NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is to simply give a little insight on the weapons used in my army, and then some.

***
Jenrak is split into six major provinces; Naharahk, Archios, Deshdalae, Haasdra, Viraigiath and Jeviz’Kraa. Each of these provinces give to the joint union of Jenrak, where the strongest, richest and most aggressive province rules as the leading body. Currently, the favour of power is in the island province of Haasdra, along the tips of the massive Viraigius River. The leader of this province, Arcarum Dreskisk, is believed to be an embassy from the Lord of Judgement himself, and although things are splittingly out of sync sometimes, it certainly does prove some of the odd and crazy things that Arcarum has done, and the results that have come from it. Erstwhile, the remaining leaders of the provinces of Jenrak are placed as Council members of the Circle. Representing Naharahk, is the cold and logical Ashili Darkholme, Red Matriarch of the Jenrakian Strategic forces. Representing Archios is the bold and dreamy Saerus Annirak, Lord of the Infantry training and the academy leader. From the dark depths of Deshdalae comes Desdomahk, lord of the nuclear and ballistic missiles, Jeviz’Kraa churning out the brilliant and suicidal Nahk Territurari, Viraigiath spewing out their most talented assassin, Viraranar, and Haasdra governed and controlled in the Iron fist of the Sadists, under Arcarum’s helm.

Originally, the castes were in strife, in battle and in condemnation of each other, until Arcarum’s rise to unify the fledgling provinces of Jenrak into a single entity, and with force if needed. However, two of these castes have certainly not gone well with each other, but only recently that it is public knowledge that they are willing to clash openly against the other. One of them, are the Elite Sword Bearing Police, a patriarchal caste that is the highest form of the police possible in Jenrak, their skill and their discipline unmatched by any other force in Jenrak. Training, power and technology on their side, it takes usually years upon years to gain to the level of the Sword Bearing Police, and the King Arcarum himself chooses ones who are worthy of the title. Very few are given the task, the burden and the power so great. However, they have been recently under pressure as their title and their prestige are being stripped slowly and slowly away against their newfound rivals.

Originally, most fallen soldiers in Jenrak are forced to rot, but any soldier above the Blue Patriarch or Matriarch line will be given another chance, save their body is strong enough to support it. Under heavy biological enhancements, and mechanical supplements, they have become near super soldiers, effective and logical and always carrying out missions without a single grievance, unable to think for themselves except for the most cunning of their sect. This great rising superpower, known as the Fists of Stone, have been rising extremely quickly in power and influence as tenacious and effective, never failing killing machines; a title that so dearly once belonged to the Sword bearing police.

The events happened only so quickly. The SBP, thought to be crushing another rebellion in northern Sanduras, a neighbouring nation and extremely close ally – now a Jenrakian military occupied territory for their unwanted actions against the crown – have been at work. However, no reported sightings of the infamous blue suited, gold bearing sabres were seen, and their reported sightings were actually somewhere else, eerily in Authirz. What they were doing there was odd, but it was known that Authirz was an extremely important military base for the Fists of Stone, and that the base was under unseen attacks. It was not long before the two castes were at war. A raid on the SBP training academy of Raunin was conspired, and it was having difficulty hiding the transpired events to the general public, to keep them under check. Interestingly enough, every attack from then on was easy to conceal, as if they did not use destructive weapons or did not use them near people, as no sightings of odd flashes or missing civilians were placed. It was as if they were content to settle this disagreement in the shadows.
***

I, Arcarum Dreskisk, the Leader of Haasdra, urge to any nation possible to send over aid to help us pacify this ‘secret war’ that is going on in the darkness of Jenrak. We ask that they are not to be eradicated or destroyed, but to be quelled down, have them both settle down, either from any peacekeepers or soldiers sent to aid in their pacification. Sadly, Jenrak’s military is not trained to fight entire armies of expert assassins, or biologically and mechanically enhanced monstrosities.
-Arcarum Dreskisk

It was quiet, it was dark, on the outskirts of Erges, the shimmering jewel of the Jenrakian desert, the lights of the many buildings flashing up as the cars revved by on the dusty highway, the busses full of people and the sputtering groups of cyclists seeming to follow their dark shadows in the night, the sound loud and shaking as a train sped forwards on the track that encircled along it. However, underneath the highway bridge, past the stiff stone and the rusting steel supports, past the nuts and bolts, under in the shallow lake below, there were two figures that could not be seen from the highway, and their sound was deafened by the motors that sped by. Below, they fought, and they would keep fighting towards the ends of the world until their foe was dead.

One of them, a pretty brown haired woman, with hypnotic and fierce brown eyes, and a perfect grace, had only dodged so quickly, her sabre clutched in her hands, parried in blood, as a metal sloshing was heard, and a spiked ball swung quickly were her head was only seconds later. The carrier of the flailing spike, a tall and muscled being, tumour-like bumps running along his face, as a metal plate was etched into his arm, turned around and swung his arm down, but the girl dodged it again quicker than he could blink. “Give up, Denise. You can’t win.” He said, pulling out a small metal disk, and pressing the small red button on it’s interior, forcing out a large spinning fan, the monster holding it up like a shield to him. “Goodbye, then.” He said finally, as three tiny balls erupted from center of the fanning spinning shield, sending out long needles towards her, as she ducked into the water, quickly dodging the needle that barely slashed her arm. Getting up again, her hair wet and long, she lunged forth with her sword, but the spikes came back towards her.

Jumping up, Denise had only dodged it, when she saw the tiny little needles burst into flame, illuminating the scene, the fire, the metal, and the blood that trickled down from her arm. “This ends tonight, Fist.” She said, her right leg titled out straight, her left bent back, her eyes level with he blade as she held the sabre at arm’s length, and burst forth, twisting back and then slashing instantly, bypassing the spinning shield and riling the sword into his stomach. The Fist of Stone only groaned in slight pain, taking the sword our of his bleeding stomach, charging towards her, but she sidestepped and unravelled her blade from his gruesome stomach. Denise then went on to take out a small, tiny green like orb from her breast pocket and threw it at the Fist, but it only greedily gobbled it up. With a look of disgust, she turned and slashed, but he blocked it easily with his fingers.

Spinning up into the air, she pull out a dagger from her sleeve, and lunged it deep into the man’s skull, but it merely chipped off the blade, and the razor broke, sending a jagged piece of steel flying in the opposite direction. A grab by the throat, and Denise was hung up into the air by the Fist’s arm, her feet dangling helplessly as she fought for breath. With a look of malice in his black eyes, The Fist only sneered in anger and triumph as he tightened his grip. It seemed to be the end for Denise Territurari. However, she was more resourceful than most people took her for.

In a quick flash again, she pulled her leg up, her neck bleeding from the ripping flesh on her skin, and smashed her foot into the Fist’s elbow, sticking his humerus out, ripping the skin that lined above it, the blood spitting out into the water, his grip lossening enough for her to draw a breath, and then untwist her fingers. In a moment’s notice, she rolled back her sleeves, showing an elaborate set of small round jagged holes, and stabbed it into the Fist’s wrist, as green liquid oozed into his arm, his veins bulging out and his flesh becoming a dark purple patch, growing and growing as he fell down in pain, and Denise rolled her sleeves back down, turning around. The Fist tried to get up, to yell and scream a curse word, but the pain was too great, even for a numbed out soldier as he was, and it was too unbearable for him. Still screaming his revenge, Denise took her sabre, pulling it out from it’s heathen, and lifted it above the moonlight, the blood stained gold sword still shimmering with darkness as the crumpled shadow only seemed to bow before it’s might.

“Good night, Fist of Stone.” She said, and before she had taken down her blade, he tried to swing one last swing.

“You will never! Never! Be able to kill me!” He yelled, his flail spinning but it soon fell down again, on the shallow water, as blood waded out in it’s surface like oil.

“I’m sorry, but this is how you are to die.” Denise spoke, with a strong and cold speech, her voice as if the icy wind in the warm summer’s night. Both hands gripping her sword’s handle, ready to strike, Denise finally let loose her attack, and in half, in a great cleavage, the Fist split apart into two, peeled in half and drooping don as his organs began to flood out, the volatile green chemical oozing out with the contrasting red blood that trickled like waves into the shallow water.

Livers, heart, and kidneys, all rotting and shattered, as an occasional beating organ never before seen splintered out, and his final chaotic breath spewed forth blood, like a raging fountain into the air; into the night.

Bump

You gotta bump cos it aint interesting enough? :rolleyes:

OOC: So this is kinda of a secret civil war, if you will? I've been looking for my army (PNA) to get involved with something like this. Whichever member of the Civil War agrees to give them weapons in exchange for services, we'll do it.

We the council of Soragakure wish to offer our aid. If our offer is accepted we will deploy 20 of our anbu squads.

ooc: anbu are basically the most elite ninja assassins of Soragakure and they move in squads of 3.

BUMP. Will post soon.

OOC: Pananab, once you post an IC response I will reply to you ICly, so ya...

IC:

To Soragakure
From Arcarum Dreskisk
Your offer for aid is helpful, and it could be used to weed out of both sides. However, a word of caution towards you and your sending forces; these are the best of Jenrak's stealth and frontliners. Do not expect them to go down so easily.

General Stowes sent men to Jenrak to discuss weapon sales and mercenary work. He didn't particularly care which side hire dthem, as long as civilians that didn't deserve it weren't harmed. General Stowes told them not to mention who they were working for and to not have the weapons sent directly to Stowes and they were to use the alibi of the 'New Militias' Mercenary Group.
OOC: There. IC post. Not sure what the factions are, it's hard to read that post.

(OOC: How is it hard to read? I know this is going to sound like a flame, but I think this situation calls for it. Are you ignorant? He has it seperated into paragraphs nicely and used fairly good grammar. What more do you want? Is it just laziness that decided to overcome you, Pananab?)

OOC: I read it, and it is well-organized, but I just don't fare very well with large posts, especially with one with italices on most of the post. At least I read it this time around, I tend to lose details when so much is bunched up like this, which is why I tend to have shorter posts.

After getting word that his ally was in another civil war, the God-Emperor Count JWolf jump to work. He starts writing a message to his friend, Arcarum Dreskisk.

King Arcarum,

I have got word of this civil war happening in your great nation. If you can get me more info on both factions, I have set up a couple units of my soldiers to help you calm things down.

Singed,

Your ally, The Count

With the message sent, the Count relaxed in his chair. A huge Cuban cigar in his mouth.

To: Arcarum Dreskisk
From: Gisaku Kimura, commander of the anbu corp.

Fear not, we have no intentions of underestimating them. But on such note, may we ask for all available information on our shadowy foes. Perhaps we may find something that could aid us in our endeavor.

Shadowy figures slipped through the night. Dashing at speeds unbelievable. The soft moonlight was reflected off their steel arm and shin guards. Their ceramic masks were whiter than bone. These were the anbu. Elite of the elite. Out of all the shinobi in the Soragakure, they were alone could be considered the best of the best. While others could earn lower ranks through various methods, those admitted into the anbu corp were chosen only after three years of grueling missions and testing. Leaping silently over the gaps between buildings, they quickly headed for the Tower of the Sky. There they were to meet with their commander and captains.

To Pananab
From Nahk Territurari
This very expectant of many nations, to help the one that makes the largest profit and would lend the greatest aid. I applaud your notions and your beliefs of aid, but I would also like to note that neither faction has the seeming manpower to keep an economic structure of their own going. With the underworld crime being slowly stabilized and the last major rebellion crushed, we are intent that they do not perhaps have anything to give to anyone. We ask by note that you help us in stopping them, not aiding them in growing stronger.

To The Transylvania
From Ashili Darkholme
Ah. Once more Transylvania has come to taste another drip of blood from Jenrak's already many bleeding wounds, to aid in our crush of yet another civil war. We thank you for your aid, and once it will be utilized, it will not be forgotten. This war itself is in a league by it's own, and perhaps there will be some difficulty in rooting these shadowy figures out.

To Soragakure
From Arcarum Dreskisk
Shadowy forces against shadowy foes? That is an erratically ingenious tactic, one that could have the pushing potential to work effectively. All airports will be opened to allow any forces from Soragakure, but only them to be under your command. We don't want to be recieving your criminals masquerading as aid. Nevertheless, once you have reached Haasdra, we can discuss further details there.

OOC: I'll post another Sword Bearing Police (SBP) versus Fist of Stone fight later, to give a more in depth look at how my weaponry works. That's the big focus of this thread, really; to my weapons.

From: New Militias ((Alias for the Pananab mercs))
To: Nahk Territurari
We see. This is a rebellion civil war. A smaller group is rebelling and trying to grow. We do see more profit by aiding you defeat this foe and we will be more than happy to help. Money, weapons, future favors, and IOUs are all accepted as payment for our services. Should you find yourselves a bit shortahnded, please note that we are always ready.

To The New Militias
From Nahk Territurari
We can aid you in your future endeavours, as long as they do not conflict with our allies, and payment and generic military equipment may aid you. Yet we need aid in the form of guerilla warfare infantry, to quell this. Although we are not in danger of anything right now, we believe that should this escalate into a full conflict, this may be too much for our own good.

Durshig Swamp, Northern Archios

A sighting has been placed, of a tall and faceless being lurking throughout the swampy lands, tumour like bumps running alongside it’s back, as the tumours throbbed and pulsed in fury, like a walking lantern of a gruelling strength, beating in the cold, harsh swampy terrain. Willow trees, dark green and wet, only hid the fervent moss that grew along it’s base, the roots twisting out into the open water like a great legion of hands, fingers twitching to the solemn wind that followed, as if trying to grab anyone who would go here. Thickets of grass miles upon miles only hid the watery scene so well, before a lake-sized pond drivelled out into the fields, the whizzing of the mosquitoes and the buzzing of a nearby dragonfly dazzling around, the clouds dark and dank. The sky, covered by clouds as the sun could not pierce, was raining, but only a light drizzle that could not be such of a great burden; it seemed foolish that anyone could come here, but it was not impossible, as a small glittering group of metal globules floated in the water, spinning around the rippling surface as it plunged deeper into the frosty tips of the pond.

Crackling and groaning of the water fish were heard, and only tiny red dots appeared on it’s end, as they whizzed around in groups, spinning what seemed to be like drooping eyes and a small glittering blip, now and then. A kilometre away, remote in his hands, stood a tall and handsome man, his head covered by a tightly wrapped suit, as skintight rubber was laced all around his body, his fingers so encroached that is seemed even his veins showed through on the suit, the mask on his face peering through two glass circles. He was yet another one, of his kind, his fingers pressing rapidly, as two more suited divers emerged from the water around him, from the looks of their bodies, one of them female and the other a male. The one who stood there so imperiously, a prominently tall and powerful male, only whizzed away on his controls, sleek and silver, as a golden sabre hung at his waist, tied crudely with a piece of thick rope, his eyes behind the mask squinting in concentration.

“Everything’s all clear.” He said, peering into a small flat-screened monitor, a liquid crystal display screen flickering up the swampy underwater, showing every thing the globules had showed, the screen split up into small sections to show each section. Nothing was there, only the dipping of the tadpoles clinging on the plants, the plants waving slowly in recognition, the cameras slowly moving around. In an instant, he flicked his left hand up and twittered his fingers, and formed a strong and dampening fist, in reply to the others who were waiting for his signal.

The pair nodded, and they dipped into the icy cold water, the splashing trickling onto the taller one’s feet, as he pressed his head hard and a small beeping was turned on, on the side of his head. A red blip was seen, dabbling in twos, as it was pressed on the others, the ones who were deep in water, their temple beeping blue, instead of the bloody red that beeped far off. Rippling again, water waves small and deft, showing only so slightly the movement, the pair of them gimped closer and closer, until the beeping intensified, their heads turning to listen more carefully of what may be around. Out of the corner of their eyes, from the edge of their masks, they saw a large figure swiftly dive behind the bristling plants, the water swishing around like a great whirlpool in it’s movements. They had found their prey, but it was a predator. This being, whatever it was to them, was another one of the Iron Fists of Stone, the gateway to their military doors in Durshig, heavily guarded by the booming Yurin, a specially trained group of Fists who were adapt at movements underwater. The locals, unaware of their existence, believed the swamp to be a haunted piece of land, and anyone who move there are seen to never be found again, their corpse floating up onto the top of the water days and even months later, their body devoured and void of much flesh.

Now, the Sword Bearing Police, believing this to be the work of another fleeting Fist of Stone, have plunged into the depths of their womb, pain’s stronghold, as they swivelled around, their wandering drift ness letting out the twisting as the being wrapped itself in circles around them again, a small hammer-like object being pulled out of it’s back sash, dangling in the water as they lifted their eyes around. Immediately, from the globules, came a strong heat signature, as it flashed across the screens, the lead Sword bearer looking in shock. “Get out of there. It’s right behind you.” He said, but before his friends could do anything, the first was struck in the arm with the stone hammer, sending out a giant wave of blood and shattered dust of bone into the water, the Sword Bearer yelling in great pain, his sound deafened by the rushing water underneath the swampy terrain, his blade emerging as his other arm was hit strongly into the side, his feet releasing a great blade and lunging it into the monster.

Dodging down into the underbrush of the plants, the being retreated and then lashed out again, but the Sword Bearing Police locked fingers and their metal bands on their broken wrists began to twirl, sending out a wave of small purple spheres, lighting up the waters in sheer brilliance, exposing every tiny corner around them, as the Fist of Stone lunged from behind once more. With a great dive up, and then another dive down, they unloaded their fingers, as small tiny bullets ripped through the water, leaving behind small bubbling trails, the Fist of Stone grabbing his hands up and then lunging it down into the water once more, snapping the first person’s neck, and then ripping the other in half, the blood spraying out into the water, floating towards the top, clogging up the small drone-like metal globules.

A kilometre away, the Leader of the attack, the tall and handsome Sword Bearer, dropped his remote, and suited up for an assault on this mysterious beast.

OOC: My Inclination to Bump is overwhelming.

From: New Militias
To: Nahk Territurari
You will not be disappointed. Our forces will be sent to Jenrak ASAP. You will not know who they are, but we assure you, they are there. When you need our services, please call this number:
292-759-9060-4568

Then we will, New Militias. And I assure you; it will most likely be very, very soon.
-Nahk Territurari, Lord of the Jenrakian Viziath Caste, Red Patriarch

Fifty agents, all with different alibis (Save for those who chose to be relatives or spouses, or were relatives or spouses) stepped off of their boat. They all had different hotels and none of them seemed to be connected in any way but in truth, they all were agents of New Militias. They were the first ones of many. General Stowes was planning to send about two hundred, more if necessarry. All of them had been training for over two years since the occupation of Pananab.

The leader of this force was Gerald Freeman, whose real name was Gajaz Famee. His rank was Lieutanant General in Stowes' army, so he was respected by many. His training excerzizes were known to be difficult and he hiomself was hard and unrelenting, but showed his true personality when not in the field or training his soldiers.

OOC:I guess I'll support the Fists of Stone, then...


Warmaster Atilla read the reports about the warring factions in Jenrak, and started devising a plan. A cunning plan, as it was...

A holo-message is sent to the Fists of Stone leadership...
Fists of Stone! Will you let yourselves be disgraced by some common law enforcers? Get your title taken away from you? Be humiliated in front of your whole nation? I say [b]NAY! and I do not doubt you say so too. Now, listen to me carefully, for I have a proposition which I think you should seriously consider.
Turn to the Chaos Gods!Khorne,Nurgle,Tzeentch,Slaanesh. They can help you! If you serve them faithfully they will reward you richly. Just look at us! The viewscreen turns into a view of thousands of Daemons and Chaos Marines turning the world of Rona III into a wasteland. (See: The Expansion of the Armed Empire(FT,Open) (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=445846))
This power can be yours! Just make a temple dedicated to Khorne or any other Chaos Gods, serve faithfully, and you shall be rewarded! Heed this advice, do not scorn it!
TRANSMISSION END/

OOC; Your tags are uncomplete. And I'm pretty sure this is MT...Is it?

OOC: Thanks for the heads up. And naw, I don't think it is. Genetic enhancements and mechanical supplements? Sounds FT to me.

OOC: That's not exclusive FT technology. MT GS is perfectly capaable of making such enhancements, but we choose not to. There are a few MT nations that use genetic enhancements.

The blessed Chris is willing to insert a battallion, comprising some 50 special forces with all respective equipment and logistical support units, into Jenrak to discover, infiltrate and destroy the bases of all active parties, Jenrak permitting.

OOC: To Jaratia, this is MT, not FT, not PMT. The Fists of Stone are technically genetically enhanced soldiers, who are technically what would remain of damaged survivors who have military status above the Blue Patriarch/Matriarch Caste (like a captain status in Jenrak). They are not enhanced mechanically; only maintained with artificial enhancements when needed. They're fealty is from the drugs they are diagnosed with. Mostly it pushes their body to the max when they are in battle, and drugs numb out the nerves, increasing pain tolerance. The two reasons why this only applies to fallen soldiers is:

1) It's simply too expensive to have an entire army full of these guys.

2) It makes for enraging side-effects like aggression and insanity, so it would be simply chaotic, hence why they are in small numbers.

IC:

To The Blessed Chris
From Arcarum Dreskisk
We will give you permission to attempt and weed out these insurging forces, and hope that both of them may be put to a halt, otherwise their 'secret war' could escalate into an event of public knowledge. I advise you to hurry.

To Pananab
From Viraranar
Tourists? Spouses? I see. Well, welcome to Jenrak, visitors, and we hope that you enjoy your stay here. We hope that you will find what you are looking for, and give the best of luck towards you.

Secret Message
For more information, please report to Haasdra, the Island province at the outer gates of the Castle of Sadism. I will meet you in person there.

To: King Arcarum
From: Gisaku Kimura

I must ask that you excuse me for this, but I have instructed my transport to drop off the three squads in Northern Archios in hopes of keeping these forces unnoticed for as long as possible. They will make their way to Haasdra as quickly as possible. Once again I must offer my apologies for not dropping them off directly.


A stealth transport hovered near Durshig Swamp. Small splashes of water came up as the three anbu squads landed with almost complete silence. "Hey Kano, weren't we supposed to land at an airport?" said one of the cloaked anbu. "Nah, we want you to remain unnoticed by enemy forces as long as possible. You'll have to make your way to Haasdra." Suddenly the sound of combat could be heard. "Kano get out of here quick, we'll see what's going on." said the anbu. "K, could luck man," replied Kano. With that, the transport flew away, only the sway of the leaves of the trees could show it's flight path as it re-engaged its active camouflage. Turning to face the other anbu, he switched to the anbu sign language gesturinging to where the sound seemed to come. With that, the three squads broke up moving off in three directions hoping to surround whatever they were to find.

To Gisaku Kimura
From Arcarum Dreskisk
Alright, but do not take long, I have only so limited time and uncertainty. Also, please do not show yourself or have any interactions with any locals in the area.

Bump

OOC: K' then, disregard my post.

The blessed Chris proposes to insert its forces immediatly, into a region specified by the Jenrakian administration, and with its express permission.

We recommend that forces be sent to the eastern ends of the Lake of Nahm, where odd reported sightings of 'ghosts' have been seen. We highly doubt this to be a spiritual phenomena, and we would like it if your forces had investigated.

Bump

Bump

OOC: Rita wanted to play in my area of Texas. That is why I have not been on for two days. Plus, don’t think I could RP in this thread, it jumped to page 3 without me. Yes, a lot of them are bumps but it move two pages without me. Plus, I'm planning something in my Earth. So, I be doing that.

OOC/Bump: What5 do you have planned for my mercs, Jenrak?

OOc They don't know it yet, but it's a Sword Bearing Police military base. Their guise and stealth is legendary, which will account for the 'ghostly' figures.

ooc: ah.. who am i supposed to be "supressing"? :confused: I just want to make sure. :D

OOC: You'll see.

IC:

East of Nahm

A small quiet shape had shifted around the grass, wearing only a leathery black as it waded along the shallows, cupping water in it's hands, drinking it plaintively and softly as it heard the trekking of another pair of footsteps edge into it’s path, it’s ears twitching in silence, trying to figure out the location of this odd noise. With a quick spin of the blade, he unleashed his sheath, but nobody was there. “Where are you?” The man asked, his teeth bloody red and his fingers dried of saliva. “Where are you?” He taunted, slowly walking through the grass. From a few meters away, a tall and watching man wrapped a small metal case around the socket of his sword’s sheath, as if it fit there perfectly. It had a pungent smell, and it was extremely horrendous, but still he kept his distance from the searching man.

“Hurry up, you bastard.” The edging man said, in a small fright, his blue uniform blending with the dark night sky, the stars and the moon only so carefully illuminating the subjects; a small, cautious man wading through the grass as a taller, more sinister looking being followed it’s trail. It was another Sword Bearer, but interestingly enough, both of them had the same clad suit, both with silver sabers that shone like a magnificent glittering diamond in the dark veil.

“Where are you?” He asked once more, a little stronger as the night far-off showed lights turning on, the windows of frantic thought and curiosity, as people woke up groggily and wondered who would be out at this time of night. A door from the distance creaked open only so slightly, as if to say prodigiously quiet and sneaky, as a medium height man emerged with a lantern. There was no time to waste. With a great leap, the pursuer lunged up into the air, sword still in its sheath, the smack onto the back of the prey fell down swiftly, and knocking him into the muddy ground, his face falling flat onto the earthen surface, as the stalker so strongly stood in power amongst the dazzling moonlight. The man did not move for a second, and the pursuer only stood there, as if both were waiting for a reply from their foe. Finally, as the curious civilian crept closer and closer, his lantern getting bigger, the prey-like man finally turn on his side, his face thick and dirty with mud, his eyes covered in tears of fright, his chest rising up and down in a great heathen.

“Wow,” He started, his face trying to contort into a look of amazement, “General Illuminaax, Lord of the Sword Bearing Police. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He tried to lift his hand, but the pursuer merely stomped his foot on it, stamping it back onto the ground.

“Your death, Belith. You have been found out as a spy, and you are hereby punished to death.” He raised his sword, his blade still sheathed. “You will die a traitor’s death, a death of dissent and betrayal, and you will suffer for it.” The man shook his head.

“Please, give me a warrior’s death.” He said, his chest in pain, as he gasped for air now. “I’ll give you anything you want. I’ll let you know everything I do about the Fists of Stone.” He motioned, his hands up in futile defense. Illuminaax softened his grip, and placed his blade back onto his sash.

“Who is supplying them with Sword Bearer technology?” Illuminaax asked, his grip tightening again. “How did they get a hold of the shield and the needle drones?”

The man gasped. “I supplied them with it. If I die, then all their technology goes out with them.” He said, rasping in breath.

“Fine. Then I will make sure you never aid another Fist again.” He lifted his sheathed sword, but the man raised his hand.

“You promised, to give me a warrior’s death.” Belith said, his hand still up.

“Fine.” Illuminaax agreed, his sword gripped tight as he spun it’s end, and then finally unsheathed his golden blade. Something was different about his sword from the others; it was carefully made to have tiny little crevasses in it’s side, like a small waxy fat lining along the ends, and a dark clip for every few centimeters that emerged. It didn’t matter anymore, as the blade burst into flames, setting the nearby grass on fire, and Illuminaax, in a bright illumination of the blaze around him, recited the warrior’s code.

Warrior Belith, you have done a service to the crown that is never to be forgotten, unto the ending of time or unto the ending of the Jenrakian blood. When Ascheran rises once more from our ashes, we will not forget you and your soul will be able to prosper for all time. However, you have been found guilty of disloyalty and treason to the crown, and for that, you will be executed, to forever wander the realms of hell. He slashed Belith across the face, opening up a wide gash as the flames from his sword engulfed the person’s eyes, and then his tongue, his blood and bone, scorching and charring everything on his face.

“Nahish taraduim.” A final speech was heard, before the body burst into flames, the sword then quickly back into the sheath, the wrapping covers glowing a bright red as the man with the lantern, who had seen the whole thing, was engulfed in the spreading fire. Walking away, into the cold and bright moonlight, through the splintering fire, Illuminaax went.

OOC:

Bump.

The anbu made their way tree from tree, moving with utter silence. They were unsure what was happening in the swamps but they were determined to find out.

Bump...will post soon.

Durshig Swamp, .25 kilometres from central plain

“Shit.” The lead said, only him left alive, as he dropped his equipment down into the wet dark depths of the swamp water, his head tilting around in curiosity and looking about, waiting for a reply from the edges of his sight, his head flailing around. Immediately, sword drawn, a fist came out to meet him, and he spun around in dazed confusion for a little while, turning back and striking again, their commotion rocking the waters.

OOC: Sorry for a the short post, pretty busy.

*Bumps and waits for a job*

OOC: Pananab, I'm waiting for you to RP your arrival in Haasdra.

OOC: Oh...My bad...I don't think you made an IC post telling them to...

OOC: Oh...My bad...I don't think you made an IC post telling them to...

OOC: I placed it in a secret transmission.

OOC: Oh, didn't see it, my bad!
IC:
All of fifty members of Stowes' army in Jenrak stepped off the train and blended with the crowd. They made their way to the Catsle of Sadism and acted as normal tourists. Only one of them had their sidearm visible, but only to a trained eye.

"Open the Gates." Viraranar commanded, watching from the iron bars as the steel poles rabbled about, opening towards a large, wide path for the 'tourists' to enter. "We will need to be quick. Walk with me." He notioned, turning around, heading to the courtyard.

The man with the gun followed Viraranar as the other 'tourists' came in.
"So what is it you want us to do?"

"Corpses have been dissappearing near the Murun graveyard. The Gatekeeper has been hearing wierd noises, and freshly dug up bodies hung along the walls. We believe it is the work of brutal Fist of Stone, and we would like you to intervene against it. Of course, the payment for it's head would be rounding to 150 million, and I would like it dropped upon my office floor soon. I have arranged for aerial transportation to have insertion into the abandonned city of Murun."

"Can we get that money in the form of tanks instead?"

"Of course. We will be willing to supply you with Main Battle Tanks, of any possible design, as long as we have the commerce to find and purchase it."

The anbu had surrounded the combatants unaware of what to do. A few hand gestures later, one of them, wearing a white robe covering his armor, took out a small device. Each of the anbu plugged their ears as the anbu tossed the sphere into the water. The sphere bobbed in the water a bit before letting out a sound that was designed to paralyze the two combatants.

A strange sound had ripped up senses, his ears in a defeaning pain, his mind roaring. Reaching into his ear, the hulking Fist of Stone ripped apart his eardrums in haste, blood dripping to the surface, as the Sword Bearer beside him wasimmobile.

"Just remember if the tanks get connected to you, you can't blame us for anything," the man said as he took out a marrijuana cigarette.
"For my eyes, it's medication," he informed Vinraranar, "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all." Viraranar wandered. "I will not connect them in any way to you."

The man blew the hemp smoke.
"It's not you being connected to us that concerns me, it's the otehr way around. I believe your intelligence agencies are intelligent enough to know who we really are, or did you just not bother to check?"

"Oh, we checked." Viraranar chuckled slightly. "When you live in a nation with over 2 billion people who are extremely prone to even the smallest slight of rebellion, a nation whose fanaticism lives on a thread, you have to have a strong intelligence."

"Then you know what we're going to use the tanks for, correct? I just want to make sure that Jenrak will not betray us after we recieve our payments."

"I have a hunch. But then again, I highly doubt my superiors would care on the purpose of the tanks, as long as they do not involve attack us with them."

"My commanders know what they're doing. So we land tonight?"

"Any time, as long as it's before the next dawn."

"We'll be there. Where do we meet for the drop?"

"Have a little time to stay. I can show you around Arcarum's helm." He acknowledged. "The pickup will be at the western airport of Haasdra, in the mountain valleys. It's the least populated area in the city, so you will attract the least attention there."

"That's fine," the man said as he finished his joint and threw it on the ground, "We'll use the time to prepare."

"Good." Viraranar said, as a small transmission ran to him. "The Red Patriarch Nahk Territurari wishes an audience with you men. I suggest that you do not disregard it; he is an unstable man."

"When, where, why, and who is this guy that he's so important?"

"He is the leader of Jenrak's Navy and has led Jenrak out of three civil wars. He is only surpassed by the Lord Arcarum Dreskisk, and I would be careful about him. He is not someone who shares a common sense with people."

"Some of the otehr Lieutanants are the same way. When do I get to meet him?"

"I suggest now. He has little patience in these matters."

"Lead me. Should I call my soldiers to join us?"

"It doesn't matter." Viraranar walked up the stone stairs, leading the foreign soldiers on, as he twisted aroudn the corner, up the pair of stairs, along a large flight of yet more stairs, entering a catwalk lift. When they heard the gearing metal spin, and finally it stopped almost suddenly, they reached another set of stairs. Climbing up, Viraranar pushed open a large wooden door, painted in dried blood a large bulbous 'C'. His hand outstretched to the room, Viraranar urged them to enter.

"Go on. I'll close the door."

The man entered, flanked by three other soldiers.
"Red Patriarch Nahk Territurari? I am Lieutanant General Gerald Freeman of New Militias Mercenary Arms. I've come at your request."

Nahk was not a man of much flesh and bone, but a man who was sustain by metal and wire, a man who had lived only so much to see his world burn after his glorious 'victories' in the eastern sand seas. There would possibly be more to seek, but for now, he was a cold hard carapace with a warmth of flesh extinguished. His leg sustained only barely by iron supports, his fingers held with ligaments of steel, his cheekbone showing a slight rust in it's frame. This was the Nahk who had killed so much to get his power, and now his power cannot even help him.

Yet as they entered, and Viraranar closed the door, men in dark chain-mailed armour, with gleaming silver swords, stood like statues in drones as they waited for the metal man to slowly arise. "My name is Nahk Territurari, Leader of the Viziath Clan, and Red Patriarch of Jenrak." He held out his gruesome blood stained copper hand, the crackling of gears coming from the back of his head.

The Lt. General took the Patriarch's hand and shook it.

"What is it you wanted to see me about, sir?"

"I have a daughter, one who is a captain in the confines of the Sword Bearing Police. She has mud-brown hair, and brown eyes and a soft smile. Her name, I believe is Denise. Should you encounter a woman in the Sword Bearing Police of that stature, please capture her. She is all I have." Nahk contorted. Despite his attempt at a heartwarming fealty, he could not change his persona to be a pitiful man, but still he has a strong impressionable commanding aura about him.

"If we do encounter her, it'll cost a bit more for us to go through extra measures to capture her if we're in a firefight. We can discuss payment on that later, depending on how the mission goes. If she is accidently killed, then you can deduct it from our payment if you wish. I know what it's like to to have kids. I lost two of mine to an occupational force. We'll do our best."

"I hope. She is a biological daughter. She is a normal person, with a normal mindset. She is the only thing I had before, and after I becamethe handsome specimen you see before you." Nahk chuckled slightly, as he made, although seemingly impossible, a joke.

"So she won't be one of the enemy, right? That will certainly make things easier on catching her."

"She most certainly will be. You will recognize her. Unlike those pathetic friends of hers."

"We'll do our best, sir."

"Good. I expect a full report on this."

OOC: sorry for not posting earlier :D

IC: The anbu stood motionless for a second. That...thing....just pulled off its ears? Never in all their years of training had they expected this. Well most of them at least. The captains had seen worse though..... Snapping into action, the captains made several swift gestures. The anbu quickly spread out evenly each pulling out a kunai with a small tag attached to it. With a blink of the eye, all 9 knives headed for the beast. When they got nearer to it, the tags suddenly started to burn. Within a few seconds, the tags burned up and nine explosions took their place. Without a second thought, one of the captains dashed at blinding speed to grab the unconcious warrior. Slinging him across his shoulder, he gestured to the rest of the squads. Quickly taking out small orbs, they threw them into the water. Once the orbs touched the water, they released a blinding light. Using this distraction, the anbu quickly took their leave.

"Of course. My soldiers will do their best. May our Bullets fly true."

The anbu were eventually able to make their way to Haasdra. The Sword Bearer was fortunately still alive thanks to the help of the three anbu medics. Upon reaching the outskirts, they switched to some more civilian clothes while forcing the swordsman to do the same. Once finished, they made their way into the city in search of someone with whom they might drop off their companion.