

“We get the number wanted now, and we dropped them in the hour. Understood?” She asked, as the scientists frantically ran around and tried to finish here worked, as Serrin stood there waiting for a response. “Does anybody here listen?!?” She yelled, unloading a few more poisonous rounds into random passing scientists, their bodies crumpling in a heap of mass once more like the old woman before them. The other scientists nodded in fright, some sweating frantically as they waited for approval to move again.

“Good. Launch the first wave to Erges and Rephalim. Archios isn’t a priority as of now.” She ordered, as the commander said in his casual voice, on the communicator.

“Yes, madam.” He replied, before a large explosive noise was heard, and the grinding of gears and the whirring of metal decorated the background noise in the communicator. “We will arrive in a few minutes.” He said, as the background noise became more pronounced.

“Good.” Serrin said, turning off the communicators. She picked them up, and placed them down again and turned it back on. “Do you know the procedure?”

“Yes, ma’am. We are highly trained to know.” The commander on the other end replied, before he turned his off.

In the hangar, airmen scrambled to their respective airplanes, large sleek stealth bombers that carried long green missiles, as the liquid inside sloshed around carefully, the giant metal hangar bay doors opening, and the light piercing in. They came out row by row, in large files, zooming out from the cliff wall, and into the air once more. They breathed sigh of relief, and sped forwards to the large battle taken outside of Erges, on the edge of the ocean, between Saerus and Desdomahk against the Sandurian enemy. “Alright you bastards, you know what the target is?” The captain asked his team on the communicators.

“Yes, sir.” One of the fighters replied.

“Review it for me, then.” He said, still keeping on course.

“We are to break off in a few minutes and half of us are headed towards Rephalim, the other company towards Erges, correct, captain?” The same voice over speeched carefully. The captain snickered, but he sighed.

“You have one good mind, Brian.” The captain said, as he broke off into the eastern dunes, while the second force smashed their way into he western plains. “Remember, kill anything that moves. Don’t hesitate to bomb our own guys if they’re surrounded by enemies. They’re sadist class warriors. They know what to do.” The captain remarked again, finally shutting off his communicator.

“Yes, sir.” Brian replied, before he and his company closed theirs. After a small while Brian picked up his communicator, while the captain picked up his. “Attention all Jenrakian forces. Biological Bombing run underway. Please prepare or take cover.” And with that, they turned their communicators off, and the raptors sped full speed towards the bombers, backing them up, as small fighters laid perched on their ends, not even large enough to fit a single person.

The bombers headed towards their targets, and they were nearly there. In Rephalim, the Sadist soldiers hiding in the buildings, placed on their chemical suits, large rubber suits with metal coating to protect their bodies from the imminent bombing. As the bombers approached, and they began to drop their payload, the Sadists waited.

Meanwhile, in Erges, Saerus’ forces retreat and scattered in pieces, as artillery fire still tried to pummel them from afar, until they saw the large blanket of fighters approaching deftly on the horizon.

Archios
The ships began to move back, but some of the battleships began to slow down, finally mysteriously they sunk without an explanation into the cold water. But why? Why did they simply fall in? Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. It was apparent that whatever those tiny things were that they were responsible for drilling the holes in the hulls of the ships, that sunk, and now they were becoming a devastating nuisance. Their size made it easy to shoot at them, but the sheer numbers made it hard.

A voice radio from the infantry on Rephalim was issued, and the aircraft emerged from every carrier possible, headed towards Rephalim. As they reached the maniacal bombing run of their enemies, they unleashed a massive evoke of missiles.

As the airplanes came, and the rockets blasted after them, the small tiny planes leapt from the raptors and flung their way into the path of the rockets, colliding with them, and the raptors, from the flames of the explosions, let loose their own barrage of anti-aircraft missiles.

The massive Dominion navy was about 1.5 hours away from Jenrak waters. They would make it there before any of the army landed in Jenrak. They would join up with Jenrak’s navy and hunt down the enemy navy.

Fighters were getting ready to take off at the right moment.

Nearly half the fleet was destroyed, but the aircraft kept coming, and kept launching their missiles. Soon the enemy raptors shot their missiles, and the aircraft were hard pressed to dodge them all. Prepping up their own missiles, they launched their entire payload before the Sandurian forces were destroyed. It would have to be a neccessary sacrifice.

OOC: I'll show you sacrifice.

Brian looked headfast against the raging rockets, the blast of the glittering sky blossoming of fire, as flames still lingered on the drafting smoke that emerged from the ruins that fell unto the dirty ground, still littered with corpses and remains of both sides. A lunge to the left, and a rocket flung at his ship, but his swift turn merely made it miss, but it smashed into another one’s ship, and he felt not so confident in his ability. Yet his skills would be the thing to save his life, hopefully, as another pair of rockets launched their way towards him, and he trail off course from the battlefield to escape his mechanical pursuers. The click flash of the rocket spun down onto his starboard side, while the other seemed broken, erratically swerving into the air to reach him.

A flash again to the left, but the rockets persisted, following his movements exactly. Anther twist downwards, as fast and hard as he could ,before nearly plunging into the ground, but the rockets followed him still. A blast of swift fire from his own rockets, as he saw a group of bombers harassed by missiles, had cleared a small pathway in the sky for his men to clear out and escape before their lumbering selves were destroyed. Machine gun blazed below him, as bullet breached into his hull, and nearly ripped it’s way unto his engine, but it stopped soon, after the metal had caused it to come to a halt, the furious fire of enemy lead still present, as the rockets followed him still. “What the hell?” He asked, as another rocket had trailed onto his radar, his window still foggy from the many dusty clouds that had ensnared his senses.

“Left up.” He moved, as his tail wing twisted and his jet shot up high into the sky, and his rocket pursuers did not give chase, but merely went to find a more easy and yet succulent target consume in flames. Brian would not let that happen, no matter what. He had to change that. Twisting down, he fired at the rockets with his own payload, and blasted the first two stubborn missiles in a brilliant display of fireworks, still clinging into the sky like before. Grey hazes surrounded their remains as two more rockets emerged swiftly gliding towards him from the grey haze. Another great heap and he swerved downwards, headed towards the other rockets, still hunting tenaciously after his men, as they were being picked off one by one, the raptor decoys doing much to help, but not enough to protect the bombers. Chemical gas poured out into the air every time they exploded, giving a pungent smell every time he passed through the clouds. Although he did not become intoxicated by the stench, he was annoyingly used to it, before another splurge of rockets came onto his radar, pushing up from the hard left.

Twisting right again, he went to top speed against his foe, and flung his airplane up and then down, firing a rocket at his own enemies, blasting a few rockets in a magnificent display, but also his wing became slightly damaged, his plane beginning to lean to the left. Finally, he pulled out a final trick, but it required a massive sacrifice. “All nearby raptor class fighters pull back to me.” He commanded to the group, as both sides still raged on, the bombers attempting to flee, the enemy hunting them down and the raptors still bursting against their tenacious foe. Soon, a pair of long bladed planes, with staunch and swift wings, long missile emerging from their helms, joined Brian’s bomber-like jet, and twisted their way beside him.

“Captain Jans, we’re here.” They replied, still looking back carefully at the rockets turning to follow them. “What do you need?” One of the raptors was smashed into oblivion by an enemy rocket, and they sped up, turning in circles. “They’re all around us, can we get some reinforced attacks?” The raptor asked, his missiles emerging from it’s stack.

“No, I need you to follow my bomber. When I say so, unleash all your missiles. Understand?” He said, as he turned around.

“Yes sir.” The raptors replied in turned, following his every move, as they twisted around and followed him. They moved elegantly, and gracefully, but not in the swift erratic motion that poor old Captain Brian moved in. Yet he still condoned his movements carefully to the air, and sped headfast towards the enemy rockets, launching a massive rocket towards the middle of the battlefield, a giant heat flare lighting up the scene as the rockets from both sides sped towards them, but when the flare died out, they retreated. Yet they were on the path he needed them to be.

“Now!” He yelled, as his raptors launched all their missiles into the center, where he plunged immediately to the spot. They could not hear his yells of triumph, as his bomber was encircled by many kinds of missiles, as the flaming heat from all sides engulfed him like the flames of hell, as whether he did not cry in the pain of death, but merely laughed a great laugh of victory, as his men saw his tactic, and they yelled in furious chaos, for what they had to do. They had to fight against him, to eliminate the enemy’s threat of weapons. For his sacrifice, they were given a few minutes of advantages; the enemy was unarmed, their forces still needing to replenish from their mistake, that the decoying captain had finally disarmed by making them waste their ammo on a single target, larger than any robotic plane could endure.

“Fire!” The raptors yelled in tandem, as the sky lit up in fire once more, in memory of the fallen captain, so short did he live in war, to finally make a great stance a foe superior. The missiles blazed from their rockets, unto the unsuspecting aircraft, as they still did what they had to do, and the raptors did what they had to do; retaliate.

The massive Dominion navy fleet has arrived in Jenrak’s water. ‘All hands to battle stations.” order was on every ship. The guns on each ship started to fire on the Sanduras navy. The Sanduras navy was in a hard place and was about to be destroyed all the way.

Each Enterprise aircraft carrier launched all 30 F-20SJ Tigershark fighters and 20 F/A-18SJ Ultra Hornet fighters. The Tigersharks were armed with anti-ship missiles. The Ultra Hornets were armed with anti-air missiles. A total of 500 fighters were in the air heading straight at the Sanduras navy.

OOC: Use that (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=400550) you get info on the Omega Class Trimaran heavy battleships and Praefele Class Trimaran destroyers. Use that (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=404832) you get info on the Johnston-class AA destroyers and McDonough-class ASW frigates.

OOC: Bump

Representative for Sanduras,

On behalf of the Holy Imperator of Cruxgrad, we would like to offer your nation eight 5-ton trucks of medical supplies to aid you in their most horrific war. These supplies will range from bandages & Iodine to morphine injections. We would be delivering them in one of our 'Skymaster' carrier planes to a location of your choosing where they can then be distributed amongst your forces.

If you would like us to continue with this, kindly let us know.

Sympathies,
Sir Ivan Zachis,
Minister for Foreign Affairs.

To Cruxgrad:

While your intentions are well, we cannot trust you as you have an embassy in Jenrak's nation, and vice versa. Therefore, as you may be a potential enemy masqueraded as a friend, we must decline.

The Battle of Erges
It was hot, as heat flared up into theirs minds, unable to focus, to think, to see. Cold, they wished they felt. Warmth, they wished they hadn't. For everything that they could see, could become, could do, they had to think about it carefully, and plan it out, lest they face the fiery blade of defeat at the heels of their foes. They did not want to lose, and they showed it in their grimace, their eyes, their pain. For such a long time, hath the soldiers looked wary, looked tired, as their comrades in arms fallen in great lieges against the tenacious foe; against an enemy that had caught them by surprise. As much as they wanted to go home, to greet their lovers, and loved ones, they could not, for a foe laid between them and their home, an enemy that threatened to destroy them. Dripping from their heads, their bodies, their wounds, was sweat and blood, but no one could tell the difference anymore. Nobody cared that a splintered was in his leg, or a piece of metal still stuck freshly into his shoulder. Nobody cared at all. All that mattered was the victory, the taste of power and the sound of the horns, the horns that meant that they had conquered a foe that was intent on conquering them.

“This is the final piece.” Saerus chattered, his throat throbbing in pain, his eyes a bloodshot red as the sandy grains still lingered in his tears, as they dripped down with blood and bone unto the hard, itchy surface of the battlefield, as skies laid bleak and tormenting, taunting their every death, their every pain and their every loss. For they had loss many good men in the pre-emptive strikes on Jenrak, and they had lost many more men in their assaults when the earthquakes happened. When the seismic activity crushed the buildings, the people, the cars and the roads, where Jenrak’s once dazzling castles were nothing but a ruin, and in the near distance, they saw the perpetrators to the act, the destroyers of the objects and the powers they had worked for a great time to maintain and create. Outraged, out sensed, and more importantly, out numbered, the men had to resort to more conventional tactics, but that still did not equal to the level of stability and victory they needed in battle. Now, as the scales of war tipped, and the balance of war once more equal amongst the throng, now the tenacity was the same. Jenrak had lost their nuclear devices, their economic backings, and Sanduras had lost their navy, and their companies, but only one thing remained: the final gate to either lands, to either enemy strongholds.

If Sanduras defeats Jenrak on the plains of Erges, then the heart of Haasdra, and Jeviz’Kraa, would be wide open, the dunes no longer safe and ravaging, but now a swift contemplation against the wretched foe. However, if the blade of Jenrak cleaves the war machines of Sanduras, then the only forces left are the defensive forces stationed in the enemy itself, and only the sneaky will bypass their defenses, or the ruthless for that matter. Now, the outcome of the war was determine in this one battle, on the dusty sands, in the outskirts of a shattered hellhole, nothing to fight for but their future. The Death of one person will be the death of ten in war. The of none, will be the death of victory. Those were the words from Ciranaar Arkszen, and it showed his sacrifice to keep his war going, when he fought his maniacal brother in the great plains of Ascherach. We have nothing left to hold onto now, except for our beliefs, and that, in itself, is enough. That is enough to send our enemies to hell, so they can burn in our hell, to feel the writhing blades pierce into their skins, where their eyes will be in pain for all eternity. We shall send them there, no matter what.

The beginning assault started with Saerus’ yell of fury, as he lunged forwards on the remains of his golden lancer bike, his long raging sword still out and his shield still up, his armor broken and tattered against the raging shards. A splinter of metal in his shoulder, a piece of a grenade stuck in his leg, he did not take the time to take them out of his womb, as a bullet shot at him, hitting him in the hand, as he smashed into the enemy fire, as the artillery from his foes blasted off crackles of destruction, making them desperate and faint. “Another slash, another death.” He yelled in his cut voice, his great gleam of strength silencing in the middle of the battle, as rockets surged forth from his men.

“Bring your forces to the left flank!” He urged to his forces, the men agreeing and twisting around to turn left, and then smashing their ways through the dunes to fire off another swift vestige of rockets. “Launch the spiders!” He yelled in tandem, throwing out a long metal vial into the ground near the enemy, as it laid there still, but it locked into the ground, and sprayed a bevy of gas from it’s ends, until the liquid emptied. The vials were soon thrown by the many others in his stead, and they retreated quickly as the rockets from around them flashed towards the foe.

As the enemy would soon have to deal with rockets and their air covered in gas, Saerus and his men lunged forwards closer to drop off another strike, a giant amount of grenades, ready to burst open in flames, large fragmentation grenades ready to spray a bevy of metal shards everywhere.

“Twist down to the center!” He yelled, before he sped back, another bullet piercing his gut. How could they get through his armor? He thought, as the bullets bounced dangerously off it’s smooth surface. Something did not make sense. Who could have the aiming accuracy to pierce him from such a distance, in such a small hole? He seemed to underestimate the resolve these enemies would fight to, and he would make that weakness of his into an advantage.

“Bring all your men back!” He yelled on his communicator, to his men in the left end, as they fired rockets still.

“Yes, milord.” The man replied, before a screaming torment filled the static background and shut his communications off.

Aboard the DN Dragon's Plague, location bridge

“Sir, we are getting reports that the Jenrak’s forces need some air cover in Erges.” said the Admiral’s second in command.

“Well, have some fighters .” ordered Admiral Jarvis Putzkanner.

“Yes, sir.” said his second in command. He hurried over to the radio and did what he was ordered.

In minutes, fighters were being launched for the carriers. The total of 120 F/B-4 Phantom III fighter-bombers were in the air and heading towards Erges. Each one was armed with four AIM-9X Sidewinder missiles and in the bomb bay was six MK79 1000lb Napalm bombs.

Their target was the enemy’s artillery in Erges.

---------

Archios

Colonel Ronald Dawson and his army have landed and started their trip across the bridge. The tanks, the Paladins, the MLRS and the HMMWVs in the front and the other stuff at the rear. They would head straight at the border and invade Sanduras.

OOC: The link to my army in Jenrak: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9527246&postcount=27