NationStates Jolt Archive

William was in the war room, about 1 KM under the Imperial palace, safe from any enemy attack, conventional, biological and nuclear. The only way in was through a several mile long passage with hundreds switchbacks, defensive emplacements and pillboxes. Guarded by the ASS deaths head it was probably the safest place in Aust at the moment.

In the corner of the room, a small red light flashed on a meter showing the alert status of the nation, it read, Alert 1. The rest of the room was well lit from bright lights in the ceiling. Rows and rows of data banks and screens covered the rooms walls, attended by hundreds of technicians. Every few seconds someone else would bark out a report, “Automagfreek has just sent out it’s troops,” or, “Carrier group 12 is back in the docks.”

William strode through the chaos and made his way to the back room, the iron doors sliding out of his way. He saluted at the Chiefs of Staff who where seated round a table and then sat himself. The chair was wooded and uncomftable but he ignored the discomfort.

”Gentlemen.” He nodded to them again, “How are we doing.” They shuffled in there seats and Lord High Major General Peterson, the man in charge of the Legions spoke,

“All men are on high alert, conscription ahs begun and the reservists are ready to go. I’ve sent 50 legions to reinforce the Bambinio Strip and have begun a full evacuation of that area. The whole strip is being fortified and the bunkers have been reopened. In 3 days it will be impregnable.”

William nodded, “Good, whats your operational strength?”

“20 legions of ASS, we also have 2 legions of Deaths Head and one of Royal Guards. I have around 400 Legions of normal forces and I believe there are quite literally billions of reservists. How much use these will be I don’t know. Conscripted forces number 50 million, but they are not fully trained or armed yet.”

William then turned to a tall, dark haired man sitting stiffly opposite to the General, his shining white uniform was spotless and his right side festooned with medals, “Peter?” William said, “How is the RAF doing? I trusts all is well as usual.”

“Sire, the entire force is on red alert and I have ordered them ready to scramble within an hour. I have moved the reserve wings to the Bambinio strip bases and we are ready to go on your word. I can have 40 wings in the air within 30 minutes and the other 100 in the air within the hour. I have also taken the liberty of calling up the reserve air wings up.”

“Good man! How many do we have?”

“the RAF itself has 100 fighter squadrons and 40 bomber groups. The fighters are all hounds, and the bombers are B-62s, a old model but with sufficient fighter support they should be safe. We also have 20 more modern Bomber wings which are not on full alert yet as they are still on training exercises, but I can have them on alert immidetly. The reserve wings numbers are unknown, but are far in excess of 200 wings. However these planes will not last long, they are mainly old men in F-15’s and Harriers, vetrens who have been able to keep there planes. I believe we have a wing of Spitfires and Hurricanes as well. I advise these should only be used if worst comes to worse and our air fleet is wiped out.”

“Indeed. Lord High Admiral Charleston?” There was a snigger from around the table as the admiral began to speak, the navy where not highly thought of in Aust.

“We have little, sire, little. I can muster, maybe 5 fleets of antique craft, a hundred ships in total, the Legionnaire transports will give us far, far more but they are just transports and have no real weapons. If we try any navel attack we’ll be slaughtered, if you just give me some funds I can…”

William had already turned away from the man and had moved on to his cousin, Prince Matthew. “How is the economy going Matt?”

”Very well sire, we are on Plan C, that is full war economy and the factories are already turning over to production of war weapons. Propagandas in full swing and all the media are, of course, on your side. The populace appear enthusiastic to ‘take the war to the Freeks’ and our Hang Damien campaigns going well.”

“And recruitment?”

”I’ve expanded conscription and we’ve got literally thousands of ex-servicemen flocking to join us. I think we can have a extra 10 million troops ready within the month, this will decrease our reserve ranks of course. We can train these men quicker as they already have had basic training with the Conscripts and the reservists. Some of them are veterans and this will be almost a refresher course for them. The air force is reporting a similar influx of volunteers. Feeding, clothing and arming these new troops will be a challenge but it will be possible under our new economy. We shall have double the size of our forces within 3 months, and triple it within the year sire. After that I predict the boom will wear off but we will still be able to arm our forces better and have more men on the field than most nations.”

”Thank you, Matt. Now gentlemen our target is HP. I know that we’ve had problem with this nation in the past but I am sure we can sort them out quickly. From U2 pictures they seem to be a mainly jungle nation with no real government or trade. Certainly they don’t seem to have any real air force. Thus I suggest that we use napalm and bomb the place into submission, we just set the jungle on fire and k ill them all. We’ll lose less lives that way.”

“Sire.”

”I’ve got 2 brid over the nation already so we should be able to see what there doing but I want the 56th and the 3rd wing (A bomber wing and a fighter wing) to begin probing attacks to test the strength of there defences. Start on the Island known as Allince Island and see what damage you can do, the 3rd can deal with any attacks from enemy aircraft and the 56th can drop there bombs. If you come under any heavy resistance they are to retreat immidetly. Lets just see what damage we can do guys, okay.”

”Sire.” The men exited quickly and left William sitting there, Aust was at war once more.

Alliance Island - Town of Ripley

"We all knew this was going to bring us misfortune! But we have no choice, we have to face whomever is willing to face us. Arrogant bastards they are, respectless." The tribal chieftans sat, as always, around the massive bonfire, flames leaping on the burning wood and dried vines. Sparks flew off on the cold tile floor. Out of all cracks small plants grew, some dead because of the fire others alive because of all moisty, damp air in the building.
"My good men," A voice, easy to recognize as European, came forward from the darkness outside and walked around all the chieftans. He walked around with an energetic step in his black boots. He wasn't quite the person the chieftans were expecting. In fact, they did not want to see him.
"As you know, my fellow Panoolians, we have a crisis on our hands. You see, I sense they are coming. I also sense they are going for a radical new approach. Instead of going in, they stay above."
"But Mr Farrington, we do not have any specific anti aircraft weaponry! We're in peril!"
"Fear not my good Arashuham. We are covered. As you may know..." This Farrington character always starts his setence with 'as you may know'. Arrogance? Perhaps, but maybe just to belittle his listeners. "...Doomingsland has pumped quite a lot of money into Holy Panooly, especially when the largest oil reserve in the world was fund. Do not think they are running low, nay, they just need more. Well they may have it. But it earned me... eh us a pretty penny." The chieftans sat still, gazing into the blazing fire. Sometimes a servant threw a new chunk of wood into it, and it was being consumed by the raging flames in the blink of an eye. Thinking, not worrying about anything else, about the words Farrington ushered moments ago. 'Doomingsland...' 'Money...' 'Oppertunities...'
"Well now gentlemen, are are not paid in cold hard cash alone. Forget that, we have also received top notch, the best of the very best, anti aircraft missiles and other various systems. But the prime systems are high range anti-aircraft. With technology taken from... other sources my men have established several bubbles. Whenever an airplane enters the bubble, we can decide to blow them out of the sky."
"But Mr Farrington, how will we know if they are friendly to us, or an enemy?"
"A good question Luambo. Indeed a sound question. Automagfreek has installed something similar in their naval vessels and mines, I am sure. We have a system that does roughly the same." Less thinking about the things Farrington said the chieftans began to leave the chambers of the old manor house. Clearly Farrington knew what he was doing, but knowing who the enemy was going to be, was difficult. Guessing isn't an accurate science.

For now, Holy Panooly was preparing. Shipments of a few elite regiments of the old army and supplies would leave for Aequatio when they found time to reply to our communiqué. Endurance is not a problem for Holy Panooly. The waves of the enemies will smash themselves on the rocky bluffs of all our shores, their hordes will die in the open arms of the ancient forest, our sacred ancestral grounds. Aerial coverage was excellent on the main islands, and on Holy Panooly. And even if Holy Panooly got occupied, no army of any nation in the world could occupy Holy Panooly longer than a few months. A relenless guerrila would ensue, and total victory a myth. Anyhow, the weapons bought from Doomingsland were spread among the Warlords and Tribal Chieftans, the main fighting ranks of the People's Militia. The Wildmen and Bodysnatchers will work just fine with the arms and armour they've been using for the past eons. From old watertight bunkers old artillery was hauled to open places in the jungle, vast ambushes were set up, traps made and strategies discussed by the warriors and soldiers. Panoolians and Natives alike, all of them will set aside their differences to fight one common enemy. As one mind, one gunbarrel and one spear.

All of Holy Panooly airsurveillance grids were set up. Most of the equipment was bought off international black markets - doesn't mean it's bad. Good stuff, low price and effective. Nevertheless, Holy Panooly was prepared. They may come in with millions, they can try to force their way in with tanks and chainsaws. They can try to set the forest alight with napalm but in the end, nature shall prevail. The vastness and untamed wilds will be their final sight.

Yellow Ishtung cruised above allince Island, dropping bombs as they went. The 100 bombers had met no resitance so far and things looked easy. "Look at 'em go!" Chris Miles, the gunner on Hi'Frui yelled as a line of red firballs appeared below him. Unusually it was sunny above HP though to the north there where signs of a strom gathering.

The 100 planes where the first Austian forces to reach HP and they where making the most of the honour and where enjoying themselves. They wern't puzzled by the lack of resistance from eblow, they'd been told that they where fighting a bunch of savages.

Then they ran into a 'bubble'

"So, they have commenced a bombing run." Lowtax mumbled to his compagnion Whistler. "It has begun" he went on, sitting quietly on his metal chair in the bunkers deep down below the lowest rootwater lakes of Blatch' Forest. Aust was a respectable enemy he pondered. A respectable enemy, a friendly enemy. Two oxymorons, they entered the invisible bubble and our missiles are ready to be fired. One hundred bombers, thousands of missiles and more coming from Mt Doom Lite to the north of the Panoolian and Theohuanacu continent. The local underground proves to be quite handy, even though their prices and tariffs are steep. Can't help those ships fly the neutral flag of Theohuanacu, ah guess their prices are so high to compensate the loss of their nation. Some patriotism...
"Sir, they were well within range. One on every single one of them?" Lowtax looked up at the bright young fellow standing besides him waiting for the command to blow the Austian planes to bits and pieces.
"Yeah sure pal." Was all he said.

From beneath the canopy and wild entangled treebranches and other plants, the technically superior Doomingslandian AA batteries were aimed at the Austian bombers. One missile would be enough, and then the count down began. The ten seconds passed and the first volley of missiles was on its way.

"Sir! We have missiles coming in, Sir, looks like theres hundreds of 'em sir." The bombers moved to evasives actions, there lumbering forms crossing the sky as they attempted to avoid the missiles. Lines of tracer and there self defence missiles opened fire on the missiles, knocking out a few but not enough.

"Drop all bombs, guys, and then bail out." 3 planes where down already, exploding into fireballs as the missiles hit there bombs. each bomber had a crew of 4, and none survived.

The bombers realised there bombs, not bothering to aim as they ran for there paracutes, some of the naplam hit the missiles coming forward, creating firy explosians, others hit the ground below.

The entire bomber group was whiped out, except for a few crew members floating down to ground, trying to avoided the firey inferno below them and the falling wreakage from above.

Only 100 or so crew members had survived.
-----------
The rest of the Austian planes turned round and headed abck to base while command tried to work out what the hell had happened to yellow Ishtung.

Tag

Watching through binoculars, Lord Binclair was looking at the few Austians hanging helplessly below their parachutes, apparantly they managed to avoid the raging napalm fire - which was already starting to die because of all the moist. Upon seeing they landed without too much trouble (they were experienced aerial veterans no doubt) between the trees on a small open spot. Binclair immediately called his most trusted men, Whistler and Lowtax to investigate the crash site, and to find the Austians.
"Mr Lowtax, you go down there and find the men. Don't let the Wildmen spoil their tongues, I want to have a brief word with them."
"Why sure Mr Binclair..."
"That's Lord Binclair for you."
"Yeah whatever."
Moments later Whistler gathered a band of thieves and other bandites along with a few Wildmen to start the search for the Austian pilots and other crew members. The Wildmen would take the search to the treetops, heavily armed with a variety of macaca blades, padang machetes, blowguns and bow and arrow, the string made of the strongest vine in Holy Panooly, the arrows soaked with the most deadly venom - they were thirsty for Austian blood.

The night was constantly interrupted by jungle screams from animals being chased away by the boots of the raw and seasoned "bushmen" led by Whistler and Lowtax, and the Wildmen sneaking from branch to branch, from tree to tree unnoticed and inaudible. The made their way through the night, a relentless search for the unlucky few who crash landed here, in the Green Hell.

OOC: Doomingsland is gonna post some information on how HP got his tech, it has something to do with a roleplay of a few weeks ago.

OOC: Okay

IC: Captain Samuals had just emptyed a clip on a tree. "You just killed a tree, sir." Richards said behind him.

"Well it could have been one of the bastards, couldn't it."

"If you say so sir." They'd landed half an hour ago, 60 of them, the only survivors of Yellow Ishtung, all where armed with pistols and where keeping close together. Every so often someone would fire a few shots at some unseen threat in the jungle.

Samuals was from the mountains, like most Austians, face him with a load of snow and a 4 day hike and he would have no trouble, but all this greenery was unerving, he wasn't used to it. And he couldn't get rid of this feeling that he was being watched, it seemed like there where thosuands of eyes watching this small group of Austian soildiers bludering through the jungle.

This is going to be bloody...

Near crash site, 1.00 AM

The gunshots from the Austian men awakaned the Wildmen resting in the treetops, high above the threat who fell from the skies. The awkward silence, heavily interrupted by parrots, monkeys, wild boars and other wild animals. The shots were heard clearly, and no Panoolian weapon makes such a noise.
"Hear that?" Lowtax whispered so softly to one of his fellow manhunters, Hector.
"Yeh 'f course I hear tha'." The middle aged man, his face covered in dirt and dust, a thick black moustache the size of Stalins, gave him the appearance of a true Panoolian. His ears were scanning the surrounding area for non-jungle sounds. Like a high-tech detection installation, he carefully walked around observing the traces left behind, analysing and scanning further. They weren't close at all, they did not climb the trees, for the Wildmen would've found and slain them. They did not choose to hide in the shadows, they are on the run. The gunshots came from a location with an echo, so our best bet is that they're in a valley or a canyon. The nearest canyon or valley is a few miles away, so it would be best for the Wildmen to scout ahead - and that's what they were going to do.

Or they've split up, and one team is awaiting to ambush us. I don't find that likely, but Hector didn't know. One thing's for sure: they were near us. Perhaps they dared to make a move, but surely they cannot be successful the first attack on hostile soil against us. Things don't add up. We're not going to wait for a mistake they make, we have to search and find them.

They reached a clearing by nightfall, it wasn't a large clearing, maybe 50 meters wides and the same across, just a large circle in the ground. The remains of a fire lay in the centre and the airmen decided to rest there for the night.

With there experience of life in the mountains they where easly able to kindle a large fire, choosing to make it as big as they could to illuminate the surrounding jungle, reasoning that the amount of shots they had fired would have given there position away. They had food from the animals they had managed to kill during the day.

2 sides of the clearing where a cliff face and they reasoned that no enermy would be able to attack from there and so they set there sentuarys on the two sides open to the forest.

The sentuarys dug themselves foxholes or else errected timber barracades to protect themselves from any enermy shot. Then, with 10 sentuarys set and the promis that they would be changed before midnight, the main body sleapt in the center of the clearing, near the cliff face.

Austian Camp, 2.15 AM

The Wildmen, who have been searching for the Austian men whole day and night, finally found them near the cliffside. Using a whistle that sounds exactly like one of the many parrots on Alliance Island, they alerted the gang of Lowtax and Whistler. The sound of the whistle was absorbed by the sourrounding area, and no ears except Panoolian ones could identify is at a call.
Still watching the Austian men digging foxholes, setting up barricades and lighting up the night with their massive fire. In was in the middle of the night, and the smell of burning charchoal and wood was spreading through the jungle like a wildfire, and the light was seen by the ever watchful eyes of the natives and men sent forth to find and kill the doomed Austians. They were present, not in force but a team consisting of around fifty, maybe sixty men was tricky but not impossible. The ones who were building were oblivious to the dangers that lurk in the shadows. Before dawn, they would die. All of them.
The cliffs weren't problematic for the Bodysnatchers - Panoolian for cannibals - or the Wildmen, but staying in the rooftops was safer - but the element of surprise came from the cliffs, so Mortimer (leader of the Wildmen) decided to let them attack via the cliffs, climb the trees and kill them without a sound.

And so it began, tears of blood were going to roll down the cheeks of the Austian soldiers, and their blood will fill the cups and grails made of human bone and the leaders will propose a toast, a toast to the death of Aust. The 'Snatchers and Wildmen climbed the rocks like mountain goats, agile and quick. Within no less than fifteen minutes they reached the top, and the Austians - confirming what the scouts said - weren't expecting an attack from the cliffside. Sneaking into the lush bushes and other vegetation, the natives began to prepare their ancient but powerful weaponry. Darts were put in the long blowguns, they allowed to take a brief moment to let their lungs fill with the damp air, exhaled and then, one powerful mortal exhalation and one dart sliced through the air without a sound and hit one sleeping Austian in his neck.

Others were hit as well, the native indians were acting like a kid in a candy store, taking them down one by one. When they fired around fifteen darts successfully, they moved into the trees and waited.

They where all silent deaths everyone of them, and the Austians didn't notice that 15 of there number where no longer alive. It is often said that the dead look like there sleeping and in this case that was literally true.

The Senterys keapt there lookout up, occasionally firing rounds off when they thought they saw a enermy in the woodlands. But shadows often decive unexperienced men and most of the pistol bullets missed or dropped short of the wildmen.

The lifeless bodies of the "sleeping" Austians laid there, near the edge without alerting the guards and sentries patrolling and watching the main entrance to the camp. But they couldn't possibly know death was just around the corner. The ones in the foxholes will be killed by mere fragmentation grenades, guards killed by poisonous darts and then the Panoolians will emerge victorious.
From the trees even more sleeping men were killed, until all of them had a tiny dart sticking in their neck. It was time to move on to the patrolling guards. These were more difficult, moving targets are hard to hit in the neck. A javelin would do, but there's a possibility it alerts other guards. Little does it matter, the sleeping death shall be discovered soon anyways.
Waiting in the weeds - with the Wildmen watching - the Bodysnatchers snuck up on the guards, behind the bushes in the abundant darkness of the shadows, until a guard passed and his achilles heel was sliced apart with a pedang. This wasn't the most quiet method, but they were no longer able to fight. Infections and madness would do the rest.

Across the open spot, Lowtax' men whistlered loudly into the air, and the Wildmen and Bodysnatchers fell back into the darkness, invisible to everything and everyone. These humans were invisible to the naked and mechanical eyes of nightvision cameras. Fully covered in mud and lying flat into small sinkholes they could only be seen when you look down on them.
The fire made by the Austians was still lighting up the whole surrounding area, but extinguishing it may prove to be difficult. It's better to be left on, it makes the victims easier to see what caused their agony. Calculating the distance between the foxholes was done fairly quick, and then the grenades were tossed into and next to the holes.

[tag]

The last few alive Austians saw what was happening to there fellows as the first senturys went down from grendades and astelth attacks. As there screams rang out the remaining Austian airmen opened fire at anything that moved, emptying ammunition clips and slammiong the ramaining ones in there guns, but, 1 by 1, they died, killed by a enermy who knew the terrain and knew how to fight.

OOC: Wern't you going to take a prisinor HP?

It was silent. Only the fire was burning bright still and the soft moans coming from the dying men did not disturb the night. The Panoolians smelled victory was at hand, maybe a few were still willing to fight - but in the back of their head they know it is all in vain. Suddenly Lowtax grabbed a megaphone and started to speak.
"Austians! We shall kill all of you if you do not surrender! Stand up, and we will grant you our mercy! We shall take you to our camp. Come with us, and taste our hospitality."
Lies. Plain old lies, but in the sheer panic brought by the relentless killing they might forget that. If they don't comply, they die. It's not much of a difference, except the torture and humiliation of Aust on a global scale will miss out completely. Dead victims are a lot less useful for propaganda crews. For now, we just have to wait.

The Austians didn't know, or didn't understand Lowtax's words, as they didn't speak his language and few people in the world spoke Austian, but they understood the gist. They reamined hidden and silent until one finally called back "Yin?" (What).

Bump

This time, Lowtax repeated his demands to the Austians in english, albeit with a very heavy accent. This message was clearly audible for the Austian men, and if they did not comply or dared to make a brake for it, they'd be dead before they knew what happened to them - or their friends.
"You think they're gonna listen to us?" One of the bandits asked Whistler, slightly worried.
"Well, I'm not really sure. But I'm damn sure they saw what we did to their men. If that's not a clear sign of our potence what is?" Whistlers answer did not spark off a discussion or a conversation, but the men remained quiet and vigilant.

"I think they want us to surrender..." The last few Austian soildiers where lying in the cover of a small bush,

"What? I didn't understand a word of what he said." This was from a tall grizzled sargent, a vertren of many campagns,

"Look, I did elermentry English at the Royal Collage and...."

"You wewnt to the royal Collage! Thats the school of the Emproers."

"Listen to me, he said that they'll kill us if we don't surrender, but these guys will kill us anyway even if do surrender. But what use is it if we die here, if we surrender than we can feed them false information for the Emporer..."

There wheree a couros of murmered agreements and the Austians stood up there hands above there heads.